BC Ch. 01: Sara Makes Her Own Fluffer

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People call me BC. Big Cat. A nickname I’ve had since I was a boy. However, during my years at Art College I was known as ‘Fluffer’. These are my diaries of that time. Fluffer’s tales.

*

Imogen, my long-term girlfriend, had dumped me. With a lack of pride that shames me still, I continued chasing her like some desperate puppy until eventually she got some work experience in Berlin; in an architect’s office with her big sister’s boyfriend. Of course, I called her the day she got back to see if she wanted a drink.

Well she met me, but only to lay it on the line with a brutality that crushed all hopes of us ever getting back together. She spent the whole evening marvelling at what great sex she’d had with her sister’s (now ex) boyfriend.

So, my best friend all through college was a fine-art student called Sara. She rang me the morning after I’d met Imogen to find out how I’d got on and was brilliantly furious on my behalf when I told her what happened. She demanded I come and stay with her that weekend. Her boyfriend, in her words, was, “getting on my tits” and had been “chucked out.” Though to be honest he didn’t live with her, and in fact his flat was downstairs from hers, so he’d not been chucked far.

Sara really was a very good friend, and despite being sexy (small and fit and classically pretty, picture a pocket-sized Natalie Wood) we’d just never clicked romantically. Not sure why as we both thought the other attractive. At least I found her attractive. And I heard her describe me on the phone once as “The big bloke. Looks like a sexy fucking… lion.” It was just if we ever tried to kiss or anything, we got the giggles. Also I guess we really valued having an uncomplicated friend of the opposite sex when it came to bitching and talking about sex, which was pretty much all we did.

Sara was unusually uninhibited for a girl, but I was still surprised when she answered her front door naked except for a bath towel hanging down in front of her. She let me in explaining she was just about to have a bath, and twisted and yelped as I attempted to peep under while she tried to re-arrange it toga-style.

“Well this is making me feel much better already!” I announced as she led me up the communal stairs to her flat, her hands clasping the towel to her bottom as we went. She stopped on a half-landing at the bathroom door and pointed me up to the kitchen, then winked and gave me a cheeky flash of buttock. I lunged. She squealed, and slammed (and locked!) the bathroom door.

Half an hour later found us in her kitchen drinking peppermint tea while she monologued about her monstrous, rugger-chap boyfriend. I enjoyed the break from my own misery for a while, but inevitably the subject got round to my ex.

Sara, as usual, was way more interested in the sordid details than in my proclamations of undying love. After less than a minute of my winsome moaning she curled a lip and held up her hand. “So what was so good about her Berliner sex anyway?”

I sighed.

“No seriously though, you should learn from this, what was so much better with this other guy than with you? You used to have great sex I thought?”

“You’re not helping.”

Sara sketched in a notebook with a biro. Like all the time. Dark, etched blue lines of some part of a cat probably. She was obsessed with drawing cats. She snorted. “No, come on, tell me. It will do you good to get it all out.”

“Well… Imogen came. A lot.”

“Obviously. But how? Come on. Details.”

Another sigh from me. “Apparently he was very good with his tongue. She had her first ever oral orgasm—”

“What do you mean, first ever?” No-one does aggressive confusion like Sara. But I knew that would get her attention. She loved “head talk”, and would make me tell her any time I had any, or gave any. “But you used to go down on her all the time. You mean she never came?”

I shrugged. “When I asked her if she faked orgasms for me, she said, ‘Not all the time.'”

Sara blared a laugh. Her eyes filled mine for a moment, then she sighed. “Fuck,” she announced, and patted my cheek in a condescending way only she could get away with. She frowned at her drawing.

“But what did he do that was so good? Licking is licking. It’s not rocket science.”

“She wouldn’t tell me.”

“Oh sweetie, you didn’t actually ask her?” She covered her mouth.

“Well she wasn’t volunteering the information.”

“Fucksake, that is the saddest thing I ever heard.” She sketched what looked like buttocks now, then waved her pen at me. “What I don’t understand is how can you lick a girl and not make her cum? Maybe she just never liked you… But I have to say even then…”

“Oh please shut up… Are you drawing an arse?”

“Yep.”

Silence. casino şirketleri We sipped. She put down her pen and cleared her throat. “Can I ask you a personal question?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “When you go down, what exactly are you doing? No I know you’re like licking the general area but… well you do know where a clit is don’t you?”

My delayed reply spoke volumes.

“Oh shit, you are joking.”

Again nothing from me. To be honest. I thought I knew too, but now she actually asked me, I realised I couldn’t say for definite. I’m embarrassed to admit I spent the first few years of sexual maturity kind of guessing. What can I say, I was only fucking twenty.

“But surely, we’ve talked about… I mean, how you could not… Oh bloody hell! “

She picked up her pen, flapped her pad to a clean page and started drawing something else.

“Another bottom?” I asked. She shook her head and giggled as a pair of what looked like frogs legs appeared on the page, then a female torso and head above.

“Right,” she said, scribbling a triangle at the join of the legs. “This is where you will find the vagina on a girl—”

I growled and went to grab the book. She squeaked and pushed me away,

“No wait, wait! Let me finish!” She drew an arrow pointing up between the girl’s legs. “Right, so if one looks up here…”

She did a scribble which I sort of recognised as pubic hair, and then proceeded to draw something utterly unidentifiable beneath. Like a cross between a shellfish and an orchid.

“Outer lips, inner lips, hole… and, right there.” She inscribed a little circle. “Clit.”

I frowned at it. She frowned at it. She tore off the page and started again. This time she mysteriously started by drawing fingers, then opposite, some more fingers. She finished in a flourish with what looked like a distorted shellfish or orchid between. “Ok, opening up the lips, see? There are the inner lips, and they wrap over in a little hood and in there, underneath, is the spot. You never heard of little red riding hood? Never got that?”

“Are you trying to confuse me?” I peered at the curly lines. “I can see why you specialise in cats and not—”

“Don’t you dare make a pussy joke you bastard, and I am being graphically clear. Look there see? There!” She underlined the small circles she’d drawn on each illustration.

“That doesn’t even look human.”

We cackled. She tossed the book and stood to get the teapot.

Standing next to me Sara poured more tea, still chortling, then for the second time that day my friend caught me by surprise.

“Fucker,” she blurted and slammed the down the pot. She unfastened her belt. “We never tell anyone about this.” She quickly unzipped her jeans.

With a wriggle, she yanked both the denim and black knickers halfway down her thighs, completely revealing herself below her tight little t-shirt. “I won’t have you laughing at my drawing. I’m better than you, fuckwit. Now.” She fluffed at her black bush. “This is a vulva. This…” She made an inverted v of the fingers of one hand and pulled her outer lips apart, shoving her hips at me. “This is a clit. Clear? See?” She jabbed at the underlined circles on her sketches and then prodded at her naked bits. “See?”

I nodded, and swallowed. Sara turned this way and that, then put her hands on her hips. An odd pose with her jeans half down. “Any questions?”

I slightly wanted her to put it away, but then also wanted this moment to never end. Judging by my friend’s hesitancy in getting dressed again, I sensed she thought the same.

“So I just… stimulate that area and…”

“Most girls will cum, eventually, yes.” She tilted her head, folded her arms and pressed a finger to her lips. All relaxed on one hip, as cool as you like. “However.” She stooped and opened herself up again, this time wider, with the fingers of both hands. “Don’t charge at it. And don’t sort of lick up in here too much, can you see? Come closer. Don’t use the tip of your tongue under here, it’s too much.” She exposed the little pink spot under her hood, rolling it around.

She held up the tips of two fingers. “If this is the clit, and this is your tongue, don’t do this.” She prodded one with the other. “Do this.” She circled one with the other.

I nodded. She really did have an outstanding pussy; neater than my ex’s, and almost hairless over her lips.

“Show me,” she announced and shoved her finger into my mouth. I licked and she narrowed her eyes. Moments passed, I waited for the giggling. But it didn’t come. Hmm, I thought, as I pretended her fingertip was a clitoris and licked gently round and round it.

“Good.” She nodded down at me, then withdrew casino firmaları her finger from my mouth and impulsively rubbed it around her clitoral hood, watching herself and whispering, “Just round there…” Then as if suddenly realising where she was, Sara cleared her throat and grabbed her knickers ready to pull them up. Not immediately, though.

“So… anything else you’d like to ask me hmm?” Her cheeks looked slapped. “This is a once-in-a-life-time offer?”

I grabbed the tiger’s tail. “So, is that what you do. I mean is that how a girl pleasures herself, rubs around that area? I thought you liked fingers sort of inside too?”

She nodded. “Yep, that’s nice. Fingers inside. Gently though, and only when they’re wet— wait, you’ve never seen a girl masturbate? Jesus no-wonder you’ve never made a girl cum.”

I bit back a grin. Sara huffed. “Oh I see where this is going.” She regarded me coolly. Then she writhed her jeans and underwear completely off and waved a finger at me like it was my fault. “This is your lucky day mate.”

She kicked her clothing away and pirouetted, naked but for her t-shirt and some toe-nail varnish. I cheered. She really had a great rear too. She crossed her arms. “Just this one thing ok? Nothing else. Don’t get any ideas. This is not sex. It’s education ok?”

“I came expecting tea,” I said. “Maybe some cookies.”

She propped a foot up on her chair and flopped over her raised leg in embarrassed laughter, then composed herself. “I don’t believe I’m doing this. Ok. Can you see?”

I had the best view in the house, her new pose revealing a delight of pink fleshy lips curling underneath her.

“So. Well. I don’t normally stand up. Most of the time I lie down on my front and do this…” She sort of held one hand with the other and wedged them to her mound, grinding her hips at the hard lump they made. “But if I’m in a cheeky mood, I stand at the mirror and just go really lightly at first, like this….” She brushed her fingers over her abdomen and inner thighs.

“Should I be taking notes?”

She scowled and I felt foolish. Her caresses spiralled in. Her eyes closed and she ran those light fingertips over her intimate folds, and then squeezed at them. She sighed, opened her eyes and smiled at me. She looked… all powerful. Omnipotent.

“Don’t look away,” she all-but-whispered. “Your gaze is surprisingly horny.” I was hard enough to burst out of my clothing, like a below-the-waist incredible hulk. Her hand kneaded her lips, swirled them all around. A couple of fingers slipped between the outer skin a little more on each circuit, just a little, and she caught the occasional breath.

“Out… standing,” I said, and she chuckled quietly, and then peered down at my lap. “You hard?” again that intimate soft voice, I had never heard her speak like that. I liked it. I pushed my hips up so she could see the distortion she was causing in my jeans. She nodded. “Good.” Then caught another breath as she curled a finger up into herself, and withdrew it, sliding it over her clit. I sighed and she smiled. “I’m wet,” she croaked and showed me her finger, glossy to the knuckle. I took it into my mouth. She glowered, but watched me suck it.

Her fingers darted back to the hood of her clitoris, rubbing it… rubberilly. She gasped a little, and lifted her foot from the chair, planting it higher up onto the edge of the table, opening up even more. She reached down with her other hand and spread her inner lips. I gulped. It was lovely, all shiny, wet and inviting. Like a cool pool on a hot day, or the opposite. I dunno.

“All this wet stuff…” She slid her finger inside again, this time as far as it would go, “needs to go here…” She slipped it up again over her clit, looking distinctly puffed up now. Her fingers quickened, her movements became more demanding, and her breath turned to panting. I felt the most privileged bastard on the planet, but my mouth watered, and my cock shoved at my clothing.

Her movements turned feverish. One glossy finger became two, and made wriggling, itching movements deep inside her. She started swearing. I thought she must be close. But then she stopped. “Oh Fucking hell I can’t cum.” She held her bits like she needed to pee.

“There’s no hurry,” I said and sat back. “Don’t stop”. Sara smiled at my lap, took a deep breath and continued, swirling and tickling and probing. After a couple more minutes of quick, soft squelches and whispered curses, she withdrew her fingers. “Sorry sweetie, it’s not going to happen. You get the idea, though, don’t you?”

I could not accept that. Not one more sexual encounter with a girl who didn’t orgasm. Not her too! I leant in and flicked a light lick at her clitoris. She güvenilir casino caught a breath but didn’t tell me off so I did it again. Sara sighed and stroked my hair, and I pressed my advantage, opening her lips and pushing my tongue as deep into her as I could. I swirled it around inside her, then lapped up and around her spot.

She growled, grabbing her bum cheeks and rocking her hips. With that, my mouth was given free reign, and wanted to run riot, lick everything, suck everything, eat everything. However, I kept it controlled, tried to do what she had described. Her supporting leg trembled, and I caught her by her buttocks, one in each hand, holding her like a big fruit to my mouth. After moments of blabbering and grinding at my mouth her legs tremored again and she begged to sit.

Unsteady and flushed all down her neck, she flopped into a wooden chair. She grinned at my slimy chin. “Sorry. Is that all me?” But I wasn’t in the mood to respond. Her orgasm was my prey and I was very, very hungry. I just wanted to get back to work. No. I needed to get back to work.

She perched on the edge of the seat, leant back and propped her feet up on the table, far apart and gripping the edge of with her toes. I was under and between those newly spread thighs exactly like a cat pouncing on a titbit. She giggled, then swore as I attended to her sloppy folds and bursting clit eagerly with my newly found knowledge.

Now she was comfortable, it was all over frustratingly quickly. She hooked her hands behind her knees and yanked her legs apart as I licked her into squeaking hissing, shudders.

“Stop-stop-stop!” She blathered, then shoved my head back and puffed. “I’ve created a monster!”

She frowned. At least I assume she frowned. I was too absorbed with the profound pulsing between her legs. She covered herself. “Fuck! I need a fuck now… Fuck it! I fucking knew this would fucking happen!”

I banged my head on the table in my enthusiasm to oblige, but she locked her mound tight with both hands. Her face melted down at me.

“Oh sweetie, not you. Thank you. But sorry.”

I was confused, then realised. Her boyfriend lived downstairs. “You’re not thinking of…”

She leapt up and scampered for the door. “Course I am. He’ll just think I’ve been fingering myself in the mirror again. I won’t be long.” She headed out into the communal hallway. I felt simultaneously elated and crushed.

Her hall mirror presented the rear view of her banging on her boyfriend’s door, still naked from the waist down. I almost felt sorry for the bloke, then jealous, then sorry again as his girlfriend’s arousal chilled on my chin. “Alan!” She shrieked. “Wake up you lazy bastard! Open the door! Quick!”

“What?” a sleepy grumble from inside

“I need a fuck!”

The door opened, Sara leapt onto her hapless victim and then it slammed shut.

She was gone for ages and there was much thumping and howling from below, but I didn’t really mind. It would have been different, wrong, if we’d fucked. And anyway I felt in some part involved with all the histrionics downstairs. It was me that got her started after all. I didn’t even need to cum myself; suddenly I felt supremely in control. A sex zen master.

Sara was very sheepish when she came back up later with a classically post-coital dreamy expression. Not to mention hair do.

She shrugged cheekily and got dressed in the jeans and underwear that I’d picked up from the kitchen floor and folded while she was fucking. “You ok?” she croaked — her voice hoarse from all her screaming.

I winked.

She snapped her knicker elastic on her hips and sighed. “That was fucking brilliant!” She chuckled. “Kind of like a threesome!”

“I’ve never had one, but don’t all parties need to be aware they’re engaged in a threeway?”

She stepped into her jeans. “Oh he knows. I told him how you got me all hot and bothered. Alan said next time he sees you he’s going to ‘knock you on the nose.'” She hissed in silent hilarity as she fastened her zip and belt.

“What does that even mean!?” I laughed with her but to be honest felt a little nervous. I hate confrontation, relying on my size as a deterrent as much as possible.

She filled a glass of water, drained it, and gasped a theatrical sigh. “Fuck! He is a good fucker though… I definitely got the best of both worlds. I won’t lie to you, BC, there’s nothing sexier than a big brute like you down there licking me. And you’ve got a truly epic tongue!”

“Thanks to you.”

“My pleasure! You could always be my personal… fluffer? is that what they’re called?”

“Eh?”

“Those girls who keep porn stars erect between takes, by sucking them? Know what I mean?”

I sort of did, but wasn’t sure I liked the comparison. I had no idea, then, how this word would haunt me. In a good way.

“Can I keep this?” I picked up her notebook and went to tear off the page with her gynaecological drawings on it.

She lunged. “Fuck no!”

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