Claudette was bushed from the attention to her sex, but she was hungry for more of
those sensations, those deep penetrating intense sensations she had experienced. Oh god
she wanted more of that but she also wanted a taste of that elusive cum. She wanted to
feel that cum, that thing that threatened to send her into orbit. That thing she had never
felt before but that promised so much. The denial hadn’t made her not want the orgasm. On
the contrary, it had made her want it even more. She was becoming addicted just to the
promise of what those orgasms held. Let alone what they would actually deliver. Oh she
wanted that orgasm so fucking badly. She groaned and laid back, legs folded and spread
wide. Her saturated leaking, oily sex exposed and undulating as she pushed it out from the
inside.
The second attempt had brought nothing but what sounded like a distressed grunt
from Claudette. She wanted to orgasm. She wanted it so badly. Yazmyn wasn’t giving it to
her and yet the stunning Arabic beauty was letting her think there was something wrong
with her. How could such a stunning, apparently kind, softly spoken woman do that to
another? Claudette had no idea that Yazmyn was deliberately and coldly denying her the
orgasms she was making Claudette crave so badly. Claudette’s breathing was becoming
laboured and deep. Her huge chest was heaving, expanding and deflating as she breathed but
it was clear too that a mental effect of not experiencing that orgasm was beginning to
take its toll.
On the third attempt, Yazmyn encouraged Claudette to turn over, onto her hands and
knees, and then lower herself onto her elbows so that her huge breast weight was taken by
the bed. Once again knees wide, sex exposed and available and this time thrust back and
with her curvy quite wide hips, and bottom high. Claudette was becoming very aware of the
sight she must have presented. It was mingled in with a new sensation, a new feeling of
guilt that she was making Yazmyn work so hard for her. That is how she was feeling. There
was still the need and an urgent greed for that elusive orgasm, but now the humiliation
had returned. Yes the humiliation had returned to sweep over her as she semi-sobbed into
ultra expensive red satin sheets. That humiliation compounded by the sound of Yazmyn
removing that first pair of latex gloves; that snapping sound of elastic latex, and then
the Arabic woman just resting the soiled gloves on the highest point of Claudette’s ass,
almost slapping the soiled latex gloves on Claudette’s bare, high bared flesh.
“I’ve never needed more than one pair of gloves before, Claudette.”
The voice was soft from behind her, but Claudette still felt something of a
stinging, accusatory tone in the quality of the voice. It was just a little, a tiny little
bit. It would have seemed a lot to Claudette though, in her present state of undress, and
with the state of her mind at this precise time.
“I’m sorry Yasmyn truly.”
It was a wet sobbing sorry into the sheet and Yazmyn worked coolly, calmly and
without batting an eyelid.
“No need for you to be sorry sweetie. I’m going to sort you out today if it’s the
last thing I do. Just hold it, as you are there, I need to put on an apron as well as
fresh gloves. This could get a bit messy.”
Ah god those soft Arabic tones just filtering in to Claudette’s head, but the
words, the actual words working into her psyche, wreaking havoc there if truth be told.
Claudette could feel those words as much as she could feel the cold sticky dampness of the
latex gloves resting in the beginnings of her ass cleavage.
“You stay right there, I will be right back.”
The sound of a door opening and closing and more distant sounds of stiletto heels
on marble flooring as Yazmyn went wherever she was going. Claudette then alone with her
thoughts, and they were deep thoughts. Too deep even for her to think, to get up for a few
minutes to relieve her humiliation, before Yazmyn came back. Instead, holding her position
just as she had been told to do so, and at one point tightening her hip and thigh muscles,
causing the splits front and rear in the skirt to rip and lengthen, despite the fact the
skirt was up around her hips anyway. Claudette’s mind was gone, or at least partly gone.
She was beginning to think of only one thing, and that was that fucking orgasm she seemed
not to be able to have, or experience. The more she couldn’t have it, the more she wanted
it. She even reached back, pulled her own fingers back through the slippery oily mush that
was her sexuality, but although it was friction, and right now any friction would do, it
wasn’t the kind of friction needed to bring her off. She needed the kind of intensity that
Yazmyn seemed to be able to create with ease. She grunted kind of greedily, hungrily as
her fingers ploughed the mush to no real effect and then those stilettos, the sound of
high heels on marble again, Yazmyn returning, the door opening, closing and then the sound
of Yazmyn’s soft voice behind her.
“Oh my, Claudette, ruined nylons, again! And now your skirt as well. I’m not going
to be able to send you home like that now am I, hmmm?”
Claudette’s face on one side was flat to the sheet, and she was blinking.
“I don’t care about how you send me home. I just want to cummmmm. I need it Yazmyn.
Need it. Fucks sakes I need it so badly.”
There was that sobbing melancholy in her voice again but this time it was Yazmyn’s
turn to light up from the eyes. It was like what Claudette was gurgling out, trying to
say, it was what she wanted to hear. Yazmyn had tied on a full length rubber apron to
protect her as she worked on the messy ever-slicker Claudette. The apron was made from
heavier latex and shiny black. She walked right around the bed, which was in the centre of
the expensive, modern bedroom so that Claudette would be able to see how she had had to
take measures to protect her skin, and her expensive clothes from the slippery mess that
Claudette was producing. As she circled the bed, she snapped on fresh gloves. The very
snap made Claudette’s flesh twitch and again another light sparked in her eyes. It was
like she was associating that snapping, that latex sound with some more of that sexual
intensity.
This time, Yazmyn stood behind the prose, exhibited Claudette. And that is how the
older woman felt, prose and exhibited. It wasn’t lost on Claudette, what she must have
looked like. She knew, she just knew that she must have looked an obscene mess; a
bedraggled, and obscene mess with her most intimate of flesh displayed for the Arabic
Yazmyn. But somehow, for some reason, the shame, and the obscenity of it all was
beginning to pale into insignificance when compared to the absolute need she was feeling
to experience that orgasm. It some ways it was worse than being addicted to the actual
orgasm. There was the promise of what that orgasm held. If the intensity and sheer
ability, of the build up, to debilitate the mind to function properly because of the sheer
undiluted pleasure, then surely, the orgasm itself, that actual hit was what finally and
absolutely melted the mind. Claudette didn’t need to be told to spread her knees wider on
the bed. It took just the tiniest little taps, two of them to the insides of her thighs
from Yazmyn. And the olive skinned beauty did that almost casually. It was like she wasn’t
expecting to have to tell the older woman that she wanted her knees wider and that just
the taps, one to each mid-upper thigh was enough. Not even a tap. More like a touch, like
the tiniest of touches. Like Yazmyn placing the pad of two of her fingers on the soft
fleshy thighs, first one then the other and viola Claudette spreading her knees wider.
“And dip your back a little Claudette. Dip the back. Arch it thrust yourself
backwards. The more posed to are, the tighter your muscles groups, and the greater the
sensation. Greater sensation means probably orgasm, Claudette and I know you want that
pretty badly.”
There was so much of Claudette, in Amazonian proportion yes, but so much that there
were little grunts of effort as she lifted the top of herself a little, so that the heavy
breasts swung free under her, and then the second little wet grunt as she rocked side to
side slightly repositioning her knees, wider. Then the pressing together of her full,
somewhat chewed and sucked lips as she made the extra effort to dip the small of her back,
her tits crushing into the bed again, nipples slightly distorted by the weight. This dip
caused the enhancement of her rear end. Yazmyn’s voice was soft, matter-of-fact like. It
was funny, though not in a ha ha way that Yazmyn’s voice held no animosity within it, or
hate, or even the slightest detrimental tone. Actually, that the voice remained, almost
neutral felt like a cause for concern. It felt that this whole thing was not a one off,
teaching of a lesson to the woman who had abused and humiliated her all that time ago. It
felt more like this was a longer game. Not even a game of cat and mouse because, here and
now the cat had well and truly caught the mouse. This was a calculated set up, a plan
being executed in the most precise ways imaginable. That the twenty six year old Yazmyn
could even play this game, if it was a game, was provocation enough for deeper thought and
concern. No animosity, no hate, just matter of fact business like and yet with soft
dulcet tones that simply drew the older woman into the spell even more, even more
completely.
“MMMMMM NNNNGG MMMMMMNNGGGGGGGGG.”
Those were the soft, slightly muffled mewling sounds that Claudette made as Yazmyn
began to work her most needy flesh again. This time, she used the leaking slippery juices
from the older woman’s sex, scooping it up and bringing it up around her anal hole.
“Push back, Claudette. Push back like you really want this.”
Even in Claudette’s somewhat debilitated state of mind, she hung on to every single
word that Yazmyn uttered. Her mind was such that she would take every one of the words
harshly, like they were a criticism. Or another put down. That thought racing through
Claudette’s mind that Yazmyn must think she doesn’t really want the orgasm or the pleasure
and that she was not really grateful at all for the attentions. In an extra effort, the
older woman grunted, and pushed back, making her anus dilate and the ring protrude.
“Good girl, keep it out, that’s right keep it right out for me honey.”
Yazmyn’s words massaging the mind. It was all well again. Yazmyn had complimented
Claudette on her efforts and all was well with the world again as Yazmyn scooped up juices
with her rubberised fingers, scooping them up and then stroking up the somewhat loose,
distended slit and to that very sensitive piece of flesh between the vagina and the anus
and using her slippery fingers to caress that spot and make Claudette push out harder, and
make her noises of exertion even louder and wet drenched with Claudette mewling and
whimpering into the satin sheets as the fingers stroked and stroked and then began to rim
the anus; just one finger rimming the base of the protruding ring very lightly, using the
slippery mess of Claudette’s sex to ensure that the rimming was smooth and effort free.
Claudette opening her mouth, taking a cinch of the satin sheet between her teeth and
chewing as this woman, this gorgeous, stunning hot Arabic woman simply worked the flesh,
and then worked it some more. Yazmyn then using the fingers of two hands, just gently,
one to the anus, the other turning the attention back to the labia. The two sensations
coming together in such a way that it felt, to Claudette, that her ass and cunt had become
one and the same thing; almost like it had become a huge conjoined sexual organ. At one
point Yazmyn using her saturated fingers and simply resting them in the small of
Claudette’s back, right at the base of the spine. Not pressing. Just resting there,
encouraging the older woman to dip her back and keep it dipped, then Yazmyn using those
same fingers to lightly and ever so succinctly trace the larger moon shape of her hips and
ass.
“Mmmmm, Claudette what a fabulous ass you have, it’s gorgeous and just meant to be
seen like this.”
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