Speaker 1: Welcome back to part two of this filthy sexy story.
Maya had a pizza basse already laid out on the
flower dusted counter, a perfect circle of raw dough, pale
and waiting. Here's how this works, Claire said, gripping my chin.
You're going to kneel, You're going to use that smart
mouth of yours. You're going to eat some cunt, and
every time you bring one of us off, you're going
to spit everything you've collected onto that pizza base. Understand.
I stared at the dough, then at her, Fuck you.
The slap came fast and open handed, Snapping my head sideways.
Wrong answer, She pulled me down by my hair. Patricia
was already settling onto the prep table, hikeing up her
pencil skirt, her expression one of mild anticipation, as if
she were waiting for a latte. You can use your tongue,
she said, or you can use your teeth. But I
promise you one of those options ends much worse for
you tonight. I knelt there on the cold tile floor,
my knees aching against the hard surface. Patricia's thighs spread
before me, her skin pale in the fluorescent lighting of
the kitchen, the smell of her arousal mixed with the
lingering scent of flower and yeast that always clung to
this place. I was looking right at her, middle aged pussy.
Your stalling, Claire said, her grip tightening in my hair.
I looked up at Patricia, and something shifted in her expression.
A small smile played at the corner of her lips.
Remember the safe word we discussed at the club, darling,
Patricia asked, her voice dropping to something almost gentle. You know,
the one you picked it yourself when you came on
to us so prettily, begging for this exact scenario. My
mind raced the club, the drinks, the way I'd leaned
in close to Claire and whispered what I wanted, A conversation,
a negotiation, my own voice breathless and eager, outlining this fantasy.
I was a slut and I wanted this. Now we
were doing it. Dreams really do come true. My body
relaxed as the memory crystallized. I'd asked for this, I'd
wanted this, The teasing at the bar, the fake rejection
that was all part of the game we'd agreed to play. Pizza,
I whispered. Patricia nodded, that's right, and are you saying
it now? I shook my heads, slowly, deliberately. No, good girl.
Patricia's hand moved to the back of my head, fingers
threading through my hair. Then show me what that pretty
mouth can do. I leaned forward and pressed my lips
to her inner thigh. The skin was soft, warm, and
I traced a path upward with my tongue, tasting the
salt of her skin. She hummed in appreciation, her hips
shifting toward me. Stop teasing, Claire said, from somewhere behind me.
But Patricia held up a hand. Let her work. She
knows what she's doing. I did know every girlfriend, every
late night experiment in my dorm room, every tutorial I'd watched.
It all converged in this moment. I dragged my tongue
through her folds, slow and deliberate, mapping the terrain of
her lapping her sweaty cunt. She was already wet, yet,
her slick coating my chin, and I found her clit
with the tip of my tongue. Her breath caught. Fuck
this bitch feels good, she moaned. I worked in slow
circles alternating pressure and speed. My hands finally free gripped
her thighs, pulling her closer. The taste of her filled
my mouth, musky tangy undeniably aroused above me. Her breathing
grew ragged. I worked her hard until she screamed and
spurted her joy juice all over my tongue and lips. Fuck.
She tasted good. Spit it onto the base, Maya reminded
me sliding the pizza dough closer. I pulled back and
let the accumulated slick drip from my lips onto the
pale circle of dough. It glistened against the raw surface.
One down, Claire announced, three to go. Maya hopped up
onto the counter next, her skirt already hiked around her waist.
She dispensed with underwear entirely, and I could see how
ready she was, swollen and glistening. Come on, little Teas,
she said, spreading her legs wider, show me what you've got.
I crawled between her knees. She was different from Patricia,
smaller lips, a more prominent clit. I sucked it between
my lips and felt her whole body shudder. Oh fuck, yes,
she was vocal too. Every swirl of my tongue drew
moans and curses. I worked two fingers inside her, curling
them upward while my mouth continued its attention. Her thighs
clamped around my ears. I felt her contract around my fingers,
her whole body tensing when she came. She came hard,
flooding my mouth with her release. I held it there,
letting it gather on my tongue, then turned and spat
it onto the waiting dough. The fourth woman, the quiet one,
had her hand between her own legs, playing with her cunt. Watching.
I hadn't learned her name, but Claire gave her a look,
and she reluctantly moved to take Maya's place. She didn't
say a word, just spread her legs and waited. I
approached her the same way I had the others, but
she was different, quieter, more reserved. It took longer to
read her responses. Her breath would catch, almost imperceptibly. When
I hit the right spot. Her fingers twitched against the
counter's edge. I took my time with her, long, slow
strokes of my tongue, gentle suction. Her arousal built gradually,
and I could feel her resistance crumbling with each pass.
When she finally broke, her orgasm seemed to surprise her,
a sharp intake of breath followed by a shuddering release.
I collected it all and added it to the growing
pool on the pizza base. Claire was last. She hopped
onto the counter and looked down at me with an
expression that mixed triumph and desire. You teased us, she said,
cupping my face let us on, made us want you.
I know, I leaned into her palm. That was the point, brat,
I know. She slapped me hard. I liked it. She
pulled me forward and I buried my face between her
legs without hesitation. She was the wettest of all of them,
her arousal thick and unmistakable. I devoured her like I
was starving. My tongue working tirelessly, my jaw ached, my
knees throbbed against the tile. But something had ignited in me,
a hunger that grew with each woman I pleasured. Claire's
fingers tangled in my hair, directing me right there there,
don't stop. I didn't stop ate her stinking wet asshole too.
She liked that a lot. I worked her through her orgasm,
feeling her thighs shake against my shoulders, tasting her release
as it flooded my mouth. When she finally pushed me away,
I turned to the pizza base and let everything drip
from my lips. Four women, four orgasms. The dough was
slick with evidence of my work. Maya slid off the
counter and retrieved a container from the refrigerator tomato sauce.
She spread it over the dough, mixing it with what
I'd collected. Then came cheese, pepperoni, everything that made a
pizza appear pizza. Patricia slid the whole thing into the
preheated oven. About fifteen minutes, she announced, we waited. I
remained on my knees, exhausted and strangely electrified. The kitchen
filled with the smell of baking pizza, tomato and cheese,
and something else underneath, something unmistakably intimate. When the timer
finally buzzed, Patricia pulled the pizza from the oven. Steam
rose from the melted cheese. The crust was golden brown.
Claire cut a slice and held it out to me.
Pussy pizza, she said, made special just for you. You
earned it. Slut I took the slice. The cheese burned
my fingers. I brought it to my lips and bit down,
and the hot juice dripped all down my tits and
made me jump. The taste hit me immediately, Tomato and
cheese and something earthier, saltier, The accumulated release of four
women baked into every bite. The women laughed, bent over
the counter and exposed their assholes, and put an extra
large soda cup between the fourth woman's legs. Time to
get to work on a chocolate milkshake next, bitch, Claire laughed.
Who knew making a pizza could get so dirty? I
hoped you enjoyed today's sexy story. If you love this podcast,
leave an Apple review. Share what sexy fantasies you want
to hear. Maybe we can make your dirty dreams come true.
See you soon,