Ashtanga Analingus

“You have not stopped thinking about eating my pussy,” Ashtanga said, as the session ended. Two hours of most excellent work. And while I did my utmost to contain myself and said nothing and kept taking pictures, she was correct.

“I apologize. I hope I was not impolite. I did my best to keep my feelings to myself.”

“I don’t think it was appropriate, but I know you could not help yourself. You think it’s just you? Still, you should be more professional.”

I could not tell if she was teasing me. She was unbearably appealing. But I was not drooling over her. I was more swooning and playing with how her body refracted the light. Each model’s aura is different.

Plus, she had just spread her most exquisite vulva into a cum mirror, knowing the result would be an image of her pussy photographed through spattered, smeared and partly licked back semen.

Yet her breasts…the way that her aereola were punctuated with gorgeous little dots…the pattern…their particular constellation…the French curves of her…and if I looked at her nipples, I nearly fainted.

“Can I make up for it somehow?” I was hoping I could take her out to dinner. To assume that she would grant me some form of sex was nothing I meekly expected. I did enjoy her company and her slightly racist but wicked funny descriptions of the other Belgians, whom she called trolls — the Flemish.

“Lick my ashole.”

“What?” Pure shock and awe.

“I am in the mood, my boyfriend does not do that, and I know that you will.”

She was right.

“How do you want me?”

“You must strip. I will not touch you. Touch me only with your tongue.” This was happening very fast, though she didn’t seem to be hesitating.

She pressed her breasts into the sun drenched floor, raised her ass and spread her knees in a kind of wide-legged child pose.

“Undress and do it.”

My head spun in both directions. I dropped my clothes to the floor, and knelt down, my face to her ass, and in that very moment touched my tongue lightly to the center of her spiral and imparted my love and respect for an elongated moment. At the end of this little stretch of time, she exhaled, at which gesture I circled lightly around the outer rim of her anus, smelling her sweat and musk as I loved her so. And slowly, slowly, I worked my way in.

For the next…I don’t know how long…I had the exquisite privilege of pleasuring the lady on whom it seemed everyone wanted to perform cunnilingus.

Amidst this carnival, when she was ready, she clutched her clit and slipped a finger into her vagina and masturbated herself in what seemed a very satisfying way. As she did I took the opportunity to take a little slurp from the back of her vagina. I had to.

Though I understood the true impetus to her surrender was my tongue rimming her asshole in hot little circles, then I took the plunge, to my utter delight — as she moaned gutterly in each breath with a kind of dark resonance. The perfect mutual gift…as her masturbation took hold…and I felt her hot perfect anus pulse around my tongue as she utterly grunted out her sweet pleasure. My hands clasped her waist, holding her instinctually.

We gently unweaved from one another.

She looked into my eyes with a softness I had never seen from her. “Thank you for doing that. I hoped you would. I needed it so bad.”

I wondered what would happen next. I knew something would.

She picked up my cum spattered mirror from the kitchen table.

“Do it,” she said with a little whip to her voice, as she held the thing.

I leaned in and licked my dry cum from her hands, remembering the reflection of her blossomed vulva…knowing, in that moment, I would soon get to show her my face. My orgasm expressions, and my mouth wet. It was true.