Page 35 of A Cock and Bull Story

Her tone isn’t accusatory—it’s sensual.

“I, er, Jude that is, thought you might feel safer with someone around; so, one of us stayed.”

“You volunteered?” she grins.

Not exactly—but I can’t likely tell her that.

“Happily,” I respond.

“Mmm,” Belle hums. “And do you have any plans forus?”

“Um. . . sometimes I let my horny toad run free, if you wanted to let your cat out for a bit—but don’t maul me, please,” I joke.

Belle’s grin widens like a shark’s when it scents blood in the water.

“I smell what you’re steppin’ in—if you’re feelin’ froggy, jump, right?”

“Er, right,” I agree apprehensively.

Suddenly, she lunges forward and leaps into my arms. I barely have enough time to register what’s happening when she glues her lips to mine and wraps her long legs around my mid-section.

“I won’t let my pussy maul you if you promise to pet it nicely,” Belle growls.

I almost drop her.

Luckily, the lass seems to be doing most of the work holding herself up.

“Where do you wanna fuck me?” she demands.

My mind blanks.

“Everywhere,” my mouth speaks without permission, eliciting a delighted laugh from Belle.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “Let’s start in the kitchen, on the counters, with your head between my legs. From there, we can work through every room in a different position.”

“H-h-how many positions are there?” I stammer like a virgin.

“Well, I’ve got three holes, two hands, and a lot of stamina—not to mention fucking in between my cleavage and ass cheeks. . . lot of possibilities. Aren’t you glad you stayed to protect me?” she giggles.

I’d answer but my tongue is lolling outside of my mouth, and I’ve lost all control of it.

“That’s the spirit!” Belle crows. “Quick—to the kitchen so we can put that thing to use!”

I follow the direction of her pointed finger and enter into the small kitchen. The counter barely has enough room for her to sit, but I place her delicately on top where she’s directed.

The forward woman doesn’t bat an eyelash when she whips off her top and bottoms. Her pants3quickly follow until she’s just in a lacey red bra.

She spreads her legs wider than a dancer and pokes herself4!

My knees buckle at this raw display of sex; they crack against the floor hard, but I barely notice the sting—I can’t take my eyes off the pink perfection of Belle’s fanny.

It’s bare and glistening with her juices.

“Come use that talented tongue on me,” she urges.

I stare up into her blue eyes before answering.

“I can’t,” I confess. “I think I swallowed it.”