Kelly for dessert

“Andrew,” Alyssa says, “Quiria needs to take a rain check, and Robin chose not to pay for your services.” I nod to Quiria to tell her that will be fine, which is fortunate because it helps me conceal the doubletake that hits a moment later. Robin? The girl with the dragon tattoo is named Robin? Again, though, there’s really no logical reason I should be surprised . . .

Unaware of my slight distraction, Alyssa keeps talking, so I hurriedly refocus. “. . . Kelly had specifically asked to go last. After you’re finished, we have stuff set out for you in the kitchen—we figured you’d want to wash up a bit, and we saved some food for you and something to drink. Heather will be in there in a little bit to take care of you.” I nod to Alyssa in acknowledgement. It would seem more natural to me to wash my face in the bathroom, but I suppose this simplifies things for them while they’re getting guests on their way and furniture back in place.

With that taken care of, I walk over to Kelly. If she’s not quite as hot as Heather, it’s probably just because I’m biased. She’s certainly every bit as unfair in a bikini as Heather, and rather less scrupulous about it—or maybe she’s more of an exhibitionist. Whatever the reason, the bikinis Kelly usually wore have to have been glued on—I can’t imagine how they stayed on otherwise. Between that and her fiery red hair, if you thought Kelly was hotter than Heather, I could understand that. I just wouldn’t agree with you. But I admit it’s really close.

I kneel down in front of Kelly, and she immediately cups one hand around the back of my head. I look at her in surprise and she coos, “Andrew, I know Alyssa taught you better than to go right for the pussy. I suppose you have the excuse that none of those other girls gave you the chance to do anything else, but I want you to do it right.” Before I have any chance to react, she pulls me in to kiss me hungrily. My lips part naturally in surprise, and she takes full advantage, slipping her tongue between them to seek mine out. I kiss her back almost reflexively, and then my hormones kick in. My dick is longer and harder than it’s ever been, I think, and my arousal is almost overwhelming; kissing Kelly gives me a little bit of an outlet.

Once she’s sure I won’t pull away, she lets go of my head, busying her hands with something lower down. She’s not touching me, so I don’t know what she’s doing. When she lifts a hand again to cup the back of my head, Kelly breaks off the kiss and purrs, “Mmmmmm, we taste good.” Then she gently pushes my head down and I realize what her hands were doing: her huge tits are completely out of her clothing. Her areolae are small—they have to be, or else half her bikini tops wouldn’t have covered them—and the color of ruby red grapefruit juice; her nipples are thick pegs about the length of the last joint of my pinky finger, pointing jauntily upward, which are currently crowned with small beads of clear fluid. She’s really turned on, I realize. She’s really fucking turned on.

I bring my hands up, cupped, fingers extended, to Kelly’s magnificent breasts and trace them with my fingertips. I avoid her areolae, keeping my palms just away from her nipples as I explore her contours. She moans softly and thrusts her chest out, but I move with her and keep my touch feathery on her satiny skin. I slide my hands around and down, enjoying the roundness of her underboobs; then I cup them in my fingers and bring my wrists up, not lifting yet, just enjoying how they fill my hands. “Mmmmmm,” Kelly purrs. “You like those big titties, don’t you, baby?” I nod without looking up from them, and she says, “Give me more, baby—more . . . Grab them, squeeze them, pinch my nipples—please, baby, please . . .”

I lift Kelly’s boobs in my hands, loving their weight. I squeeze them gently, rolling them a little between my fingers, earning myself a moan of approval. I rotate my wrists, sliding my fingers around to the outside of her heavy mounds and swiping my thumbs across their hard tips; I take several moments to rub all around and over her quivering nipples, coating her areolae with their fluid. She moans louder and jerks at my touch. “Like that—” she gasps. “Like that—more—more—”

I squeeze her huge melons a little harder, pressing my fingers into her supple titflesh, and rub them against each other. I lift them higher, seeing them move and imagining how they would sway and swing as I pounded Kelly from behind, then stroke up and along their outsides, pouring them out of my grasp. She gasps as they bounce. I move my hands around to the front of her twin peaks, pressing their hard summits into the centers of my palms and spreading out my fingers; I rub her stiff buds along my head lines as I caress and fondle as much of her generous boobs as I can reach. “Ooooooooh,” Kelly moans. “I love a tit man . . . So good—I want more—more—more . . . Pinch my nipples, baby—suck them—suck them hard—I want your mouth on my big titties . . .”

I slide my hands downward and bring my fingers together; I start kneading and massaging Kelly’s heavy boobs and pinching their eager tips hard between my knuckles. I bend my head down to their upper slopes and fill my mouth with as much as I can of her succulent titflesh, tasting her soft skin and caressing it with my lips. “That’s good, baby—that’s right—” she moans. “Yes—yes—yes—yes—more—more—more—ohhhhh, fuck, you make my titties feel so fucking good . . .” I squeeze harder, rolling and shifting her soft, firm globes, and licking and sucking all over them. I kiss my way down into the valley between them, rubbing my cheeks against them and them over my cheeks as I nuzzle and lick her breastbone.

After a while, I press Kelly’s tits harder together, squeezing my head out, and suck a nipple deep into my mouth. I reach the displaced hand down between her legs and push three fingers into her quim. As I expected, she’s absolutely soaking wet. She spreads her legs wider to give me maximum room to work. I paint her nipple and everything around it with my tongue, pressing my lips into her skin. I tease her fuckhole with my middle finger, then squeeze her inner lips between my fingers and pull gently as I stroke back up her slit, rubbing her pearl with the base of my hand as I go. “Oh—oh—oh—wow . . .” she mewls. “I’ve never—I’ve never—ohhhh, that feels good . . .”

Mostly, the world outside Kelly’s body doesn’t exist for me at the moment, but I register a voice behind me saying disapprovingly, “You little slut.”

Kelly responds breathlessly, “Yeah—but I’m a—happy little—fucking—slut.” Then she moans loudly when I pierce her sex with two fingers and find her G-spot. Rubbing it with their tips, I stretch my hand to locate her clit with my thumb, then press down. “Aaaahhh—aaaahhh—aaaaahhhh—aaaaahhhhhh—” she pants, her voice rising in pitch and volume. I have her in the palm of my hand—literally. I rub her as hard as I can there and start rolling and twisting her nipple with my other hand; at the same time, I begin suckling her other nipple hard and fast, flicking it with my tongue. “AaaaaaaAHHHHHHHHHH!” she cries, her gasp rising to a shriek as her body explodes in climax with the **** of an atomic bomb. She writhes and thrashes hard enough to make it difficult to stay locked onto her heaving boobs. Her cunt clamps down on my fingers as if it wants to crack my knuckles. I’m astonished at how hard she cums—and she just keeps cumming.

When Kelly quiets down, Alyssa says, “That counts as one.”

“I’m not—complaining,” she says through deep, heaving breaths.

I keep a hand on her tits and pull the other out of her honeypot to diddle her clit. I drop down to bury my face in her twat and my tongue in her cunt. Her cleft is deep and wide, an inviting hot-pink canyon trisected by large, meaty labia minora. She’s tangy and a little sweet, with a fragrance that’s vaguely floral. I stick my tongue in as far as I can get it and suck hard, drinking her girl-honey with great pleasure. “Fuck,” Kelly breathes. “I’ve had cocks that didn’t—go as deep—as your tongue . . .” I’m sure she’s exaggerating, but it still feels good to hear her say it. I flex my tongue from round to rolled and back again several times, pinching and twisting her nipple and rubbing circles around her clit.

“You’re so fucking good, baby,” Kelly moans. “You eat my hot, wet pussy so fucking good . . . Never had it so good . . . No one’s ever eaten me so good—not even—Eileen . . .” I’m dimly aware of a gasp or two behind me. I don’t think she was supposed to mention that, a little voice in the back of my head drily observes. I don’t think Kelly cares at this point, though.

I can feel her quivering with energy and decide to finish her off. I move my tit hand over to the wet nipple to pull and twist it; in her quim, I trade my mouth with my fingers and start corkscrewing her cunt with my hand, hard and fast. I lock my lips on her clit and suckle it like a nipple, equally hard and fast. I lash it with my tongue and start humming the bassline to “Under Pressure.” Kelly goes dead silent for a beat—two—three—

—and then her body detonates all around me. She arches her back and lets out a tearing scream as her second orgasm, more powerful than her first, fries her circuits. Kelly doesn’t writhe this time, but quivers and quakes in tension as her muscles all fire at once, freezing her in place. Her cunt thunders and storms around my invading fingers, pulsing and spasming hard as I relentlessly fingerfuck her and suckle her clit through her climax.

When her body unlocks and she slumps in the chair, I sit back on my heels and slowly draw out my fingers. I look up to realize that like Caitlyn, Kelly has passed out.