David’s Friend Vivian Ch. 04

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20

(My name is David Thornberry.

It happened when I was just 18 in 1958. I was alone in my parents’ house with Vivian, the 20 year old daughter of some neighbours. I had always thought that she was unworldly and I would have to coax her even into letting me see her knickers. She surprised me in her interest in sitting on my face and wanking me off. This is part four of my tale.)


Vivian yelled out, “The Can-can,” then pinned my face down once again.

I assumed that she had realised that I had filled the tissues with warm semen. It was difficult to tell what Vivian thought with her wide arse perched on my upturned chin and her damp knickers spread over my nose.

I managed to shake her off me for a second or two and asked her if she wanted to change her position as I thought that squatting may have been causing her knee pain.

“I’m OK as I am thank you now, shush and keep quiet while I watch my programme,” she said and lowered herself onto my face again, shaking her stiff nylon petticoats and skirt over me once more so that my head and upper body were largely concealed.

I clearly had merely been only a cause of irritation in her eyes and I stared up at her thighs and dark tan stockings which hovered within licking distance of my tongue.

I reached down to my penis and wiped it clean with a fresh tissue and fished out several more for orgasm number ten. My nostrils snorted up the heavy dense odours which emanated from Vivian’s vagina soaked knickers gusset. I was fairly certain that the young woman sitting on my face hadn’t realised just how wet she was, or how randy I felt.

Vivian seemed to be once again engrossed in her TV programme so I decided there and then that I would merely ‘jerk myself off’ using the underside of her arse, her cascading petticoats and the strong smell from between her legs as masturbatory aids.

In some ways I was expecting more from the girl but apart from actual penetration, which I had ruled out for many reasons, she was providing me with more than enough sexual stimulation to keep me gratified for the whole of the day, if not the week ahead. I was thinking that the mere memory of having Vivian spreading her lovely long legs over my face would make me ‘come’ by the bucket load.

Her TV programme ended and Vivian immediately stood up.

“I have to go to the toilet,” she said and I watched her long legs, under her dress and petticoats, walk across the room and disappear into the hall.

From my position flat on my back on the carpet I stared around the room. The lounge seemed like a vast cavernous cathedral inhabited by giantesses, well at least one and her name was Vivian. I smiled to myself and at the ridiculous position I was in. I felt rather self conscious lying in the centre of the room completely naked except for my shirt.

Goodness only knows what would have happened if my parents and Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd had suddenly returned early. I felt slightly vulnerable and embarrassed. I thought if Vivian had changed her mind regarding sitting on my face I would appear pretty silly just lying there grinning insanely with my willy on view.

I heard Vivian return and moved my eyes towards the door and watched her walk towards me.

“I’ll just draw the curtains if you don’t mind,” she said switching on a table light. I nodded at her like a ventriloquist’s dummy. Again I felt very self conscious as I watched the hem of her dress sway from side to side as she darted about the room.

“There,” she said,”all nice and comfy Davy. Are you sure you don’t mind me sitting on your face? I find it quite comfortable, actually, you know,” she said with a reassuring smile.

“No, no, you go ahead, I don’t mind,” I replied in a casual, almost off hand, manner.

Inside however I was again shaking with excitement and watched spellbound as she straddled my face and shook out all her petticoats. I pushed back my head and waited for her to squat on my face. But instead of squatting she knelt on my shoulders and slid forward so that her now doubly damp knickers gusset was pushed firmly into my nose. With three or four graceful movements she spread her dress and underskirts over my head and once again I was plunged into a darkened world beneath her clothes.

“I hope you can breathe Davy,” said the young blonde woman above me. I had not enough strength to reply but felt thankful that I was once again savouring her natural scent at close quarters.


My Tenth Wank.

I grabbed a handful of tissues and began to wank furiously as she covered my face once again with her white and pink petticoats and pretty pale blue cotton dress. This time I was going to make my masturbation last as long as possible.

I tried to disregard the background noise from the television set which was now screening a nature programme.

Vivian seemed well and truly engrossed with its contents and I became resigned to her merely sitting on my face and not being interested in me as a person canlı bahis or a sexual partner. I felt like the ‘proverbial’ piece of furniture and had as much significance to her as any other chair or stool.

I lay beneath her dress for many minutes staring wide eyed at the layers of crisp net petticoat which lay above me and around me. I could almost smell the thin nylon where it lay against my features. Occasionally she would fidget or squirm on me or scratch her leg and I would hear the seductive sounds of nylon sliding smoothly over nylon. I stared at her stockings which appeared so dark and smooth compared with the coarse whiteness her of her stiff net petticoats.

Her soft firm thighs held my head rigidly in place so that I could not move to either side and I felt deliciously trapped under the heavy wide arse of this delightful 20-year old beautiful blonde haired girl.

It took me twenty minutes of relaxed, often wild, wanking to reach my climax. I breathed in Vivian’s natural scent with each erratic breath towards the end of my jerking and rammed my face savagely up under her as I ‘came’. Oddly she seemed not to react to my face being between her legs although the slow constant flow of her vaginal secretions through her knickers and onto my face told another story.

After ‘wank number ten’ I lay back gasping for breath with my heart beating like a machine gun. I felt completely and utterly ‘shagged out’ and now required time to recover. I thought that I had broken the British record regarding how many times an 18-year old male could ejaculate in a twelve hour period. I estimated that each wank had taken on average 1 hour 12 minutes to achieve. I felt like writing to someone with this fact but, like all schoolboy dreams, it remained impractical to achieve so let the thought drift from my head.

Two hours later I woke up still with my head beneath Vivian’s dress. I could tell by the smell of warm fresh urine that she had recently visited the lavatory and had gently reassumed her position sitting on my face without disturbing me. I still felt utterly drained and my balls and penis ached.

“Sorry if I disturbed you Davy but I had to go for a wee,” said the long legged girl straddling my nose. She swept all her crisp white and pink petticoats to one side and beamed down at me. I was too tired to masturbate so just lay there staring up at her and at her kind face.

“You didn’t disturb me at all and I’m glad I woke up and found you still sitting on my face,” I muttered and yawned as she knelt up, adjusted a suspender clip then knelt over me again.

She sat on my upper chest and I stared between her open legs, up her petticoats at the damp patch in her knickers. I lifted her buttocks up with both hands and strained my neck forwards and breathed in the strong scent of ‘aroused woman’ which emanated from her cunt.

“Oh fucking hell, good grief,” I whispered as I felt my penis stiffen once more.

My sleep had refreshed me sufficiently and now I was ‘raring to go’ once more.

“You are a big silly,” said Vivian ruffling my hair and settling her large arse once more on my face.

Again my head was between her legs and my face was swamped by crackling, swishing petticoats. My ears were gripped by her clammy soft young thighs and I could hear hardly anything of the television.

Once again I started wanking into a handful of tissues and began licking the underside of her thighs and arse and the buttock crease which lay between the two.

“That tickles,” she giggled and pulled my head brutally into her pubic area, almost stifling me of air.

I felt as if I was being smothered by her but kept wanking, this time more forcefully as if my very life depended on it.

The aroma of her urine soaked knickers was not unpleasant; in fact I couldn’t get enough of it. To tell the truth I found it exciting; the mere fact of being in her personal, private world under her skirt and petticoats drove me almost insane with lust. My wanking had reached fever pitch and my head thrashed about ferociously between her legs. It seemed as if I was ‘possessed’ by a lecherous lust which I just couldn’t satisfy.

“Hey Davy, are you alright?” asked the blonde girl pulling her dress aside. She stared down into my feral eyes which glinted insanely back at her. My unshaven face must have looked ‘bestial’ in comparison to her feminine underwear. My stubbly chin kept scratching her stockings where they gripped her thighs and were supported by her suspenders.

She threw her dress over me once more and rearranged her petticoats so that I was evenly covered. All around my head I felt the crisp nylon frou-frou textures of her underskirts covering me while I jerked off frantically and rhythmically.

By now I was on the ‘short strokes’ and slowed things down in order to delay the final millisecond of my climax. Vivian must have been bemused by the slobbering, twitching, shaking head between her legs. Fortunately she could not see me squeeze my eyes tightly bahis siteleri together as if in agony. Her petticoats stifled my groans and moans but I roared out a big “Yesss,” as I emptied my testicles with five buttock-clenching thrusts which burst through the Kleenex tissues and splattered semen over my stomach and shirt.

Vivian remained sitting on my face watching the television and now it appeared very late and clearly time for bed.


Mrs. Lloyd.

When my parents and Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd returned the following day they would not have had a clue what Vivian and I had been up to the previous day. I had made sure that both beds looked ‘slept in’ although Vivian and I had shared my bed all night and most of the morning. I had already ejaculated five times that morning including twice in Vivian’s mouth.

We had both taken a shower together and enjoyed the early part of the afternoon walking around the village and along the lanes.

We were surprised to return to find the Lloyd’s Volvo already parked on the gravel drive.

“Hello you two,” shouted my mother as we approached, “Did you have a good time?” My face, unfortunately, turned beetroot red which attracted Mrs. Lloyd’s attention.

It was as if the word ‘GUILT’ had been tattooed in bright red neon ink across my forehead.

Mrs. Lloyd’s eyes pierced mine and she knew instantly that I had trespassed on her daughter’s virtue. I was almost sure that she could read my thoughts; it was as if I were telling her that her daughter had sat on my face solidly for five hours the previous night while I wanked repeatedly, one orgasm following the other.

“I’d like to talk to you alone young man,” she said in a whisper. “Tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock when Vivian and my husband will not be at home.”

I waved Vivian off and stared at Mrs. Lloyds shapely legs as she swung them into the Volvo’s capacious foot well. Her eagle eyes bore into me as I watched them drive off. My parents appeared to be blissfully unaware of Vera Lloyd’s odd behaviour towards me, and seemed more interested in resting after the long journey.

*** At the Lloyd’s House

I arrived at the Lloyd’s house at two o’clock precisely. I rang the doorbell and listened out for the clatter of high heels which would announce Mrs. Lloyd’s arrival. I heard the familiar sound on the wide hallway floor. The Lloyd’s house was one of the largest in the village and their floor was made of terrazzo tiles set in a black and white chequerboard pattern. I had always thought that their home was very posh and everything about it was so stylish and opulent.

“Come in David,” said Mrs. Lloyd opening one of a pair of outer oak doors.

I immediately noticed her perfume which seemed so intense and overpowering. I felt dirty and slovenly wearing just my jeans and t-shirt and old sports shoes.

She led me to the lounge which enjoyed extensive views of the local countryside through its vast French windows.

I was told to sit opposite her on one of the two sofas which faced each other and which were positioned to each side of the large fireplace.

“I won’t offer you tea as what I am about to say won’t take long,” she said and I noticed her immaculate makeup and bouffant hair, as was the fashion in 1958.

“I knew immediately, when we arrived home yesterday, that something had happened between you and Vivian. I could tell straightaway that something was not right. You may call it female intuition but I prefer to ascribe it to the close bond enjoyed by a mother and daughter.”

Mrs. Lloyd’s English was so precise. She was precise in everything, her home, her clothes, her garden; everything about Vera Angela Lloyd was immaculate and perfect. I was now beginning to understand that she thought I had sullied her daughter’s reputation, or worse still, deflowered her.

“You can tell me what happened as I have already heard Vivian’s side of the story,” she said with a slow calculating manner.

“Well if you have heard Vivian’s side of the story you will not want to hear mine, I said with a certain amount of cockiness.

“So there is a story, is there?” said the woman, and I saw that I was being led into a trap.

“Well what I meant by ‘story’ was just the events of the day; there is very little to relate,” I said trying to be precise in my meaning. Unfortunately I turned scarlet red and Mrs. Lloyd’s predatory eyes stared through my brain and into the back of my skull.

“I know all about Vivian being forced to…err…sit on your…err…face while you masturbated in front of her,” she said, this time raising her voice in anger.

I shook visibly and pleaded with her not to tell my parents. My mother would go ‘ballistic’ if she ever found out.

“Well as far as I can tell you did not steal her virginity but she is very upset at the degradation of your obscene acts you forced her to perform,” said the woman wearing a black knee-length shirtwaister dress.

I stared horrified at the bahis şirketleri woman and at the hem of her dress where a lacy hem of her petticoat lay revealed.

“I am, I am very sorry Mrs. Lloyd,” I blurted, looking shamefaced and full of panic. “I won’t ever ask Vivian again, and I promise I’ll never see her again if you would please not tell my parents,” I went on and almost considered bursting into tears if it would prevent my mum and dad from finding out.

“David,” said the woman, who was at least thirty years older than me. “You will have to do me a great favour, or else, rest assured, your parents will hear from me. I shall tell them every detail of your disgusting perversions and what you did to my daughter,” said Mrs. Lloyd with a triumphant glint in her eyes.

I sensed that I was to carry out some sort of service for her and noticed that she stared at the bulge in my jeans. Suddenly I had the awful thought that perhaps Mrs. Lloyd was going to get me to do things to her, just as I had done things to her daughter. I was to be proved correct.

*** With Mrs. Lloyd in the Guest Bedroom

Mrs. Lloyd took me by the hand and led me upstairs. I had never explored their home, even when I visited Vivian when we were much younger. Mrs. Lloyd did not like children playing upstairs with their dirty shoes so they always had to play in the conservatory.

I had already taken off my shoes and followed her somewhat nervously into the guest bedroom. I had always assumed that guest bedrooms were always small and simply furnished and were merely ‘dumping grounds’ for surplus possessions. The Lloyd’s guestroom was, however, a sumptuous room dominated by a large double bed.

Mrs. Lloyd pulled back the bedclothes and revealed the pale blue under sheet and pillows.

“You will get undressed and lay on the bed face up, with your feet on the pillows, understood?” said Mrs. Lloyd in her perfectly clipped English.

She left me on my own and I slowly stripped off, hesitating when I got down to my underpants. I saw my reflection in the long full-length mirror. I looked wiry just standing there wearing only my glasses. My penis, I thought, however appeared massive in its semi erect condition. My mind raced at being naked in front of Mrs. Lloyd. What would she ask me to do? Did she know that I was a virgin? Not even in my wildest dreams had Mrs. Lloyd ever been the subject of my erotic desires.

I lay on the bed as she had ordered. I have to admit that although I was worried that Mrs. Lloyd would tell my parents about my use of Vivian as a ‘wanking aid’ I was intrigued to know what Mrs. Lloyd intended me to do to her.

She returned and immediately fixed me with her eyes. Her hawk-like stare seemed hostile, almost predatory, in its intensity. I noticed that she was carrying a bundle of leather belts and dog leads.

“You will allow me to tie you down. Is that understood young man?” said Mrs. Lloyd with a lecherous sneer.

I clearly had little choice and watched her link together the various metal buckles and leather leads to make long inflexible tethers which she attached to my wrists and ankles. She pulled their free ends to all four corners of the bed and buckled them to the under frame and bed legs.

“I hope that they aren’t too tight for you?” she asked, and I was thankful that there was a small amount of ‘give’.

“There now, we’re all nice and cosy aren’t we?” said Vivian’s mother stroking my penis as she sat on the bed next to me.

Needless to say my penis had reached gigantic proportions and was long enough; it seemed, to touch the ceiling.

“So this is what you displayed to my daughter was it?” said the forty seven year old wearing her black full shirtwaister dress.

I suddenly visualised her extracting a pair of scissors from her handbag and…well. I looked at her and panicked and blurted. “Please Mrs. Lloyd, don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything you want but don’t hurt me, I don’t want you to cut it off, please, please not that,” I said close to tears.

“Well David you are getting worked up, and about nothing too, I might add,” said the perfumed woman with her immaculate makeup. “I do not intend to harm you in any way. On the contrary I hope that you and…err…I will…err…please each other for the afternoon,” and with that she kissed me full on my lips, and on my ears.

She dragged her tongue down my neck and onto my chest where she teased my nipples. I groaned with pleasure and felt my penis stir and become even larger, if that was at all possible.

Mrs. Lloyd’s greying hair was almost in my face as she licked her way back up my neck and over my face and ears.

“You taste very nice David,” she hissed, then licked her way down the centre line of my chest and stopped at my navel.

She forced her tongue into this fleshy depression as I squirmed with both pleasure and agony at the sensations which I had never experienced before.

The ties felt surprisingly tight as I fought to escape her tongue. For some reason I felt uncomfortably ticklish so groaned and flinched. She laughed at me and squeezed my testicles. All of a sudden I felt her hot breath on my shaft.

“Oh my God, Mrs. Lloyd,” I spluttered.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bo?altmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir