“Tell me a story,” she said, rolling to her side, her back to him, so he could spoon against her. Late afternoon winter sunshine angled in through her bedroom’s bamboo blinds and that, along with the candles she habitually burned on the bedside table, gave the room a sepia tint. This is the way they usually spelled themselves and talked between fucks.
He was hoping that she wasn’t interested in a long story. It had been a week since they’d been together and had just gone at each other like animals—a fast, hard, pent-up-lust fuck, classic missionary as he hammered into her without restraint. It took just a few minutes of wild thrusting before she did that thing she did when he was on top of her—place the flat of her hand between them against this chest, which was his signal to stop and hold his erect cock still and deep inside her while she carefully ground her clit down against the base of his shaft, growing intensely quiet. At the instant she’d turned the corner, that momentary transformative interlude—the gap between the lightening flash and its attendant thunder—she’d said, “Oh, fuck me hard
, baby!” at which point he’d resume pounding her, and her orgasm began its long ripple through her; she’d clutched at his ass as if she was trying to cram all of him into throbbing cunt. And he, who enjoyed watching and feeling her come as much as he enjoyed his own coming, emptied what felt like a massive load inside her, a week’s worth of hot cream. He knew he’d be ready again soon, and as usual, they only had so much time.
“A true story,” she said. “One of your sexual adventures.”
“Oh, you know I don’t like to fuck and tell,” he said, draping his arm over her hip and beginning to run his fingers over the small mound of her belly. He loved that spot on her, loved to kiss it and rest his cheek against it whenever he would finger-fuck her, just before slipping down to eat her. “Besides, won’t that make you jealous?”
“Only if it’s happened within the last couple years.”
“Well, you know all the sexual adventures of the last couple years first-hand,” he said.
“Something from your raw youth, then,” she said, almost sleepily.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s see. I was 24 years old, and had already been married to my wife for two years.”
“So young,” she murmured, though she knew how young he’d married and how long it had been—same as her.
“Too young,” he said. “We were living in Boston where my wife was doing her graduate work. I had parlayed my astute degree in literature into a job as a junior copy writer for an advertising agency.”
“Impressive,” she said.
“Yes, it was. You can’t imagine how valuable my intimate familiarity with 17 th century revenge tragedy turned out to be when writing copy for cheese snacks and body wash.”
“You’re right, I can’t. Not even going to try.”
“Anyway, there was a girl who worked in the art department there, a sturdy blonde of Scandanavian origins. Cindy Erikkson.”
“Oo. You’re first true blonde?” she said.
“As I was to discover. She was several years older than me, and a California native to boot. Very friendly, very outgoing. Not exceptionally large breasts, but just right for her size. She wasn’t… overweight, but she was just… like I said, sturdy. A well-built woman.”
“Curvy, yes, definitely. You’re making this take longer than it needs to, at least to get to the good parts.”
“Sorry,” she said, “I’m just trying to picture her.”
“Turned-up nose,” he said. “Round, firm breasts. Good bottom, sturdy thighs. Straight blond hair that was very fine. Remember, I was very young, and still seething with a lot of that young man’s lust.”
“You’re wife just wasn’t doing it for you at the time?”
“That’s another story. In this story, if I may continue, I spent my first few months just trying to mind my manners. I had occasion to work with her on several different accounts. She liked my sense of humor, and we got to be pals, more or less. One of the things I thought a bit strange, she wore a lot of those Lacoste jersey dresses. They weren’t especially flattering, but I guess they were easy to deal with, wardrobe-wise. One day, when I came into the art department, she was sliding off her stool at her light table, that dress hiked up, and I saw that she didn’t wear pantyhose but stockings. Caught a nice swath of pale, bare thigh and the crotch of her flowered panties.
“I’m sure she caught a glimpse of my hardon, though I was trying to shield it behind a file folder. But from that point, I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking her. Sometimes I’d be in the darkroom with her, trying to decide how close I could stand without being too obvious. I just couldn’t stop thinking how easy it would be, in there, since she didn’t wear panty hose, to bend her over the sink, lift up that dress, shove those panties aside, and fuck her brains out.”
“Mmm. I’ll be a lot of sex goes on in darkrooms. Seems like it might be an ideal place for it.”
“Yeah, it would be. But that’s not what happened here. She let me flirt with her, but she was wary of me. She knew that I was married, for one thing. For another, I believe she also thought I was a bit young. But we still joked around a lot, and soon we were having lunch together several days a week. She was something of a party girl, and didn’t mind going and spending lunch hour in a bar drinking margaritas with me. We drank and smoked, got a little buzzed, went back to work. We did that a lot, and started to get to know each other pretty well. She’d tell me stories about some of her boyfriends. She had lots of boyfriends.”
“One day at lunch we were getting liquored up, and she told me a story about this camping trip she went on when she was in college. It was for some class, I can’t remember exactly, but the entire class and the professor were off in the woods or mountains somewhere, doing some kind of research. The professor was some guy in his late thirties. Anyway, she tells me, the guy had just gotten married two weeks before the trip, and by the third night out there, he was already fucking her.”
“She must have been hot,” she said.
“She was pretty hot,” he said. “Very fuckable. And since she’d starting telling me stories about her sexual adventures, I felt rather encouraged about the possibilities. She wasn’t a stranger to fucking married men, is what I took that to mean.”
“I used to stay late at the office just about every night. My wife had late classes at the university, so rather than fight traffic to get all the way home, then have to turn around and drive back out to pick her up, I just stayed at work until she was done. Cindy used to stop back at my cube on her way out every night and bullshit with me for a while. Sometimes she just stayed and shot the shit until it was time for me to go. Sometimes she’d bring over a couple coffee mugs filled with wine—they kept those big boxes of Chardonnay in the art department fridge. Or sometimes we’d go to a nearby bar and I’d kill time at happy hour with her until I had to leave.
“Now, I used to get very brave after I’d had a few. Very horny and very brave. So we’re leaving happy hour one night, going across the parking lot to our cars, and I just figured, ‘What the hell?’ We were really pretty chummy by now, and I—being young and stupid—didn’t really know how to approach the topic, so when we got to her car, I just grabbed her and kissed her. She kissed me back, but then she pulled away and said, ‘Uh, sorry, I gotta go. This is a bad idea.’”
“I was embarrassed the next day but not discouraged. She was her usual self. We went out at lunch time; I drove. We completely skipped the appetizers and just stuck with margaritas and a couple extra shots, had a lot of laughs, and when we got back in the car to return to work, I turned and put my hand on her thigh and said ‘Hey.’ She leaned in and we started making out. I got my hand up between her legs to those panties, started rubbing her pussy through the fabric, and she had her hand on the bulge in my pants, squeezing it. But I tried to pull that fabric aside and slip some fingers into her, Cindy broke away, panting, and said ‘Oh, God, we can’t do this here. It’s broad daylight and there are way too many people walking around in this parking lot.’ ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘okay.’”
“Guess you had to do something about those blue balls when you got back to the office,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Right into the men’s room, which was fortunately empty, and a few quick strokes, and I was lacquering the urinal with my load.”
“Ooo,” she said, nuzzling her bare ass back up against his cock, which was twitching slightly. “I love it when you talk about jacking off. Tell me more. We’re getting to the good parts, right?”
“Yes,” he said. “End of the day, back in my cube, everyone gone. Plastic cups of wine; we’re both a little bit tense…” he began stroking her bare hip, “and she’s making like she’s going to take off, and I reach out and put my hands on her ass, pull her toward me, and kiss her again.”
His hand strays down to her ass now and he gently begins squeezing on her cheeks.
“We’re making out again, both moaning into each other’s mouths, and I’ve got my hand up her dress and on her mound, still over the panties, rubbing her through the damp fabric. Her pussy was hot and wet,” and he slips his hand between her legs from behind and strokes her pussy lips, which are still slippery from the leaking of their combined cum. “But every try to get around the panties to that pulsing cunt of hers, she stops me.”
“Oh, what a slutty fucking tease,” she says, shifting her leg forward a bit to give his caressing hand better access to her slit.
“She said if she let me go any farther, she wouldn’t want to stop. ‘I can’t fuck you here,’ she said, ‘I’m too nervous we’ll get caught.’ I put her hand on the bulge in my pants and said ‘Where then? I feel like I’m going to fucking bust.’”
She reached behind her and took his stiffening cock in her hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, then started to stroke it lightly.
“What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything at first, just kind of stood there with her eyes closed, rubbing my crotch. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to convince herself to stop or trying to convince herself to go for it. I was moaning softly. Finally I reached down and unzipped my pants. ‘No, don’t,’ she said. ‘I can’t help it,’ I said, ‘It hurts like hell all swollen up in there, for one thing. And for another thing, I don’t want a huge cum stain on the front of my trousers. Be kind of hard to explain that.’ I had my hard cock out through my zipper and she wrapped his hot fist around it and just moaned, said, ‘Oh, God…’ still with her eyes closed.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered, still softly pumping his cock.
“Anyway, I asked her to suck it. ‘Please,’ I said, ‘I’m so fucking excited right now, I probably won’t even last two minutes.’”
“Oh my,” she said, “I’m glad that’s not the case anymore. Mmm, did she suck it? Did she suck your hard young cock?”
He grunted gently, sliding two fingers now into her cunt, and grazing the tip of his thumb against her asshole.
“It took some persuading. She was afraid of doing anything in the office, of getting caught. Finally I said, ‘Honest, I’m so horny I’ll probably cum as soon as you put your mouth on it. Trust me, it’ll be brief but splendid.’”
“You really said that?”
“Yes,” he chuckled, “and that was the clincher. It made her laugh, which seemed to lighten things up. She told me sit down in my desk chair. ‘We might as well do this right,’ she said, and unbuckled my belt, unfastened my pants. I lifted my ass and she pulled them down below my knees. Then she knelt in front of me and took my cock in her mouth.”
She flipped over to face him, sliding off his two fingers that had been leisurely fucking her. She slid down in the bed, on her side, until her face was at his crotch, wrapped her fingers around his cock, and slowly slipped her lips over the head.
“Like this?” she said, taking it from her mouth momentarily. “Did she take your cock in her mouth like this?”
“Something like that,” he breathed as she took the head again between her lips, sucked it lightly, then ran her tongue around it. He reached down and drew the hair back from her face so he could see her taking him in.
“Don’t stop,” she said. “If you stop telling me the story, I’m going to stop sucking your dick. Tell me more.”
“Right,” he said softly. “She held my cock at the base in her fist, and then put her open mouth overtop of it. But she didn’t close her mouth. She just bathed the head in her hot breath… mmmm… then she gave the head a quick suck, stopped, plucked one of my hairs from her mouth… she looked at me and gave me this really filthy smile. Then she tucked her hair behind her left ear, and slid her mouth down over the entire length of my cock… ooh, Jesus…”
She put the hand she had been using to pump his cock on his hip, and slowly worked the entire length of his cock in her mouth, his cockhead hitting the back of her throat. She came off, gasping slightly, then dove in again, taking his hardness into her throat, her muscles gently valving around him. Then she pulled him out of her mouth and began twisting her fist up and down his shaft as she caught her breath.
“Did you talk to her?” she said, panting, spitting on the head and massaging her saliva into his taut flesh.
“A little,” he breathed. “I told her how great it felt. How excited she was making me. ‘Cindy, that is so good. You’re incredible,’ I said.”
“Mmmm… did she talk to you?” she asked, and started bobbing on his cockhead now. “Did she tell you how she wanted your cum?”… bobbing more… “how much she wanted your hot load?”
… no… fuck…
she was too busy sucking, bobbing… pumping it with her fist…”
“Mmm…” she stopped sucking and starting jacking him a bit more quickly. “Sounds to me like she wanted it. Like she wanted you to fill her mouth with all your hot, white cum. Or empty your brimming balls straight down her throat, hmmm?”
“I … tried to hold back as long as I could… oh yeah… fuck…
because it was so fucking good… but pretty soon… I was thrusting up into her mouth… Jesus Christ, baby…
“Mmm,” she said. “Oh yeah, I’ll bet that was good. I’ll bet she was creaming herself when you started fucking her mouth.”
With that, she reached behind him, grabbed his ass, and pulled him roughly into her. They were both still lying on their sides; he put his hand at the back of her neck and began to pump his hips, fucking her mouth, thrusting his cock between her lips and over her tongue.
held her lightly by the hair… and pumped my cock up into her mouth… she was… oh fuck…
still trying bob with me… fuck, baby, fuck…
“No,” she said, panting, pushing back against his hip to stop him from fucking her mouth, and taking his thick, meaty, red cock in his fist, pumping him rapidly, “no, don’t give it to her, baby. Give it to me. Ooo…yeah… look at this hard cock. Gimme your load, baby, c’mon. Fill my mouth with your hot, creamy cum. It’s been a whole week since you pumped your load in my mouth…” she felt his legs stiffening and pressing up against, then his whole body tightening up under the grip she had on his cock, the engorged head of it seeming to swell further. She knew.
“Shoot it,” she said, “shoot it on me. I want it.”
She offered her tongue, pointed his cock at her mouth, pumped it quickly, and closed her eyes.
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