French - My Black Lab Takes Me For The First Time: Part 2
"Jesus Christ, French. What the fuck?" I hissed. His expression didn't change. "You scared me half to death."
I laughed and grabbed his face in my hands, caressing this jowls.
"What's gotten into..." I started.
He cut me off as he stepped forward and pushed his nose under my t-shirt and began licking me again. I backed into the kitchen counter and could retreat no further. My hands were on his face and I tried to push him away. He continued licking. His tongue was reaching under me in full, firm strokes against my labia and clitoris.
I could hear the wet lapping sounds his tongue was making and the sensation was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. The tingling in my clit that began with Martin now bloomed into wringing pulses of pleasure. A warm knot of pleasure began to pulse low in my pelvis.
As I struggled to stop him I had to lift one leg and scoot sideways as I pushed him away. Spreading my legs only gave him more to work with and by the time I was out of his reach my pussy was smoldering, near orgasm.
"French man!" I said. "That's a no no." I was breathing hard, my heart was racing. "Jesus boy. What's got into you?"
He looked at me quizzically, his tongue making lapping sounds in his mouth.
"Go lay down." I said as firmly as I could without being scolding.
He turned reluctantly and walked slowly into the living room to find his bed.
"Fuuuck." I exhaled. I turned back to the counter trying to figure out what I had been doing, my mind reeling, my pussy throbbing.
Coffee. I turned to find the filters scattered everywhere. Suddenly I needed to sit, my legs were shaking and my heart was still pounding.
I walked into the living room and found French lying on his bed. I knelt down next to him, sitting on my heels. I reached out and stroked his head, then dug my fingers into his neck. My chest was tight with excitement and I arched to take a breath.
"It's okay French." I said. "Just not sure I'm that kind of girl." I said and chuckled, feeling the the thud of my heartbeat in my anus. "Pretty sure I'm not." I said.
He looked at me. His tongue came out and kissed my knee. "Kisses. Yes kisses are good. Good boy. Cunnilingus on the other hand .... well that's good too." I said. "But..."
Martin walked into the livingroom in his underwear rubbing an electric razor over his face. He walked past me and French.
"Helluva storm last night, huh?" He said. "And not a bad way to wake..." He stopped. "No coffee? Rae, there's coffee filters everywhere. What's going on?" He said, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
"Oh, I, uh, slipped." I said. "Coffee filters went flying. French man bummed out. Everything's fine." I looked up at him.
"Damn. Guess I grab one on the way." He said and walked back to the bedroom.
I looked down at French, my fingers in his neck, he looked up at me. "We almost got busted." I said. I chuckled and nuzzled my face against the top of his head.
He lowered his head and began licking the inside of my thigh. I pulled back. "Really, French, you don't know when to quit, do you?" I scratched the top of his head and stood.
"Breakfast?" I said, as I walked into the kitchen.
About an hour after Martin left I was sitting on the couch, coffee on the side table, still in my nightshirt. I'd pulled my hair back and my open laptop rested on my thighs. I was editing a story I was working on. Or, at least, I was trying to. The swollen thudding between my legs was insistent and completely distracting.
French walked over and sat in front of me and gave a little whine. I looked at him.
"What is it boy? Gotta go out?" I said, which was usually his cue to walk to the back door. He just looked at me "No? What is it?" I said. His head tilted and foofed.
I closed my laptop. "You feeling frustrated too?" I said. "I think mommy's gotta take care of something or she isn't going to get any work done today." I said. The added, "Maybe ... you should lick yourself. I know I don't normally approve of that sort of thing but, considering everything you've been through this morning, maybe we can make an exception." I said.
He extended his head and placed it between my knees on the couch. "Not again French." I said, and began to push against his face. As I tried to get purchase my knees came apart and I shifted to one cheek.
He stood and moved forward, pushing his muzzle between my legs. He was sniffing furiously and his long hot tongue shot out again and made contact with my wet, swollen cunt.
The sensation was, again, arresting. "Oh God, French what are you doing?" I said, as I squirmed to get away.
His tongue was lapping quickly in short powerful strokes over my clit. I lifted my feet to the couch as I pushed against his big head. His strong neck muscles supported me, which actually unbalanced me, not helping at all. His tongue was uniquely hot and remarkably on target.
I could feel an orgasm approaching and I began to panic. Mustn't come on my dog's face, I thought. Bad precedent.
And then, amidst the struggling and the licking and the fire that had already been stoked between my legs, I could feel it starting to burst over me.
I can't let this happen I thought and tried to swing a leg over him but couldn't. He kept licking, the feeling was building. This isn't right, I thought, and then it was on me. I gave in.
I froze, sliding slowly down onto the couch and let it come. There I was, feet on the couch, knees splayed apart, holding French's head in my hands as his tongued worked in methodical strokes over my pussy. I came.
My head tipped back. My fingers dug into his neck and I pulled him to me, tilting my hips up in rhythm to his insistent licks. I moaned involuntarily and the spasms wracked me. The dissonance between pure pleasure and the shame of depravity just about cut me in two as it somehow intensified the orgasm.
As my orgasm subsided he seemed to sense it and he pulled away, licking my thighs and knees. I released him and flopped over on my side, catching my breath.
As I lay there my mind whirled. I wasn't sure how to process what had just happened. Could I have stopped it? Was I depraved for getting off? He was so insistent, so immune to my resistance, so determined and strong. It seemed he had decided he was going to lick what he wanted to lick almost from the moment he placed his head between my knees. Or before.
What the fuck was happening? I looked over the edge of the couch as he sat in front of it. His head was down, his tongue was out, licking himself. The small, reddish pink tip of his cock extended from his furry sheath about an inch or so.
The urge to project human emotions onto him was powerful. To watch him now and believe he had licked me out of some sense of passion or love or affection was absurd. Right? And it was ridiculous to think that he now licked himself as an unrequited lover might pleasure himself. Completely.
Still, in this afterglow of an orgasm he had given me, to see his sex exposed was arousing. To see that he was aroused was, what? Exciting. And the fact that this was all so raw and feral only added to the wanton sensuality. This was happening outside clean lines of acceptable interaction, un-nuanced by rules, bending only to laws of chemical interaction never intended to intersect or collide.
And still, his insistence replayed in my mind. His force, his intrusion, his un-contemplated action was too big to get my head around. It replayed again. My inability to control him, to control myself lit a palpable thrill in me like being pushed off a cliff, falling through space, out of control until it was over, crashing into the ground. A hot spasm of panic gripped my chest.
I closed my eyes, shutting out the vision. My heart beat strongly in my clit, my labia tingled hot, almost burning as if rubbed by a delicious irritant. I had never come like that on any tongue, slow or fast, on any or cock, large or small, or vibrator or dildo.