Architecture of Desire

She began by kissing me. There was nothing tender or romantic about that kiss. Her tongue poked rudely into my mouth. Her lips were hard and insolent on mine. That kiss stole my breath, liquefied my sex, and turned my knees to rubber. I would have stumbled and fallen against the steel shelving, but she held me upright with one muscular arm around my waist. With the other hand, she assailed the buttons of my blouse, tearing them open without regard for the delicate silk.

The girl had none of Marietta's refinement, none of that measured sensuality I had been missing so much. I was grateful for that. I wanted her brash youth, wanted her fire to burn away my memories and my regrets. By the time she released me, I was gasping. I could feel the hot blood in my cheeks, sense my smeared makeup. My clit was hugely swollen, throbbing with my racing pulse.

Finally she pulled back and stood with her hands on her hips, looking me over. "You liked that, didn't you? I knew you would. For the last two hours, you've been at that corner table, nursing your drink, watching me tend bar. Dying to get into my pants. It's true, isn't it, Ms. Fancy Architect?"

A part of me wanted to slap her face. The rest ached to throw myself at her feet and bury my nose in her denim-sheathed crotch. I stared at my hands, embarrassed by my need.

My blouse hung open, a button torn away. She reached in and brushed her fingertips across my lace brassiere. "Take it off," she ordered. A slight huskiness in her voice betrayed her own arousal.

As I obeyed, my nipples tightened to hard little bullets. I carefully draped my blouse over the ladder behind me, then stood bare-breasted before her. Do I look old to her, I wondered, flabby and overblown? She grinned at my discomfort. Nevertheless she was a bit flushed and her breathing seemed faster than normal. I felt a tiny thrill of triumph at her desire.

"Now your trousers," she commanded. They joined my blouse. I removed my bikini panties without explicit instructions. Her grin grew broader. I stood naked before her, reveling in her attention. I knew that she could see the moisture pearled on my pubic curls. I wondered if my engorged clitoris was visible.

She settled herself on a stack of boxes labeled Tanqueray, reclining like a sultaness. "Show me how much you want me, Ms. Architect. Let me see what a raunchy slut you really are. And if I like what I see..." She trailed her hand languidly up the inside of her thigh. My eyes followed her every motion.

I knew what she wanted. I wanted it too. I slipped one hand inside my cunt, amazed at how swollen and soaked I was. Imagining that it was her hand, I worked my fingers in and out of my slick folds, while my thumb strummed over my rigid clit.

Since Marietta left, masturbation had been my only form of release, but even as my hands found their familiar rhythm, I knew that this was different. My slender companion's eyes were riveted on me. Every few minutes, her tongue would flick across her parted lips. Almost absently-mindedly, she slid her hand into the black satin bustier which made such a fine contrast with her torn jeans, and extricated one pale breast. Her fingers danced over her tawny nipple as I pinched and kneaded my own, sending bolts of electricity to my sex. Although she did not touch me, barely touched herself in fact, we were climbing the long hill together.

I closed my eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensations building between my legs. In the darkness, I recognized the rip of her zipper. My eyes flew open just in time to see her thrust her whole hand into her pants. Her gaze met mine, as she rubbed furiously.

"Your ass," she hissed. "I want to see you finger your ass." Her crudeness took me to new heights. I turned my back to her and bent over, thighs wide. Smearing my juices over my perineum, I slowly worked my middle finger into that tight hole, continuing to frig my cunt with my other hand. I don't know what was more thrilling, the intense pleasure of the digit wriggling in my sphincter, or the knowledge that this little punk goddess was watching my every move.

Orgasm was welling up inside me, rising higher each time I thumbed my clit or stroked my slippery rear passage. At any moment the flood would crest and bear me away. The cluttered storeroom reeked with our mingled woman-scent. My breathing was shallow and ragged. An animal moan wrenched itself from her throat. The sound brought me to the very edge, where I teetered helplessly.

"Stop," she growled. "Come here." I turned to see her sprawled on her cardboard throne, bare thighs spread wide. "Make yourself useful." She pointed to her pouting cunt-lips. I didn't need a second invitation.

Her pubic hair grew wild and tangled, nothing like Marietta's neatly trimmed bush. Her labia and clit peeked out of this damp jungle, cherry red and glistening. Bending towards her, I inhaled her potent swamp perfume. Then I stretched out my tongue and delicately flicked at the swollen bud at her center.

She writhed and moaned again. Encouraged, I traced the outlines of her outer lips, lapping gently at her juices, savoring the silkiness of her private places. A lick here, a nibble there: I took my time, trying to build her pleasure gradually.

Arching her back, she pressed her pelvis toward my mouth. Obviously she wanted more from me. I was happy to oblige. Using my thumbs, I opened her wide and plunged my rigid tongue into her vagina, again and again. In between thrusts, I pulled back and raked my teeth over her clit.

She thrashed and bucked, bruising my lips. "Oh, shit, oh yes! Oh, come on! Harder. Eat me, fuck me, oh shit baby...!" Her flesh began to vibrate, a violin playing music too high to hear, a tremor running through the bowels of the earth. I sucked her feverishly, feeling my own sex tremble in sympathy. Suddenly she yelled out some obscenity, and her whole body convulsed. Tangy moisture flooded my mouth. She slumped backwards, every muscle relaxed. I continued to lap up her juices as her breathing slowed to normal.

As for me, I was more aroused than ever, but I felt no impatience. I merely licked my lips and basked in the satisfaction of having completed her pleasure.

After a few minutes, she sat up and grinned at me. There was a new gentleness in her expression, a hint of shyness. "Thank you...?"

"Judith." I answered her unspoken question.

"I'm Toby," she countered. "And I must say that even though you look as straight as Mrs. Beaver Cleaver, you do know how to eat pussy."

I couldn't keep the hint of sadness from my voice. "I had a good teacher."

"Well, Judith, I think that I should do something nice for you." The mischief was back in her eyes, and I felt a twinge of apprehension. "Make yourself comfortable up here." I climbed up next to her on the pile of boxes, and leaned back against the wall. "Spread your legs," she said, "and close your eyes."

"Is that necessary? I want to watch you."

"Don't argue, do it." Strange to find such dominant streak in one so young. Her huge green eyes and cropped black hair reminded me of some anime waif. My sex was heavy and aching, and I knew that she would give me release. I followed her instructions.

She bustling noisily around in the storage room, looking for something. Then in a moment she was back, standing between my legs. I could sense the warmth of her naked flesh, close to my skin. "Relax," she said. I felt her fingers carefully part my folds.

I trembled at her touch, nervousness mingled with excitement. Then suddenly there was a sensation I could not identify. Something smooth and cold slid into my cunt, deep, until it brushed against my cervix. Immediately she drew it out again, a polished roundness slipping over my drenched tissues, lingering at my opening. Heat flared in me in response to this icy invasion, and the flood waters of my climax rose swiftly.

She worked the frozen dildo in and out, while I wriggled and twisted and did not think to wonder just what sort of devilish device she was using on me. Glassy and rigid, cylindrical and sleek, the instrument moved inside me, filling and emptying me, urging me on to that final peak. Toby ground the object deep into my cunt, pressing its hardness against my straining clit. Dimly, I heard myself screaming aloud, as the tidal wave broke over me, while Toby laughed in delight.

She roused me with a butterfly kiss that flitted across my lips and left me aching for more. "Well done, Judith," she whispered. I opened my eyes to find her sitting cross-legged beside me, wearing nothing but that bratty grin of hers. She took a swig from a brown glass bottle; I noticed another, empty bottle lying in her lap. "Want a beer?" she asked, barely stifling a laugh.

Embarrassment and wonder warred in me as she held my gaze. I felt an answering smile grow on my lips. "Sure, Toby. I'd love one."

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