Rimming Molly In The Basement
You don’t see too many fictional accounts of rimming, and this is the first I’ve ever seen that has a little funny twist at the end. It’s from this story by Vinnie Tesla:
Impulsively, I bury my face in an armpit, and drink in her sharp animal smell. She’s moaning and laughing at once as my beard tickles her delicate skin. I lick along the line of her shoulder blade, the muscles there flexing as she struggles playfully. I throw her tee-shirt to the ground, and push her against one of the basement’s grimy cinderblock walls. I pin her arms above her head, and give the other armpit a more thorough treatment.
She starts out laughing and twitching, but this gives way to quiet moans, that get louder when I bite. I release her arms and run my lips over the pale, freckled flesh above her bra. Impatiently I pull the bra up over her tits, and fix my mouth over one of her nipples, crinkled tight in the basement’s chill air. My hands find the catch of her bra, and it joins her tee shirt on the floor. Once again she grabs my head and holds it tightly as I worry and suck at her fat little bud. I hold her other breast in my hand. The flesh is breathtakingly soft, and fever-hot. I pull the nipple roughly, stretching the crinkles smooth. “Yeah,” she whispers in my ear, her hot breath sending shivers down my spine, “yeah.”
Still cradling my head with one hand, her other strokes the front of my jeans, and cups my cock with her open palm. “Mmm, nice,” she purrs.
“You like it?” I ask, my hands kneading her breasts, “soon it’s going to be buried in your cunt.”
She looks me in the eye teasingly. “Just my cunt?”
I open and close my mouth several times like a goldfish. So much for my attempt at the suave dirty-talker.
Molly laughs at my expression and begins struggling to get the legs of her overalls over her boots. Watching her breasts sway as she works, bent over, is irresistible. She tugs the overalls down her thighs, and sits on the floor to pull them off. Then, with a yelp, she’s up off the cold, damp concrete again, rubbing her chilled ass.
“Here, let me help with that,” I volunteer, and squat behind her. “Oh my god.”
“What?”
“Molly, you have got an amazing ass.” Broader than I expected, exquisitely round and smooth. Dusted with pale freckles. Flawless, so far as I can see. Groaning, I grab her hips and bury my face in that exquisite butt, licking and biting at the smooth, taut flesh. She presses back against me, and wiggles her hips slowly and sexily, enjoying the attention. Eventually, though: “Weren’t you gonna help me get my clothes off?”
“I got sidetracked,” I admit, and jerk her panties down to her knees before resuming my feast.
She begins skeptically, “That’s not a whole lot of– oooh, that feels good.” I’m kneading her cheeks hard with my hands now, while licking teasingly around the top of her crack.
“Bend over,” I tell her.
“Yes, sir!” she says sarcastically, but does so, resting her hands against the wall, and spreading her legs as much as her bunched clothes will allow. I stroke her ass lightly
“You want me to?”
“Yeah,” she whispers, almost inaudibly.
I pull at one of her cheeks, exposing her hidden parts. The skin of her anus is surprisingly dark, and fringed with wispy reddish hair. Below, the lips of her cunt are fat and swollen. She flinches a little when the wet handiwipe from my pocket touches the sensitive flesh of her asshole. I run it over the surface a few times, and then drop it onto the floor. My hands spread her cheeks, and I begin running my tongue along the skin just above her anus. Then I move down, and lick at her perineum, drawing a gasp from Molly. Finally I bring my tongue to her clenched little orifice, and rub against it with gentle pressure.
She lets a little shriek escape, followed by a low moan. I feel goosepimples rise on her muscular thighs, as she reaches down and cups her cunt in one hand. I’m alternating broad, spiraling licks with tighter, more aggressive ones, loving the feel of her soft flesh against my face. She’s slowly undulating her hips; each breath out is a long quiet moan.
The rocking of her hips accelerates; her voice rises in pitch. I (teasing bastard) rise to my feet and draw her up too. It takes a moment for her eyes to focus again, and then I’m seized in a bruising hug. “Oh, wow,” she says dreamily, “Oh, that was really nice. I haven’t done that before.”
“My *pleasure*,” I say emphatically. “But I’m a little confused. You said you wanted me to rim you, right?”
She grins. “I wanted you to *spank* me, you twit.” Before the blood can stop roaring in my ears, she continues: “Now help me get these off!”
Of course she does eventually get her spanking, which is how (via Spanking Blog) I came upon this story.
