The Devil’s Sperm is Cold Read online

  “And now, taste it,” Margaret urged. “See what this perfumed slime tastes like.” She put her finger at Joan’s lips, and trembling, Joan opened her mouth. Margaret’s finger slid inside, and with a groan Joan closed her lips over it and sucked it clean in a single motion, then gulped as though she had swallowed an entire cupful of water. The taste was indescribable, but more than that, the sensation of what she swallowed, the meaning of her doing it assailed her reason.

  “Lou was right,” Margaret chuckled. “Most of your pleasure still comes from your idea that all this is dirty. Well, so be it. It doesn’t matter to me right now what’s in your head. We each use our own devices to get us off.” A stern note crept into her voice and she said, “Take off your clothes, Joan. I want to see you in the flesh.”

  With a sense of unreality, Joan began to remove her clothing. First the blouse, button by button, and then the bra, freeing her captive breasts. Margaret reached forward and cupped Joan’s large tits in her hands. They fell from her chest like pears, possessed of that same ripe fragility that makes one want to bite into a fruit. Her nipples were very small, but because of that were doubly sensitive, so that the slightest touch sent ripples through her entire body. Now, as Margaret appraised and teased, Joan began to feel the generalized tingling that heralded an onslaught of sexual eruption. It began to be unimportant that the hands that turned her on were a woman’s hands. All she could feel was the softness, the firmness, the gentle indifference of the touch. She knew that, as with Lou, she was in the presence of a master of the craft of sensuality.

  “I don’t know what it is about you,” Margaret said in a low voice, “that makes me want to give you pleasure. But it makes me almost come to see you getting hot, watching your lips purse, seeing your cunt drool, feeling your nipples get hard. It’s as though everything you feel gets projected outward, so that the more you enjoy, the more I can enjoy through you.”

  She guided Joan to a standing position by increasing the upward pressure on her breasts. Margaret knelt in front of her and began to unzip Joan’s slacks. “Soon, soon,” she crooned, “I am going to have that succulent cunt on my mouth and I’ll suck the juices right out of you and drive you crazy.” As she spoke she tugged the pants down Joan’s long curved legs, revealing the private flesh, until they had been brought to the floor, and Joan stepped easily out of them. She now wore only her panties, the crotch of which was already soaked with secretion. Margaret pressed her face into the sopping mound and ran her tongue along the groove where the silk had stuck in the crack of her cunt. Joan let out a soft grunt and her knees buckled.

  “Keep standing,” Margaret ordered.

  She bent even lower until she was completely between Joan’s spread legs, and then brought her face up to the exact center of Joan’s thighs, pressing her lips into the hot musky-sweaty space between cunt and asshole, smelling the deep body aroma and licking the moisture from hair and panties and flesh. She brought her hands up and worked her fingers around the edge of the elastic, feeling at last the vulnerable folds of flesh that had only one last shred of protection.

  From the outside, they made an extraordinary picture—the young soft Joan, swaying and moaning, her hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders, while the stunningly beautiful Margaret, naked, crouching, her hair still pulled back in its severe bun, burrowed in the most central space between the other woman’s legs, her tongue lapping indiscriminately, her fingers probing, pushing into the now overflowing hot cunt and the throbbing asshole.

  “Oh God, I’m falling,” Joan cried, as she felt her legs give from under her.

  She let herself sink to the floor and as she fell, Margaret pulled the panties from her legs. When she lay at last on the rug before the fire, she was rapturously naked, one leg bent at the knee and the other extended at full length, leaving the treasure that Margaret so urgently desired, the deep luscious cunt, totally exposed and craving penetration. Joan’s eyes were closed, and her mouth was open, as her arms spread out to either side of her, putting her in a posture of complete submission.

  “Now,” Margaret whispered to herself, and moved slowly over until she was kneeling over Joan’s head, one knee on either side of her face. “Now,” she said again, and very slowly lowered her body down until her cunt hairs were tickling the very tip of Joan’s mouth. Joan blinked. “What…?” she started to say, and opened her eyes to see Margaret’s body descend upon her. From her vantage point she could see Margaret’s mouth curved in what seemed a sinister smile, and beneath that the swaying tits, looming large; and below that the full belly, like a cliff of sheer shale; and then the single black gash that went from cunt to the black cleft between Margaret’s full, wide and classically rounded buttocks. She was able to let out a single gasp as the expressionistic torso descended totally upon her, smothering her in flesh and heat and wet.

  “Suck it up, little girl,” Margaret said, “suck it dry.”

  Joan tried to move her face to the side but the pressure from Margaret’s thighs was too strong. All she succeeded in doing was to throw her body about in a panic, which only added to Margaret’s excitement, and oddly, to her own. “That’s right,” Margaret said, “it’s even better if you fight against it, isn’t it? Do it your way, but do it!” And with that she let her full weight fall on Joan’s face. Her nose covered and unable to breathe, Joan was forced to suck air in through her mouth, but as she did so, Margaret’s cunt seemed to yawn in width and covered the full extent of Joan’s lips, so that what she sucked in was the total smell and secretion of the other woman’s cunt. Her mouth and nostrils filled with it, and she momentarily gagged.

  “Swallow,” Margaret demanded.

  And with a shudder of distaste and relief, Joan gulped down the entire mixture of cunt juice and musty air that had been mouldering in the recesses of Margaret’s pussy. The entire experience verged on the vile, and it was that very feeling which, perversely, drove a bolt of excitement through Joan’s body. Her hands came up and grasped Margaret’s thighs, pulling them down even harder on her own face. Once again, she sucked in with all her strength, and this time avidly lapped up the juices that ran down her tongue. Hungry, beginning to verge on sexual hysteria, she probed her tongue up into the crevices of Margaret’s cunt, causing the other woman to writhe with pleasure.

  “Oh yes,” Margaret moaned. “From cocksucker to cuntlapper in one easy step. Now get down to it. Lick my sticky cunt. Come on, suck it until your jaw aches.”

  The outrageous beauty of Margaret’s body mixed with the base physicality of that body’s functions drove Joan into a frenzy of excitement. The image and the actuality vied for supremacy, and all the while she was lost in the anonymity of the sensations involved, her mind was running over the fact that the cunt she was licking and sucking belonged to Margaret, Margaret the cool executive secretary that she saw five days a week in the civilized confines of office routine. This was the same woman, now naked and bearing down on her, pressing her hot convulsive pussy into her mouth, writhing with her own orgasms, and pushing provocative words into her ears.

  “Feel me come on your mouth,” she urged. And indeed more than half her pleasure seemed to come from the dramatics of the situation rather than from her inner experiences. For Margaret, as with Lou, the sensations of sex had long since ceased to be the primary motivation. Like him, she was a pornographer, and the essence of her pleasure lay in the configurations of bodies, motivations, and attitudes. She knew that Joan was playing a game with her resistance to her own enjoyment, and while she wished that the younger woman would soon drop that posture, she realized that such matters couldn’t be rushed. So she was allowing herself to take the role of sadistic fucker, forcing a revolting activity literally down the throat of a half-unwilling recipient.

  She reached down and put one hand on Joan’s cunt, feeling the soppy gush of viscous cum that spilled from the parted lips. Her finger went inside and tickled the ribbed walls, then withdrew to concentrate on the sensitive clito
ris. As she rubbed the small nerve ending, Joan began to pump her hips up to receive more of Margaret’s touch. Simultaneously, her mouth opened with the pleasure of her own erupting orgasm, and as she began to spend, she took in more and more of Margaret’s cunt into her mouth until she was sucking at it as though it were a peach she had just bitten into, and was inhaling the pulp and juices through her teeth, down her tongue, and into her throat.

  “Oh yes,” Margaret hissed, and flung herself down so that her own mouth now covered Joan’s surging pussy. Her lips reached the cunt lips at precisely the instant that Joan began to climax, and so she received the full gush of tangy juice and the total vibration of her undulating pelvis. Margaret dug her tongue and teeth deep into the center of smell and secretion, taking in the sweat and tang of urine and cum and the pungent aroma from the cleft of Joan’s ass, and licked the entire crack from one end to the other again and again, until, with the sensation, Joan wrapped her thighs around Margaret’s head and rocked back and forth, fucking the other woman’s face with the total involvement of her cunt and hips. They dug into and wrapped around one another in a pose of sixty-nine, their hands now roaming freely, enjoying the lush fullness of one another’s breasts, exploring the arcane crevices between cunt and asshole with their tongues. They were lost in a shower of sound and rhythm, lost to time and place, rocketing into the inward reality of complete sexual connection.

  They sucked one another’s pussies for over an hour before they fell apart and lay there, exhausted and temporarily fulfilled.

  After what seemed an eternity of silence, Margaret was the first to speak. “You say that’s the first time with a woman?” she asked in a wondering tone.

  “Oh Margaret,” Joan said. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to let go like that, to do and be done to. To make the circle complete. With men I’ve always had to hold back because I knew they couldn’t follow me all the way. I don’t know how I’ve gone so long without it.”

  “A lot of women ask themselves that once they’ve tried it,” Margaret said. “And quite a few never go back to making it with men again.”

  “Do you?” Joan asked her.

  “Sure,” Margaret said, lighting a cigarette. “I’m very democratic. I think everyone has something to offer. I mean, after all, there is nothing in the world like a cock. Even a dildo won’t do it, not really.” She offered a smoke to Joan and the two of them sat there, quiet and lost in thought and the afterglow of the intense experience.

  After a few minutes Margaret got up to go to the kitchen to heat more coffee. As she went, Joan watched the globular cheeks of her ass shift as she walked. How often had she seen that walk during the day, when both were dressed, and how little she had suspected that so much fury was to be found beneath a skirt and panties. She felt the deep ache in her cunt from the continued friction it had received. And that was only the beginning.

  As though reading her thoughts, Margaret turned at the door and said, “We can go in late tomorrow. I doubt we’ll get too much sleep tonight.”

  Later, they sipped coffee and smoked cigarettes, leaning against each another in front of the fire, listening to Scriabin’s Poem of Ecstasy. Margaret let down her hair and it glowed like a halo around her head. They were enmeshed in the red light of dancing shadows from the flames. Joan could not seem to get enough of holding Margaret’s breasts in her hands, and kept cupping them, feeling their weight and texture, putting the nipples in her mouth.

  “You know, I used to do this to myself for hours. But even though I don’t get the pleasure in my breasts, giving that pleasure to your breasts is somehow even more gratifying.”

  In response, Margaret reached over and stroked Joan’s nipples. “You know you’ll always get as much as you give with me,” she said.

  “I know,” Joan said, “somehow, instinctively, I know that…I trust you.” And she tilted her head back as Margaret covered her mouth and with a long kiss, the taste of tobacco and coffee mingling on their breaths.

  “You do remember what I said about business?” Margaret asked.

  Joan nodded. “I remember.” She looked up, her eyes filled with confusion. “I like Lou,” she said. “He’s been good to me.”

  “I like him too,” Margaret told her. “But his time is over.” She began to go on but Joan silenced her in the most direct manner possible, by cupping her hand over Margaret’s cunt, while slipping a finger into her own.

  “No use trying to talk to you now,” the older woman said.

  Joan slid down again until she was lying between Margaret’s legs. She held her cunt lips open with both hands and began to lick the moist lips like a deer at a salt block, gently and insistently. Margaret looked down at the lithe body, the extended curved spine, the flaring ass, the full white legs, which opened and closed again and again like a scissor, indicating the fact of Joan’s pushing her cunt against the rug.

  “How lovely,” she thought.

  She held Joan’s head between her hands as she slid down and also turned over on her belly, until Joan’s face lay across her buttocks. “I want you to do my ass,” she said. “Lick the whole crack and then get your tongue as far in as you can. I want you to ream me until your tongue feels like it’s being pulled out by the roots.”

  And she stretched full out, her hips rotating, her breasts crushed against the floor. Joan parted her succulent cheeks with both hands, exposing the pinched serrated hole at the core, and then, with a flick of her tongue across her lips, she buried her face completely in Margaret’s ass, swimming in the mass of hot flesh. Her tongue found the target and she burrowed in at once, sending the other woman off into a cascade of squeals.

  Margaret raised her hips, arching her exquisite ass off the ground, and Joan burrowed into it even more deeply, now licking the hole and then sucking it, now biting it gently and then kissing it passionately. With her full wet mouth she made love to Margaret’s lovely ass, pouring into it the total passion she was capable of, until her mouth and tongue were sore with the activity. And then she reached under and put her closed fist at the opening of Margaret’s cunt.

  Margaret gasped as she felt the pressure against the other opening, and tried to push down to get the hand inside her. But as she did so, Joan licked her asshole again, causing her to lift her pelvis. She teased her for five minutes, as Margaret was torn between lifting up to get Joan’s tongue in her ass and dropping down to get the fist in her cunt. She tossed back and forth, her excitement mounting into frenzy, until Joan relented and brought the two together, and as her mouth pressed hotly into the now wet crack, her fist insinuated itself up into the widening cunt, which gaped to receive the full clenched hand. Joan and Margaret pushed together, until Margaret’s yawning pussy swallowed the whole fist and it was lodged inside her up to Joan’s wrist.

  The blonde woman made a wide circle with her lips but no sound emerged from her mouth. She was impaled on the thick rod of flesh and bone, and it felt as though her very soul had been stuffed. Joan pushed her fist in even further, and Margaret screamed with an agony of pleasure and, with a suddenness that was like violence, began to churn up and down, plunging her cunt with rapid hard strokes onto Joan’s arm, until the young woman had to brace her elbow on the floor to sustain the force of Margaret’s thrashing blows. Up and down her pelvis pumped, gorging itself on the thick fist that was lodged in her entrails.

  “Oh my God, fuck it to me, fuck it to me,” she cried. “Punch my cunt, punch my cunt all the way to its pit,” she moaned, and punished herself on the terrible stake.

  Taken by the force of Margaret’s response, Joan began to move her arm back and forth like a piston, until Margaret felt the movement and stopped her own pumping. She came to her knees, her thighs spread wide part, her hands reaching around her ass cheeks and pulling the lips of her cunt apart. “There,” she gasped, “it’s open, it’s wide open. Now, give it to me, slam it to me.” And Joan’s fist churned in and out of the frothing hole with unrestrained fury.

 
Carried away by the noise and the smell and the sight of the gorgeous crack that ran from the brown cleft between the buttocks to the dripping red cunt, Joan punched her fist again and again into the gaping hole. Until, at the edge of exhaustion, she erupted into actual rage and began to go wild. Ardor spilled over into anger, not anger at Margaret or at anyone, but a blind purposeless anger that exploded from within. And as though she would drive her arm through Margaret’s cunt walls and into her womb, Joan shoved with all her might between the begging edges of Margaret’s shameless pussy, at last bared in its final nakedness.

  “Oh you’ll kill me,” Margaret screamed and then clamped her thighs shut, imprisoning Joan’s fist deep inside her cunt. Joan pulled out with all her strength, and with a swishing pop, her hand flew free from its slimy trap.

  At that, Margaret let loose a scream so piercing Joan thought it would crack the glass in all the windows, and then, like a fish just landed, Margaret hurled herself forward, and thrashed about the floor, knocking over furniture, pounding her cunt with her fist, screaming and wailing, her ass contracting and letting go, her breasts flailing about, until she underwent one final convulsion, and then fell still, and lay there, completely spent, covered with sweat and secretions, panting, mouth agape, open, fulfilled.

  Neither of them moved or spoke for a very long time. From a great distance, street noises could be heard. Cars, voices, the sounds of normal life. Like two people who had just had their car hit a patch of ice at high speeds and spun wildly about, death lurking in every split second, and had finally slid to a long halt at the edge of a high cliff, they clung to their lives with extraordinary awareness. Perhaps twenty minutes passed, and then Joan let her head drop to her chest. A few moments later, Margaret rolled over and came to her knees. Joan looked up, and the two women stared at one another. A slow smile grew on Joan’s face.