She could hear the tremble in his voice. He was touching himself when he asked if she was being a good girl. Of course, she was, well in her own little twisted way. Her breaths deep and with conviction, she assured the man on the phone that her trip was going well and that she had made good friends. What she didn’t mention was the friend she had made sat next to her with his hand rubbing her soft Nubian skin. Was it the fact that he was a stranger, or the fact that his light hand made such a deep contrast against her dark skin? Either way, it was confession time.

Brian loved how comfortable she was on the phone. She didn’t hide her need from the man, nor from him. She would be a filthy addition to his “family”. He watched and listened as she told of her day and meeting the nice stranger at the bar. How he bought her drinks, took her to dinner, and that’s where she left the story. Brian knew what she was doing. She was feeding him just enough to wonder if she allowed herself to be tainted with the touch of another man. Something he loved. Girls who don’t hid their needs have always been the most attractive to him. Maybe it was just the dirty old man side of himself that mad his cock throb in his pants, or could be her seductive words that lured him to erection.

“That was my father. He knew that I wasn’t alone,” she trembled. “He could tell it from the way my voice quivered. I will tell him about all of this, you know,” she smiled, her perfect white teeth catching her bottom lip in a light squeeze.

“Shhh little one. Close your eyes and let yourself explore as you confess. Feed me,” he whispered.

Her breath held so much behind each pant. She wanted to tell him everything, but hesitation kept her words in a little longer. Adinna was scared of being judged, though she knew that he never would. How could he? His guilt ran much deeper than her own.

Licking her lips, she kept her eyes closed as he asked. She wanted to touch herself, write a novel across her flesh. Allowing her to open the book was all she needed. Resting her hand on her knee, Adinna slowly stroked her flesh. The slightest of movements released a faint scent of the coconut lotion she applied liberally before leaving her room. She had soaked her body into a beautiful sheen, not knowing that it was one of his favorites.

“At first I felt dirty, you know. Letting him see me touch, but Daddy turned the lights low and we never raised our voices above a whisper. It seemed filthier that way,” she whispered. “I’m soaking now, I can feel it between my legs,” she added.

“Focus little one. Just allow your fingers to talk to me right now. I already know your words,” Brian whispered.

Pulling in a deep breath, she held it for a moment before allowing herself to breath again. Stroking her hands softly over her inner thighs, one hand on each side painting a picture in braille. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear the soft moans she held back as the very tips of her nails scraped upwards. She wanted to tell him everything, but body was the perfect way to give her confession to the man. As the hem of her dressed inched up, she could hear him adjust himself in his seat. His body was as heightened as hers. She could hear it without even seeing him.

That scent drove him wild. One of his favorites, he would love to lather his cock the same, but not yet. Anticipation is the only drug he fully indulged in.

“Show me,” he said.

She felt his hand on her own. Moving higher over the front of her silk panties, she showed him through the darkness of the room. Moving her fingers for a moment, Adinna allowed him to feel the dew that dripped from her lily. Her panties saturated in the nectar. With her mind spinning, the sensation of her own hand once again sending shockwaves of impending pleasure through her core. She had done this with one other man, and now him.

“There. See what you’ve done little one,” Brian spoke.

Her flesh felt like spun sugar beneath his fingers. Soft, sweet, and decadent to the touch, and he was sure the taste would prove the same. Not yet though. She hadn’t earned his taste yet. That would come when she fed him a little more from her lips.

Nodding in the dark, Adinna knew he didn’t need to hear her confessions. He could feel them for now. Prickles of lust now blanketing her body, the fire flowed through her veins. She wanted him to know everything even if it meant he would label her a whore.

“I was the one he wanted all along. Not her. For years she was just a substitute for him. He never said it, but I knew it. I felt it when he looked at me and her. His eyes hungry for my flesh as he avoided hers all together. I’m sure that’s why she eventually left. She couldn’t play the game any longer. Not when he accidently called my name with her,” Adinna, giggled almost in a smug manner.

She was sure it was hard for the older woman to compete with someone so soft and young. Flesh that held the wonders of the world beneath it, not already soiled with the filth of others. Being first has a special ring to it. Like it’s an honor or even a privilege to show another how powerful they really are. Her body stretched out, she placed his hand on the front of her soaked panties, smiling wickedly with desire.

“Can you imagine how that will taste, feel, and even, smell? Like the cotton candy at the first carnival of the summer. Something so enticing that you will never lick enough off your lips to rid yourself of me,” she whispered.

More to come.

One

Two

Three

The post Confession time – am I a bad girl? Pt 4 appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Thank you to one of my great callers. He was the muse behind this story.

Notorious. Yes, that’s the rumors that she heard about the parties at the manor. Each person made to sign an NDA; Gypsy knew nothing other than they would change their lives after one night. Rumor had it that a live sex act was center stage during the event. That alone had her tingling so deep that she swore she was having secret little orgasms to prepare for it all.

Re-reading the invitation, she glanced through her closet for something to wear. Since it’s a formal event, she had to find a stunning gown that would make heads turn. The little Devil inside of her loved being the center of attention. A floor length red sequined dress, a pair of matching 5-inch stilettos, and diamonds. Lots of diamonds accentuated the outfit. She saved the best stuff for things like this.

An hour later in the back of a limo, Gypsy twitched in anticipation. She couldn’t talk about what was waiting for her beyond the doors of that expensive house. Keeping secrets was not her best trait, but she would for a chance to peek into another world. As the car came to a stop, the door opened and a hand held out for her to take. It was male, but other than that she was in a sudden haze. A stranger held Gypsy’s fingers. She felt like she was walking on clouds as he led her to the door. That wasn’t the host, but on a night like this, who knows what fate holds.

“Good evening,” the voice called out the moment the sky-high solid oak door opened. A tall man gray haired man stood in the entryway with a smile creasing his lips. He was handsome in a way that made a girl want to giggle out the /daddy/ name the moment you met him. Whoever he was there should be no doubt in his mind that Gypsy was awestruck by his appearance. She always did enjoy the company of older men over one her own age.

“Welcome to the party, dear. Won’t you join us?” the stunning man asked.

As she walked across the threshold, Gypsy let out a soft internal moan. A woman alone shouldn’t put herself in situations like this, but she couldn’t stop her feet. The house, or maybe the man pulled her in like a moth to a flame. Even if she tried, there was no way to stop the intense need for this man. As she passed him at the door, Gypsy inhaled the scent of the woods. He smelled like moss after a long sensual rainstorm. His presence was unlike anything she had ever felt. It nestled under her skin, attempting to surface.

Shivering when the door closed behind her, Gypsy sauntered her way into the main room of the manor. People to the left and right of her, she grabbed the first glass of wine that passed her way. Her slender fingers wrapped around the crystal goblet before bringing it to her lips. Sweet bursts of grapes caused her tongue to curl. She didn’t usually drink, but the night made her feel like she would need to later.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the show is about to start. Please be quiet and respectful of the participants,” a voice directed.

Dumbfounded for a moment, Gypsy followed the rest of the guests to what seemed to be an observation room. It was like the ones you would see in movies that showed students observing a surgical procedure. There were no seats in this one, but the viewers hurried to the big windows. The windows looked out onto a dark room. She was going to ask the woman next to her what was happening. Suddenly, the lights from below turned on and she gasped for air. The scene below felt as though it had to be unreal, but it was at that moment that she knew what the NDA was for.

On a table that looked like the one women have feared, a young blond whimpered in anticipation. She couldn’t be over twenty-one, and her body enhanced in all the right places. Long legs held apart by stirrups; her lower half blocked by a blue hospital covering. Was this a medical procedure, or something more sinister? Though she wanted to run, Gypsy stood as though she couldn’t move her legs.

“Are you ready?” a voice whispered from behind Gypsy.

Fingers pressed to the glass, she nodded her head that she was, and the events began to unfold below.

A male about fifty entered the room, standing at the girl’s head. Soft music now numbing the room, a door at the end of the lit room opened and a very slight female entered. As she walked across the floor, a very noticeable strap on rested at her waist. 9 inches in length, the flesh covered toy bounced with each step the woman took.

Shaking, Gypsy watched and listened to the events going on below. The conversations made her feel both excited and scared for the woman on the table.

“Do you hear that?” asked the male.

Whimpering, the girl on that table nodded, whispering, “Who is it?”

A loud boisterous laugh erupted from the man as he leaned in, whispering, “Does it matter? It could be a man.”

The second female smirked as she leaned down, taking the first lick of the other woman’s slit. A subtle moan erupted from the crowd, all wishing that they could taste the enchantress on the table below. One mentioned that she could smell it, but that was impossible. The viewing room was as sterile as a hospital setting. Checking to see if she was still breathing, Gypsy placed her fingers to her wrist, feeling for a pulse. She had held her breath so long that she feared passing out.

“Please don’t stop,” the young girl cried out.

“Shhh, all in due time. Patience,” the male laughed.

The female collected the nectar dripping from her pussy. She inserted three fingers into the wet opening. The slurping sounds echoed through the walls. Crying out in pain, the female on the table arched her back to see, but nothing. Her view was completely blocked. The second female pulled her fingers out, holding them up for others to view. Her nails were dripping with crimson, which she sucked off her fingers, taking her innocence. What they had seen was the deflowering of the young female. Suckling each digit as a reward, the scent of blood permeated the room.

“Are you ready?” the male whispered.

“I’m scared,” the young girl replied.

Behind the curtain the female stroked the strap on as though it was a real dick. Her slender fingers wrapped tight around the shaft; she had a look of hunger that would make most scared. She pushed the simulated cock into the other woman while everyone watched. She held her legs down even though they were already bound. Thrust after thrust, the female drove that cock deeper into the woman’s core. A violent series of thrusts took away innocence without any mercy or remorse. The aggressor used her long red nails to massage the victim’s clit. She wanted the victim to release built-up pressure in her body. The nerves swelled, causing pleasure. The victim spiraled into a pool of pleasure.

Gypsy touched herself while wearing the expensive evening gown. She was too focused to notice others having sexual enjoyment below.

From the room below the male whispered to the invited victim, “Was that a man or woman?”

Her eyes resembling those of a deer in headlights, she glanced over, “I don’t know.”

“Does it matter?” he asked.

Defeated, the young girl whispered back, “No!”

Moral of this story is does it really matter? The body craves touch and whether male or female, allow yourself the pleasure of indulgence and never regret the outcome. Lust knows no boundaries. 

The post Fantasy Or Reality; Does It Really Matter? appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.