Read Online The Diary of Cozette by Amanda McIntyre - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda McIntyre
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legs.
Carefully she stroked his length, disinfecting him, if I were to guess. It was evident to me that she was about to perform the act which Ernest had done on me.
With a deep breath, I shirked out of my shirtsleeves and stood with one knee poised at his ribs. Uncertain what portion of the breast of a woman a man found most desirable, I cupped myself and leaned forward, taking a look over my shoulder at Betsy’s progress.
Beneath me, I heard a low pleasured growl, and my gaze darted back to his face, seeing his eyes closed in a euphoric state. Were we fortunate enough that he’d fallen asleep?
“Like this?” I whispered over my shoulder. So intent was I on observing Betsy’s amazing technique that I’d found myself nearly seated at the man’s side. Her blond hair fanned out over his thighs as her mouth covered his tip, lapping and licking at him as though she was a child with an all-day lolly. I was completely engrossed and jerked backward when the man strained forward and latched on to one of my nipples, drawing it painfully between his teeth. I shifted farther from his face and inspected my breasts for any break in the skin.
“Do that again,” he growled.
I glanced up and cupped myself, pressing them together.
“Yeah, like that, more,” he stated, his voice rising between Betsy’s mouth and watching me.
Betsy’s pale pink tongue slid up the side of his rigid member, teasing the tip. A guttural groan crooned low and easy from him as his eyes drifted shut in bliss.
It was odd that that being in this most unusual position would cause any sort of arousal in me, but I admit watching her perform with her tongue and hearing the groan of his satisfaction caused my breasts to tingle with arousal. I wanted to be sure that I memorized every detail to offer this technique to Ernest one day.
I was unaware that I was rubbing my breasts even as Ernest had done that night and my breathing had become shallow.
“Both of you.” He jerked at the ties, causing the bed to jump once, banging against the floorboards. Anyone below in the pub would surely think that it was just another trick.
I wasn’t sure what to do, but Betsy ushered me to her side.
“I will give you half of what he’s paid tonight if you do as he says. It’s not so bad, if you know when to move your head to the side,” she whispered.
“What are you two witches scheming down there?” the man snarled, sounding like the pit bull that sought scraps behind the pub.
Concerned by her comment but eager for the extra income I crawled onto the bed and followed her instructions, first rolling his bollocks in my palm, then sliding my hand up and down his shaft until he grew heated and hard in my palm. I continued, keeping my eye on his cock, imagining Ernest as his hips bounced off the mattress. The bed shook from the force, and I grabbed his thigh to prevent toppling off the side.
Betsy pushed my hand away and took his tip fully between her rosy lips and her cheeks sucked in rhythmically as though she was lighting a cigar. Mystified at the technique, I took a quick glance at the man’s expression. His chin thrust upward, his lips were curled back in a sneer, while brows pinched in his beet-red face.
With a final loud groan that most assuredly had to halt the chatter in the pub below, his body stiffened and he thrust his hips off the mattress. His thigh muscles clenched, and his mouth dropped open, twisting his face in a grotesque form. I feared he was having a heart attack, perhaps a seizure, so I scooted off the bed, my gaze intent on his face as I waited for his jerking motion to stop.
When after a moment his face relaxed, my eyes darted to Betsy, where I found her collapsed and draped across the man’s thigh. His breathing drew in deep, his chest rising and falling in slow motion.
Indeed, the bloke had passed out cold.
Betsy slid from the bed, picked up the man’s boot and spit into it, before rinsing her mouth with a swig of whiskey and
Carefully she stroked his length, disinfecting him, if I were to guess. It was evident to me that she was about to perform the act which Ernest had done on me.
With a deep breath, I shirked out of my shirtsleeves and stood with one knee poised at his ribs. Uncertain what portion of the breast of a woman a man found most desirable, I cupped myself and leaned forward, taking a look over my shoulder at Betsy’s progress.
Beneath me, I heard a low pleasured growl, and my gaze darted back to his face, seeing his eyes closed in a euphoric state. Were we fortunate enough that he’d fallen asleep?
“Like this?” I whispered over my shoulder. So intent was I on observing Betsy’s amazing technique that I’d found myself nearly seated at the man’s side. Her blond hair fanned out over his thighs as her mouth covered his tip, lapping and licking at him as though she was a child with an all-day lolly. I was completely engrossed and jerked backward when the man strained forward and latched on to one of my nipples, drawing it painfully between his teeth. I shifted farther from his face and inspected my breasts for any break in the skin.
“Do that again,” he growled.
I glanced up and cupped myself, pressing them together.
“Yeah, like that, more,” he stated, his voice rising between Betsy’s mouth and watching me.
Betsy’s pale pink tongue slid up the side of his rigid member, teasing the tip. A guttural groan crooned low and easy from him as his eyes drifted shut in bliss.
It was odd that that being in this most unusual position would cause any sort of arousal in me, but I admit watching her perform with her tongue and hearing the groan of his satisfaction caused my breasts to tingle with arousal. I wanted to be sure that I memorized every detail to offer this technique to Ernest one day.
I was unaware that I was rubbing my breasts even as Ernest had done that night and my breathing had become shallow.
“Both of you.” He jerked at the ties, causing the bed to jump once, banging against the floorboards. Anyone below in the pub would surely think that it was just another trick.
I wasn’t sure what to do, but Betsy ushered me to her side.
“I will give you half of what he’s paid tonight if you do as he says. It’s not so bad, if you know when to move your head to the side,” she whispered.
“What are you two witches scheming down there?” the man snarled, sounding like the pit bull that sought scraps behind the pub.
Concerned by her comment but eager for the extra income I crawled onto the bed and followed her instructions, first rolling his bollocks in my palm, then sliding my hand up and down his shaft until he grew heated and hard in my palm. I continued, keeping my eye on his cock, imagining Ernest as his hips bounced off the mattress. The bed shook from the force, and I grabbed his thigh to prevent toppling off the side.
Betsy pushed my hand away and took his tip fully between her rosy lips and her cheeks sucked in rhythmically as though she was lighting a cigar. Mystified at the technique, I took a quick glance at the man’s expression. His chin thrust upward, his lips were curled back in a sneer, while brows pinched in his beet-red face.
With a final loud groan that most assuredly had to halt the chatter in the pub below, his body stiffened and he thrust his hips off the mattress. His thigh muscles clenched, and his mouth dropped open, twisting his face in a grotesque form. I feared he was having a heart attack, perhaps a seizure, so I scooted off the bed, my gaze intent on his face as I waited for his jerking motion to stop.
When after a moment his face relaxed, my eyes darted to Betsy, where I found her collapsed and draped across the man’s thigh. His breathing drew in deep, his chest rising and falling in slow motion.
Indeed, the bloke had passed out cold.
Betsy slid from the bed, picked up the man’s boot and spit into it, before rinsing her mouth with a swig of whiskey and
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