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The phone rings. The real world comes crashing back in. I can feel the hard
wood under my knees, the bare rug to my left. The floor isn’t at its cleanest
— but I bet most women who come here don’t notice, as I hadn’t until now.
Humph!, wonder what is in his refrigerator.

He gets up, his long body stretching. He walks slowly to the kitchen and the
source of that ring. I watch his but sway, clench, unclench. Yes, a nice body,
this guy. Some sort of argument. Don’t call me at this time of night, or
something generic like that. I get up, and find my clothes.

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I’m panting so hard, oxygen starved, I can barely see. Slowly the baren house
returns. I look at him. Drenched in sweat. He is already cool, as I run my hand
down his long body, over his penis. It is drenched. I move down over it and
start licking it. Slowly. It is partially limp from its recent exertion. But
our body fluids mix together are good. Relaxing. I suck, nibble, in at a very
relaxing pace. Not really teasing, but not really going after him. Matching our
mood — rest for the next session.

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I feel his pubic hair against mine and then I feel the hard bone grind into my
clitoris. This and him in me send me right over the edge. I can’t stop moving
up and down. I jump. My head from side to side, hair flying everywhere. I must
scream my head off. And it goes on and on. Every time he moves another spasm
shoots through me. Every time I move I get an electric shock. I can’t think. I
can’t see. He doesn’t seem to notice. His gasps are coming loud and fast. He
thrusts up, bouncing me high, and holds. The edge. I grind down hard, and
squeeze. I want this to be one of his better ones. He lets a full throated
moan. From deep in that hairy chest, it rumbles forth, vibrating me, like those
trucks outside. I shiver as my own pleasure over cums me again. My head snaps
back and we collapse on the floor.

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And the jerk stops! I wait, hopping it is a cruel joke. A tease, maybe. But
no. I open my eyes. He is standing. His erect penis at eye level. It is
tempting, but right now, I need to be satisfied. Maybe later.

I rise, and he grabs my but, lifting me up. What is he doing. As he lifts me, I
feel his penis slide past my stomach, over my pubic hair. I want him in me. His
penis springs free and hits my clitoris. He starts to lower me. I reach down to
guide him into me. My weight gently settles on him. And spring! He fills me.
Ohhh! I want to swallow him whole. I want him all the way in, I want to grab
his organ with all my might so that it can never leave. I squeeze with all my
might. He groans and his eyes roll back. He breaths in shakily, as he lets me
all the way down.

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It has gotten to the point where I can’t really see properly. My eyes close and
I can still see him. No, not him, just his mouth. It is still making those long
strokes. Faster. My hips are moving in time. Perfect. Moving up to meet his
tongue, and pressing forward to get more pressure as he passes by my clitoris.
I’m moaning. My breathing is even in time. In, gasp, “oooo”, in, gasp, “oooo”.
My head flopping from side to side and I a bit of dribble down the side of my
mouth: I have forgotten to swallow!

I’m right at the edge. I can feel that feeling building again. Those sun-bombs.
That crystallization forming. Just at the peak. Arrrr — two three more thrusts
from his tongue and I’ll be there. I must be screaming.

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Then he does it. Rather anti-climatic, actually. A quick lick. Well… I may
not have felt that much, but my sex did. It sends crazy messages to my hips as
they vibrate under his touch. “More, More” they scream. Again. This time, the
shivers are exquisite. I don’t know how much more I can handle.

His tongue is moving fast now. Longs strokes from the bottom of my sex to the
top. Every time he hits my clitoris. Ever time I feel my body convulse. My head
rolls and my chest shiver in the pleasure he gives me. I wonder if he knows.
Again. Again. Again. Each time a little worse. Each time a little better. I
know that another orgasm is building.

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Instead, the kiss moves back towards my sex. This time, it stops, and spends
time right next to my lips. I can feel it against the outer lips, moving up and
down. I can feel the hot, wet tongue. I know he must be getting intoxicated by
the smell. Good. Closer he moves.

He must touch me. I try and move my hips closer to me. I moves back. He seems
lost in his own world, the kiss the focus of it. The kiss stops. His mouth,
with his tongue sticking out, is directly in front of my sex lips. I have my
head bent over, watching ever move. I will that tongue closer, into me. But it
doesn’t work. I can feel the moisture collecting on the edge of my lips. I’m so
hot.

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As if reading my mind (as any good man should!) he bends lower, scraping his
chin across the top of my leg. I can feel the hot breath coming from that
mouth. On my inner thighs. I open my legs as wide as I can. Sitting on the
window sill, I think this is a crazy position, but it only bothers me for a
second.

He has his mouth on my thigh! Just behind the knee. A gentle, wet, sucking
kiss. The kind I like to place on necks. The sloppy kiss is moving up. I can
smell my sex, I can feel its heat. It isn’t really a part of me, but something
on its own. It has its own mind, its own body, and its own needs. And it
needs… My hips rotate up to give him a better angle. But he passes my sex by
and that wet kiss moves down my other leg. A hands suddenly brushes by my sex,
nudging the flap of skin touching my clitoris. A soft moan, and my hips shake
in pleasure. But no, it doesn’t come back.

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Closer and closer. My upper body stretches, my back arching, pushing towards
him. I want him to grab the nipple and pull! Closer and closer and then, ahhh.
A shiver and my head snaps forward. A tingling that rushes through my body. My
sex is drenched, I can feel a drip making its way down my thigh, on to his leg.

He smiles and wipes it with his hands. Looking deep into my eyes, he lifts his
hands to his mouth and carefully licks me off his hand. His tongue darts
between and around his fingers. Will it soon dart in and between me? The
anticipation is almost better than the real thing!

He pulls on a nipple with his fingers — trapping it, rolling it. They are
still aching to be touched, but no longer the part of my body yelling loudest.
I want his lips between my legs. I want that tongue to slip back and forth over
my clitoris. I want that mouth to suck hard on my clitoris.

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His hand slides up from my thigh. Over my shoulders. One goes around my left
breast — squeezing. Pinching. A combination of pain and pleasure. He squeezes
the nipple and pushes it out. He breaths his hot breath across. My nipples are
so hard it is almost painful. They hunger for his mouth for his teeth. But is
not to be. His hands go up to my shoulders and move down again. Slowly. Across
the top of my breasts. I push my chest out forcing him to rub my nipples, to
pinch them, to pull them. He is to quick. Sex shouldn’t be a fight!

Yet, my hands stay at my sides. Strange rules we play by. I could reach up and
touch myself, or force him to touch me. His hot mouth is hovering over my
breast again. I can feel the heat as he breaths out, the cool air as he breaths
in. My nipples ache. He opens his mouth and slowly surrounds my nipple. I can
see everything. His eyes are watching my face as he does this. I can feel the
hot circle of his mouth around my nipple — but, dammit!, he still isn’t
touching it. The tension … He pushes, squishing my breast against my rib
cage, carefully avoiding my releasing me and touching my nipple. Suddenly, I
can feel his hot tongue. It is tracing around the edge, spirals getting closer
to the center. I can’t see the tongue, but it is burning a path of white heat.

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Fingers suddenly gone and I let out a sigh. His strong hands turn me around and
sit me on the window sill. Another truck goes by — wonder if they can see me.
Tough. Strong hands kneading my thighs. He is kneeling before me. I watch his
mouth. It is disconnected from the rest of his body. Just the lips. Not big.
And a tongue between them. I can see it dart out, touching my nipples. Lightly.
Almost so light I can’ t feel it, but the sight is very erotic.

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Our chests touch. My breasts running over his pecs. His cum and my spilled
drink create a slippery sensation, not unlike that of after-sex-sweat.

The smell is delicious, but the tension is gone, for now. He lets out a sigh
and I relax onto on him. We lie there for a few minutes. A light rain has
started outside; he opens a large window letting the sounds of it and the city
in. Standing at the window I can feel a large truck rumble by as he gently
traces his hand down my back and cups one of my cheeks. I can feel his breath
on my back and he kneels down, his hands start at the bottom of my calves and
move up — just a finger on each leg. Getting closer. I move my rear out a
little, trying to bring more of his hand onto my leg. Just a finger. Up and up.
I am very conscious of my sex. It is still warm, both our cum’s mixed there.
His fingers hit the wetness and move up. The touch my lips, as my hands had a
few minutes before.

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He suddenly stiffens again. He hand clenching and unclenching at his side. He
relaxes, and starts again. Again, he peaks, but doesn’t go all the way. This is
getting too much for me. I want him inside me, or in my mouth. I start to lean
forward, withdrawing my hand from myself. But he falls to his knees, and onto
his back. His pelvis heaves as the air, just as mine did. In out in out in out!
I want him. I carefully straddle him, and bend down so that his pennis and hand
are about two inches from my sex. It happens. With a mighty grown he thrusts
up. He hot liquid shoots out. The first comes down on his chest. The second
over my but. I lean down on him.

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Goodness. Look at how hard he is. I have never really looked at anyone’s
pennis. Slowly in, slowly out of the top of his hand. The head, like some sort
of malformed WWII helmet. The shaft. Blue steel it’s been called. But it isn’t
smooth. Full of bumps. And it isn’t straight. He is curved to the left a
little. God, he would feel good inside.

He is just getting bigger too. It seems like every shiver he becomes a bigger,
stiffer. Me too. Hey! My hand has wondered, on its own, down between my legs
and is starting up again! No way I’m going to miss his show!

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I’m floating. I don’t think I could move if I wished. On water. My hands are
still clenched! Oh, it is just the bean bag. I open my eyes. There he is,
standing before me. On the floor to my side is a rather large carrot! My god!
In me? His feet are spread and he — hey! he has poured the drink across his
chest and his pennis.

Both hands are gently stroking it. It is a proud thing, standing there. A
separate person, as my sex was a few minutes ago. It is hard. So hard. I can
see the veins. His hand is gently moving up and down. Slowly. Each time he
passes the head he shivers. It seems to start at the base of his back and
travel upwards. Some times his head snaps back and a gasp escapes his mouth. He
pumping faster now, but still those long careful strokes. Wait! He is slowing.
I’m beginning to feel myself again: this is a very hot scene.