Amy tastes her first cock

Beth sinks to her knees on the low carpet in front of Ben, the short hem of her dress riding up her thighs. She wraps one hand around the base of his cock, looks up at him for a moment, then leans in and takes the head into her mouth. The sound is soft and wet—the slow slide of her lips, the quiet catch of her breath through her nose. Ben’s hand settles in her hair, not forcing, just resting there as she works him deeper, her cheeks hollowing, the glossy coral of her lipstick smearing faintly along his shaft.

You stand a few feet away in the heels and the red lace, dress already gone, and the sight locks every thought in place. That used to be you on your knees for her, or her on her knees for you. Now she is the one with her mouth full of cock, and all you can feel is the sharp, sudden ache of wanting to be exactly where she is. You want the weight of him on your tongue, the stretch at the corners of your mouth, the low sound he makes when she takes him deeper. The wanting sits low in your belly, hot and insistent, right alongside the throb that has been building since the bar.

Your hands move without thinking. Fingers hook under the thin side straps of the g-string and pull the soaked lace aside, baring your pussy completely. The cool air hits the wet skin and makes you shiver. You are swollen, lips parted and slick, the little hood of your clit already pushed back from how long you’ve been aroused. Two fingers slide between the folds, spreading the wetness, then circle slowly over the swollen bud. The touch is almost too much; your hips jerk and a soft, broken sound leaves your throat. The stockings tighten across your thighs as you shift your stance wider. The suspender straps tug at your hips with every small movement.

Beth’s head bobs in a steady rhythm. You can see the shine of spit on Ben’s cock each time she pulls back, the way her tongue flicks under the head before she sinks down again. Ben’s eyes flick from her mouth to you—watching your fingers work between your legs, the red lace bunched to one side, the way your breasts rise and fall with each shaky breath. His cock twitches against Beth’s tongue. Yesterday you had a cock of your own. You remember the heat of a mouth around it, the way your hips used to chase that feeling. Now the only thing between your legs is soft, dripping, and aching to be filled, and the only thing you can think about is dropping to your knees beside your ex and finding out what that thick weight would feel like on your own tongue.

Your fingers press a little harder, circling, the wet sounds of your own touch mixing with the softer, deeper sounds of Beth’s mouth. The lace of the stocking tops digs lightly into your skin. Ben groans, low and rough, and his free hand flexes at his side like he wants to reach for you. Beth glances sideways without stopping, eyes dark, and the look she gives you says she knows exactly what you’re thinking. The throb under your fingers sharpens. You were a man yesterday. Tonight you are standing in heels and a suspender belt, panties pulled aside, rubbing your soaked pussy while you watch your old girlfriend suck the cock you suddenly, desperately want in your own mouth.

Beth’s lips slide halfway down Ben’s cock before she pulls back with a soft, wet sound, a thin strand of spit catching the light. She glances up at him, then over at you, mouth shiny.

“God, you’re staring,” she says, voice low and a little breathless. “You want a taste, don’t you?”

Ben’s hand stays loose in her hair. His eyes are on your fingers where they’re working between your legs, the red lace bunched aside, your pussy glistening. “She can have one,” he says, rough. “If she asks.”

Your fingers slow but don’t stop. The pad of your middle finger keeps circling your clit, light and slippery. The sensation is bright, almost sharp, and every pass makes your thighs tremble inside the stockings. Internally the thoughts tumble over each other, loud and messy. Yesterday I had a cock. Yesterday I knew exactly what that felt like from the other side. Now I’m standing here in a suspender belt with my panties pulled over, dripping on my own fingers, and all I can think about is getting on my knees next to her. The want is so sudden and physical it almost scares you. You can already imagine the weight on your tongue, the way your jaw would ache, the low groan he might make if you took him deeper than you think you can.

“I…” Your voice comes out smaller than you expect. You swallow, fingers still moving. “I want to. I want to feel it in my mouth.”

Beth smiles, slow and knowing, and gives Ben one last long lick from base to tip before she shifts sideways on her knees, making space. “Then come here, baby. Get down with me.”

You step closer on the unsteady heels. The movement makes the suspender straps tug and the cool air hit your bare, swollen lips again. When you sink to your knees the carpet is soft under your stockings. Beth’s hand finds your hip, steadying you, then slides up to cradle the back of your neck the way she did in the booth.

“Open,” she murmurs, and guides the slick head of Ben’s cock to your lips.

The first touch is hot and smooth and tastes like skin and the faint trace of her lipstick. Your mouth parts on instinct. He slides in slowly, just the head at first, and the stretch at the corners of your lips is immediate and new. This is what I used to feel, you think, dizzy, except now I’m the one with my mouth full and my pussy throbbing empty. Your tongue moves without being told, tracing the underside the way you suddenly, desperately want to learn. Ben’s breath catches above you. Beth’s fingers stroke your hair.

“That’s it,” she says softly, watching your mouth. “Just like that. You look so fucking pretty with him in your mouth.”

The praise lands low in your belly. Your free hand is still between your legs, two fingers sliding through the wetness, rubbing slow circles while your lips stretch around him. Every small bob of your head makes the lace of the stocking tops dig into your thighs and the throb in your pussy pulse harder. I was a man yesterday. I woke up screaming. And now I’m on my knees in red lace, tasting cock for the first time, wishing he’d push deeper, wishing Beth would keep telling me how good I look doing it. Ben’s hand settles lightly on the back of your head, not pushing, just resting. The low sound he makes when your tongue swirls again vibrates straight through you. Beth leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth, right where your lips are stretched around him, and whispers, “Good girl.” The words make your fingers press harder against your clit. You moan around him, the sound muffled and shaky, and feel another rush of wetness soak your own hand.