Thursday, August 09, 2012

Feast of Dreams

I'm late for my date with the girls. When I arrive the party is already in full swing -- blaring rock music, the sweet smell of weed, lots of loud laughter and noisy exuberant chatter. Someone is getting married next week and I am offering my mouth and lips and tireless tongue for the pleasure of the guests. The hostess greets me warmly and whispers that the girls are hot and eager and expectant. So am I, but trembling with desire and anticipation and excitement, heart pounding in my tight dry throat. This is the ultimate erotic fantasy cum to life.

In the dim candle-lit basement I strip naked and am blindfolded and bound, hands and feet, on a sleeping bag on the floor. Soon the orgy of pleasure begins and I hear them approach, whispering and giggling -- to sit on my face. And feed their delicious wet pussies to my hungry mouth and insatiable tongue. Some are bare and some have hair and some are in between. And some are ripe with the exquisite musky fragrance of hot sweaty pussy in the summertime. All are warm and humid and juicy. Each girl chooses exactly how she wants to be eaten and sets her own lusty pace. Some squat, some kneel and some hover gently and let my tongue dance greedily with their slick velvety lips and electric pearls of passion. Others grind mercilessly and ride my tongue urgently like Lady Godiva astride a galloping steed. My face is soon covered in sweet woman juice and I eagerly swallow every drop that oozes into my mouth. There is much panting and mewing and moaning and groaning and squealing and squirting. A smorgasbord of hot wet pussy, orgasms aplenty and torrents of delicious sacred nectar. This is the feast of dreams.

One girl saucily spreads her cheeks with her hands and lowers her delectable bum onto my eager mouth. I moan in sheer delight and ecstasy, licking feverishly and probing her tight starfish with my tongue. She diddles herself feverishly and cums with a long drawn out groan, ejaculating fountains of sweet warm juice into my grateful open mouth. I hear an audience whispering, hushed at the intensity of our pleasure, as they wait their turn.

The feast goes on for hours and I am shown no mercy. Nor do I ask for it. Some I think come back for seconds. I bask in the ultimate pleasure as I lie naked and satiated at the Pearly Gates of Pussy Worship Heaven.

Praise the Lord, who as we all know, is a woman.

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