Sarah walked into the bedroom wearing her pink bathrobe, all bright, bubbly and smiling.
“Good morning. It’s about time you woke up.”
This was a significant change from the night before when she had cum four times, was sore in several places, and, for the most part was in a daze. She was so exhausted that she had fallen to sleep in bed as we were talking about the evening.
Now, she was in good spirits as she sat on the bed beside me.
“How come you’re so chipper this morning?"
Her legs arms, stomach muscles, nipples, pussy and ass were all sore.
But she had slept well, got up early, had her coffee, and had already gone for a short walk.
I was still groggy from the night before.
My arms and legs were sore, and I could feel the head of my manhood aching from all of Sarah’s wonderful teasing.
“What did we do last night?” I said. “I’m sore all over.”
“We pushed the envelope a little,” was Sarah’s response. “We might have gone a little too far.”
“Ya think?” I said with more than a little sarcasm, looking at the marks on my wrist left by the restraints.
“I do remember having two incredible orgasms and cuming all over you both times.” I told her. “That was nice.”
“I’m glad you had a good time. I do love to tease you and make you cum.”
Sarah was less clear about her own experience.
She recalled a couple of wonderful, very intense orgasms, but was surprised when I told her that she had cum at least four times.
She had experienced the most wonderful feelings of pleasure, which she described as being in one continuous orgasm, and that she did not want her pleasure or the night to end.
On the other hand, she did not remember any of the anal sex, crying, swearing, pleading, the double dildo penetration, or begging me for more after she had cum for the third time.
“I did that?” she asked, almost not believing me.
This teasing and denial experience did not seem to scare her, as was the case when we had done the same thing back in December. At least it did not frighten her as much.
She did acknowledge that while it was an extremely pleasurable experience, it was intense, and something that should only be attempted once or twice a year. It was that tough on the body and mind.
The thing that actually scared her was the addictive nature of the experience. Sarah could see herself wanting, needing those intense, pleasurable feelings again and again, every day and night, until her body could not take anymore. And then wanting more.
All the while, as we talked, Sarah had her hand under the bed covers and was running it up and down my thigh.
It wasn’t a sexual thing. It was more a reassuring gesture letting me know that she was okay and that she knew that I was okay as well.
She also knew that I was already hard. She could see my erection bulging under the covers.
Sarah peeled the covers back, exposing my erection, and commented on how nice my cock looked.
It was very evident, however, that her having played with the head of my cock so much the night before had left the head of my cock all red, sore and sensitive to touch.
She stroked my shaft lightly with one hand as we talked. Pre-cum spread out over the head as it oozed out of the little opening. Soon, my cock was well lubricated.
Sarah teased that she liked to play with my cock, and that it was too bad that the head hurt so much, or she might be willing to give me a slow hand job.
“I could make you feel really good.”
I tried to assure her that it didn’t hurt that much. I told her that she should try stroking it for a while and I would see how it felt.
After maybe a minute of stroking and running her fingers over the head, I suggested that it might not hurt as much if she just licked the head and put it in her mouth.
“Oh. Of course. I understand.” Sarah said, playing along. “Let me suck your cock, and if it hurts too much, stop me.”
She repositioned herself on the bed, and took my entire shaft into her mouth, and alternated licking and sucking on the head and stroking the shaft with both hands.
I just closed my eyes, let her do her thing, and enjoyed the spasms of pleasure spread through my body.
Her touch was so light, it tickled. She licked in just the right places, sending jolts of electricity down my shaft to my balls.
When I told her that I was getting close, she stopped sucking and just stroked my shaft with both hands. It was a slow, steady stroking which provided me with maximum pleasure.
My back arched and I came with a loud groan emanating from deep within me.
Three or four spurts of gooey cum shot a foot or more into the air, landing mostly on my cock and her hands. What remained oozed out with each of her strokes and ran down the shaft and over her fingers.
The lady does know what she’s doing.
“Thank you for last night,” she said as she kissed the head of my cock. “It was the best. I would only do that with you.”
As my erection faded and listed to one side, I watched as Sarah stood, removed her robe, and put on some jeans and a shirt. No bra. No panties. That was her style.
“I’m going shopping,” she said, as she walked into the kitchen.
Not much happened over next two months.
As Sarah and I had feared, our housemates were around more often, wrapping up their own degree programs and organizing their things for a move to their new apartment.
Each weekend, it seemed, one or both were at the house and in the way.
There was less time for Sarah and I to have time alone, let alone “fool around”.
We continued to have dinners at restaurants we liked and wanted to re-visit before she left.
And we had some time alone here and there when the others were out.
For the most part, however, Sarah worked to finish her art and photography portfolios, moved many of her things to her mother’s house, and generally got ready to graduate and move to New York.
As for sex, we did what we could with the time we had.
The easiest place for us to meet was in a room in the college library.
As a graduate student, I got to use a private room in the library in which to “study”. It wasn’t much, just a small carpeted room, maybe eight feet by ten feet, with a small desk, chair, overhead light and desk lamp.
I would sign in at the library, get the room key, and tell Sarah the room number. Sarah would wait five minutes and then go up to the room.
If we planned ahead, Sarah would put a blanket in her back pack so we could spread it on the floor.
More often than not, however, we would run into each other on campus, and it would be more of a spur of the moment thing.
With or without the blanket, we both got rug burns on our knees and elbows.
The other problem was noise. The study rooms were in groups of four, so two sides of our room abutted a similar study room next door.
Whether we met for a blow job and some pussy licking, or fucking on the desk, chair or floor, keeping Sarah from making loud moans and groans, or occasionally screaming, was difficult.
I’m not suggesting that I am that good that I can make women scream. Sarah just liked to be vocal about what she was feeling. Even with a small towel stuffed in her mouth, Sarah could fill the room with sounds of passion.
No one ever complained. No one ever reported us.
At one of our dinners, Sarah told me that she had always liked having outdoor sex. When it was warmer out, would I have any interest in sex on the beach some night?
Have I mentioned before that Sarah was not shy when it came to talking about sex?
For the rest of March, and even most of April that year, the temperature remained in the low fifties. Each time we’d set a tentative date and time to go down to the beach, it would be just too cold.
Our house sat an intersection where two main roads split. The “front” yard, therefore, was shaped like a triangle.
The owners had installed a tall wooden fence around the yard for their own privacy and to keep the noise level from passing cars to a minimum.
The first warm night in May, Sarah suggested that we go out into the yard, spread out a blanket and enjoy each other.
The problem was that our housemates were out at a birthday party for a friend and we didn’t know when they would return.
Fucking Sarah outside in the yard would be wonderful; something new and different. But if our friends unexpectedly returned while we were enjoying ourselves, we could be caught outside, naked and with no escape.
Sarah’s solution was to put our clothes on a small deck near the living room entrance to the yard, along with an open bottle of wine with two glasses half full of wine.
Should our housemates surprise us we could quickly throw on some clothes and be sitting on the deck having some wine on a warm spring evening.
Picking the right area in the yard was our next task.
At the “tip” of the yard, where the road forked, was a street light. We wanted to stay away from that light and area of the yard it illuminated.
We chose to stay closer to the house and the fence.
We shut off the lights in the living room so no light from the house was illuminating the yard.
If someone wanted to see us, they had to be more than eight feet tall or on the second floor of one of the summer houses across the street.
On the other hand, if someone walked by unnoticed, or was sitting on a porch across the street, and Sarah was making her usual sounds of pleasure, that person would certainly hear us.
We walked out onto the little deck, shed our pants and shirts, and proceeded to an area near the fence where we spread out a blanket.
Sex outside is a very different animal.
It is new and exciting.
There is the fear of being caught.
The cool air on my body made for a different sensation and mood.
There was a sense of freedom, both mentally and physically.
And, there was always the possibility that someone could be watching.