Pretty girls tell pretty lies

Five weeks back, may be a bit more, I noticed what Jean was wearing. It was a five grand Cartier on her wrist.

One night, she came back home after a girl’s night out and it was there. I was pretty groggy with sleep but in the morning she wore it still, with jeans and with the silk blouse. Christ I thought, she’s done a jewellers. She and her mates have indulged in a little smash and grab. I was staring at it, the way it caught the light, the perfect way it sat on her wrist. I thought, giddy aunts, it makes her look so posh.

‘I won it in a house lottery, we went to a posh friends party up near the Strand and this was one of five prizes’ she said. I wasn’t sure exactly just how many rich friends Jean had. May be there was the odd one, from her private boarding school days. May be. She let me check it out on her wrist. It was a latest model watch. It was what royalty were wearing. It was beautiful and svelte and just so. Jean said that it made her feel posh too. She smiled, ‘too good for the likes of you!’ We laughed then and I wanted her. I wanted her because of the taunt. I wanted her in the bed with her legs open and to ram her so hard that her tits shook. She put a manicured finger against my eager lips though and shook her head. I wasn’t allowed to fuck her now. May be I could learn to lick her cunt?

My wife is such a pretty, such a sexy young woman. So I did fantasize about her a lot. It wasn’t like I’d married her and assumed she was mine of right. It was always like a courtship..so I accepted the little game.

‘I’ll lick then…’ I said and grinned widely. Role play games, OK then!

‘When I say?’ she checked.

‘When you say’ I confirmed and laughed.

‘No matter what I do?’ she challenged.

God, that was horny. It was like courting all over again. I had to win her by pleasing her. She had been just that discerning when we dated.

‘OK’ I said then and kissed her pretty little nose before she could stop me.

Jean has a lot of friends. She is REALLY gregarious so I was used to her being out a lot. We socialised together of course, but not as much as she did alone. One week she warned me that she would spend the weekend away in London. It was a mystery weekend, they had to solve puzzles or something. She was pretty vague, but I let all that go. By the time she got back on the Sunday night though I was aching for sex. I said that I’d lick any part of her body no matter what! I must have looked like a mesmerised puppy.

I remember that she looked a little apprehensive but I persisted. Come on, it was nigh on three weeks, please!! So she let me pull off her boots, a new pair I think. She undid the button and the zip fly of her tight jeans and she let me drag those off too. It was then that I saw it. Spunk was matted in her pubes and there was more of the stuff sticking like spun spider web down from her sex lips. She was watching me waiting for the explosion of anger. She pursed her lips and reminded me about our ‘house rules’ now that she was ‘too posh for me’. I should have gone mad at her but it was such a shock. I watched as she moved her dainty fingers down to her sex, and eased open her labia. Her cunt hole was filled with a thick plug of spunk!

‘Lick it’ she said.

I blinked at her, lying back on the sofa, her sex bared, the smell of coupling pungent in my nose the moment those jeans came off.

‘Do as you’re told’ she whispered, ‘then you won’t get hurt’.

I remember kneeling between her legs. It was a strange a really strange sensation, but I needed to smell it, to taste. It was as if only then did it become real! I thought, fuck, you’ve got some posh boyfriend who gave you that watch, who is fucking you like a toy and now I have to play along. No wonder she felt ‘posh’ now!

I licked Jean’s sex and her cunt gaped. It gaped open like I had flicked the latch on a gate the thing swung open. Her flaps seemed to bulge with blood and more of the jizz oozed out of her. It was a disgusting mess but I lapped it up. It tasted filthy, salty, dirty, vile, but I licked and I swallowed, holding the goo, with a consistency of semolina in my mouth for the minimum time.  Jean had been fucked silly. Her cunt….dear god…it was drilled out.

I started to run my tongue full against her sex and she started to move against me. At first it was an embarrassed little shift, a discreet movement. But then, as I lapped harder she moved lavishly against me, taking my hair and wrenching my face against her. She moaned loudly, as though this was not only delicious but a huge relief as well. It was as if ‘poshness had a purpose’ now. The pretty little lie was finding a direction.

‘He’s a big guy’ I admitted, inhaling her scent and feeling his jizz smeared across my lips.

‘Yes’ she murmured. Her mind was back with him, her eyes dreamy in the remembering.

‘That why I’m assigned the licks now’ I asked, feeling almost nauseous. It was a crazy feeling. It aroused me and repelled me in equal measure. I felt angry and yet hypnotised by the idea.

‘Yes’ she said and stroked my hair. I felt her fingers draw me back to her crotch. Right then she was the most desirable woman in the world. My cock throbbed in my pants. Shit!!

‘Posh guy with a mansion and an Aston Martin’ I suggested , fishing as best I could.

Jean was grinding against my face. She was dragging down little breaths and gasping.

Her next look down was pitying. It was almost withering. I was told to keep licking and she pulled her mobile from her shoulder bag. I started to suckle on her labia, teasing them out into my mouth. She seemed such a sexy bitch. Idly, nonchalantly as I attended her I could see her finger flicking through pics on the phone. She paused, looked down at me and seemed to pluck up courage. It was time for me to see.

When she showed me the pic, I stared.

I stared.

There was no suave git stood by his fancy motor. There was no estate, no big house, no shooting party.  Instead there was a group of may be six or eight black guys, thumbs in jean pockets, obviously taken at some party. They were big guys, hard looking guys. They didn’t look like no hip hop band or anything.

‘Black dudes…’ I whispered.

Another condescending look came my way.

‘Lick it like you were told’ she said coldly. It was like that was a message passed on. I licked her sex again and convulsed momentarily thinking of a black cock boring her out. I thought of that cock spraying the seed up her. What I had just swallowed….shit.

She was expanding the image on the screen, zooming in on a face. She showed me again.

I blinked. I knew the face. Fuck!!!

‘Brendal’ I said.

She nodded.

There had been a time, a dream time it seemed subsequent, when we had shared a holiday in Jamaica. There had been a dive instructor who taught Jean scuba. There had been a time when I had watched through bino’s from the shore as he fucked her on a dive platform. We’d made up afterwards. We’d agreed to call it holiday sex, a fling. But the sight of him banging her, her tits hanging as he posted his cock up her, that was burnt in my brain.

I felt physically sick.

‘Brendal’s in London?’ I asked with my best stupid face on show.

Jean flicked to another picture and there was the same group of men stood beside a black BMW saloon. Two of the guys were carrying automatic assault weapons, and one carried a knife. Brendal, fuck, Brendal was one of them. She showed me the pic without explanation. After I started trembling she stroked my hair.

‘You lick when you’re told, do you understand?’ she said slowly.

I wanted to retch. I could feel it wanting to come up.

‘When Brendal drops by, you pretend that everything is just peachy OK?’

I looked at her watch. That was stolen. Fuck! She was mixed up with that lot.

‘They waste people Tom..do you understand’ she murmured.