The Woman in 3B - Eliza Lentzski Page 0,48

still sleeping.

I felt the slight pinch of my nipple between her thumb and a second finger. Her second hand traveled lower beneath the blanket; a single digit traveled the length of my slit. I exhaled in my pretend sleep, and subtly parted my thighs.

“Good morning,” Anissa whispered into my ear, just before she sank a single finger into my pussy.

“Oh, fuck,” I groaned.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, not really meaning it. “I couldn’t help myself. You looked so pretty and peaceful lying there.”

My fake sleep abandoned, I let my hips fall all the way open, and she slid a second finger into me. I could practically feel the contour of her double fingers—every joint, every knuckle. The sudden intrusion drew a hiss from my lips, but I didn’t make her stop.

“Fuck, that’s good,” I sighed.

Anissa corkscrewed her fingers into my pussy while she kissed my neck. Her kisses were delicate and light. Her lips were wet and her breath was warm on my skin. Her fingers twisted inside of me, a strange but pleasantly full feeling. She settled into a slow, yet steady rhythm, twisting her fingers in and out of my drenched sex. She ran the pad of her thumb against my swollen clit each time she bottomed out.

The sound of her heavy breathing in my ear turned me on nearly as much as the movement between my thighs. She groaned deliciously when I clenched my pussy muscles around her fingers. Her breath hitched in my ear when she heard and felt how wet she had made me. She had topped me, yet it was strangely empowering to hear how much she enjoyed fucking me.

The slow, torturous pace of her fingers eventually frustrated me. My hips arched off the couch to take control of her pace, but she pressed me back into the cushions. I unabashedly whimpered at her denial. She had only to pinch my clit between two fingers to make me see stars.

My head snapped up from the couch. “Shit,” I wheezed. “Just like that.”

The torturous pressure on my clit continued. Anissa curled her fingers inside of me while my fingers clawed at the leather upholstery. The pressure was almost unbearable; I thought I might explode.

“Are you gonna cum?” she asked me.

“Fuck,” I gasped. “I want to. So bad.”

She pinched my clit harder, and a strangled sound I didn’t recognize bubbled up my throat.

The twisting fingers inside me stilled so she could concentrate on my clit. She rolled the engorged and sensitive nub in small concentric circles. Her wet mouth clamped onto my earlobe. When she drew her hand up from between my thighs and slid slippery fingers—wet from my own juices—across my nipples, the torture was nearly complete.

“Rub your clit,” she rasped into my ear.

Another strangled noise bubbled past my lips.

The fingers lodged between my sticky thighs began to thrust again in earnest.

“Rub your clit, Alice,” she demanded again.

I tightly closed my eyes. I moved my right hand under the blanket that covered our bodies. I’d never masturbated in front of a partner before. I didn’t even have the benefit of nighttime darkness to cloak me—only a knitted blanket.

Anissa’s mouth fell to my neck where she continued to lick and kiss my skin. Her twisted fingers continued to corkscrew in and out of my sex, sloppy and wet. The penetration itself wasn’t going to be enough, and I thought she somehow knew that. If I wanted to cum, I was going to have to—literally—take matters into my own hands.

I pressed the tip of my middle finger against my hooded clit. I’d done the action enough in the privacy of my one-bedroom apartment that I knew actually how much pressure I needed and where to apply it. But this was new territory. I’d never had another naked body pressed against mine while I mashed my clit under my fingertips. I’d never had another person feverishly fingering me, bumping into my hand, while I tried to get myself off.

Anissa licked the side of my neck and buried her face against me. “Fuck that’s hot,” she breathed.

Her own body had begun to jerk erratically on the couch beside me. It didn’t take me long to realize that she was fingering me along with herself.

“Cum with me, Alice. Please,” she gasped in a desperate plea.

Her hand between my legs had lost its rhythm and any former elegance as she raced towards her own orgasm.

My stomach muscles tightened.

“Anissa,” I panted. “I’m going to ….”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” her voice chanted in my