Chapter 16: Molly and Me

1130hrs Monday 8^th April 2019 27 Castle Road

DAY 8

I admit to being apprehensive and nervous as I followed Molly into her bedroom. Less than an hour earlier I had practically raped the woman, and hadn’t exactly done myself proud, only producing a measly spurt of spunk after less than a minute of frenzied fucking. Would I perform any better now? The chances were slim, given how ashamed and embarrassed I felt.

The bedroom was large and overlooked the rear garden. The windows were triple glazed and there was no sound of traffic, although at this hour of the morning Parkway would be thick with vehicles. A door led off to what I assumed was the en-suite bathroom facility. A King-sized, possibly Emperor sized bed, complete with a padded headboard and silk sheets dominated the room. A walk-in wardrobe with mirrored doors filled two sides of the room, with a triple mirrored dressing table positioned by the side the picture window that I noted had a padded window seat.

“There are spare drawers in the wardrobe for your clothes and space to hang jackets and trousers,” Molly said. I unpacked my few possessions and placed them in the wardrobe, took off my jacket and put it on a hanger.

“And the rest, Joshua, and don’t look so nervous, I’m not going to bite you.” She grinned, “Well, maybe just a nibble or two. Get your kit off and come to bed, we have some unfinished business to attend to.” I still hesitated. “What is it? Don’t I turn you on?” She knew that was untrue as I had a hard-on that threatened to bust my zip.

“I’m so ashamed of my behav...”

“If you mean the language you used then don’t worry about it. I knew you weren’t addressing me when you were shouting ‘bitch’ and ‘cunt’. I assume the bitch was Rebecca and Michelle the cunt? But why the tears, who were they for?” She looked at me with tenderness and compassion in her eyes. “How could I think you a rapist when you were streaming tears? My heart went out to you.”

Great! I not only swore at her but blubbed all over her. She must think me a right wuss. I sighed; might as well tell her the truth and she will see me for what I really am and then I can slink off with some measure of pride left.

“The cunt was Alice Maitland, and the tears were for Ma – Michelle Devereaux.” I hung my head in shame, fancy crying when shagging a girl. What sort of pathetic loser does that make me?

Molly hugged me, her cheek warm against mine. “You are a confused and insecure young man but I’m here to sort you out.” She quickly divested me of my clothing as I stood there motionless, shocked, surprised, but thankfully rampant. She clasped my erection in a firm but tender grip. “I’m going to make you a secure and very happy man, Joshua. I have dreamed of you and me together in this bed and I am going to make all my dreams, and yours, come true.”

I have a thing about eraser-nipples, the type of nipples found on smaller breasts, smaller but shapely breasts. Nipples that look like the little fingers of babies that are naturally erect and get rock hard when the woman is aroused. Naomi Watts has the type of nipples to which I refer, not that I have ever had the pleasure of seeing them in the flesh, so to speak.

Vince Cowan, who fancies himself as something of an amateur psychologist, says my attraction is because I was bottle fed as a child, but I don’t believe that is the case. If it was surely I would have been drawn to big breasts with large puffy nipples? As for not being breastfed by my mother; I would assume I was for the first few months at least. And no, I don’t know what my mother’s nipples look like and don’t want to know, although I do know she wishes she had had me aborted.

I think my fetish for eraser-nipples stems from Alice Maitland having that type of nipple. She was the first girl I saw naked, and I fell in love with her and her nipples at the same time. Alice would have been sixteen when I first met her, and by now her breasts may be huge and hang down past her waist, but then they were small, no more than a handful each, and the nipples stuck out like chapel hat pegs, small hat pegs but eminently suckable, and begging to be nibbled, an activity I carried out any time I was given the opportunity, and thoroughly enjoyed the experience, as did Alice. I wonder if she still has her nipples sucked, and if so does it remind her of me?

Annie Groves had large tits but small nipples, but Annie Groves fucked like a maniac so I was prepared to overlook that failing. However, it was Annie who taught me the titty-loving technique that has stood me in good stead ever since, and I remember her with affection – it was a pity she ended up in the slammer but blood will out. The badge bunny tag team of Trixie and Dixie were well-endowed breast-wise but not with my nipples of choice, although that didn’t stop me from slobbering all over their mammary glands whenever the opportunity presented itself. The Swiss Cottage Quartet was similarly blessed, other than Mynee, who was the youngest and skinniest of the four but had perfect eraser nipples. I was her best customer, and fornicated with her more often than any of the other three girls, except when DP, spit-roast, or TP duties intervened. Mynee was also the only member of the group with whom I could manage a standing inverted 69. The other girls were well built and I didn’t want the ignominy of dropping one of them on her head, especially if she was sucking on my cock at the time. Mynee and I spent many happy, sweaty, hours with limbs, tongues, and glands entwined, and I always harvested her nipples before doing anything else to her.

You have probably gathered from this rambling preamble that Molly Miller had eraser nipples to die for?

She shucked off her bathrobe and slid between the sheets and waited. I still stood there like a pudding, my knob sticking out like the handle on a saucepan, until she sat up in bed and the silk sheet slid down her body exposing her eraser type nipples. Seconds later I was in bed sucking on her starboard nipple like it was a sherbet dab.

We started sedately. ‘Make love to me’ had been her instruction and I did my very best to indulge her. Kissing, caressing, stroking her luscious body. Naturally, my mouth went first to her nipples and my fingers to her honeypot, which was already wet and slippery. We sucked tongues, we licked and sucked each other’s flesh, kissed in the tender spots, on the neck, behind the knee, at the base of the spine, crook of the elbow, armpits, and of course her nipples. I just loved kissing, licking, sucking her nipples. I purposely kept from muff diving as I wanted to bring her to the boil working only above the waist. The French kissing got deeper, wetter, and went on for longer, tongues tangled, and then her hand captured my now throbbing dick and guided it to the entrance of her twat.

“Fill my quim with your hot spunk, Joshua,” she ordered.

I was surprised by her words. ‘Quim’ was not an unknown name for the female genitalia but I had not heard the term for many years. It was Joyce Henderson, the girl who taught me how to eat out a female, who used it. Being told by Molly to fill her quim with hot spunk was a turn on – don’t you just love a woman who talks dirty – not that I needed to be turned on as Molly had an educated and well-experienced quim that sucked my dick into her channel and then gripped and clenched tightly, dispelling the notion I had that Molly was a tyro in the shagging stakes.

We took it quietly at first, each of us attentive to the needs and quirks of the other. I soon reached my peak, not quite at the vinegar stroke but I’m certain I would have shot my wad if Molly hadn’t somehow squeezed her internal muscles and delayed me blowing my stack until she was ready. When allowed to come it was a much sturdier stream than before, and I gave a great groan of release and relief. Molly came a few moments afterwards; her back arched, she gasped, she shuddered, and then she sucked my neck and dug her nails in my back. We lay still, our bodies moving only by our laboured breathing.

“That was more like it, “Molly said. I nodded, still catching my breath. She looked at the clock at the side of the bed. “Lunchtime,” she announced and skipped out of bed, slipped into her bathrobe and left the room.

I got out of bed much more slowly, scrambled into my discarded clothing and followed her downstairs. We lunched on the counter in the kitchen, and then I après lunched on Molly’s quim on the deep pile, newly cleaned, carpet in the lounge, with a fluffy bathroom towel strategically placed underneath a knees raised, open-thighed, wet and ready Molly. I utilised all the cunnilingus techniques imparted by Joyce Henderson and gave Molly the full benefits of my training.

I blew gently on her pubic hair, discovering in the process Molly was a natural blonde. She giggled and asked me what I was doing; I made no reply as by that time I had a mouthful of her sweet love box, and it is rude to speak when eating. In my mind’s ear, I heard Joyce Henderson’s ‘gor blimey’ accented voice giving me instructions that I dutifully followed.

‘That’s it Josh, lick up and dhan me lips and across. Suck and lick and kiss till you feel me juices flowing then get me clit in yer gob and suck like a bloody Dyson on maxi speed. Yeah, that’s fucking magic. Don’t fergit to finger me love chute at the same time, not just poking but stroking. Lubberly jubberly! You are fucking magic at this, Josh. Now stick yer tongue were you’ve ‘ad yer fingers and try and reach me G spot. Yeah – now use yer thumb on me clit. Waggle yer tongue in me love tunnel for a second or two, then get back to licking me clit.’ I carried out her orders to the letter, alternating finger and tongue in her love channel and sucking and licking her clit and inner lips until I hit pay dirt, and achieved my certificate of excellence. ‘I’m fucking cumming. Arrgghh!’

As in the past with Joyce so it was now with Molly, but without the east London accented running commentary. I treated Molly to Ajay’s Minge Munching Experience for probably a half an hour or more; it was long enough to make my jaw ache, my knees likewise, and my face and chin run with her juice and my saliva. She was now bucking and writhing as my ministrations took effect, and Ajay’s Mega Magic Muff Munching Experience swung into full pleasuring mode. Guttural groans came from deep in Molly’s throat as she began the climb to a climax. I redoubled my efforts, licking and sucking her button of pleasure, by now throbbing with pleasure, and her inner lips slick with my saliva and her juices. Molly moaned and gasped, and her legs flailed against my back as she climaxed. I held on tight to her hips as she continued to jerk and convulse, racked with the orgasms that ripped through her body. My face was still buried in her twat, still licking and sucking on her moist lips, until she finally stopped writhing. She lay still as a corpse for several moments, and I withdrew my head from between her thighs and stood up on trembling legs and aching knees, and then gazed down at her. Juices leaked from her ravaged quim onto the fluffy bath towel, her legs were splayed and her breasts heaved as she regained control of her breath and her senses. I was tempted to suck on her rock hard extended nipples but she had already experienced a pleasure overload and thought better of it. Molly opened her beautiful violet-blue eyes, and then beamed a smile at me. It was the smile of a well-satisfied female, and I felt as proud as Punch.

“That was simply fantastic,” she said. “Where did you learn to eat quim like that? It’s not a skill males are born with. Other than Denny, I’ve never had an orgasm from a guy just tonguing and fingering me before, and I had at least three with what you were doing to me.”

“You can thank Joyce Henderson of Year Nine at Barking Comp,” I said. “She was a harsh taskmistress but her lessons were well learned. Most of the boys in Year Nine went through her hands, or rather through her twat, err, quim. And who is Denny?”

“The girl should be given a Nobel prize for services to Womankind. Imagine a whole classroom full of boys with your expertise, what a boon for the ladies of east London. Oh, but you might have been her star pupil and perhaps the others never reached your height of excellence. Did she also teach you the secrets of pleasuring a female with your cock – you probably have a certificate for that as well?” Molly hadn’t fully answered the question, but I didn’t press her.

“No, that was Alice Maitland, we discovered the pleasure of shagging--” I stopped, and then decided to tell Molly some of my history. “I met Alice during our first year at Dagenham College of Further Education. She was my first love, and when she immigrated to Canada with her family it broke my heart. The fact that she found a new love a few months after arriving in Canada might be some indication of my skill or lack of same. Who is Denny?”

“So Alice was the ‘cunt’ you were punishing when you thought you were raping me earlier? I expect she was so enamoured by your quim eating skills she took up with the first boy who remotely resembled you,” Molly said. “And Denny was the first man who made love to me.”

“They say a girl never forgets the man who took her cherry.”

“That’s true, but I had lost my virginity a year before meeting Denny. When I say ‘lost’ it was more a gleeful discarding of something of little value to me. I had my ears pierced and my hymen split on my fourteenth birthday. The person who pierced my ears and hymen was the same man, a friend of my parents, and an expert at both crafts. The ear-piercing was more painful than the hymen splitting.”

“Fourteen!” I was aghast, “you were well under the age of consent and your parents allowed it to happen? They could be jailed for child abuse...”

She placed a finger over my lips. “Don’t be such a policeman, Joshua. You’ve been suspended and are now just a common civvy like the rest of us.” She removed her finger and replaced it with her mouth and we sucked tongues for several pleasant minutes.

“It seems bizarre that your parents should arrange to have you deflowered,” I said after regaining my breath from the tongue sucking.

“They wanted me to enjoy the deflowering, which I did. How many girls’ sex lives are ruined because of the pain they receive the first time a dick gets shoved into them? They associate the sex act with pain, and forever after are wary of having sex and never really enjoy the gift from God that is a man and a woman cleaving together in joy. By the time I met Denny I must have had over two hundred dicks inside me.”

“When did you meet Denny?”

“On my fifteenth birthday.”

“You had that many lovers in a year? That’s four a week, and you were only fourteen! Where the hell was this, the back streets of bloody Cairo?”

“No, it was in darkest Cambridge. Brenda Keane and I would go into Cambridge on a weekend and pick up posh first-year undergraduates. They would buy us meals and drinks and then we would let them shag us.”

“You were putting yourselves at tremendous risk...”

“We were the predators, Joshua, and we only allowed them to shag us if they wore Johnnies.”

“What were your parents, and Brenda’s, doing when you two were off whoring in Cambridge?”

She chuckled, “they were doing each other. Me and Bren’s parents were members of a wife swapping club, and weekends was when they all hung out together. They would be shagging each other in twosomes, threesomes, and foursomes. And me and Bren weren’t whoring; we did it for the experience not for the money!”