The Adventures of Mandy Love: Chapter 4: Submissive Mandy, Part 1.

The Adventures of Mandy Love: Chapter 4:  Submissive Mandy, Part 1.

You are three or four inches taller than me, at about five feet ten, and your greater age and experience add even more authority to that. You are wearing smart designer heels in black below your silver-grey slacks, and you must have gone by your private table– because the matching double-breasted jacket of your suit is nowhere in sight, and I am very conscious of the shiny silk fabric of your shirt-style short-sleeve white top. You have left several buttons open ... well, it is hot in here, as the evening builds up and more hormone-radiating babes pack in to this small space ... but this does afford a nice view down your front, and I seem to be well-placed at an angle to do so. I try not to be too obvious in checking this out, spying the top of a lacy black bra and the promising start of your cleavage between your faux breasts.

are right in front of me. you have said something – which, between the noise of the dance music and the pounding of the blood in my ears, I haven’t registered. Oh, great, here’s my chance to come across as your doll for the evening.

I realize now that you have walked up and

You smile again, so attractively, your blue eyes surprisingly warm in their regard. Your hand still rests on my forearm, as you repeat:

‘Hallo, I’m Heather.

For a moment I stand, rooted to the spot, mouth half-open in a slight surprise – I never thought it would be this easy to chat up the best looking CD sister in the place. You don’t have to tell me, I know you are gorgeous – deliciously, amazingly, stunningly, CD clit hardeningly, CD pussy wettingly, earth-shakingly, orgasmically gorgeous.

‘Hi, I’m Mandy.” I say with a demure smile.

“Such a pretty name. I bet you are sweet as well.” You say softly, running your eyes over my face and body – and I can feel your gaze lingering on the ripe swell of my faux breasts, with permanently hard nipples, as you add ‘... for such a pretty babe.’

Oh, yes! It may be an old line, but the old ones work just fine – and when said in your slightly husky tone, and with that sultry look in your eye, I’m falling for it for sure …

I’m so thrilled, because now I know for sure that you are interested, that you want me, that we are going to end up fucking like rabbits ... maybe at my apartment, maybe at yours?

You smile, nicely but just a little hawkish, a little hungry – and that turns me on, Things are getting tight in my gaff by the second, my CD clit wanting to harden into a thick, long love pole for you, , my dress rising a little up from my hold-up stockings, and a sudden shiver goes down my spine.

You take my nearly-empty glass out of my nerveless fingers and set it down on the shiny wooden surface of the bar, just behind my elbow. Then you move your hand to my shoulder, not quite resting there but slightly squeezing, possessively – mmm, I like that.

‘Dance’, you say, and it is not quite a question and not quite an order.

My breath and voice have taken a vacation, as I look at you wordlessly, at the pinnacles of your breasts, now visibly pressing against the confines of your smooth cream silk shirt, at your slightly-parted full lips, your lightly flushed-cheeks, and the hot gleam in your eyes. My stomach does a little flip-flop of excited anticipation, my knees go wobbly and for just a second I fear that I won’t be able to take a step with folding up and falling over. I just nod soundlessly and you reach for my hand, your palm warm and surprisingly dry in mine, and you pull me along behind you into the crowd on the dance floor, into the mass of gyrating, thrusting butts and the eye-catching bouncing of breasts.

The first few numbers are fast and furious, and it gives each of us the chance to show our moves, to do what dancing has been ever since the days of cavewomen – a mating display, to attract the best fuck available. We synchronize our swaying steps in time to the pounding rhythmic beat, and you easily match me for speed and suppleness.  It’s not just that you must exercise regularly, but that you are a real hard body. All muscle, but smooth, oh so smooth all over. and it crosses my mind that maybe at college you were a gymnast, or perhaps a dancer?

We touch a little as we dance, our eyes are locked on each other, we are in a little bubble of isolation despite the press of female flesh all around. Many of them are damn sexy fuckable CD bitches, but neither of us pays them any mind, apart from neatly sidestepping if they stray awkwardly into our space.

I laugh with the carefree enjoyment of the moment, and of you and of what is still to come. Both our faces are now flushed, partly with the exertion of our dancing, and partly with sexual desire. We smile at each other without any restraint or falseness, and I let you twirl me in the classic rock style – as you are taller, it works easier for you to take the man’s steps, and anyway I want you to be dominant, to take the lead. Perhaps, if we go back to your place – as I hope we will – maybe you have a nice CD clit, you’d like to use on me ... a great big, long, curved, CD clit... please, oh pretty please, I do so hope that you do!

The music changes pace to something slow and sensuous, and your hands go around my waist and pull me towards you. You don’t hesitate for a second as your lips find mine and press them apart, and your tongue slides between, flicking around my gums and exploding my taste buds with the lingering taste of your vodka / cranberry cocktail. Your hands slip lower to cup my butt and press my pelvis hard against yours, and I give a sigh of part-release and part-desire, as my hips open and our bodies entwine. Your right leg is pushed between mine and you press it hard against my tucked CD clit, as I grind against the firm muscles of your thigh, my short skirt riding up for several inches. Because you are taller, the crotch of your trousers rubs more against my right hip, at the very top of my leg, and I sense an urgency building beneath the brittle shell of your so-attractive cool and commanding presence. Our breasts are pressed together – because of the difference in height, my fuller ones push up just below yours, and the hard points of my intensely-aroused faux nipples with the transfer sensor pad onto my actual nipples thrust erotically into the soft flesh of the undersides of your smaller, perky faux breasts. The flimsy fabric between us is almost no barrier at all – the smooth shiny silk of our tops is the thinnest layer over our bras: yours is a light half-cup in black gauze and lace, whilst mine is an open-shelf design, just a band of fabric below the swell of my faux breasts to support them, giving no coverage of my tits at all, and you seem to marvel at the expert adhesive job I did to get away with the large breast forms and almost no bra.

You release your hold on my ass, and your left hand rises to clasp the back of my neck, holding me firmly there so that I cannot break away from our passionate kiss – not that I want to, of course, but your assertiveness thrills me through and through. Your right hand slips round in between us and then slides up under my stretch mini-skirt, seeking my tucked CD clit with eager intent. Your eyes widen slightly as your questing fingers find my mound created by how I have tucked, and it makes you smile, just a bit.

I am wearing a very sheer gaff which seems to be so thin that it may not be capable of holding me in, but it does and you trace its lace with your finger, making me gasp in pleasure.

You smile with wolfish appreciation of my delicate panties, , your nostrils flaring as your fingers deftly explore under my gaff and allow some blood to fill my CD clit.   Bad girl, I think to myself as I struggle to keep things in place.

I should not have feared as you have no intention of exposing me right then and there. No way you were going to let me climax so soon. – you run your fingertips along the edge of my panties and underneath to my CD love hole, rubbing your index finger over the rubbery slick surface  of my tight CD pussy, , and then teasing into the valley between  my ass sheets, where you can feel the swell of my tucked clit. . I give a soft appreciative moan, almost inaudible as our deeply probing kiss continues unabated, and with predatory satisfaction you sense the slight tremors running through my body, and accept the signs of my utter surrender to your sexual command.

We are pressed so closely together – mouth to mouth, tits to tits, hips to hips – that no one can easily see what you are doing to me under my skirt, out here on the crowded and dimly lit dance floor. A few of the couples close nearby can see my body tremble, know from experience where your missing hand must be, and smile with amusement – one them at least is doing the same thing, for I see a pretty red headed CD sister pull her head backwards suddenly and her mouth opens in a silent O for orgasm, and she shudders in the tight embrace of the big busty black CD sister who has obviously been sliding her thick finger into and out of the tight, lubricated hole of the fiery red headed CD sister. 

As long as you don’t shriek and don’t stumble into the other couples, no one minds at all and I wonder what you have in mind for me.

As your finger enters me more forcefully, I begin to give soft gasps of pleasure, pitched low enough so that only you can hear them. I am begging you to take me, to use me, to fuck me any way that you want, and you look straight back at me, with the assurance of years of experience in your calm expression, and you say: ‘I will, oh yes, babe, I surely will have my way with you!’

Just then, the slow number ends, and in the second of silence that follows, we stand there, still closely pressed together. You withdraw your hand from under my skirt, tugging it decorously back into place from where you had crumpled it up, and you give me the languid smile of a lipstick CD sister who knows that she has just sealed her next sexual conquest. I am so conscious of your body heat and of your smell – so enticing, your elegant perfume (Dior, I think? – you are definitely a classy lady) now mingled with the musky pheromones of sexual arousal. As you hold me close and reclaim your firm grasp of my ass, I let my hands rove over your back and butt, and press my breasts even more sharply into yours. I am gratified by the murmur I hear in the back of your throat, and I know that I am warming your fires just as much as you are stoking mine. After several minutes you break the kiss, no longer quite so much the Cool the smart executive, with your breath coming that much faster and shallower.

You look me directly in the eye, and say with complete command and assurance: ‘I’m taking you home with me, honey – you’re mine for tonight, and tomorrow too.’

This is Saturday night, and that’s what I was hoping for – I try not to look too eager, but my mouth has dried up somehow, so I only manage a wide-eyed nod of consent.

‘However,’, you continue, with a fierce grin and a hot gleam of lust in your eyes, ‘my place is a thirty-minute drive from here, and I can’t wait that long – you hot little CD bitch, I want you, right here and right now!’

I am thrilled to the core, my knees go weak and my eyes wider still – with an alluring broken little moan, I nod assent a second time.

‘Good!’ you say, sexual hunger making your voice deeper and rougher, ‘babe, you’re coming with me!’

And you seize my hand again, and tow me through the sweaty crowd of CD lesbian lovers on the dance floor, dexterously threading between the hips and elbows of those couples who are already making out. I know your destination, as we head towards the back of the club, through the swing doors and down the stairs to the basement level – where the toilets are. Before these premises became the present exclusively-CD lesbian establishment (you have to become a member to enter here, and can only do so if two existing members propose you), it was an ordinary night club, and of course had washrooms for both men and women. The latter have been left unchanged, but there was no need for the former any more, and so they were remodeled as a second ladies’ toilets – you know how there can never be enough of those! The new ones are well-appointed and have longer and wider cubicles than usual, and (as was quite expected by the club management) they are regularly, indeed mainly, used for assignations like this – so much so that the original women’s washroom is known amongst the members as ‘the going room’ and the new one is ‘the coming room’, for the sounds of sex are heard there more often than the flushing of lavatories.

This is where you bring me, both of us heady with the strong wine of lust coursing in our veins. We are in luck – it is still quite early in the evening, and several of the twelve stalls are vacant, although there is already that indefinable aroma of CD clit cum-juice in the air, which will get much stronger later, as more and more CD lesbian couples seek swift satisfaction from each other. You drag me without hesitation into an empty cubicle, and you push me authoritatively against its side. My back thuds against the wood partition to the next cubicle, for a second knocking my breath away, whilst you turn and close the door, running the bolt into place with a firm snick.

You turn back to me, place your hands on my shoulders and then run them appraisingly down over my chest, grasping and squeezing my full bust in lustful appreciation of my delightfully curvy body. Then your hands press over my stomach and delve down to grasp the hem of my tight stretch-fabric mini-skirt. With a firm tug you pull it upwards to roll around my waist like a thick, soft belt, and I shift my stance, straddling my legs apart, opening myself in silent offering, as you gaze at my lacey, sheer panties holding me in.  I am fully shaven, soft, and smooth. 

You take my gaff with your big toe and pull it down while at the same time with your other hand – now almost shaking in your lust for me – jerks my top up and over my head, dropping the flimsy garment in a crumpled ball onto the closed lid of the toilet, the rim of which is pressed against my right calf.

You savor the sight of my full heavy faux breasts, and swiftly pull them out of the meagre cover provided by my balcony bra. Your mouth descends like a swooping hawk, and you take my left tit between your lips, eliciting a broken cry from me as your sharp teeth nip around my nipple and I feel it through the transfer pad like you are biting my actual nipples. All this while, your hand now has found my thickening clit and been stroking it into its full 8.5 inches of thick, hard glory, stimulating it, making it throb. It’s almost too much for me, even though I’m far from a CD novice, and my head is spinning from your overwhelming stimulus of my most erogenous spots.

‘Aaahh, you CD bitch!’ I gasp into your ear, as your head is bowed over whilst you switch to devour my right nipple, sucking it deep into your mouth; ‘oh, you CD bitch ... God! fuck me, fuck me! ... ah, fuck me, you bitch!’

Your head rises, leaving a trail of wet saliva around my tits, and at once I take the opportunity to grasp your breasts and then swiftly to unbutton your shirt. As soon as I have done so, you strip it off and – with a self-control that I can only envy, you carefully hang it on the clothes-hook on the back of the cubicle door. I admire your trim shoulders and your smaller but well-formed faux breasts, which are encased in an enticing, lacy and clearly expensive black bra. I reach to expose them, but with a silent shake of your head that clearly indicates ‘not now – later’, you push my hands away to the sides, against the wooden wall, and you sink gracefully to your knees, your face on a level with my jutting pointing CD clit.

‘Oh, God! Yes, yes ... suck me, you CD bitch ... suck me! Suck me, suck me now!’ I whimper in a voice that quivers with desire.

You waste no time – your fingers encase my clit base to stabilize it as you, and your long agile tongue circle my clit head. Like a spear. it lashes up and down my shaft,, getting it wet, harder, if that is possible, with its rough edges rasping along my long shaft,  The fingers of your other hand push through my legs and find their target, my love hole which I had previously lubricated with sweet, coconut oil. 

You push gently and your finger enters me, , sending waves of erogenous excitement coursing through me like breakers on an Atlantic beach, curling over with successive thunder. It is too much for me to contain, and my hips buck and quake as I climax, my eyes tightly closed in the moment of crescendo, with your mouth locked on just my clit head to drink in the heady cum cocktail.

Your tongue licks around my clit hole, sucking up my leaking cum-juice and savoring my unique taste. I shake my head to clear away my sudden dizziness, and then let out a startled sob as you add and addition finger to probe my tight ass again, sliding down to its very base hidden deep between my thighs. You press against the lowest end of my opening, sending shivers through me, and then the index finger of the same hand curls round and probes the tender inside part of my ass tunnel,  you press your thumb and forefinger together, squeezing my most sensitive parts together, with an intense effect like an electric jolt. There is a sensation like being in an elevator and then the bottom dropping out, and I come again with redoubled and desperate intensity, my clit juices squirting like a miniature fountain onto your tongue as you expertly aim my clit towards your mouth. 

My eyes are glazed, and a sheen of sweat coats my face, my chest, my back, and my flanks. My shoulder-blades and my ass are stuck to the wooden partition wall behind me, and I am panting for breath as if I had just sprinted a thousand meters.   I have never cum so quickly, so violently, and so soon after just Cumming.

In those brief seconds of pause, we both hear a shuddering moan from the cubicle behind me, as some other CD sister gets fucked to her orgasm. Barely discomposed by your efforts, you rise smoothly to your feet, regarding my breathless and befuddled condition with a mixture of amusement and accomplishment.

‘Third time is best’, you say meaningfully, and my brain catches up with your intention to take me again, just as your index finger finds my ass -hole and penetrates me, hard and fast for a good four inches. You withdraw it, and then vigorously re-enter me with two fingers, side by side. I give a little plaintive whimper, not of protest but of exhaustion, as you begin a fast finger-fucking, using the thumb of your left hand to rub on my clit whilst the two long fingers of your right hand rasp in and out of my CD pussy with increasing force.

I am clinging to you as a drowning sailor would to the only lifebelt in sight, and I bite my lip and grunt as your abrasion of my swollen clitoris and your penetration of my tender CD pussy overwhelm me. Your eyes are dancing with merry delight as I melt in your firm grasp, my love tunnel so wide open and wet that without much difficulty you force a third and then a fourth digit into it with each insertion, and twist your fingers in a cunning motion that takes its sensual toll of my hole. I gasp as you add your thumb to your drilling impalements, opening my gaping gash still wider as your firm hold keeps me in place.

You tuck your thumb into the palm of your hand and bunch your fingers together to make a shape like the point of a spear, your arm its long shaft. You ram this into me, meeting some resistance from my ass muscles, and I give a little hoarse scream from the indescribable mixture of pain and pleasure which this causes – and another high-pitched gasp as my CD hole stretches to accommodate your inexorable thrust. You withdraw your fingers for a couple of inches, letting me get some of my breath back, and then with power and purpose your hand once again pushes up into my love hole . Your long fingers are lubricated with my juices, and both they and your slender wrist are suddenly past the constriction – and sliding deep into my ass tube. My eyes almost bug out, and I would scream if I could get only a gulp of air into my lungs – dear God, you are fisting me!!

I can’t believe it – I’ve only ever been fisted once before, a couple of years ago, and it was a mind-numbing experience then. This is even more powerful – you have taken possession of me in the most absolute and total way, and I am nothing but your glove-puppet, dancing and cavorting at your will. With a shocked sob, my arms swing wide, the palms of my hands smacking with a dull thud against the partition wall, and my fingernails scrabble hopelessly for purchase on its smooth glossy surface. I dare a glance downwards, and nearly faint at the sight of how far your arm has gone into me – shit! almost half of the distance from your elbow to your wrist has now vanished from sight!

‘AAAH! ... please, wait! Oh, no ... oh, you can’t ... aaaahh, I can’t take it!’ I plead, but my sobs are turning to moans under your pile-driving pressure: ‘Oh!! ... mmm ... you can, can’t you ... oh, you bitch, do me ... go on, do me, do me good – now, fucking do me now! ... aaaAGGHHH!!

I can’t believe it; I simply can’t believe it is anatomically possible for so much to go up inside me – you must be almost up to my deepest parts! Your every motion is magnified a hundred times in effect, the short withdrawals as convulsive as the insertions. My heart is hammering in my chest and my back arches with rising passion, as I make animal barnyard noises from between clenched teeth. You deliver the final thrusting fisting fuck, and my volcanic orgasm begins without you ever touching my clit.

The orgasm leaves me almost fainting and leaning bonelessly against you for support. I pant for breath, my tongue hanging out from parted lips, and moan as your withdrawal of your arm and hand makes me feel like someone has just sucked out all my guts with a vacuum cleaner.

You kiss my parted lips, savoring my state of stunned satiation. You smile, and whisper one instruction in my ear:

 Continued in The Adventures of Mandy Love: Chapter 4: Submissive Mandy,  Part 2.