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Experiencing Isabelle By Katy Terrega |
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Some think it’s a rather perverted pleasure, I know. Some might even believe that I’m
a bit obsessed, enamored as I am with Isabelle.
They’d be right. Oh, I’ve thought about giving her up, once, maybe twice. But then I think about her long legs spread wide for me, her pretty pink slit so appealingly gaped, her perfectly shaped, red painted toes curling as she cums, and I know I’m hopelessly addicted. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, there are worse fates than to lap at the feet of a goddess. It’s hardly an imposition, after all, to trail the wet tip of my tongue from toe to knee to soft inner thigh. And it’s far from unpleasant to lap at Isabelle’s delectable pussy until she quivers under my tongue and begs me to fuck her... While it was never my intention to fall into lust with Isabelle, to follow her around like a besotted puppy dog, I must admit that I wouldn’t change a thing. Not my current state nor any of the circumstances leading up to it. As these things go, it started out innocently enough. At least on my part, although I could never be so sure about her. She swears that she never saw me. Professing simple carelessness, she claims that she didn’t mean to leave the curtains open, although I’ve long suspected that she secretly hoped I might see her. I think it quite likely that she wanted me to be privy to the nightly ritual that prepares her for her job dancing at the club down the street. Of course, she denies this, quite adamantly, I should point out. Yeah, right. I find it rather hard to believe that she didn’t know I was standing, transfixed, at her window as she made ready for her evening. I find it almost impossible to fathom that she could have missed me, drooling as I was at the amazingly un-obscured view of her loveliness. Nor do I believe that a mere pane of glass could have concealed my indiscreet presence as, cock firmly in fist, I gaped at the remarkable view. No matter really, how or why it happened, I suppose, even if I do suspect her of one of the slyest forms of feminine manipulation. Because in the end, it was this “accidental” meeting, this wholly circumstantial turn of events that led, of course, to an entirely mutually satisfactory arrangement. It was the flash of red polish that first caught my eye as I innocently passed Isabelle’s open window that evening. I was caught entirely by surprise at the sight of her, sitting naked on the bed as she was. One long, luscious leg was stretched to the floor, the other propped in front of her, and her as-yet-bare toes rested comfortably, if precariously, on the extreme edge of the bed. I’d seen her before - we were neighbors, after all - and I couldn’t help but know of her profession, although I hadn’t yet mustered the courage required to actually visit the club where she worked, let alone speak to her. But I had, of course, long been entranced by Isabelle’s beauty. An angelic face and waist length reddish hair that fell straight and true to the curve of her ass had endeared her, I’m sure, to the majority of men that had laid eyes on her. I, however, had different, more perverse motivations and I’d long lusted for more than a mere glimpse of her impossibly long legs, dancers’ calves toned and tight, thighs lush with promise. But this vision of her now, shaven pussy fully exposed to my shocked gaze as she artfully spread garish color on one perfectly formed nail, this was more than I could have ever imagined. I held my breath as I watched her dip the tip of her brush into the obscene red of the polish before dripping it down onto the smooth surface. Her well-defined calf was taut as she flexed her long, thin toes, moving with an expert touch from one delightful digit to the next. I felt my cock flex in response as Isabelle applied a thick sheen of polish to her exquisitely shaped toes, and was, understandably, I think, unable to stop my reaction. Completely forgetting any sense of neighborly decorum, I found myself, dick in hand, stroking my shaft just as she so erotically stroked brush to nail. When her smallest toe nail had been drenched in polish, she capped the bottle and paused to critique her work. Then, finding it satisfactory, Isabelle used one hand to lift her perfectly arched foot to her lips, exposing even more succulent pussy flesh to my unbelieving eyes. She blew gently on each tiny digit, as though savoring the feel of her breath against the wetness of her toes. My mouth watered at the sight of the delectable crevasses as she splayed them wide, and I imaged my tongue deep within the depths of her sensitive creases. My hand, of it’s own volition, began to stroke my straining shaft more intensely as she thoroughly dried each and every toe, drawing out the process with delicious shifts of her lovely ass and thighs.
It seemed an eternity before she was done, before the polish had hardened, under her delicate ministrations, to a shiny sheen on the tips of her well-arched feet. My balls quivered as Isabelle then began the tortuous process of wiggling into her stockings, black and sensuously seamed as befitted her profession. With the experienced hand of a pro she pulled them snugly over her dainty just-painted toes and smoothed the see-through black material over each graceful arch. My cock twitched in my hand at the stroke of her fingers on the swell of her calf as she inched the stockings up. I held my breath as she continued the journey, palms caressing the larger swell of her thigh, creamy and smooth against the black of her hose. The clasp of the garter was next, expertly she slid the fine material snugly into it’s slot. Her fingers toyed lightly with the lips of her exposed pussy before beginning on the second stocking and I swear she glanced my way as my breath caught at the sight. My cock hot in my fist, I imagined those fat lips under my tongue and my pumping became more fevered as she continued her performance. Isabelle’s hands lovingly fondled the fine material of her second stocking, easing out the slight wrinkles before spreading the fabric upward. Her thumb probed seductively between stocking top and thigh to straighten a crease and my mouth watered as I imagined my tongue delving into that sweetest of spots. Her form-fitting dress was next, the thin, black fabric barely covering the small swell of her hairless mound in front, let alone the lush curve of ass behind. The pale thigh-flesh between the top of her stocking and the hem of her dress was clearly exposed and I felt my cock swell alarmingly as Isabelle’s fingers trailed lightly around the satiny skin. Red spikes came next, fully six inches long and mirrored with shine, each with a perfect black tip on the end of each pointed spike. Slipping into them with the utmost of care, Isabelle stood before the mirror, quite obviously admiring the view. My balls twitched in delight and I felt, quite suddenly, the pull of hot jiz as it spread upward through my raging cock. Just the sight of her toned legs, muscles so clearly defined and hips thrust forward with the angle of her heels, caused my throbbing cock to explode, spewing my hot and creamy load into the bushes under her window as an offering to her beauty. I swear I saw her smile then, although she’ll deny it, as my cock-juice continued to spray until finally my boner shrank, somewhat satisfied, under my fingers. I thought I saw a self satisfied smirk, then, as she turned, powerful legs splayed wide. Still admiring herself in the mirror, Isabelle bent at the waist to retrieve her keys and I was rewarded with a view of her gaping snatch before she strode purposefully out of the room. I followed her, of course, albeit surreptitiously, as she walked the short distance to the club. Followed her as she strode, black heel tips clicking authoritatively on the pavement, winking at me with every long legged stride. Followed her and sat, shameless and rigid, as she danced in front of me, smiling her small all-knowing smirk at my obvious state of entranced arousal. I sat, practically drooling at the sight of her powerfully muscled legs as they kicked and flexed and pranced in my face, through Isabelle’s entire shift. Six stifling hours spent stuffing bill after bill into her garters, reveling at the feel of her hot, sweaty flesh under my fingers. I swear that after a while she danced only for me, her quivering thighs inches from my face, torturing me with the sweet undersides of her knees as flashed and strutted. Until finally, after last call had been sounded, after the last of the inebriated had stumbled, bleary eyed and still horny, out the door, Isabelle wrapped those long, powerful legs around my face in one final, all consuming dance and marked me with the scent of her sweat, her sex. What choice did I have then but to follow her home? What choice did I have but to whine and beg and promise her untold delights until she reluctantly let me come in? She’ll deny it now, of course, because Isabelle denies any and all complicity in our sordid little affair, but it was obvious from that first night that she was as hooked as I. The truth of it is, as soon as I brought one sweat-soaked and stocking-clad toe to my lips, she was mine. I knelt on the floor beside the same bed I’d glimpsed through the window, as Isabelle reclined, exhausted and still clothed, across the comforter, and I felt her muscles perceptively liquefy as I inhaled the musky digit deep into my mouth. My fingers grasped at one strong but tired ankle as I sucked on her sweat-soaked toe, and I pressed deeply into her tired muscles as she moaned slightly. I could feel her relaxing heavily into my ministrations as I licked through her stockings at the sensitive crease under her toes. I probed first with my fingers, stroking the too-tight muscles of her calf until she groaned, then with my tongue, prodding my way into the very wet and fragrant spaces between Isabelle’s toes. Peering up, I could see the sweet spot where her thighs merged into the dark, wet folds of her pussy. My cock stiffened painfully as I nibbled my way up and around her ankles, sucking the salt from her damp stockings, moving my probing fingers higher to liberally massage her strong thighs. 
There's Plenty of Girl on Girl Lesbo Leg Action at LegSex.com! Isabelle shuddered as my tongue dipped it’s way to the moist skin behind her knees and then my fingers were on her puffy pussy lips and my tongue was trailing it’s greedy way around the top of her stocking, lapping at the soft white skin that bulged slightly between the garters. She tasted of salt and sweat, and I could smell the thick, wet scent of her cunt as my fingers spread her wide. Spurred on by her deep moan as her lips parted, in an instant my tongue was on her slit and her long legs were wrapped tightly around my head. I felt my cock twitch as Isabelle’s thighs ground powerfully into my ears, and I lapped wetly on her swollen clit as she writhed under my touch. Inhaling her sex and sweat saturated essence, I flicked at her thick nub and felt the wetness of her desire dribble down my chin. Isabelle began to whine then; mewling, desperate little cries that came with every ragged breath as her pussy ground into my face and her thigh-flesh mashed against my head. Suddenly her cunt gushed and my mouth was flooded with her hot smelling sex as she cried out, her body arching as she came against my still flickering tongue. I lapped gently at her quivering cunt until the rippling spasms in her thighs slowed and the forceful pressure against my face eased. Bringing my wet mouth to her still stocking-clad feet, I let Isabelle’s sweat scented soles wipe the sweet wetness of her pussy from my face as I nuzzled her feet. She pulled me to my feet and reached for my cock then, and in one practiced movement had set it free before capturing it expertly between the black stockinged soles of her feet. I groaned as her toes began to massage my thick shaft, probing my hardness the same way I had prodded at her tight muscles. The scratchy-smooth silk of her stockings stroked me and my rod began to slip effortlessly through the still-moist space between her feet. Isabelle’s heels caressed my sensitive sac, as, with each thrust the glistening tip of my cock emerged from the blackness of the warm and tight cave of her stockings. The force of my thrusts as I fucked her thick smelling soles spread her knees wide so that I was soon staring at her fleshy and very wet cunt. In one motion I lifted her strong legs onto my shoulders and plunged my way into her still quivering snatch. Isabelle cried out as I forced my way in up to the hilt and her knees squeezed my face as wrapped her calves around my head. I withdrew slowly before spearing her again with my now raging cock and I felt my balls tickle, then slap, her firm ass as I began to stroke deeply into her tight cunt. Tiny whimpers of pleasure escaped from Isabelle’s lips, then, as I fucked her sweaty, cum-soaked pussy. I could feel her thighs flexing and quivering against my ears as, once again, her whimpering turned to squeals as I stroked deeply into her deliciously tight snatch. Her pussy grasped and sucked, spurring me on as her cries became more fevered. I groaned when I felt the first spasms in the silky walls of her cunt, and the sensation caused the tension in my balls to give way with a sudden and shattering burst of fluid. Isabelle’s pussy clenched tightly around my pistoning cock and I sprayed the depths of her pussy with the hot jiz that flowed from my quivering sac. Her thighs pressed hard against my face as I gratefully spewed my load into her so willing cunt and her powerful muscles spurred me even deeper into her snatch as she milked the last drops from my satisfied cock. Or at least it was what I thought were the last drops. Isabelle, you see, wasn’t quite finished with me, nor, thank God, I with her. It wasn’t long before she was on all fours, her long legs spread so appealingly, her ass in my face. It wasn’t long before I was licking at her sweaty asshole, inhaling the combined smells of her feet and well-fucked pussy along with the rich, intoxicating scent of her bung hole. And it wasn’t long after that that I had my cock buried to the hilt in her tight hole, banging away in her depths just as I had her fine feet and her glorious pussy. And after that, well, what can I say? Perhaps other men would tire of spending long evenings at Isabelle’s club, cock straining at the sight of her powerful thighs as they kicked and stretched. Perhaps another man would grow weary of massaging Isabelle’s aching calves and toes, and lapping at her sweaty cunt as her incredibly strong thighs clenched and tightened. And it’s quite likely that no other man would be as driven to delirium as I am as my cock plunges it’s way through Isabelle’s perfectly formed soles. But then again, perhaps they’ve never experienced anyone quite as delectable as Isabelle. |
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