Meet the girl who rouges up both sets of lips.
I play with the red lipstick on my mouth. Pouting, I run my tongue across my full lips, then the tip of my pink tongue appears and I push out my bottom lip provocatively. Every movement in my visual feast is designed to seduce and mesmerise him. I’m the consummate actress and soon my lipstick will stain much more than his shirt collar. I open my beaded purse and, taking out my Russian enamelled lipstick holder, I watch Aaron in the glass and blow him a kiss. Come and get me!
My lipstick possesses filthy possibilities because it is the dirtiest colour. It is unique. It is not the colour of blood, strawberries or bordellos. It is the colour of the sensual c**t. The juicy red slit between my legs.
“In the beginning it was your face that caught my attention,” Aaron says. “Your alabaster skin is like a canvas displaying your incredible lips.”
At first glance my lips seem perfect. The top one just the right proportion and the cupid’s bow the most ideal V. But the bottom lip is, perhaps, a little too full. I paint them because I know they’re my most powerful tools of seduction. Later, I choose the correct lighting and seating to enhance the effect I require.
“Yes, imagine these lips mirroring my sex lips. Imagine this dangerous vampire sucking the last drop of tasty essence from your body with them.” No woman dared say these things to him before, of course, but I do, and I find his incredulity a huge turn-on. Aaron’s hand over mine on the table is moist with anticipation and a large bulge forces his pants zipper out. I want Aaron and the filthy lipstick, my major theatrical prop, is the finishing touch to the performance that secures my victory.
I’m not self conscious in public. I simply adore acting out a fantasy for men who lean forward, visibly gagging, their gazes fastened on my face. I remove the lipstick, next I reapply the pencil, stroke the lipstick on with a brush. Blot and reapply, until my lips are oozing and sumptuous.
“You give me the most amazing erections,” Aaron laughs. “Every night I dream of your bewitching lips. I stare in mirrors and shop windows, and I see only them.” Today I will have Aaron’s cock between my lipstick-slick thighs, I think, as an orgasmic jolt of satisfaction surges through my sex and he leans closer, his lips playing with my earlobe.
“I’m in heaven,” Aaron says, staring at my poster of red lips which rests above the bed in my apartment. “I stare at other women’s lips, but none of them are like yours. I see your lipstick everywhere. Last night I had the most macabre, erotic dream. Your lips were marching towards me, chasing me. They took the place of heads on assorted matchstick-like female bodies. Some were small. Some so huge they engulfed me. There was a kind of wild Freudian excitement in the chasing. I wanted to be caught, consumed. The mouths were bearing down on me, the cavern of your throat beyond swallowing me up into the rich red cave of you. It was the only place I wanted to be. When I awoke I had a mammoth erection, it was as rigid as a poker. I never realised until that moment how much alike were the lips of the mouth to the lips of the c**t.” He unbuttons my blouse and I begin to unbuckle his pants. He spreads out on the bed and I straddle his hips.
He touches my mouth with his thumb. “Can you paint them until they’re dripping?” I oblige and Aaron feasts on my lips, smothering the cosmetic all over my face until we’re both covered in vaginal red. I lose count of how many times I have to sit at my dressing table while Aaron’s puppet-like cock jerks between his thighs with each touch of the colour to my lips. The game inspires hot lust. Sex juice trickles between my thighs and my other mouth is gaping, flaccid, and burning.
“I love the colour. What would you call this?” He rotates the lipstick up and down suggestively.
“The colour of my sex.” I spread my thighs, my fingers widening my slit. I open each fold until the dark hole is temptingly displayed. “It’s the colour of this, right?”
Aaron uses my lipstick to colour my breasts, then he licks it off. He is good with his mouth and teeth, sucking and biting while he kneads and squeezes my breasts fiercely. I feel the overpowering urge to use my fingers on my clit, but Aaron slaps my hands away and makes me use the lipstick to colour his nipples. I love Aaron’s fat, engorged cock and I clench it in my fist. The feel of the bewitching and obsessive lipstick on his skin arouses him as much as it does when he watches me.
I reapply the lipstick so that my lips are dripping. Next, I raise his hips on a pillow and, kneeling, I flutter my tongue over his penis. Aaron groans. He is in a paroxysm of arousal which has almost reached the point of pain. He dares my filthy red lips to suck the tortured, pre-come-slick organ. I bury my face in his balls, lifting and caressing, my lascivious mouth tasting, licking and stroking the rigid bony length of him and he cries out, “No not yet.”
To stop him coming, I fiercely grip his penis at the base and begin nibbling his pole with my teeth, pressing my lips to it until it is coated in red, the tight ring of my lips devouring the engorged tip. When I have his cock fully inside my mouth my lips become two valves sliding up and down. One last squeeze and he gushes inside me and at that precise moment I slide my teeth upward to extract each last drop of his precious cargo.
“Can I?” His flaccid cock is hardening again. He holds up the lipstick and applies it carefully to my semen-scented mouth. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Aaron parts my slit and uses the nub of the melting lipstick to titillate my throbbing clitoris. I’m close to coming now, my body ebbing and flowing on waves of pleasure. He uses the lipstick to pull my slit apart, coating the folds liberally, drawing luscious sweeping movements around them before applying some of the scented wax to his own lips. “There. What do you think?”
I colour the tip of his shaft with the last remaining drop of filthy red. In my wardrobe mirror I watch the lipstick coated cock push between my lipstick red labia, pressing my legs together to feel the delicious friction of him. With his one hand he massages my clit with the empty lipstick cylinder. Then he nudges me open wider with the tip of his hard pole and he begins to pump in and out, the lipstick-coated shaft moving faster and faster. My body is drenched with the aphrodisiacal combination of juice, semen and lipstick. Our animal cries are the vocal accompaniment to the slapping of our lipstick lubricious, instrumental thighs.
Later, while Aaron sleeps peacefully beside me, I find my empty lipstick container under the pillow and I wriggle naked off the bed. When I gaze in the dressing table mirror Aaron and I look like two clowns coloured with shocking red face paint. I slide open the dressing table, feeling a sharp pang of orgasmic excitement as I gloat over my secret stash. For there they are! Another entire drawer, full of my filthy tools of seduction.
