The war movie "Johnny Got His Gun" is a soul-shattering experience for many. It sticks in the mind for many reasons, not the least of which is the psychological hell that would be caused by loss of all your physical faculties while your mental processes remained alert and very much aware. One quote from the movie has especially stuck with me over the years, though: "How can you tell what's a dream and what's real when you can't even tell when you're awake and when you're asleep?"
It was like that for me this morning, you know. For much different and considerably more pleasant reasons.
I was floating, drifting, wandering in a pleasant haze. Clouds passed over and through me and I was borne aloft on warm breezes. Far below me I saw a landscape of indescribable beauty, rolling hills and valleys, mountains with snow-capped tips, lush forests and rushing cataracts. My spirit sang at the sight. Indeed, I was feeling pleasure radiating outward from my core, buoying me up effortlessly, the good feelings crackling along every nerve ending.
Slowly things shifted and turned, and I sideslipped along another plane of existence. The pleasure intensified, becoming more localized. I felt dim sensations: warmth building to heat, gentle tingling, a velvety smoothness, a slick friction of some kind. They intensified as the pleasure built. Reality reassembled itself, building blocks falling into place, solidifying to the here and now.
Which was that your lips were wrapped around my cock and you were sucking on me gently but insistently.
My eyes flew open in shock and then almost immediately closed again as the sensations swept over me and carried me away. Never had I felt such exquisite points of pleasure. There was no time to wonder how you'd pulled the covers off without awakening me, what had possessed you to awaken me like this, or even how in the hell you'd gotten here in the first place. It's very difficult to think coherent thoughts when a woman has your cock in her mouth.
And so consciousness coalesced around the delight I felt: heat, gentle suction, a most insistent tongue curling around my shaft and concentrating on the head. Your soft fingers stroked me up and down, tenderly but with firm authority. I moaned, the first sound I had managed, and was rewarded with a humming "Mmmmm" from you, my cock never slipping free. Your hair whispered along my belly, your hands caressed my thighs and fondled my balls. Your mouth worked with slow passion, teasing me, gorging me with blood and desire. I felt myself throb intensely with each hard thump of my heart.
The sounds of lust: wet "shlick" and "sploop" sounds as you sucked me, slowly, your mouth moving from head to the base of my shaft, my ragged breathing as the pleasure built, my helpless moans of desire, your soft musical humming. I began to raise my hips, slightly, involuntarily, and heard/felt you giggle to yourself, knowing I was completely and utterly lost, in your control.
And then you pulled back. My cock slid free, rigid as a post, throbbing angrily. I gasped as your tongue dragged over the crown, swirling round it, bringing fresh beads of desire, glistening pearly white. You grinned the most impish grin I had ever seen and only then did I realize you were as naked as I. Slowly, slowly, you crept forward, your skin sliding against mine, your hard nipples scoring trails along my chest as you undulated along my length. You straddled me. Your thighs grabbed me with no doubt about who was in charge here. You looked down imperiously, eyes glinting with mischief and delight. You raised those hips. Your hands caressed your own skin, fondling your breasts. You tweaked your nipples and sighed softly as your hands moved lower, ever downward. Your hand wrapped around my rigid length, angling it, pointing me to your own requirements. More heat, more wetness: slick and ready, you enveloped me before I could even blink, and just like that we were connected, so intimately, so deeply.
You sighed again, this time in words: my name. It sounded like a blessing. With a soft gasp I called your own, the word almost lost in a moan of pure need as you began to move slowly, excruciatingly slowly. You leaned forward, your breasts pressed against my chest, and rained kisses on my neck, my throat. Your tongue tasted my pulse, explored my earlobe. I felt your breath, hot and insistent. My hands went to cup and squeeze your ass, helping you fit yourself to me. Slowly, so slowly, you rose and fell above me. I raised my head to capture a nipple with lips and tongue and was rewarded with moans of your own. Steadily, rhythmically, you drove me onward. Steadily, rhythmically, I was driven higher, the pleasure building, the tempo increasing. My breath came faster. Your velvet walls gripped me, molding me, shaping me for our ecstasy. Your hair swung forward, obscuring your face, but those eyes glinted, glinted. A ghost of a smile from you: you leaned forward, palms on my chest, bracing yourself for harder, faster, rocking and grinding. Your touch seared my skin. Head whirling, every nerve flamed with delight, I could only gasp and moan, helpless to resist the tide, the inevitable burst of heat and light and color, the brilliant nova that sent me over the edge......
.........and then I raised my head, and looked around. The sheets were tangled, my pillow askew, my cock throbbing steadily in a pool of precum. I touched myself: stickier than I should be. The memory of your kisses, the taste of your tongue, the feel of your hot cunt, wouldn't leave me alone, insisted they had been real. I dropped my head to the pillow, and sighed bitterly. Never have I been so disappointed to return to the real world from a dream.
-- PB
Showing posts with label oral sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oral sex. Show all posts
Monday, January 7, 2013
Friday, August 19, 2011
Flash Fiction Friday 8-19-11: "Delicious"
(Image this week provided by Advizor; original source and title unknown)
"Sorry about the eggs. I'm really a bit rubbish at cooking."
"Mm. I have had more palatable breakfasts."
Curls of smoke drifted up from her cigarette as she gestured, lazily. "Mind you, that could be because this isn't what I wanted for breakfast."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you did want....?"
She rolled her eyes so hard they spun round in the sockets. "You, you idiot."
I blushed like a schoolgirl, but managed to squeak out, "So, um, why don't we get you what you really wanted?"
"Why indeed?" she purred.
Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 69-99 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:
"...curls of [noun]..."
Nobody's checking word counts, or for the key phrase, but you're only cheating yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're doing it to earn a spanking (in which case, see me after class).
Special Bonus Director's Commentary Track:
Try as I might, I couldn't think of any other reason these two might be still nude or half-nude at the table unless they were so keen to get back to the bedroom that they hadn't bothered to dress. There is a rather pensive look on the face of the one on the right, but I consciously chose to ignore that, preferring to go with the "barely contained lust" approach. Besides, I've written too much lately that's been dark and/or turbulent and/or depressing and/or pensive. Rather have something cheerful.
This is, I think, the first thing I've posted here where I'm actually writing from the female perspective. I just can't think of the "I" in a story and have it be a female and make it seem right. Hopefully I did all right with this one.
If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below using the widget. It will appear in the text of the post itself, not in the comments, so everyone that's playing will be listed here. This frees me from having to chase people down to find out if they're playing or update the Friday post several times for late entries. Your cooperation is appreciated.
In any case, the participants list is below. Go check them out, and thanks to all who played along.
Check back here on Monday for the next challenge! And if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see in a future challenge, please send them my way. Thanks to Advizor for this week's photo!
-- PB
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Group Post: "Discovered Check"
I opened my eyes to discover that I couldn't see a damn thing. Which wasn't really surprising given the layers of thick black cloth that were tightly bound round my head. I strained but the blackness was absolute, except when broken by red flashes when I strained too hard and my eyeballs started to ache in their sockets.
There's a curious sense of doubling when your sight's taken away from you. Centuries of evolution have conspired to make us extremely visually-oriented creatures. Our other senses have dwindled and died to pale shadows of their former selves. Gone the days when Neandertal man would lift his head to scent prey on the wind, gone the days when the slightest crackle of twig or leaf heralded the approach of predators. But there is in us a remarkable overcompensation -- remove one sense and the others will expand to fill its space.
As now. I could hear faint breathing, a soft and steady bellows somewhere to my left. I heard a faint creak as someone shifted in the recliner that sat at the other end of the room. I heard the stately tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway, its slow metronome magnified to a "thud-thud". I heard soft footsteps -- bare feet -- padding towards the foot of the bed where I lay. Then they stopped. I heard faint rustling and could tell that whoever it was was bending over me.
I stretched out -- not physically, but sensorily. Closing my eyes still harder, I reached. I detected faint heat moving inches above my bare legs. My mind raced, classifying, rejecting, and suddenly the sensations clicked into place: the warmth of a hand, held just above my skin, moving near-imperceptibly upwards along my thighs. The hair on my legs stirred in response, lifting towards the stimulus, and I heard her make a small sound of approval.
She -- oh yes, it was definitely a She -- was beginning to impinge on my senses in other ways, too. I lifted my head a bit, Neandertal man reborn, and inhaled slowly. A welter of scents flooded my brain. Scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Sharp spike of alcohol (a fine Scotch, from the scent), mixed with ice cubes musty from too long spent in the freezer. Trail of sweat down collarbone. Smoky musk of Woman, flat-sweet with unmistakeable sexual arousal.
My body began responding to that almost instantly. My cock began swelling in the confines of my boxers, and I heard a low murmur from the recliner to the right, counterpointed by a throaty chuckle from the left. I shifted a bit, trying to ease the constriction, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a soft hand settled on me, squeezing delicately. I groaned as she began to massage me. Softly. Gently. Barely touching, fingertips dragging along my length, squeezing and enhancing as I grew harder. Little crackles of energy burst outwards in radiating spikes as she stroked me.
Off to my left I heard a clink, ice cubes in a glass. A faint slurping sound, then a sharp gasp and a low moan, drifted to me from that same direction. Then I heard footsteps and a soft hand on my face, stroking it, sliding down to my mouth. She grasped my chin and opened my mouth and now I had taste to add to the mix as well; one finger lingered in my mouth and I ran my tongue around it, collecting the salt of her skin, faint oily taste of a hand lotion, feeling the pulse of her pulse in that fingertip. She opened my mouth wider and slipped an ice cube into my mouth. But no ordinary ice cube this. Now I knew the source of that gasp from before. I was overcome by the intensity of her taste -- the spicy, earthy tang of a cunt in full flower. I sucked on that ice cube, devouring her, almost whimpering as her taste dissolved and diluted into nothingness.
Now I felt the hand at my boxers sliding them down my legs slowly. A brief instant of pain as my cock popped free, and then the cool air swirled around my heated skin. Wait, no, that was warmer air. I felt hot breath on my shaft, then warmth and wetness, a tiny thin trail as she ran only the tip of her tongue along my cock from head to balls. I groaned, forcing it out past a throat gone dry with lust.
Now there was a shifting around my head. The bed rocked and creaked, tilting left, and I felt naked skin sliding along my body. That woman-scent struck me again, from much closer range. A shifting and turning, and she sat astride my chest. Now I felt wetness smearing my shirt as she wriggled upward, marking me with her essence, moving closer to my hungry mouth. She lifted and then dropped; suddenly I had her cunt in my mouth, her lips embracing mine, her sticky syrup pouring out over my lips and chin. I attacked ravenously, all thought of niceties or gentleness gone, invading with tongue and teeth, grasping her clit with my lips, swirling my tongue from bottom to top in long hard licks. She moaned a bright brittle moan and I felt her shake; she must have motioned to the one at my cock, because the next instant I was engulfed by heat and wetness there too, a head bobbing on my shaft in delicious counterpoint to the action at my head. I moaned, but it was lost in the slurping and smacking of dual oral worship.
The one riding my face clamped hard around my head with her thighs. Her hips bucked forward, nearly smothering me. My nose nuzzled in the tiny bristly hairs above her slit; a small landing strip pointing the way. I kept up my assault on her clit, now flicking my tonguetip from side to side in a lustful lash. The bucking of her hips and her high moans told of my success and I redoubled my intensity. The one sucking me off was doing the same. A suction worthy of an F5 tornado bade fair to turn me inside out; the heat and velvety friction from her slippery mouth was deliciously intense. I felt my balls draw tight, and I knew she felt it as well, with her fingers wrapped around my sack like they were. Shuddering with delight, I fought to stay back from the edge until I'd tipped the one on my face over ahead of me.
A few short minutes later and I barely managed my goal. A tearing, finishing cry from high above me and a flood of wetness down my lips, chin, neck -- these were the rewards for my feast. Seconds later I provided my own feast for the one further down, exploding into her sucking mouth with such intensity I hoped she wouldn't gag. Not even a hint of it, though, as she drank me down with low murmurs of evident delight and a voraciously swirling tongue.
Brain whirling, senses flooded from all directions by tastes, scents, sounds, touches unimagined and half-remembered, I lay prostrate as they climbed off of me. Soft whisperings and a dirty giggle drifted to me, and I stretched my ears, but the preternatural sensitivity I'd reached had been overwhelmed by intensity, and I caught nothing. I did hear footsteps receding into the distance while another set padded towards me once more.
Abruptly the blindfold was yanked free. White heat burst in front of my eyes and tears ran down my face. Darkness to light is generally rather more gradual than that. I blinked at the nude figure in front of me, and now a new sensation flooded me. Confusion.
Because I had no idea who she was.
*********************************
The theme for this month's Group Post was "I opened my eyes to discover.....". I figured everyone else would be writing about what they saw, and so I deliberately went in the other direction. Hopefully it was a worthwhile trip.
Why not see how these other fine participants handled the theme?
http://
http://100waystobeperverse.
http://hubmanshangout.com/
http://ronjazz.blogspot.com
http://topaz-gemology.
http://mygrayline.blogspot.com
http://cuckold-husband-
And our host while Kimberly is on hiatus, the sexy and talented Duchess:
http://theduchessissexy.
-- PB
There's a curious sense of doubling when your sight's taken away from you. Centuries of evolution have conspired to make us extremely visually-oriented creatures. Our other senses have dwindled and died to pale shadows of their former selves. Gone the days when Neandertal man would lift his head to scent prey on the wind, gone the days when the slightest crackle of twig or leaf heralded the approach of predators. But there is in us a remarkable overcompensation -- remove one sense and the others will expand to fill its space.
As now. I could hear faint breathing, a soft and steady bellows somewhere to my left. I heard a faint creak as someone shifted in the recliner that sat at the other end of the room. I heard the stately tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway, its slow metronome magnified to a "thud-thud". I heard soft footsteps -- bare feet -- padding towards the foot of the bed where I lay. Then they stopped. I heard faint rustling and could tell that whoever it was was bending over me.
I stretched out -- not physically, but sensorily. Closing my eyes still harder, I reached. I detected faint heat moving inches above my bare legs. My mind raced, classifying, rejecting, and suddenly the sensations clicked into place: the warmth of a hand, held just above my skin, moving near-imperceptibly upwards along my thighs. The hair on my legs stirred in response, lifting towards the stimulus, and I heard her make a small sound of approval.
She -- oh yes, it was definitely a She -- was beginning to impinge on my senses in other ways, too. I lifted my head a bit, Neandertal man reborn, and inhaled slowly. A welter of scents flooded my brain. Scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Sharp spike of alcohol (a fine Scotch, from the scent), mixed with ice cubes musty from too long spent in the freezer. Trail of sweat down collarbone. Smoky musk of Woman, flat-sweet with unmistakeable sexual arousal.
My body began responding to that almost instantly. My cock began swelling in the confines of my boxers, and I heard a low murmur from the recliner to the right, counterpointed by a throaty chuckle from the left. I shifted a bit, trying to ease the constriction, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a soft hand settled on me, squeezing delicately. I groaned as she began to massage me. Softly. Gently. Barely touching, fingertips dragging along my length, squeezing and enhancing as I grew harder. Little crackles of energy burst outwards in radiating spikes as she stroked me.
Off to my left I heard a clink, ice cubes in a glass. A faint slurping sound, then a sharp gasp and a low moan, drifted to me from that same direction. Then I heard footsteps and a soft hand on my face, stroking it, sliding down to my mouth. She grasped my chin and opened my mouth and now I had taste to add to the mix as well; one finger lingered in my mouth and I ran my tongue around it, collecting the salt of her skin, faint oily taste of a hand lotion, feeling the pulse of her pulse in that fingertip. She opened my mouth wider and slipped an ice cube into my mouth. But no ordinary ice cube this. Now I knew the source of that gasp from before. I was overcome by the intensity of her taste -- the spicy, earthy tang of a cunt in full flower. I sucked on that ice cube, devouring her, almost whimpering as her taste dissolved and diluted into nothingness.
Now I felt the hand at my boxers sliding them down my legs slowly. A brief instant of pain as my cock popped free, and then the cool air swirled around my heated skin. Wait, no, that was warmer air. I felt hot breath on my shaft, then warmth and wetness, a tiny thin trail as she ran only the tip of her tongue along my cock from head to balls. I groaned, forcing it out past a throat gone dry with lust.
Now there was a shifting around my head. The bed rocked and creaked, tilting left, and I felt naked skin sliding along my body. That woman-scent struck me again, from much closer range. A shifting and turning, and she sat astride my chest. Now I felt wetness smearing my shirt as she wriggled upward, marking me with her essence, moving closer to my hungry mouth. She lifted and then dropped; suddenly I had her cunt in my mouth, her lips embracing mine, her sticky syrup pouring out over my lips and chin. I attacked ravenously, all thought of niceties or gentleness gone, invading with tongue and teeth, grasping her clit with my lips, swirling my tongue from bottom to top in long hard licks. She moaned a bright brittle moan and I felt her shake; she must have motioned to the one at my cock, because the next instant I was engulfed by heat and wetness there too, a head bobbing on my shaft in delicious counterpoint to the action at my head. I moaned, but it was lost in the slurping and smacking of dual oral worship.
The one riding my face clamped hard around my head with her thighs. Her hips bucked forward, nearly smothering me. My nose nuzzled in the tiny bristly hairs above her slit; a small landing strip pointing the way. I kept up my assault on her clit, now flicking my tonguetip from side to side in a lustful lash. The bucking of her hips and her high moans told of my success and I redoubled my intensity. The one sucking me off was doing the same. A suction worthy of an F5 tornado bade fair to turn me inside out; the heat and velvety friction from her slippery mouth was deliciously intense. I felt my balls draw tight, and I knew she felt it as well, with her fingers wrapped around my sack like they were. Shuddering with delight, I fought to stay back from the edge until I'd tipped the one on my face over ahead of me.
A few short minutes later and I barely managed my goal. A tearing, finishing cry from high above me and a flood of wetness down my lips, chin, neck -- these were the rewards for my feast. Seconds later I provided my own feast for the one further down, exploding into her sucking mouth with such intensity I hoped she wouldn't gag. Not even a hint of it, though, as she drank me down with low murmurs of evident delight and a voraciously swirling tongue.
Brain whirling, senses flooded from all directions by tastes, scents, sounds, touches unimagined and half-remembered, I lay prostrate as they climbed off of me. Soft whisperings and a dirty giggle drifted to me, and I stretched my ears, but the preternatural sensitivity I'd reached had been overwhelmed by intensity, and I caught nothing. I did hear footsteps receding into the distance while another set padded towards me once more.
Abruptly the blindfold was yanked free. White heat burst in front of my eyes and tears ran down my face. Darkness to light is generally rather more gradual than that. I blinked at the nude figure in front of me, and now a new sensation flooded me. Confusion.
Because I had no idea who she was.
*********************************
The theme for this month's Group Post was "I opened my eyes to discover.....". I figured everyone else would be writing about what they saw, and so I deliberately went in the other direction. Hopefully it was a worthwhile trip.
Why not see how these other fine participants handled the theme?
http://
http://100waystobeperverse.
http://hubmanshangout.com/
http://ronjazz.blogspot.com
http://topaz-gemology.
http://mygrayline.blogspot.com
http://cuckold-husband-
And our host while Kimberly is on hiatus, the sexy and talented Duchess:
http://theduchessissexy.
-- PB
Friday, May 7, 2010
Flash Fiction Friday 5-7-10: "A Hot Breakfast"
The scent of breakfast was in the air. Pancakes, bacon, eggs. Mmmm, delicious. She froze as she rounded the corner of the kitchen.
He grinned innocently. “Morning. Care for some breakfast?”
Her mouth watered. “Oh, yes. I see you were kind enough to prepare me a nice big sausage.”
He glanced down, then back up. “Well, I know how you do love savoring that sausage in your mouth.”
“Indeed,” she agreed, and tied a napkin around her neck, fastidiously.
Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 63-83 words. Nobody's checking word counts, but you're only cheating yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're doing it to earn a spanking (in which case, see me after class).
The following people are participating this week. Why not go check out their take on this FFF?
Netsfan44: http://netsfan44eroticstories.
Soren: http://amorousdays.blogspot.com
Lila: http://que-sinverguenza.blogspot.com
Spring Flower: http://agirlsgottahaveoptions.blogspot.com
Jonsbabydoll: http://thebloggingslave.com
Gray: http://mygrayline.blogspot.com
Curvaceous Dee: http://curvaceousdee.com
Nilla: http://vanillamom.wordpress.com
Snow: http://snow9.wordpress.com
Sephani Paige: http://sephanipaige.wordpress.com
Katia: http://katiaswritings.blogspot.com
Max: http://mystic-satyr.blogspot.com
Check back here on Monday for the next challenge! And if you'd like to see a particular photo or artwork used for a future challenge, send it my way.
-- PB
Monday, February 8, 2010
Microfantasy Monday: "Public Places"
"You know," she said sweetly, "I've always wanted to suck a guy's dick in public."
He choked and spluttered, spraying toast crumbs over the diner's table. A minute or two of coughing and hacking and he had recovered enough to say, "Christ, couldn't you kind of work up to something like that? My heart isn't what it once was. Can't take surprises like that one anymore."
"Bollocks," she opined, and put a hand on his on the table. "You're not even forty yet. I just surprised you. I like surprising you."
"You do at that," he allowed, drinking deeply from his orange juice. "Ahh. That's better. Now what the hell prompted you to say that anyway?"
She looked around the crowded room. "Dunno. I'm just feeling frisky right now, and this seemed like as good a time as any. This diner's tables" -- she patted theirs -- "have nice long tablecloths, I've noticed."
His eyes widened as he realized where she was going with this. "No. Absolutely not."
"Oh, come onnnnnnn....." she wheedled, her hand already running up his thigh to his crotch. "Don't tell me you've never fantasized about it too."
"Fantasizing and doing are two different things," he hissed. "Dammit, stop that!" 'That' was her opening his fly and snaking a hand inside, wrapping her fingers around his rapidly swelling cock. He drew breath sharply and darted a shaken glance around. No one appeared to have noticed...yet.
He turned to her to give her a tongue-lashing and blinked; she wasn't there anymore, but he could still feel her hand on his cock. What the hell? Oh, no, she wasn't. Was she?
Yes, she was. Under the cover of the tablecloth, she'd slipped under the table and was now on her knees in front of him, her talented tongue now dancing over the crown of his cock. He grunted, the shock of pleasure stunning him, as she took him deep, humming quietly to herself, no doubt laughing like a demon inside as he moaned helplessly and began thrusting forward into her eagerly sucking mouth. She was really going for it, too, using every trick of her considerable skill. Pleasure was exploding outward from his groin, adrenaline whipping through his bloodstream. One of his hands crept under the table and twined into her hair; he heard her giggle, low and soft, around his cock.
Suddenly he sat bolt upright in shock, eyes going in terror to the front door, where a familiar pair of faces had come in. Oh fuck, that's the Richardsons. Please don't let them come over here, please don't let them come over here, please don't let them come over here.....
"Jimmy!" A hailing shout. "What've you been up to?"
If you only knew, he thought, forcing a grin onto his face and struggling to bite back the groans of ecstasy that wanted to escape as underneath the table she continued to suck his dick loudly, sloppily, enthusiastically. He just prayed he wouldn't give the game away when he blasted off down her throat, which by all indications wasn't going to be very long....
(Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Ang, the Sweltering Celt. If you want to see who else is playing, go see Ang!)
-- PB
He choked and spluttered, spraying toast crumbs over the diner's table. A minute or two of coughing and hacking and he had recovered enough to say, "Christ, couldn't you kind of work up to something like that? My heart isn't what it once was. Can't take surprises like that one anymore."
"Bollocks," she opined, and put a hand on his on the table. "You're not even forty yet. I just surprised you. I like surprising you."
"You do at that," he allowed, drinking deeply from his orange juice. "Ahh. That's better. Now what the hell prompted you to say that anyway?"
She looked around the crowded room. "Dunno. I'm just feeling frisky right now, and this seemed like as good a time as any. This diner's tables" -- she patted theirs -- "have nice long tablecloths, I've noticed."
His eyes widened as he realized where she was going with this. "No. Absolutely not."
"Oh, come onnnnnnn....." she wheedled, her hand already running up his thigh to his crotch. "Don't tell me you've never fantasized about it too."
"Fantasizing and doing are two different things," he hissed. "Dammit, stop that!" 'That' was her opening his fly and snaking a hand inside, wrapping her fingers around his rapidly swelling cock. He drew breath sharply and darted a shaken glance around. No one appeared to have noticed...yet.
He turned to her to give her a tongue-lashing and blinked; she wasn't there anymore, but he could still feel her hand on his cock. What the hell? Oh, no, she wasn't. Was she?
Yes, she was. Under the cover of the tablecloth, she'd slipped under the table and was now on her knees in front of him, her talented tongue now dancing over the crown of his cock. He grunted, the shock of pleasure stunning him, as she took him deep, humming quietly to herself, no doubt laughing like a demon inside as he moaned helplessly and began thrusting forward into her eagerly sucking mouth. She was really going for it, too, using every trick of her considerable skill. Pleasure was exploding outward from his groin, adrenaline whipping through his bloodstream. One of his hands crept under the table and twined into her hair; he heard her giggle, low and soft, around his cock.
Suddenly he sat bolt upright in shock, eyes going in terror to the front door, where a familiar pair of faces had come in. Oh fuck, that's the Richardsons. Please don't let them come over here, please don't let them come over here, please don't let them come over here.....
"Jimmy!" A hailing shout. "What've you been up to?"
If you only knew, he thought, forcing a grin onto his face and struggling to bite back the groans of ecstasy that wanted to escape as underneath the table she continued to suck his dick loudly, sloppily, enthusiastically. He just prayed he wouldn't give the game away when he blasted off down her throat, which by all indications wasn't going to be very long....
(Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Ang, the Sweltering Celt. If you want to see who else is playing, go see Ang!)
-- PB
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Panserhistory, part 3: Melissa
Since I started this journal several of you folks have asked me about my past. Who've I been with? you want to know. What was it like, being with them? Did they let you....y'know....do THAT to them? Did they hurt you? Did you hurt them? Did you learn anything from them? Would you do it again, if you had a chance?
So I'm going to write some entries about my history, limited as it is, and let you see for yourself. As always, all names I use here have been changed.
Part 3: Melissa
I've written a bit about Melissa before (see this entry for details) but here's the full story.
I met Melissa at a Fourth of July party hosted by my friend Jonathan. She was a friend of Jonathan's sister. I liked her looks, liked her long curly black hair, liked her intelligence and ready wit, liked her geeky chic look, liked her geeky interests. We spent a lot of time talking that night but I left without getting her number. So, feeling like I was in grade school and sending a note to someone asking "Do you like me? Please check yes or no", I called up Jonathan's sister and, after hemming and hawing a bit, finally got around to asking if Melissa was seeing anyone. I could actually HEAR the smile in her voice as she said no, Melissa wasn't dating anybody, and by the way, would I like her number?
Good god, women can see right through us, can't they?
It was three more days before I got up the nerve to call Melissa, but she seemed delighted to hear from me and we made a date for that weekend. I drove down to see her (she lived about an hour away from me) and we had a perfectly lovely evening. Dinner out, a trip by a bookstore we both loved, winding up with a walk outside on a lovely summer night. We ended up on a wooden swing in her apartment complex, just talking. The night was warm, the stars were kind. I put an arm around her. We talked less and less, letting the silences build. And finally there was a moment when we both turned to each other, and the silence stretched, and slowly, slowly, I bent my face to hers.
If there is such a thing as a perfect first kiss, that was it. It seemed like we both wanted exactly the same thing, and were perfectly in tune with each other; I could see the anticipation on her face and it must have mirrored my own. Her eyes closed a bare moment before her lips met mine and I swear I heard her sigh softly. Her lips were warm and soft, a little damp; I tasted a hint of sweat on her upper lip from our walk.
We kissed, and kissed again. There were no words, only a growing urgency as our mouths merged. Warm lips, and growing warmer; they opened under mine and her tongue slid into my mouth. She moaned and I sighed in response. Our kisses built and built. Her arms went round my neck. We kissed, and kissed, and kissed.
Eventually I broke from her and mentioned something about not wanting to get arrested (we were, after all, still in a public place, albeit somewhat secluded on this little backyard swing). So we went into her apartment, where we made it all of five feet from the door before I backed her against the wall and we resumed our oral duel. More kisses, hungry now, full of fire. We must have stood there, just kissing and hands gently exploring, for a good fifteen minutes.
In what may have been one of the all-time bonehead moves, I fianlly broke from her again and said that I'd better head home now, or pretty soon I wasn't going to be able to. There was a hint of disappointment on her face but she agreed that it was probably best to cut things off there for now. I asked if she'd like to come visit me next weekend and she looked delighted. She immediately went to her desk, pulled out a pad of paper, and asked for directions; seeing her bent over the desk like that, I just couldn't resist. I slipped up behind her and put both arms around her, hands going to her breasts, fondling them and squeezing gently.
Now I didn't know it yet, but Melissa's total weak point was her breasts. Just a touch there was enough to get her hot and bothered, and so when I began fondling her tits that night after our heated kissing interlude, she told me later that she felt a spike of desire go through her so sharply that she wanted to turn around and jump me right then and there. As it was, she moaned loudly and pressed back against me, rubbing her ass against my crotch, confirming for herself that I was just as turned on as she was.
Somehow, I don't know how, I managed to stop after a minute or two, and in a ragged voice I finished giving her directions to my place. I drove off feeling a giddy excitement that she evidently shared.
********************
A week later, and Melissa and I were parked on my couch, watching TV. My roommate, showing an understanding beyond belief, had absented himself for the evening (in fact, he crashed at someone else's pad that night, giving me -- us -- plenty of privacy). It had been another fine evening, full of more good conversation and laughter, with plenty of double entendres and innuendos. Sitting there on my couch soon gave way to more kissing and exploration; soon she was lying back and moaning while my lips brushed against her neck and my hands slipped underneath the shirt she wore to find warm flesh beneath.
After a few more minutes of delicious torture, I found the balls to bring up protection. In all-time bonehead move #2, I hadn't bothered to pick up any condoms ahead of time, somehow thinking that I'd be jinxing things if I did. She agreed, with a sultry smile, that we should go and get some. Like, right now. Like, how fast can we get there and back?
I set a new record for a trip to the grocery store, and pretty soon we were back in my apartment, and then in my bedroom. I undressed her slowly, so slowly, marveling at her body -- she had a fantastic figure, womanly, full of curves. It wasn't a model's frame, but I didn't care -- the curve of her hips, the globes of her ass, the magnificent swells of her breasts -- oh god, she had fantastic tits. Soft, full, hanging heavy under their own weight, large hard nipples, begging to be sucked. And I sucked them, and she moaned, and soon we were on my bed, and I had my head buried between her legs, and I was slurping her pussy until she was crying out my name with joy.
It was here that I made yet another tactical error. I had been hard from pretty much the get-go, and the smart thing would have been to give her an oral orgasm and then give her what both of us were obviously wanting very badly -- a good, proper fucking. But she tasted so good and she was enjoying my attentions so much that I just kept right on going. She came again. And again. And again. And my aching cock was still aching. And pretty soon my balls were aching too, from frustration. But I ignored them and kept slurping away at her. Again she came. Again. And my balls were REALLY aching now, to the point where I made a soft sound of pain when I shifted position. After about an hour and a half of oral delight for her, she was begging me to take her. I fumbled a condom open, got my jeans and underwear off and tried to slip it on, but discovered to my horror that the steady dull pain from my balls -- now quite intense! -- had made me go soft. I massaged myself a bit to see if I could get hard again, and my balls sent a fresh bolt of pain through me. I tried a few more times, and Melissa even had a go herself, wrapping her fingers around me and then taking my cock in her mouth -- but it was no go.
Eventually we halted for the night, me still bright red from shame, she waving it off as nothing serious. "It happens sometimes, don't worry about it," she said. "We'll try again another time. And there WILL be another time, believe me." She fell asleep in my arms, and I lay there reflecting that sometimes too much foreplay really IS too much. Yet another lesson learned.
*******************
A week later, and Melissa had sent me a letter informing me that she didn't really like condoms much anyway, and so she'd been to see the doctor to get on the pill. She went on in much more intimate detail, telling me exactly how beautiful and sexual she felt when she was with me, and telling me how much she looked forward to seeing me again and continuing where we'd left off.
And we did. Oh, god, did we ever.
Again my roommate had absented himself for the evening (man, did I owe him big-time) and this time we skipped all the preliminaries like dinner and conversation. She showed up at my door and we went directly to bed -- do not pass Go, do not collect $200, go directly to hot makeouts. This time she undressed me, and then I undressed her, and we stood there, nude, caressing and kissing for ten or fifteen minutes, hands exploring heated flesh. I slipped two fingers inside her; she was wet, so wet, and her knees buckled when I penetrated her. She retaliated by wrapping her hand around my shaft and pumping me oh so slowly. I bore her backward onto the bed and she spread her legs wide, breathing "Now, now, do it now,". I slid about a bit, trying to find the right spot, and suddenly I found the right spot and there was no longer any doubt as I sank into her.
God, what a feeling, to be inside a woman for the first time, unencumbered by a condom. Rachel and I had made love many times but had used a condom for each. This was the first time I'd had sex without one and oh dear GOD it felt good. I think I just lay there on top of her, grinning, cock pulsing inside her, for a good two or three minutes, before I even started to move. But eventually I did, and she began moving with me, and before the night was over we had fucked four times.
********************
That was the beginning of a beautiful relationship -- at least, in the bedroom. Rachel had initiated me into sex but had never been tremendously enthusiastic; I'd gotten the impression that she was mostly indulging me as a gift. Melissa, on the other hand, was just as voracious and insatiable as I was -- she loved sex and she wanted it often, and wasn't shy about showing it. Whenever we were together it was usually a tossup as to which one of us would jump the other one first.
Oh, what a playground we made of each others' bodies. We fucked in every room of our apartments. We made love for hours, entwined on her bed with raindrop shadows sliding down our bodies. We did it standing up leaning against her bookshelf. I bent her over the desk in her bedroom, enacting what I'd wanted to do so badly that first night. I took her in her kitchen with the kitchen blinds wide open, providing a free show to anyone who'd happened to walk by outside. We screwed on the couch, in chairs, on the floor, on the stairs, on a table. I'd stay inside her after coming until I went soft, then she'd start squeezing my cock with her pussy and pretty soon I'd be hard again, and we'd get right back into it without me ever having pulled out. We loved to do it in the shower, frequently staying in there and fucking for so long that we were more sweaty and messy when we got out than we had been when we got in. We played with toys, with lube, with food; I painted her with honey and licked it all off; she made me her own personal ice-cream sundae and licked THAT all off. I turned her into a Slip-and-Slide with a bottle of massage oil; what a mess THAT made, but we were past caring after we'd fucked each other into a slippery messy coma. We role-played: "teacher and student", "master and slave", "doctor and patient". She dressed up in naughty lingerie and delighted in the reaction it got from me. We read erotica together, making love in interludes or whenever we got too hot; we watched porn together, both laughing at it and getting turned on by the hotter scenes. She was always up for exploration, for trying new things, for new scenarios, dirty talk, new positions, phone sex, mutual masturbation, experimentation -- anything went, anytime.
She loved to be held down. She loved it when I pressed my full weight on her, when I pressed her hard against a wall or pinioned her by her wrists. She came so hard she almost exploded when I tied her up and had my way with her. She loved having her breasts fondled, her nipples sucked, and sucked hard; she could come just from me playing with and sucking on her nipples. She loved fucking for hours, sliding from position to position over and over and eating dinner in bed because we STILL couldn't keep our hands off each other. I still remember how we just lost control when we were together, tossing inhibitions out the window. I recall one time in particular when we had made so much noise that the cops came to my door, saying they'd been called because neighbors had thought someone was being murdered in here. I had to produce Melissa, dressed in just a bathrobe, before they got the idea. (I'd never seen a cop blush before.) We were always ready, always open; just a few seconds of caresses -- from either of us! and we'd be breathing hard and trying to restrain ourselves. Countless times we'd plan to go out for the evening and never make it out the door because we just couldn't keep our hands off each other. We spent a lot of time at my place or hers just walking around nude, because it saved time disrobing; after all, we never knew when the urge might strike next. I loved that she was completely unselfconscious about her body and loved to show it to me; she told me later that I was the first guy she'd felt that way around, and I felt a smug self-satisfaction.
********************
Unfortunately, although Melissa and I were utterly perfect in bed (and out of bed, and anywhere else), we were not tremendously well-suited as romantic partners. We had a lot of things in common, but we had many other things that turned out to be personality conflicts, and eventually we split up. Oh, we kept giving it a try for several more years, on and off; one of us would call the other to say hi, and drop by for a visit, and usually they'd wind up spending the night because the smoldering physical attraction between us was always ready to burst into flame again. Sometimes we'd even agree to make another go of the relationship, but within a few months the old problems would crop up once more. And neither of us was the sort for completely casual sex, quite aside from the fact that we had so much emotionally invested in each other already that it could never really be casual again. We finally had our last fling about eight or nine years after I first met her -- she'd come to my place for a visit and, just like old times, had started fondling each other while watching a movie, and soon I was banging her from behind while she screamed for me to do it harder. I remember that she told me as she was leaving the next morning that this might be our last time for a while because she was going on a date next week. And oddly enough, I felt delighted for her.
Melissa is married now, to that same guy. He treats her like a queen and they are very much in love. I met him once and he seems like a really great guy. You get the impression that they are just perfect for each other -- interlocking puzzle pieces that fit just so, and can't be pulled apart without tremendous effort. They have the kind of marriage where they positively glow when they look at each other.
I wonder sometimes if we had that same glow when she was with me.
Thanks, Melissa. You taught to me that women can and do enjoy the hell out of sex, and helped me to be just as uninhibited about it as you. You are still one of the best lovers I've ever had.
-- PB
So I'm going to write some entries about my history, limited as it is, and let you see for yourself. As always, all names I use here have been changed.
Part 3: Melissa
I've written a bit about Melissa before (see this entry for details) but here's the full story.
I met Melissa at a Fourth of July party hosted by my friend Jonathan. She was a friend of Jonathan's sister. I liked her looks, liked her long curly black hair, liked her intelligence and ready wit, liked her geeky chic look, liked her geeky interests. We spent a lot of time talking that night but I left without getting her number. So, feeling like I was in grade school and sending a note to someone asking "Do you like me? Please check yes or no", I called up Jonathan's sister and, after hemming and hawing a bit, finally got around to asking if Melissa was seeing anyone. I could actually HEAR the smile in her voice as she said no, Melissa wasn't dating anybody, and by the way, would I like her number?
Good god, women can see right through us, can't they?
It was three more days before I got up the nerve to call Melissa, but she seemed delighted to hear from me and we made a date for that weekend. I drove down to see her (she lived about an hour away from me) and we had a perfectly lovely evening. Dinner out, a trip by a bookstore we both loved, winding up with a walk outside on a lovely summer night. We ended up on a wooden swing in her apartment complex, just talking. The night was warm, the stars were kind. I put an arm around her. We talked less and less, letting the silences build. And finally there was a moment when we both turned to each other, and the silence stretched, and slowly, slowly, I bent my face to hers.
If there is such a thing as a perfect first kiss, that was it. It seemed like we both wanted exactly the same thing, and were perfectly in tune with each other; I could see the anticipation on her face and it must have mirrored my own. Her eyes closed a bare moment before her lips met mine and I swear I heard her sigh softly. Her lips were warm and soft, a little damp; I tasted a hint of sweat on her upper lip from our walk.
We kissed, and kissed again. There were no words, only a growing urgency as our mouths merged. Warm lips, and growing warmer; they opened under mine and her tongue slid into my mouth. She moaned and I sighed in response. Our kisses built and built. Her arms went round my neck. We kissed, and kissed, and kissed.
Eventually I broke from her and mentioned something about not wanting to get arrested (we were, after all, still in a public place, albeit somewhat secluded on this little backyard swing). So we went into her apartment, where we made it all of five feet from the door before I backed her against the wall and we resumed our oral duel. More kisses, hungry now, full of fire. We must have stood there, just kissing and hands gently exploring, for a good fifteen minutes.
In what may have been one of the all-time bonehead moves, I fianlly broke from her again and said that I'd better head home now, or pretty soon I wasn't going to be able to. There was a hint of disappointment on her face but she agreed that it was probably best to cut things off there for now. I asked if she'd like to come visit me next weekend and she looked delighted. She immediately went to her desk, pulled out a pad of paper, and asked for directions; seeing her bent over the desk like that, I just couldn't resist. I slipped up behind her and put both arms around her, hands going to her breasts, fondling them and squeezing gently.
Now I didn't know it yet, but Melissa's total weak point was her breasts. Just a touch there was enough to get her hot and bothered, and so when I began fondling her tits that night after our heated kissing interlude, she told me later that she felt a spike of desire go through her so sharply that she wanted to turn around and jump me right then and there. As it was, she moaned loudly and pressed back against me, rubbing her ass against my crotch, confirming for herself that I was just as turned on as she was.
Somehow, I don't know how, I managed to stop after a minute or two, and in a ragged voice I finished giving her directions to my place. I drove off feeling a giddy excitement that she evidently shared.
********************
A week later, and Melissa and I were parked on my couch, watching TV. My roommate, showing an understanding beyond belief, had absented himself for the evening (in fact, he crashed at someone else's pad that night, giving me -- us -- plenty of privacy). It had been another fine evening, full of more good conversation and laughter, with plenty of double entendres and innuendos. Sitting there on my couch soon gave way to more kissing and exploration; soon she was lying back and moaning while my lips brushed against her neck and my hands slipped underneath the shirt she wore to find warm flesh beneath.
After a few more minutes of delicious torture, I found the balls to bring up protection. In all-time bonehead move #2, I hadn't bothered to pick up any condoms ahead of time, somehow thinking that I'd be jinxing things if I did. She agreed, with a sultry smile, that we should go and get some. Like, right now. Like, how fast can we get there and back?
I set a new record for a trip to the grocery store, and pretty soon we were back in my apartment, and then in my bedroom. I undressed her slowly, so slowly, marveling at her body -- she had a fantastic figure, womanly, full of curves. It wasn't a model's frame, but I didn't care -- the curve of her hips, the globes of her ass, the magnificent swells of her breasts -- oh god, she had fantastic tits. Soft, full, hanging heavy under their own weight, large hard nipples, begging to be sucked. And I sucked them, and she moaned, and soon we were on my bed, and I had my head buried between her legs, and I was slurping her pussy until she was crying out my name with joy.
It was here that I made yet another tactical error. I had been hard from pretty much the get-go, and the smart thing would have been to give her an oral orgasm and then give her what both of us were obviously wanting very badly -- a good, proper fucking. But she tasted so good and she was enjoying my attentions so much that I just kept right on going. She came again. And again. And again. And my aching cock was still aching. And pretty soon my balls were aching too, from frustration. But I ignored them and kept slurping away at her. Again she came. Again. And my balls were REALLY aching now, to the point where I made a soft sound of pain when I shifted position. After about an hour and a half of oral delight for her, she was begging me to take her. I fumbled a condom open, got my jeans and underwear off and tried to slip it on, but discovered to my horror that the steady dull pain from my balls -- now quite intense! -- had made me go soft. I massaged myself a bit to see if I could get hard again, and my balls sent a fresh bolt of pain through me. I tried a few more times, and Melissa even had a go herself, wrapping her fingers around me and then taking my cock in her mouth -- but it was no go.
Eventually we halted for the night, me still bright red from shame, she waving it off as nothing serious. "It happens sometimes, don't worry about it," she said. "We'll try again another time. And there WILL be another time, believe me." She fell asleep in my arms, and I lay there reflecting that sometimes too much foreplay really IS too much. Yet another lesson learned.
*******************
A week later, and Melissa had sent me a letter informing me that she didn't really like condoms much anyway, and so she'd been to see the doctor to get on the pill. She went on in much more intimate detail, telling me exactly how beautiful and sexual she felt when she was with me, and telling me how much she looked forward to seeing me again and continuing where we'd left off.
And we did. Oh, god, did we ever.
Again my roommate had absented himself for the evening (man, did I owe him big-time) and this time we skipped all the preliminaries like dinner and conversation. She showed up at my door and we went directly to bed -- do not pass Go, do not collect $200, go directly to hot makeouts. This time she undressed me, and then I undressed her, and we stood there, nude, caressing and kissing for ten or fifteen minutes, hands exploring heated flesh. I slipped two fingers inside her; she was wet, so wet, and her knees buckled when I penetrated her. She retaliated by wrapping her hand around my shaft and pumping me oh so slowly. I bore her backward onto the bed and she spread her legs wide, breathing "Now, now, do it now,". I slid about a bit, trying to find the right spot, and suddenly I found the right spot and there was no longer any doubt as I sank into her.
God, what a feeling, to be inside a woman for the first time, unencumbered by a condom. Rachel and I had made love many times but had used a condom for each. This was the first time I'd had sex without one and oh dear GOD it felt good. I think I just lay there on top of her, grinning, cock pulsing inside her, for a good two or three minutes, before I even started to move. But eventually I did, and she began moving with me, and before the night was over we had fucked four times.
********************
That was the beginning of a beautiful relationship -- at least, in the bedroom. Rachel had initiated me into sex but had never been tremendously enthusiastic; I'd gotten the impression that she was mostly indulging me as a gift. Melissa, on the other hand, was just as voracious and insatiable as I was -- she loved sex and she wanted it often, and wasn't shy about showing it. Whenever we were together it was usually a tossup as to which one of us would jump the other one first.
Oh, what a playground we made of each others' bodies. We fucked in every room of our apartments. We made love for hours, entwined on her bed with raindrop shadows sliding down our bodies. We did it standing up leaning against her bookshelf. I bent her over the desk in her bedroom, enacting what I'd wanted to do so badly that first night. I took her in her kitchen with the kitchen blinds wide open, providing a free show to anyone who'd happened to walk by outside. We screwed on the couch, in chairs, on the floor, on the stairs, on a table. I'd stay inside her after coming until I went soft, then she'd start squeezing my cock with her pussy and pretty soon I'd be hard again, and we'd get right back into it without me ever having pulled out. We loved to do it in the shower, frequently staying in there and fucking for so long that we were more sweaty and messy when we got out than we had been when we got in. We played with toys, with lube, with food; I painted her with honey and licked it all off; she made me her own personal ice-cream sundae and licked THAT all off. I turned her into a Slip-and-Slide with a bottle of massage oil; what a mess THAT made, but we were past caring after we'd fucked each other into a slippery messy coma. We role-played: "teacher and student", "master and slave", "doctor and patient". She dressed up in naughty lingerie and delighted in the reaction it got from me. We read erotica together, making love in interludes or whenever we got too hot; we watched porn together, both laughing at it and getting turned on by the hotter scenes. She was always up for exploration, for trying new things, for new scenarios, dirty talk, new positions, phone sex, mutual masturbation, experimentation -- anything went, anytime.
She loved to be held down. She loved it when I pressed my full weight on her, when I pressed her hard against a wall or pinioned her by her wrists. She came so hard she almost exploded when I tied her up and had my way with her. She loved having her breasts fondled, her nipples sucked, and sucked hard; she could come just from me playing with and sucking on her nipples. She loved fucking for hours, sliding from position to position over and over and eating dinner in bed because we STILL couldn't keep our hands off each other. I still remember how we just lost control when we were together, tossing inhibitions out the window. I recall one time in particular when we had made so much noise that the cops came to my door, saying they'd been called because neighbors had thought someone was being murdered in here. I had to produce Melissa, dressed in just a bathrobe, before they got the idea. (I'd never seen a cop blush before.) We were always ready, always open; just a few seconds of caresses -- from either of us! and we'd be breathing hard and trying to restrain ourselves. Countless times we'd plan to go out for the evening and never make it out the door because we just couldn't keep our hands off each other. We spent a lot of time at my place or hers just walking around nude, because it saved time disrobing; after all, we never knew when the urge might strike next. I loved that she was completely unselfconscious about her body and loved to show it to me; she told me later that I was the first guy she'd felt that way around, and I felt a smug self-satisfaction.
********************
Unfortunately, although Melissa and I were utterly perfect in bed (and out of bed, and anywhere else), we were not tremendously well-suited as romantic partners. We had a lot of things in common, but we had many other things that turned out to be personality conflicts, and eventually we split up. Oh, we kept giving it a try for several more years, on and off; one of us would call the other to say hi, and drop by for a visit, and usually they'd wind up spending the night because the smoldering physical attraction between us was always ready to burst into flame again. Sometimes we'd even agree to make another go of the relationship, but within a few months the old problems would crop up once more. And neither of us was the sort for completely casual sex, quite aside from the fact that we had so much emotionally invested in each other already that it could never really be casual again. We finally had our last fling about eight or nine years after I first met her -- she'd come to my place for a visit and, just like old times, had started fondling each other while watching a movie, and soon I was banging her from behind while she screamed for me to do it harder. I remember that she told me as she was leaving the next morning that this might be our last time for a while because she was going on a date next week. And oddly enough, I felt delighted for her.
Melissa is married now, to that same guy. He treats her like a queen and they are very much in love. I met him once and he seems like a really great guy. You get the impression that they are just perfect for each other -- interlocking puzzle pieces that fit just so, and can't be pulled apart without tremendous effort. They have the kind of marriage where they positively glow when they look at each other.
I wonder sometimes if we had that same glow when she was with me.
Thanks, Melissa. You taught to me that women can and do enjoy the hell out of sex, and helped me to be just as uninhibited about it as you. You are still one of the best lovers I've ever had.
-- PB
Monday, December 28, 2009
Microfantasy Monday #60: "Surprises"
"Oh god, oh fuck, don't stop, oh my fucking god yes, so good, so good, ohh yeah........"
She was making much more noise than usual, I thought, relishing the way she was thrashing about, hips pumping hard against my invading tongue, head rolling back and forth, breasts heaving, moaning uncontrollably. I'd been slurping away at her delicious pussy for a good half hour and she'd come twice already, but that wasn't anywhere near good enough for me. I inserted a pair of fingers into her sopping slit and crooked them in the "come hither" which always made her come, hither -- pressing on her little G with gentle but relentless pressure. Simultaneously I took her clit between my lips and flicked it side to side with my tongue -- once, twice, a third time.
She tensed all over and a banshee wail escaped her. And something else, too. In seconds, I was positively covered by a warm splash of fluids, producing only a startled "glug!" as she came so hard she squirted all over me. I'd seen videos of the phenomenon before, but she'd never demonstrated this particular talent to me. She was sure as hell demonstrating it now, though; her juices had gushed all over my face, my hair, my ears....hell, I couldn't have gotten any wetter if I'd poked my head all the way inside her.
Delighted, I raised my dripping head to see her crimson from head to navel, flushed with her exertions and perhaps a bit of embarrassment. She seemed about to say something -- an apology? a thank you? -- but I forestalled any comments by very deliberately licking my lips, then rubbing her wetness from my face all over my throat, chest, arms, and anywhere else that wasn't already wet.
"Ready for round four?" I inquired softly, and was rewarded with a dazzling smile....
(Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Ang, the Sweltering Celt. She exhorted us this week to write about surprises; here's my contribution. If you want to play too, go see Ang, by all means.)
-- PB
She was making much more noise than usual, I thought, relishing the way she was thrashing about, hips pumping hard against my invading tongue, head rolling back and forth, breasts heaving, moaning uncontrollably. I'd been slurping away at her delicious pussy for a good half hour and she'd come twice already, but that wasn't anywhere near good enough for me. I inserted a pair of fingers into her sopping slit and crooked them in the "come hither" which always made her come, hither -- pressing on her little G with gentle but relentless pressure. Simultaneously I took her clit between my lips and flicked it side to side with my tongue -- once, twice, a third time.
She tensed all over and a banshee wail escaped her. And something else, too. In seconds, I was positively covered by a warm splash of fluids, producing only a startled "glug!" as she came so hard she squirted all over me. I'd seen videos of the phenomenon before, but she'd never demonstrated this particular talent to me. She was sure as hell demonstrating it now, though; her juices had gushed all over my face, my hair, my ears....hell, I couldn't have gotten any wetter if I'd poked my head all the way inside her.
Delighted, I raised my dripping head to see her crimson from head to navel, flushed with her exertions and perhaps a bit of embarrassment. She seemed about to say something -- an apology? a thank you? -- but I forestalled any comments by very deliberately licking my lips, then rubbing her wetness from my face all over my throat, chest, arms, and anywhere else that wasn't already wet.
"Ready for round four?" I inquired softly, and was rewarded with a dazzling smile....
(Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Ang, the Sweltering Celt. She exhorted us this week to write about surprises; here's my contribution. If you want to play too, go see Ang, by all means.)
-- PB
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Working Hard, or Hardly Working?
"Interoffice mail, Josh."
Josh was startled out of his midmorning daze -- what shall I have for lunch? Will there be time to get the research done on those bonds before Mrs. Wright's 2:00? Damn, I hate this uncomfortable chair -- by a sultry, smoky voice. He looked up to see Lynne, the office assistant who also served double duty as mail girl, staring at him rather like the cat who just swallowed the canary. And, as always happened when she spoke to him, he got tongue-tied and couldn't think of anything to say.
"Uhhh...." he managed finally, after a thick silence had persisted for several seconds.
Lynne's smile broadened. "Ohhhh, my. Was my Josh having a naughty daydream? Did I interrupt something? Should I let you get back to your" -- her gaze strayed down his chest to the crotch of his slacks -- "fun?" She pronounced that last with an exaggerated, breathy pout.
Josh instantly went beet red and began stammering (again par for the course, he thought irritably; damn it all). "No, I, um, I was just thinking about, about, about some stuff, that's all, not.....er, not that." And bit his tongue. He sounded like a fucking idiot. Why the hell did this woman make him so nervous? Why did she make his heart pound, his tongue tangle, his brain whirl...his cock throb?
Maybe it was because she absolutely refused to wear business attire. Well, she did wear a suit jacket and skirt, but somehow the skirt was always just a few inches short of decency and the suit jacket was always open and the blouse was always unbuttoned so her big breasts swelled into some very impressive cleavage. Maybe it was because she licked her lips whenever she saw him, and winked at him, and kept playing with her hair whenever she caught his eye from across the office. Maybe it was the Nordic goddess look that she pulled off so well, with her white-blonde hair and those high cheekbones.
Or maybe it was because she kept looking at him like a target fixed in her crosshairs. As she was doing now. "What's so wrong with....that?" she inquired, lazily. "Having naughty daydreams? I do it all the time, you know." She giggled throatily, and stretched like a lioness, the movement pulling her blouse tighter over her straining breasts. His eyes bugged out.
There was absolutely nothing he could say in reply to that, only stammer and stutter. Goddamn it, he thought, am I never going to learn to deal with women? She could make it a little easier, anyway; doesn't she see what she's doing to me?
Abruptly, Lynne seemed to tire of playing with him. "Interoffice mail," she reminded him, holding up one of the big envelopes and dropping it on his desk. "See you later, loverboy." And she flounced off, pushing her little cart between desks, ass working prettily under that tight skirt. He stared after her, but gulped and pulled his head down like a turtle into its shell when she glanced over her shoulder, smiling wickedly, and caught him red-handed (and red-faced, he thought ruefully).
Shaking his head to clear it, he turned his attention to the envelope. Light. Must be another damn memo from Carlson in A/R. If that fucker tried to disallow his travel expenses one more time, Josh was going to march over there and force-feed him the expense claim sheets he seemed to love so damned much. He slit the envelope and shook it a bit, dislodging something that fell out onto the desk with a faint plop.
It was a pair of red panties.
What the hell?
For several long seconds the gears in Josh's brain squealed and smoked, grinding futilely in an effort to get some synapses firing, figure out the reason for this, anything. He stared, and stared. They were still panties. And wow, were they bright red. And -- he sniffed, realizing he smelled something musky and strong -- they smelled really good.
Abruptly he realized that he was in the middle of a busy office with a fucking pair of women's panties sitting out on the middle of his desk. He snatched them up, looking around guiltily, and stuffed them hastily into a drawer.
What in the hell was going on?
Grasping at straws, he reached for the envelope again and shook it some more. A half-sheet of paper fell out. He turned it right-side up and read what was written there in a feminine hand, with mounting shock:
Josh,
I'll make this short and sweet. I've seen you staring at me. I know I embarrass you, but you don't need to be embarrassed. I want you, and I want you now. These are my panties. I just took them off in the bathroom. That means I'm not wearing any right now. Come meet me in the supply closet in five.
-- Lynne
Wildly, Josh scanned the room, sure the truth must be printed all over his face clear as day, and saw the culprit staring openly, boldly, at him. She looked once, very directly, at the open envelope, then back at his face again. And slowly, deliberately, mouthed the words Want you. Want you NOW, Josh. And got up, and walked down the hallway, in the direction of the supply closet.
Josh got up himself, a little unsteady on his feet, and began drifting -- it felt like his feet were several inches off the floor -- across the office and down the hallway. He passed a few people who said hello, but he was incapable of speech, incapable of caring that they gave him odd looks, surprised by the dazed look on his face. He found the supply closet and knocked, feeling stupid the instant he did it -- who knocks at a supply closet door? Gritting his teeth, he opened it and stepped inside.
And there she stood, gaze playing over his body, a hungry look in her eyes. Before Josh could say a word, she'd stepped close to him and captured his mouth with hers.
God, what a kiss. It went on and on and on. Her tongue swirled around his, her hands slid down his back to his ass and clenched there, her hips were thudding against his. His cock was awake and roaring, hard and angry. She was moaning into his mouth, writhing against him, one hand now on the back of his neck, the other one working at his belt and the catch of his slacks. He felt cool air on his legs as his pants fell down around his ankles and she broke the kiss long enough to murmur, "Let's see what you've got, loverboy." And she dropped to her knees, both hands going to his boxers and pulling them down. There was an instant of pain as the waistband caught on his cockhead, but then they were down and his cock was pointing at her face.
She obviously knew what to do with it and engulfed him like someone who hadn't eaten in months. White lightning danced in Josh's brain and he groaned as she took his shaft down her throat all the way to the base. She rubbed her nose back and forth in his pubic hair, humming around his cock, lips forming a tight, hard O at the base. Then she pulled back. His cock sprang free with a wet pop, slick and shining with her saliva, and she looked up at him with a devilish grin as she began to work it with both hands. Massaging, twisting, sliding friction up and down oh dear GOD it felt good.
Without warning she was on her feet again. She took his hand and guided it under her skirt; he gasped as he felt heat, wetness. He'd read stories, of course, had seen pornos, but never in a thousand years had he thought it was like this in real life, this heat that could scorch his fingers, this fire in her eyes, this hunger in her happy growl. She sighed happily and smiled at him, mouth wide, licking her lips as she moved his hand to where she liked it most. He felt a soft nubbin under his fingertips; experimentally, he pressed lightly on that button, and was rewarded by a burst of more wetness and a shuddering gasp from Lynne. "Oh yes," she sighed, "yes, play with my clit. Oh, yes, Josh, like that."
Encouraged, he kept rubbing, remembering from his reading that women liked it best when you kept a nice steady rhythm. So he did just that, moving his fingers in slow circles over her clit, watching in awe as she shook and shuddered, hips bucking towards him, legs clamping hard around his hand and making it harder for him to touch her.
Abruptly she spun away from him and hiked up her short skirt; dumbfounded, he could only stare at the globes of her ass as she presented it to him. She bent over, bracing her hands on the shelving, and tossed a glance back over her shoulder. She licked her lips and fixed her gaze on him, a searing contact, then said, very deliberately, "Do me now, Josh."
Head spinning, he stepped closer to her, fumbling his cock between her spread legs. He probed with the head, then found her center; heat and wetness splashed over his shaft as he fumbled. She wiggled her ass at him, moaning, and suddenly he sank home and there was no doubt anymore. His eyes rolled back in his head; he felt like he was flying, being pulled onward by the incredible pleasure flaring outward from his cock, buried in her velvety slick softness. He thrust forward, moaning uncontrollably. Her cunt clenched around him as he pulled back and thrust again, and then he was sliding in and out, bucking wildly against her, balls slapping against her ass, hands clenching around her hips, pulling her against him. Not that he needed to -- she was pushing back hard against him, trying to find a rhythm with him, eagerly cooperating, spreading herself wider, chanting his name softly.
He could feel his balls churning and boiling after a few minutes of this, and instinctively sped up till he was banging her with pure abandon. She threw back her head and cried out with joy, and he gasped out, somehow, that he was about to, to, to, and she moaned yes, yes, do it, fill me, cum in me, shoot for me, loverboy, and he felt his consciousness spiral downwards, inwards, funneling out through his cock as he fountained urgently inside her, coming hard, hips jerking spastically, hands clenching uncontrollably, body filled with sunlight, mind whirling, legs shaking. He pulled back -- exquisite agony as his cock popped free! -- and heard wet squelching sounds. She gasped as he slid out, and purred, "Oooo, Josh, you fucked me so good and hard. I'm gonna be oozing your cum for hours, I just know it."
She straightened up, flipping her skirt down, and stepped close to Josh, who was still panting from his exertions. She looked fantastic -- face full of color, eyes glittering, lips full and sulky. He wanted to pounce on her, take her again -- his cock gave a twitch just at the thought -- but with completion his initiative seemed to have deserted him again. He could only stare in wonder.
She opened the closet door and giggled as Josh frantically began pulling up his clothing. "Coast is clear," she reported. She gave him another very direct look that was fraught with promise. "Tell me, loverboy.....what are you doing after work?" She grinned, and slipped out the door before he could even come close to forming a reply.
And Josh realized his office life had just gotten a great deal more interesting.
-- PB
Josh was startled out of his midmorning daze -- what shall I have for lunch? Will there be time to get the research done on those bonds before Mrs. Wright's 2:00? Damn, I hate this uncomfortable chair -- by a sultry, smoky voice. He looked up to see Lynne, the office assistant who also served double duty as mail girl, staring at him rather like the cat who just swallowed the canary. And, as always happened when she spoke to him, he got tongue-tied and couldn't think of anything to say.
"Uhhh...." he managed finally, after a thick silence had persisted for several seconds.
Lynne's smile broadened. "Ohhhh, my. Was my Josh having a naughty daydream? Did I interrupt something? Should I let you get back to your" -- her gaze strayed down his chest to the crotch of his slacks -- "fun?" She pronounced that last with an exaggerated, breathy pout.
Josh instantly went beet red and began stammering (again par for the course, he thought irritably; damn it all). "No, I, um, I was just thinking about, about, about some stuff, that's all, not.....er, not that." And bit his tongue. He sounded like a fucking idiot. Why the hell did this woman make him so nervous? Why did she make his heart pound, his tongue tangle, his brain whirl...his cock throb?
Maybe it was because she absolutely refused to wear business attire. Well, she did wear a suit jacket and skirt, but somehow the skirt was always just a few inches short of decency and the suit jacket was always open and the blouse was always unbuttoned so her big breasts swelled into some very impressive cleavage. Maybe it was because she licked her lips whenever she saw him, and winked at him, and kept playing with her hair whenever she caught his eye from across the office. Maybe it was the Nordic goddess look that she pulled off so well, with her white-blonde hair and those high cheekbones.
Or maybe it was because she kept looking at him like a target fixed in her crosshairs. As she was doing now. "What's so wrong with....that?" she inquired, lazily. "Having naughty daydreams? I do it all the time, you know." She giggled throatily, and stretched like a lioness, the movement pulling her blouse tighter over her straining breasts. His eyes bugged out.
There was absolutely nothing he could say in reply to that, only stammer and stutter. Goddamn it, he thought, am I never going to learn to deal with women? She could make it a little easier, anyway; doesn't she see what she's doing to me?
Abruptly, Lynne seemed to tire of playing with him. "Interoffice mail," she reminded him, holding up one of the big envelopes and dropping it on his desk. "See you later, loverboy." And she flounced off, pushing her little cart between desks, ass working prettily under that tight skirt. He stared after her, but gulped and pulled his head down like a turtle into its shell when she glanced over her shoulder, smiling wickedly, and caught him red-handed (and red-faced, he thought ruefully).
Shaking his head to clear it, he turned his attention to the envelope. Light. Must be another damn memo from Carlson in A/R. If that fucker tried to disallow his travel expenses one more time, Josh was going to march over there and force-feed him the expense claim sheets he seemed to love so damned much. He slit the envelope and shook it a bit, dislodging something that fell out onto the desk with a faint plop.
It was a pair of red panties.
What the hell?
For several long seconds the gears in Josh's brain squealed and smoked, grinding futilely in an effort to get some synapses firing, figure out the reason for this, anything. He stared, and stared. They were still panties. And wow, were they bright red. And -- he sniffed, realizing he smelled something musky and strong -- they smelled really good.
Abruptly he realized that he was in the middle of a busy office with a fucking pair of women's panties sitting out on the middle of his desk. He snatched them up, looking around guiltily, and stuffed them hastily into a drawer.
What in the hell was going on?
Grasping at straws, he reached for the envelope again and shook it some more. A half-sheet of paper fell out. He turned it right-side up and read what was written there in a feminine hand, with mounting shock:
Josh,
I'll make this short and sweet. I've seen you staring at me. I know I embarrass you, but you don't need to be embarrassed. I want you, and I want you now. These are my panties. I just took them off in the bathroom. That means I'm not wearing any right now. Come meet me in the supply closet in five.
-- Lynne
Wildly, Josh scanned the room, sure the truth must be printed all over his face clear as day, and saw the culprit staring openly, boldly, at him. She looked once, very directly, at the open envelope, then back at his face again. And slowly, deliberately, mouthed the words Want you. Want you NOW, Josh. And got up, and walked down the hallway, in the direction of the supply closet.
Josh got up himself, a little unsteady on his feet, and began drifting -- it felt like his feet were several inches off the floor -- across the office and down the hallway. He passed a few people who said hello, but he was incapable of speech, incapable of caring that they gave him odd looks, surprised by the dazed look on his face. He found the supply closet and knocked, feeling stupid the instant he did it -- who knocks at a supply closet door? Gritting his teeth, he opened it and stepped inside.
And there she stood, gaze playing over his body, a hungry look in her eyes. Before Josh could say a word, she'd stepped close to him and captured his mouth with hers.
God, what a kiss. It went on and on and on. Her tongue swirled around his, her hands slid down his back to his ass and clenched there, her hips were thudding against his. His cock was awake and roaring, hard and angry. She was moaning into his mouth, writhing against him, one hand now on the back of his neck, the other one working at his belt and the catch of his slacks. He felt cool air on his legs as his pants fell down around his ankles and she broke the kiss long enough to murmur, "Let's see what you've got, loverboy." And she dropped to her knees, both hands going to his boxers and pulling them down. There was an instant of pain as the waistband caught on his cockhead, but then they were down and his cock was pointing at her face.
She obviously knew what to do with it and engulfed him like someone who hadn't eaten in months. White lightning danced in Josh's brain and he groaned as she took his shaft down her throat all the way to the base. She rubbed her nose back and forth in his pubic hair, humming around his cock, lips forming a tight, hard O at the base. Then she pulled back. His cock sprang free with a wet pop, slick and shining with her saliva, and she looked up at him with a devilish grin as she began to work it with both hands. Massaging, twisting, sliding friction up and down oh dear GOD it felt good.
Without warning she was on her feet again. She took his hand and guided it under her skirt; he gasped as he felt heat, wetness. He'd read stories, of course, had seen pornos, but never in a thousand years had he thought it was like this in real life, this heat that could scorch his fingers, this fire in her eyes, this hunger in her happy growl. She sighed happily and smiled at him, mouth wide, licking her lips as she moved his hand to where she liked it most. He felt a soft nubbin under his fingertips; experimentally, he pressed lightly on that button, and was rewarded by a burst of more wetness and a shuddering gasp from Lynne. "Oh yes," she sighed, "yes, play with my clit. Oh, yes, Josh, like that."
Encouraged, he kept rubbing, remembering from his reading that women liked it best when you kept a nice steady rhythm. So he did just that, moving his fingers in slow circles over her clit, watching in awe as she shook and shuddered, hips bucking towards him, legs clamping hard around his hand and making it harder for him to touch her.
Abruptly she spun away from him and hiked up her short skirt; dumbfounded, he could only stare at the globes of her ass as she presented it to him. She bent over, bracing her hands on the shelving, and tossed a glance back over her shoulder. She licked her lips and fixed her gaze on him, a searing contact, then said, very deliberately, "Do me now, Josh."
Head spinning, he stepped closer to her, fumbling his cock between her spread legs. He probed with the head, then found her center; heat and wetness splashed over his shaft as he fumbled. She wiggled her ass at him, moaning, and suddenly he sank home and there was no doubt anymore. His eyes rolled back in his head; he felt like he was flying, being pulled onward by the incredible pleasure flaring outward from his cock, buried in her velvety slick softness. He thrust forward, moaning uncontrollably. Her cunt clenched around him as he pulled back and thrust again, and then he was sliding in and out, bucking wildly against her, balls slapping against her ass, hands clenching around her hips, pulling her against him. Not that he needed to -- she was pushing back hard against him, trying to find a rhythm with him, eagerly cooperating, spreading herself wider, chanting his name softly.
He could feel his balls churning and boiling after a few minutes of this, and instinctively sped up till he was banging her with pure abandon. She threw back her head and cried out with joy, and he gasped out, somehow, that he was about to, to, to, and she moaned yes, yes, do it, fill me, cum in me, shoot for me, loverboy, and he felt his consciousness spiral downwards, inwards, funneling out through his cock as he fountained urgently inside her, coming hard, hips jerking spastically, hands clenching uncontrollably, body filled with sunlight, mind whirling, legs shaking. He pulled back -- exquisite agony as his cock popped free! -- and heard wet squelching sounds. She gasped as he slid out, and purred, "Oooo, Josh, you fucked me so good and hard. I'm gonna be oozing your cum for hours, I just know it."
She straightened up, flipping her skirt down, and stepped close to Josh, who was still panting from his exertions. She looked fantastic -- face full of color, eyes glittering, lips full and sulky. He wanted to pounce on her, take her again -- his cock gave a twitch just at the thought -- but with completion his initiative seemed to have deserted him again. He could only stare in wonder.
She opened the closet door and giggled as Josh frantically began pulling up his clothing. "Coast is clear," she reported. She gave him another very direct look that was fraught with promise. "Tell me, loverboy.....what are you doing after work?" She grinned, and slipped out the door before he could even come close to forming a reply.
And Josh realized his office life had just gotten a great deal more interesting.
-- PB
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Flower Worship
Last time I had you, it was all about me. I promised you that this time it'd be all about you. So lie back, my lady, and indulge me in a bit of flower worship.
It's no accident that poets, painters and artists have referred to the vagina as a flower. The folds, the delicate pink color, the glistening drops of dew -- just lovely. The scent and taste differ from woman to woman, but I've never found one that I don't like -- and I particularly like yours.
I start by standing in front of you and deliberately eyeing your body from every angle; feasting on you with my eyes, drinking you in, amazed that such loveliness can be mine. I walk around you, touching you here and there -- a caress on the cheek, a gentle touch on your breast, a trail of fingertips along your neck and collarbone, a slide of my palm down the small of your back. I can see you shivering with delight and anticipation, and smile to myself. I step closer, behind you, and put my hands on your waist. I nuzzle your neck and plant a trail of small kisses from the knob of your spine up and around to your earlobe. I nip lightly before releasing it -- a breathy "Ohhhh" escapes you -- and begin to unbutton your shirt.
Inch by inch my fingers trail down your front, caressing, exploring, unbuttoning. I pull the folds of the shirt free and run my thumbs over your nipples, then cup your breasts and squeeze them softly. You moan deep in your throat. I pull your arms behind you and draw the shirt down and off, tossing it aside, then begin slowly sliding your skirt up your thighs. Again, it's a slow thing -- lots of caresses, lots of whisperlight touches, brushing my hands over your knees, the insides of your thighs, the curves of your ass. I hike the skirt up further, to your waist, then suddenly I press against you from behind, letting you feel the bulge in my jeans, rubbing it up and down the crack of your ass. I know you like the feel of the denim against your bare flesh because a soft sigh escapes you.
My fingers are now working their way up the insides of your thighs, teasing, brushing, rubbing firmly. I brush my palm against the front of your panties and am rewarded by a quick gasp. I can feel your growing excitement through the thin fabric, and grin again. I brush my fingers against your crotch again, this time harder, pressing a bit more firmly, making a slow circular motion. You moan more loudly this time and I feel shudders passing through you. They're amplified when I work my hand inside the waistband of your panties and slip my fingers lower, questing further, slipping one finger then two inside your slit.
You're hot and wet already. I must be doing something right. I push my middle finger deeper, curling it around, trying for your G-spot. My thumb begins to work on your clit, spreading the wetness from your slit all around your lips, but concentrating on the little button that makes you gasp and moan. Inside, my middle finger still slides in and out, feeling your gushing wetness, massaging the little knot at the front, pressing softly at first then a bit harder.
When the trembling of your legs and the quivering of your flesh -- not to mention the cries of pleasure you're making -- signals me that you're going to have trouble standing for much more, I relent and pull my fingers free. I help you pull down and step out of skirt and panties, then turn you to face me. You move in for a kiss but I stop you with a finger on your lips, wanting to admire you for just a moment. You, on the other hand, have different ideas, capturing that finger and sucking your own slickness off of it. I sigh softly as your tongue caresses my digit, and my cock hardens still more. But this time isn't for me. I urge you back and help you lie down on the soft carpet, then prop a pillow underneath your ass to raise and spread you better for my access.
I lie down between your spread legs, admiring what I see. You're splayed and spread for me, your legs open wide, your body laid out for me like a sumptuous banquet. And I intend to dine well this night. I begin working my way up your legs, starting with your toes and trailing kisses and slow licks up your body. As I approach your pussy the kisses are longer, hotter; the licks harder and more deliberate. My tonguetip works its way slowly around your outer lips, teasing, probing. Gradually I move from using the tip of my tongue to swiping its entire broad length along your sopping slit from bottom to top and back again. Your moans are music to me; I use them as directions, telling me what you like and what works best. Your taste, so spicy-sweet, and your scent, so musky and affecting -- they're making my head spin.
Now I work a couple of fingers into you, sliding them about, getting them well and truly coated with your girl gloss. Then I use my thumbs to open you like a flower unfurling. It's not something I have to fight to do -- your lips are plump and shining with your excitement, swollen with need. Your hips are moving in slow undulating waves, responding to my touch, to my tongue, to my invading fingers.
I stop for a moment and survey your body, grinning. Your face is flushed and your hair is tousled from where you've been tossing it back and forth on the floor. The tips of your breasts are capped with nipples gone rock-hard from arousal. One hand is lazily massaging one breast, squeezing and pulling on a nipple, making it stand out like a pencil eraser -- but larger. You lick your lips as you see me gazing at you, and blink sleepy eyes dazed with pleasure.
Back I go to your dripping wet pussy, now working on you in earnest. I slide two fingers into you again and crook them in a reverse C, making a "come hither" motion. I put a bit of pressure on your G-spot and go back to work on the outside as well, licking and sucking around your outer lips, spiraling inward, plunging my tongue into you like a cock, then withdrawing it and making little circling motions around your clit. More moans drift from your mouth and your hips rise up towards me. Now I'm licking in long slow strokes from the bottom up to the top, using the broad side of my tongue, steadily increasing the pressure. I finish off each stroke with special attention on your clit. Sometimes I use the broad side on you, sometimes I use the tip to circle around and below it, sometimes I slip it back and forth across it, flicking gently.
Teasing is all well and good but I want you to crest the wave and fall, screaming. I gently capture your clit between my lips and then begin rippling my tongue back and forth across it, pressing from above. I know this drives you wild and very soon it has the desired effect; your hips are bucking furiously. I have to use my free hand to wrap around your thigh and hold you down; my other hand is still busy, two fingers inside you still pressing on your G-spot. I can tell you're getting near the edge, but refuse to be hurried; I continue the long slow strokes of my tongue on your clit with the same rhythm of my fingers inside you. I feel your hand wind into my hair and clench hard, keeping me in place -- not that I'd want to go anywhere else!
Abruptly your body goes rigid and a high, keening wail bursts from you. "Yes! Yes! Yes, right there, right there, rightthererightthererightthere.....OHHHHHHHH!" I keep up the oral / digital assault for a few more seconds, guiding you gently over the edge, then halt before you grow too sensitive and push me away. Gasping and moaning, you shiver to conclusion, going rigid all over, then slowly relax. I wait for about ten seconds, then go right back to work on you, trying for round two. In no time at all you're throwing your head back and forth and your hips are rising to meet me once more. "Oh yeah. Oh, like that. Oh, don't stop. Yeah, right there. Oh, god, that's good. Yes, yes, yes.....yes.......yes.......YES!!!"
This time you're shuddering and shaking as you come even harder. It's almost half a minute before you've stopped quivering and thrashing about, stars exploding in front of your eyes and sunlight filling your head. But you're just coming down from that when you feel it building again; I've resumed licking you gently, rippling the broad side of my tongue across your clit and this time sliding two fingers in and out of you. I feel you clenching around me, so tight, so hot, and shake my head mentally at the heat and wetness you're generating, but only mentally; I'm still busy, taking you to the finish line for the third time. My free hand now slips up to your breast and begins fondling it, first gently then much more roughly. I hear you shriek in surprise as I tweak one nipple hard and your hips buck twice in surprise, but then you're begging me to do it again, do it harder, to squeeze your tits, to eat you like an ice-cream cone. I'm licking at you harder now, most of the niceties gone, but still in the same deliberate rhythm. My fingers, on the other hand, are pistoning in and out of you faster and faster.
I raise my head long enough to murmur, "Now, baby. Come for me," and it seems you were just waiting for that signal. With another scream of pleasure you come for the third time, your hips rising up to meet my invading tongue and fingers, arching like you're trying to emulate a rainbow. Quivering and shaking, heated chills racing over your skin, rippling waves of pleasure washing you from head to toe, you cry out your joy then fall limp, your pussy clenching around my fingers, your girlcum trickling out of you to pool on the carpeting.
I wait for you to come down a bit more, then slowly slide my fingers out and pull my mouth off of you. I sit up, wiping my face absently on my forearm, and behold one of the sexiest sights a man can ever see -- the sight of a woman who's been given exactly what she wanted and enjoyed the hell out of it.
How lucky for me that it was exactly what I wanted as well.
-- PB
It's no accident that poets, painters and artists have referred to the vagina as a flower. The folds, the delicate pink color, the glistening drops of dew -- just lovely. The scent and taste differ from woman to woman, but I've never found one that I don't like -- and I particularly like yours.
I start by standing in front of you and deliberately eyeing your body from every angle; feasting on you with my eyes, drinking you in, amazed that such loveliness can be mine. I walk around you, touching you here and there -- a caress on the cheek, a gentle touch on your breast, a trail of fingertips along your neck and collarbone, a slide of my palm down the small of your back. I can see you shivering with delight and anticipation, and smile to myself. I step closer, behind you, and put my hands on your waist. I nuzzle your neck and plant a trail of small kisses from the knob of your spine up and around to your earlobe. I nip lightly before releasing it -- a breathy "Ohhhh" escapes you -- and begin to unbutton your shirt.
Inch by inch my fingers trail down your front, caressing, exploring, unbuttoning. I pull the folds of the shirt free and run my thumbs over your nipples, then cup your breasts and squeeze them softly. You moan deep in your throat. I pull your arms behind you and draw the shirt down and off, tossing it aside, then begin slowly sliding your skirt up your thighs. Again, it's a slow thing -- lots of caresses, lots of whisperlight touches, brushing my hands over your knees, the insides of your thighs, the curves of your ass. I hike the skirt up further, to your waist, then suddenly I press against you from behind, letting you feel the bulge in my jeans, rubbing it up and down the crack of your ass. I know you like the feel of the denim against your bare flesh because a soft sigh escapes you.
My fingers are now working their way up the insides of your thighs, teasing, brushing, rubbing firmly. I brush my palm against the front of your panties and am rewarded by a quick gasp. I can feel your growing excitement through the thin fabric, and grin again. I brush my fingers against your crotch again, this time harder, pressing a bit more firmly, making a slow circular motion. You moan more loudly this time and I feel shudders passing through you. They're amplified when I work my hand inside the waistband of your panties and slip my fingers lower, questing further, slipping one finger then two inside your slit.
You're hot and wet already. I must be doing something right. I push my middle finger deeper, curling it around, trying for your G-spot. My thumb begins to work on your clit, spreading the wetness from your slit all around your lips, but concentrating on the little button that makes you gasp and moan. Inside, my middle finger still slides in and out, feeling your gushing wetness, massaging the little knot at the front, pressing softly at first then a bit harder.
When the trembling of your legs and the quivering of your flesh -- not to mention the cries of pleasure you're making -- signals me that you're going to have trouble standing for much more, I relent and pull my fingers free. I help you pull down and step out of skirt and panties, then turn you to face me. You move in for a kiss but I stop you with a finger on your lips, wanting to admire you for just a moment. You, on the other hand, have different ideas, capturing that finger and sucking your own slickness off of it. I sigh softly as your tongue caresses my digit, and my cock hardens still more. But this time isn't for me. I urge you back and help you lie down on the soft carpet, then prop a pillow underneath your ass to raise and spread you better for my access.
I lie down between your spread legs, admiring what I see. You're splayed and spread for me, your legs open wide, your body laid out for me like a sumptuous banquet. And I intend to dine well this night. I begin working my way up your legs, starting with your toes and trailing kisses and slow licks up your body. As I approach your pussy the kisses are longer, hotter; the licks harder and more deliberate. My tonguetip works its way slowly around your outer lips, teasing, probing. Gradually I move from using the tip of my tongue to swiping its entire broad length along your sopping slit from bottom to top and back again. Your moans are music to me; I use them as directions, telling me what you like and what works best. Your taste, so spicy-sweet, and your scent, so musky and affecting -- they're making my head spin.
Now I work a couple of fingers into you, sliding them about, getting them well and truly coated with your girl gloss. Then I use my thumbs to open you like a flower unfurling. It's not something I have to fight to do -- your lips are plump and shining with your excitement, swollen with need. Your hips are moving in slow undulating waves, responding to my touch, to my tongue, to my invading fingers.
I stop for a moment and survey your body, grinning. Your face is flushed and your hair is tousled from where you've been tossing it back and forth on the floor. The tips of your breasts are capped with nipples gone rock-hard from arousal. One hand is lazily massaging one breast, squeezing and pulling on a nipple, making it stand out like a pencil eraser -- but larger. You lick your lips as you see me gazing at you, and blink sleepy eyes dazed with pleasure.
Back I go to your dripping wet pussy, now working on you in earnest. I slide two fingers into you again and crook them in a reverse C, making a "come hither" motion. I put a bit of pressure on your G-spot and go back to work on the outside as well, licking and sucking around your outer lips, spiraling inward, plunging my tongue into you like a cock, then withdrawing it and making little circling motions around your clit. More moans drift from your mouth and your hips rise up towards me. Now I'm licking in long slow strokes from the bottom up to the top, using the broad side of my tongue, steadily increasing the pressure. I finish off each stroke with special attention on your clit. Sometimes I use the broad side on you, sometimes I use the tip to circle around and below it, sometimes I slip it back and forth across it, flicking gently.
Teasing is all well and good but I want you to crest the wave and fall, screaming. I gently capture your clit between my lips and then begin rippling my tongue back and forth across it, pressing from above. I know this drives you wild and very soon it has the desired effect; your hips are bucking furiously. I have to use my free hand to wrap around your thigh and hold you down; my other hand is still busy, two fingers inside you still pressing on your G-spot. I can tell you're getting near the edge, but refuse to be hurried; I continue the long slow strokes of my tongue on your clit with the same rhythm of my fingers inside you. I feel your hand wind into my hair and clench hard, keeping me in place -- not that I'd want to go anywhere else!
Abruptly your body goes rigid and a high, keening wail bursts from you. "Yes! Yes! Yes, right there, right there, rightthererightthererightthere.....OHHHHHHHH!" I keep up the oral / digital assault for a few more seconds, guiding you gently over the edge, then halt before you grow too sensitive and push me away. Gasping and moaning, you shiver to conclusion, going rigid all over, then slowly relax. I wait for about ten seconds, then go right back to work on you, trying for round two. In no time at all you're throwing your head back and forth and your hips are rising to meet me once more. "Oh yeah. Oh, like that. Oh, don't stop. Yeah, right there. Oh, god, that's good. Yes, yes, yes.....yes.......yes.......YES!!!"
This time you're shuddering and shaking as you come even harder. It's almost half a minute before you've stopped quivering and thrashing about, stars exploding in front of your eyes and sunlight filling your head. But you're just coming down from that when you feel it building again; I've resumed licking you gently, rippling the broad side of my tongue across your clit and this time sliding two fingers in and out of you. I feel you clenching around me, so tight, so hot, and shake my head mentally at the heat and wetness you're generating, but only mentally; I'm still busy, taking you to the finish line for the third time. My free hand now slips up to your breast and begins fondling it, first gently then much more roughly. I hear you shriek in surprise as I tweak one nipple hard and your hips buck twice in surprise, but then you're begging me to do it again, do it harder, to squeeze your tits, to eat you like an ice-cream cone. I'm licking at you harder now, most of the niceties gone, but still in the same deliberate rhythm. My fingers, on the other hand, are pistoning in and out of you faster and faster.
I raise my head long enough to murmur, "Now, baby. Come for me," and it seems you were just waiting for that signal. With another scream of pleasure you come for the third time, your hips rising up to meet my invading tongue and fingers, arching like you're trying to emulate a rainbow. Quivering and shaking, heated chills racing over your skin, rippling waves of pleasure washing you from head to toe, you cry out your joy then fall limp, your pussy clenching around my fingers, your girlcum trickling out of you to pool on the carpeting.
I wait for you to come down a bit more, then slowly slide my fingers out and pull my mouth off of you. I sit up, wiping my face absently on my forearm, and behold one of the sexiest sights a man can ever see -- the sight of a woman who's been given exactly what she wanted and enjoyed the hell out of it.
How lucky for me that it was exactly what I wanted as well.
-- PB
Monday, September 28, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
[fiction] A Race to the Finish
(I've just discovered that this story was chosen as the Editor's Choice in Sugasm #174. I'm honored! Welcome to all who drop by from that link -- thanks for visiting and I hope you like what else you see here.)
Lying on the couch, I watched her working at the computer, angrily brushing tendrils of black hair out of her face. She bit at her lower lip in that way that signified frustration for her but always turned me on.
"What is it, hon?" I asked. "You look annoyed. Well, more annoyed than usual when you're working."
She shook her head. "I need a break but I can't. Too damn much to get done."
"What, not even ten minutes?"
She glanced at me and her mouth quirked. "Get that look off your face, you know I haven't got time for that."
"Oh, come on," I grinned. "There's always time for that."
She made a show of giving it some thought, but I recognized the signs very well. Deeper breathing, wider pupils, shifting her legs in her seat. Her brain had already shifted into that gear and was accelerating down that road. "Okay, ten minutes. But no more than that."
"Well, if you're going to be that draconic about it, why not make it into a race?" I suggested, getting off the couch and moving towards her. She stood, too, and her arms went around me, pulling me close. "First one to get off is the winner?"
"Perfect," she smiled. "Even though we're both winners when that is going on."
"True enough. Well, do you want a countdown, or what?"
She cocked an eye skywards, thinking, and then nodded, licking her lips.
I made a great production of resetting the timer function on my wristwatch, cleared my throat, and began the countdown with much pomp and circumstance and my best stadium announcer voice. "TEN! NIIIINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX!........"
As I hit "five," though, she dropped to her knees and with one swift motion had my jeans around my ankles. My cock, half-hard already, bounced free, almost hitting her in the face, and without any further ado she was doing her best impression of a wet-dry vacuum. "Hey!" I squeaked. "No fair! Flying start! Disqualified!" She ignored me magnificently, sucking me with a fervor I'd rarely seen, slurping and slobbering on my cock like there was a deadline to meet. Which I guess there was.
"Oh, the hell with it," I groaned, and staggered backwards, falling on my ass with a crash. Very undignified, but how dignified can you be with your pants around your ankles? My cock sprang free from her mouth with a wet pop and waved about like a toy on a spring. She giggled and reached for it again, but I grabbed her roughly and yanked hard. She squealed indignantly as her T-shirt went roughly over her head and her tits were released. "That was my ear!" she yelped. "Yeah, and this is your pussy," I noted as my groping hands found her own pants and began working at the snap. ".....well, it would be if I could get this open."
She smirked and bent forward with a hungry look in her eyes. "Better hurry, loverboy. Clock's ticking." And she engulfed me again, sucking all the way down to my balls -- how the hell did she do that? Moaning, eyes rolling wildly at the shocks that were coursing through me, I finally fumbled the snap on her pants free and pulled them down, along with her panties -- "No fair!" I gasped, already breathing hard. "I wasn't wearing any underwear, you are!" She somehow managed to giggle with her mouth full, and showed a bit of mercy by sliding around so we were now in 69 position. As she straddled my mouth, I brought my hands down hard on her ass with a loud smack. She yelped again, but this time in a good way. "God I love it when you do that," she moaned, and proved it, dripping wet and hot into my questing mouth.
I dove in headfirst....er, tongue-first. I lapped at her slit like the most delicious ice-cream cone I'd ever tasted -- except I don't think any ice-cream cone had ever been eaten with quite so much urgency. There was a race on here, after all, and I was already halfway to coming when I'd barely started on her. Fortunately, tons of practice and tons of enthusiasm has taught me how to drive her out of her skull in about three minutes. I hoped I could manage that; it was damnably hard to concentrate with her sucking my cock so enthusiastically. I could feel her humming contentedly to herself; the vibrations were making things even worse. Her breasts were pressed against my belly and I could feel the nipples poking me, turning me on even more. And she was now upping the ante by starting to work my shaft with her hands as she sucked, twisting them in opposite directions for an exquisite friction.
Still, time to keep a stiff upper lip (or cock, as the case may be) in the face of adversity! I used every trick I knew on her, licking in frantic circles around her clit, working two fingers into her pussy and spreading her wider, working her G-spot as best I could from this position, pressing the broad side of my tongue against her clit and rippling it, and generally making as much noise and mayhem as I could. She was making things more difficult by thrashing about, and spanking her wasn't getting her to sit still, it was making her thrash more. Plus, with every smack she would suck harder on me, inciting moans of my own, or squeeze my cock, or drool some more hot wetness over my length. I could feel my balls getting ready to boil over and needed to do something quickly to finish her before she finished me.
In desperation, I worked a third finger inside her and captured her clit with my lips, squeezing it very gently and flicking my tonguetip back and forth across it very very softly -- not too much now! She moaned gutturally around my cock and let it flop free for a second to release a growling, shaking moan, coming somewhere from deep inside her. I could tell she was close and increased the pressure just a bit.
I shouldn't have done that. I heard some words I could barely recognize as "oh, no you don't" and no sooner had I heard that than she was sucking hard, up and down, on the head of my cock while simultaneously twist-massaging it with rippling hands. There was no way I could withstand that. I grunted like the animal she'd reduced me to and seconds later she was spluttering happily as I flooded her hungry mouth with my come. I could feel drops and strings of it mixing with her saliva and pooling on my belly as she worked me with her hand and sucked the last dregs free.
"You beat me," I gasped, "but there is a prize for second in this race!" I redoubled my assault on her clit with mouth and tongue, pulled my fingers free of her and began raining slaps on her ass, hard, both hands one after the other. Very soon she too was grunting and moaning as she splashed all over my face, coming in second in the race but with a clear victory by forcing me into first. A strange race, to be sure.
Eventually she rolled off me, smirking at me with a patently obvious "you lose!" look on her face. And promptly crowed about her victory, putting her hand up to her forehead and making an "L" shape. "Loser! Loser!" she intoned in her best impression of the Top Gear hosts. I knew I'd have to put up with it for quite a while, but somehow I didn't mind very much. I'd find a way to win the next round.
-- PB
[[Inspired by Miss Sexie Sadie's recent story "Countdown". This one, however, is fiction. I wanted to have a bit of silly fun with the idea of a rush to orgasm.]]
Lying on the couch, I watched her working at the computer, angrily brushing tendrils of black hair out of her face. She bit at her lower lip in that way that signified frustration for her but always turned me on.
"What is it, hon?" I asked. "You look annoyed. Well, more annoyed than usual when you're working."
She shook her head. "I need a break but I can't. Too damn much to get done."
"What, not even ten minutes?"
She glanced at me and her mouth quirked. "Get that look off your face, you know I haven't got time for that."
"Oh, come on," I grinned. "There's always time for that."
She made a show of giving it some thought, but I recognized the signs very well. Deeper breathing, wider pupils, shifting her legs in her seat. Her brain had already shifted into that gear and was accelerating down that road. "Okay, ten minutes. But no more than that."
"Well, if you're going to be that draconic about it, why not make it into a race?" I suggested, getting off the couch and moving towards her. She stood, too, and her arms went around me, pulling me close. "First one to get off is the winner?"
"Perfect," she smiled. "Even though we're both winners when that is going on."
"True enough. Well, do you want a countdown, or what?"
She cocked an eye skywards, thinking, and then nodded, licking her lips.
I made a great production of resetting the timer function on my wristwatch, cleared my throat, and began the countdown with much pomp and circumstance and my best stadium announcer voice. "TEN! NIIIINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX!........"
As I hit "five," though, she dropped to her knees and with one swift motion had my jeans around my ankles. My cock, half-hard already, bounced free, almost hitting her in the face, and without any further ado she was doing her best impression of a wet-dry vacuum. "Hey!" I squeaked. "No fair! Flying start! Disqualified!" She ignored me magnificently, sucking me with a fervor I'd rarely seen, slurping and slobbering on my cock like there was a deadline to meet. Which I guess there was.
"Oh, the hell with it," I groaned, and staggered backwards, falling on my ass with a crash. Very undignified, but how dignified can you be with your pants around your ankles? My cock sprang free from her mouth with a wet pop and waved about like a toy on a spring. She giggled and reached for it again, but I grabbed her roughly and yanked hard. She squealed indignantly as her T-shirt went roughly over her head and her tits were released. "That was my ear!" she yelped. "Yeah, and this is your pussy," I noted as my groping hands found her own pants and began working at the snap. ".....well, it would be if I could get this open."
She smirked and bent forward with a hungry look in her eyes. "Better hurry, loverboy. Clock's ticking." And she engulfed me again, sucking all the way down to my balls -- how the hell did she do that? Moaning, eyes rolling wildly at the shocks that were coursing through me, I finally fumbled the snap on her pants free and pulled them down, along with her panties -- "No fair!" I gasped, already breathing hard. "I wasn't wearing any underwear, you are!" She somehow managed to giggle with her mouth full, and showed a bit of mercy by sliding around so we were now in 69 position. As she straddled my mouth, I brought my hands down hard on her ass with a loud smack. She yelped again, but this time in a good way. "God I love it when you do that," she moaned, and proved it, dripping wet and hot into my questing mouth.
I dove in headfirst....er, tongue-first. I lapped at her slit like the most delicious ice-cream cone I'd ever tasted -- except I don't think any ice-cream cone had ever been eaten with quite so much urgency. There was a race on here, after all, and I was already halfway to coming when I'd barely started on her. Fortunately, tons of practice and tons of enthusiasm has taught me how to drive her out of her skull in about three minutes. I hoped I could manage that; it was damnably hard to concentrate with her sucking my cock so enthusiastically. I could feel her humming contentedly to herself; the vibrations were making things even worse. Her breasts were pressed against my belly and I could feel the nipples poking me, turning me on even more. And she was now upping the ante by starting to work my shaft with her hands as she sucked, twisting them in opposite directions for an exquisite friction.
Still, time to keep a stiff upper lip (or cock, as the case may be) in the face of adversity! I used every trick I knew on her, licking in frantic circles around her clit, working two fingers into her pussy and spreading her wider, working her G-spot as best I could from this position, pressing the broad side of my tongue against her clit and rippling it, and generally making as much noise and mayhem as I could. She was making things more difficult by thrashing about, and spanking her wasn't getting her to sit still, it was making her thrash more. Plus, with every smack she would suck harder on me, inciting moans of my own, or squeeze my cock, or drool some more hot wetness over my length. I could feel my balls getting ready to boil over and needed to do something quickly to finish her before she finished me.
In desperation, I worked a third finger inside her and captured her clit with my lips, squeezing it very gently and flicking my tonguetip back and forth across it very very softly -- not too much now! She moaned gutturally around my cock and let it flop free for a second to release a growling, shaking moan, coming somewhere from deep inside her. I could tell she was close and increased the pressure just a bit.
I shouldn't have done that. I heard some words I could barely recognize as "oh, no you don't" and no sooner had I heard that than she was sucking hard, up and down, on the head of my cock while simultaneously twist-massaging it with rippling hands. There was no way I could withstand that. I grunted like the animal she'd reduced me to and seconds later she was spluttering happily as I flooded her hungry mouth with my come. I could feel drops and strings of it mixing with her saliva and pooling on my belly as she worked me with her hand and sucked the last dregs free.
"You beat me," I gasped, "but there is a prize for second in this race!" I redoubled my assault on her clit with mouth and tongue, pulled my fingers free of her and began raining slaps on her ass, hard, both hands one after the other. Very soon she too was grunting and moaning as she splashed all over my face, coming in second in the race but with a clear victory by forcing me into first. A strange race, to be sure.
Eventually she rolled off me, smirking at me with a patently obvious "you lose!" look on her face. And promptly crowed about her victory, putting her hand up to her forehead and making an "L" shape. "Loser! Loser!" she intoned in her best impression of the Top Gear hosts. I knew I'd have to put up with it for quite a while, but somehow I didn't mind very much. I'd find a way to win the next round.
-- PB
[[Inspired by Miss Sexie Sadie's recent story "Countdown". This one, however, is fiction. I wanted to have a bit of silly fun with the idea of a rush to orgasm.]]
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Getting Her in Trouble
So my girlfriend was on the phone with her department head recently. Because they get on very well with each other, the conversations tend to go on a long time. I was reading a book, but I looked at her lying there on the couch, talking away, and suddenly had a devilish thought. She raised one eyebrow at the grin that spread over my face, but before she could do anything I was tugging at her jeans, pulling them off along with her panties and tossing them on the floor nearby.
She shook her head, smiling at my temerity, and lay back against the armrest at my silent direction. I sprawled out on the couch, raised her legs up over my shoulders, and began lavishing her pussy with my tongue's attention. Long loving licks, gentle swipes across her lips, upwards and downwards, sliding along the edges and then gently teasing her folds apart. Running my tonguetip along her slit, working it a little bit deeper, then retreating to lick along her thighs for a bit before returning to her pussy. Tasting her spicy excitement, feeling her juices start to flow, watching them mix with my saliva and drip down onto the sofa. Hooray for Scotchgard.
Soon my tongue was moving in slow circles around her clit, slipping from side to side in a way I knew she liked. Her breath was coming faster but astonishingly she hadn't given herself away yet, though her free hand was now winding restlessly through my hair or occasionally slipping down to grab hard at the couch cushions. Every so often I would use the broad rough side of my tongue to lick in long strokes from the very bottom of her pussy, slowly, all the way up to her clit, and then undulate it against her button until she bucked her hips hard against me.
I was noticing now that she was speaking less and less; perhaps because I was driving her to distraction. That wasn't enough for me, though, so I slipped two fingers inside her (now quite soaked, yes), crooked them in a "come hither" fashion, and began rubbing her from the inside out as I continued to slurp quietly at her clit. I closed both my lips over it and licked very delicately at it from the top, and she writhed against my mouth and fingers, a soft sigh drifting from her.
But still she hadn't really given herself away. Worse, I could tell she was getting near the end of her conversation, and she hadn't come yet. I sat up and quickly had my own pants pulled off and thrown aside, then settled on top of her, probing at her cunt lips with my aching cock, rubbing against her sopping slit and tickling her clit with the head. She threw back her head for a moment and grinned as I sank into her. I wanted to pound her hard, but I held back, sliding in and out in a nice slow steady rhythm, watching my cock emerge glistening with her juices, then disappear into her clenching wet depths again.
"Okay, Lisa, I'll talk to you later," she finally said, and hung up. "YOU!" she smirked as her arms went round my neck. "Just what the hell did you think you were doing?"
I looked down to where I was still plunging in and out of her, much faster now that she wasn't on the phone anymore. "I thought that was fairly obvious, my dear," I answered, and began to fuck her in earnest as she moaned and her hips began rising to meet me, our bodies smacking together in that delicious rhythm that ended only when we came, hard, several excruciating minutes later.
"One of these days, I will get you to give yourself away," I remarked once I'd got my breath back. She raised an eyebrow again, pulling on her underwear and pants. "No, you won't. But you can have fun trying."
Well, you can't ask for more than that, can you?
-- PB
She shook her head, smiling at my temerity, and lay back against the armrest at my silent direction. I sprawled out on the couch, raised her legs up over my shoulders, and began lavishing her pussy with my tongue's attention. Long loving licks, gentle swipes across her lips, upwards and downwards, sliding along the edges and then gently teasing her folds apart. Running my tonguetip along her slit, working it a little bit deeper, then retreating to lick along her thighs for a bit before returning to her pussy. Tasting her spicy excitement, feeling her juices start to flow, watching them mix with my saliva and drip down onto the sofa. Hooray for Scotchgard.
Soon my tongue was moving in slow circles around her clit, slipping from side to side in a way I knew she liked. Her breath was coming faster but astonishingly she hadn't given herself away yet, though her free hand was now winding restlessly through my hair or occasionally slipping down to grab hard at the couch cushions. Every so often I would use the broad rough side of my tongue to lick in long strokes from the very bottom of her pussy, slowly, all the way up to her clit, and then undulate it against her button until she bucked her hips hard against me.
I was noticing now that she was speaking less and less; perhaps because I was driving her to distraction. That wasn't enough for me, though, so I slipped two fingers inside her (now quite soaked, yes), crooked them in a "come hither" fashion, and began rubbing her from the inside out as I continued to slurp quietly at her clit. I closed both my lips over it and licked very delicately at it from the top, and she writhed against my mouth and fingers, a soft sigh drifting from her.
But still she hadn't really given herself away. Worse, I could tell she was getting near the end of her conversation, and she hadn't come yet. I sat up and quickly had my own pants pulled off and thrown aside, then settled on top of her, probing at her cunt lips with my aching cock, rubbing against her sopping slit and tickling her clit with the head. She threw back her head for a moment and grinned as I sank into her. I wanted to pound her hard, but I held back, sliding in and out in a nice slow steady rhythm, watching my cock emerge glistening with her juices, then disappear into her clenching wet depths again.
"Okay, Lisa, I'll talk to you later," she finally said, and hung up. "YOU!" she smirked as her arms went round my neck. "Just what the hell did you think you were doing?"
I looked down to where I was still plunging in and out of her, much faster now that she wasn't on the phone anymore. "I thought that was fairly obvious, my dear," I answered, and began to fuck her in earnest as she moaned and her hips began rising to meet me, our bodies smacking together in that delicious rhythm that ended only when we came, hard, several excruciating minutes later.
"One of these days, I will get you to give yourself away," I remarked once I'd got my breath back. She raised an eyebrow again, pulling on her underwear and pants. "No, you won't. But you can have fun trying."
Well, you can't ask for more than that, can you?
-- PB
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