Cunnylicking 101 - Lydia

New Dawning International Bookfair

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 7,500
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Oral sex is his passion. Jimmy Love is a self proclaimed cunny-licker. Follow Jimmy as he spreads women's legs and spreads joy through womanhood. This is the story of his first sexual relationship and his dream girl/teacher, Lydia.

Cunnylicking 101 - Lydia
0 Ratings (0.0)

Cunnylicking 101 - Lydia

New Dawning International Bookfair

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 7,500
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Dee Dawning
Excerpt

Pussy is my Passion. Nothing in this world is more intriguing, more mysterious, more beautiful and more wondrous than that, which lies at the apogee of a woman’s legs—a woman’s vagina.

Think about it. Through the eons, men have killed in an attempt to gain or keep from losing the soft, tunnel-like cushions between their woman’s legs. Hell, men have started wars over a woman’s sweet tender slit! Remember ‘The Face that Launched a Thousand Ships’? Don’t kid yourself, Helen may have been beautiful beyond dreams, but it was the warm welcoming channel between her legs that was the downfall of Troy. For all of history and for all of eternity, that is the power that women hold over men—that is their great equalizer.

And that’s why I love to eat pussy. Oh, sure I love to fuck, but that’s the entrée. I am just as fascinated by the tasty appetizer. That’s just as good, and that’s what gets you to the entrée. Place a pretty woman’s throbbing, glistening wet cunt in front of my mouth and I am tireless. And if she happens to dine on me at the same time I can do it for hours—really. As you might have guessed, eating all that pussy made me a pretty good cunnilingist.

I know there’s no such word, but shouldn't there be. After all, fellatrix is the word for cocksucker, why shouldn’t there be a comparable word for a person who studies and excels at the science of eating…pus-s-s-sy? Like I do.

Where is all of this going and where am I headed? For now I’m going to tell you the story of how I got started. I may tell more stories in the future, but for now this is the story of my teacher—Lydia Livingdoll. I mean stone—Livingstone.

Luscious Lydia, I used to call her in high school, but she never said more than hi to me. Not because she didn’t want to, she eyed me all right. But like Big Brother, her All-State, quarterback boyfriend was always with her or watching his buxom, blonde haired blue eyed cheerleader. That changed when he went off to Notre Dame on an athletic scholarship and both Lydia and I, by chance, happened to attend Stanford.

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