It was late, we’d both had a lot to drink and the taxi had just delivered us safely back home. We both rushed to the bathroom and like a gentleman I let her use the loo first. Her skirt was hitched up to reveal her stockings and her lacy panties fell to her ankles ending up just above her black high heels.
I waited patiently for her to pee, the trickle that turned into a stream and watched the look of relief on her face as she emptied her bladder. She relaxed, leaning back, eyes closed. I knelt in front of her so I could take in her neatly trimmed bush and my filthy mind took over. I reached between her legs, grazing her inner thighs and sliding a finger from her clit, backwards. Her eyes opened in surprise and amusement.
“I haven’t finished.” She exclaimed.
“I know.” I said feeling the last trickle of hot piss cover my hand.
“You are naughty.” She scolded. “What does it feel like?”
“Hot and wet.” I replied. “How about this?” I asked and simultaneously slid my middle finger into her pussy.
“Hmmmm.” Was her answer. That and lifting her left leg to kick off her shoe so she could step out of her panties. No longer tethered her legs opened to allow me full access to her still dripping slit. I added my ring finger to the middle finger to make the perfect pairing for a G Spot massage.
Her moans became groans almost immediately, relishing my firm and practiced massaging of her spongy pad of nerve packed tissue. At first her vaginal juices, rich, fragrant and slick increased and eased my finger’s work. The squelching sounds echoed off the toilet bowl and around the echoing bathroom in a decidedly raw and debased cacophony of sexual sounds.
I soon found her lubrication changing from the rich nectar to a less viscous fluid, her body started to tense too and with it her vaginal walls took hold of my fingers. Knowing I had to be quick to finish the task I had started before she spasmed to a whimpering orgasm rather than the screaming outpouring of lust-filled release I was hoping for I pressed rapidly and firmly on her G Spot. My reward was a gush of fluid, milky white filling my palm and an exultant “Yes! Ooooh fuck yes!” bursting from her red painted lips.
I was trapped within her. That few seconds between her squirting half a cup of fluid over my hand and being released a connection that is different from any other sexual experience. Then her pussy released me and I slid out my hand from between her drenched thighs, along the wet, sheer weave of her stockings.
“I’m wet!” She smiled. “And it’s your fault.”
“You didn’t complain about it.”
“I suppose not.”
“I’m hard.” I pointed out, standing and presenting my crotch to her face.
“Come with me.” She giggled, “We have to do something about that.”