The Devil's Pact Servants' Chronicles Chapter 4: The Artist's First Day - Sex Stories

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The Devil's Pact Servants' Chronicles Chapter 4: The Artist's First Day

Date: 7/13/2015, Categories: Fantasy, Female Domination, Female/Female, Lesbian, Oral Sex, Water Sports/Pissing, Author: mypenname3000, Rating: 66.7, Source: sexstories.com

skin, as she gasped and moaned. Her breasts heaved, dripping with moisture. I frigged my clitoris harder, wanting to cum with this amazing woman. My lips found her bud nestled between her folds and I sucked hard. Her body jerked, her hand pinching her nipples lashed out and grabbed the shower bar for support. “That's it!” she shouted. “Oh, Gods, yes!” We came together. She shuddered on my mouth, pouring tangy juices down my throat and I screamed my passion into her pussy. We shook and writhed and shuddered together. She spasmed hard again, her breasts jiggling and swaying. “Oh, yes! Oh, yes, Jan! My Jan! My...” her voice broke, her face quavered. “My beautiful Jan!” Her shoulder shook and she leaned against the shower wall. “I miss you so much! Why did you die?” She slid down the wall, sitting next to me hugging her knees and rocking as the water sprayed down on us. I reached out, wrapping my arm around her shoulder. She opened up, pulling me against her. Her legs straighten out and I was on her lap, her arms locked around me and her face buried into my shoulder. I never let go of her. I held her as she sobbed all her pain out against me, rocking me in her arms. I didn't speak, I just gave this wounded creature all my compassion. The crying died after a time. She sniffed, looking at me, her dark eyes soft, and she stroked my cheek. My heart beat faster; she was beautiful. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Jan would have really loved you.” “I'm sorry I never got to meet her.” “You ... did,” she smiled, sad and tiny, but it was a smile. “She was my partner. She was the other bodyguard that helped me frisk you all.” I remembered the beautiful, sandy-blonde woman in the slutty cop's uniform fingering the Black artist. “She seemed very passionate.” “She was.” Then she blinked, looking at me. “Oh, let's get you out of those wet clothes.” We stood up, turning the shower off, and I peeled out of my wet uniform, dropping it on the bathroom floor. We dried, and she walked back into the bedroom, sitting on the bed I had made up, looking at the dirty one. She patted the spot next to her. I sat down and she put her arm around me. “This was our bed,” she whispered. “I couldn't bear to sleep in it after...” I nodded. “She was lucky to have you, 24.” “Emine,” she corrected. “In here I'm Emine.” “That's a beautiful name.” She reached out and grabbed the present from the nightstand. “I think I'm ready to open this.” “I'll leave,” I said, and tried to pull away. “You're my gift,” she protested. “I'm going to keep you close and pee in your pretty, little mouth whenever I feel sad.” I blushed. “I'd...like that.” “Of course you did. All the little whores love to drink my piss, balim.” “Why do you keep calling me that?” “Because you're my cute, little kitten,” she laughed then carefully unwrapped her Valentines Day present. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Friday, March 20th, 2015 – Jane Yoshimori – South Hill, WA I knelt at 24's grave amid the beautiful trees behind the mansion. ...