Pussy Sundae

My name is Maureen, and I’m taking the time to
write this to help out other women who might have the
same problem as myself. My dilemma was simple. I
married a wonderful, secure, attractive man, whom I
adore. I also adore having my pussy eaten, and unfor-
tunately, my husband, who’s not normally a picky eater,
stops one step short of hair pie.

No matter how I clean myself or how much I suck
his cock, he would simply and without further discus-
sion refuse to slide his tongue into my love nest. I
have a very good girlfriend named Debbie who loves to
give me excellent head, although I don’t consider my-
self a lesbian I have reciprocated on her. I’d prefer
it were my husband though. If he only would, I’d be so
content.

One day, while Debbie was munching away between
my thighs, I let it slip that Ken, my husband, had
never experimented with oral sex on me. Debbie was
aghast, she told me she would help me formulate a plan
to remedy the situation.

Debbie is a foxy, horny 24-year-old with an in-
credible chest measurement of 42C. She told me that she
would see if she could seduce my husband into eating
her out, and if she could, then we would know that it
is not oral sex itself that Ken objects to, but me. We
set it up so that Debbie would come over after I had
left for an evening class.

She tried to get me to peek through a window at
the action, but I felt that I might get jealous and try
to break it up if it got too steamy.

Actually, I was pretty sure that Debbie wouldn’t
get her pussy eaten that night. We came to an under-
standing that if she did get my husband and herself too
horny, they could fuck, but I didn’t want to hear about
it from anyone except Ken.

:-:

The following is Debbie’s version of what tran-
spired. I left for my class at 6:45 P.M. after kissing
Ken good-night. Debbie rang the bell at about 8:30,
innocently looking for me. Ken explained that I was out
for the evening, but invited her in to watch the foot-
ball game. Debbie, naturally, agreed to stay, and they
both settled on the sofa to watch.

About halfway through the first quarter, Debbie
let out an anguished moan and started to rub her left
tit through her blouse and bra. Apologizing, she
started to leave the room. Ken asked what was wrong and
she relayed a made-up story about a breast aneurysm
that could occasionally be painful. She told him that
she would have to massage it for about half an hour
before the pain would subside. Ken told her to relax,
that he was super-happily married, and that she could
probably stay in the same room and massage it without
fear of being attacked by him.

She asked if he was really under control, be-
cause she would like to remove her bra and blouse if
it was safe. He told her to go ahead. But she could
see that his dick was starting to get hard as he
watched her out of the corner of his eye, strip off
her top and massage herself. Debbie’s nipple became
erect, and she occasionally stopped to tug at it in a
casual, relaxed manner.

At the end of the first quarter, their conver-
sation had resumed and Debbie decided to make her move.
She told Ken that her hand was getting tired, but there
was still a little pain, and asked if he could rub her
breast without getting too horny. Without hesitation,
Ken moved over, reached around her, and began rubbing
it. She protested at first, saying that he wasn’t doing
it correctly. Debbie explained that she could demon-
strate the proper technique on his dick, and had it out
of his pants in under ten seconds.

Ken did protest at first, but one of her gentle
penis massages silenced him immediately. Before long
Debbie was sucking Ken’s cock, and he was lying back,
moaning. She casually removed her skirt and slip,
leaving her vital opening still covered by panty hose
and panties. Ken, who is no great master of control,
was about to come and told her so, so she stopped im-
mediately, leaving him one second short of an orgasm.

She told him to lie on the couch face up and she
lay down on top of him. First she slid her nylon-
covered thighs on each side of his cock, contracting
her legs around it. Ken moaned that the nylon felt
incredible around his dick. She wriggled down his body
until her breasts were on both sides of his hard cock
and finally moved further down for more oral activity.

By this time, Ken was facing a panty-hosed,
panty-covered cunt directly in his face. Probably out
of instinct more than anything else, his tongue darted
out and began licking the cotton crotch between
Debbie’s legs. In his excitement, Ken told her that he
was very inexperienced at oral sex, but had eaten out
his secretary a few times. I had to force this infor-
mation out of Debbie, but it didn’t bother me as much
as I thought it would. Debbie asked him to go down on
her, but he hesitated and got up from the couch. As he
walked down the hall, She figured that that was the end
of their session.

To her surprise, Ken returned minutes later with
a towel, ice cream, chocolate syrup, and bananas. He
spread the towel out on the couch as he explained to
her that the best way to eat cunt is in a “pussy sun-
dae.” He proceeded to make an ice cream confection in
her vagina and ate it all, thoroughly licking the
“dish” clean.

Debbie refused to tell me much more after that,
leaving me to believe that they probably ended up fuck-
ing. But even that didn’t make me jealous, probably
because I was coming when she relayed the information
to me. Debbie told me the entire story while she was
making and eating her own pussy sundae, with me as the
dish.

The next step was to somehow convince Ken to use
me for a pussy sundae without letting on that I had set
him up with Debbie. I let a week pass, and then put my
new plan into action. When Ken came home from work, I
told him that I didn’t feel quite right and my pussy
had been itching terribly all day. I told him that I
had called a girlfriend who had recommended rubbing
butter on it, and I asked him if he would like to be
the one doing the rubbing. He readily agreed, and in
no time I was down on the bed, his hard fingers spread-
ing the butter all over me.

After a few minutes, I told him that I was feel-
ing a little bit better but thought that peanut better
would help more, due to its thicker consistency. He not
only brought back a jar of peanut butter, he also
brought a jar of strawberry jam. Ken turned me into a
delicious peanut butter, jelly, and vagina sandwich. I
was in total ecstasy, and since then I have experienced
the joy of acting as a dish for a sundae, spaghetti,
salad, and corn-on-the-cob.

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