Pam and I settled into a once-a-week fucking routine.
Julie had joined the Tulip Society at the botanical garden and was now reliably out of the house each Thursday from 11am until two or so.
Serendipitously, Pam’s husband Nate had been called back to on-site work, pretty much allowing Pam to come and go as she pleased five days a week.
According to Pam, Nate’s belly had continued to grow after returning to work, partially due to less exercise, but more significantly due to a steady diet of Quarter Pounders. Their love-making was non-existent. Pam voiced on more than one occasion that she understood Nate’s embarrassment over his Santa-sized gut and near-hidden wiener, but she couldn't understand why he wouldn't at least masturbate her or try to eat her pussy.
I had long ago ceased feeling guilty about fucking Nate’s wife. If he wasn't going to at least try to satisfy Pam’s needs, them I would.
After the third or fourth Thursday of making lust, we were snuggled under an afghan on the family room couch, having just fucked like teenagers. Pam looked up and uttered, “I want to tell you something.”
I don't know why, but I immediately thought the worst. Was she pregnant? Did she have the clap? Had she told Nate I was banging her?
My response? “Sure.”
To my relief and mild embarrassment, Pam continued, “I’ve only slept with seven or eight guys, including Nate, but none of them ever asked me how I like to make love or what satisfies me. You did, the very next time after I peed all over the mudroom.”
We laughed and she continued. “And you could be selfish and cum thirty seconds after you stick your cock into my pussy, but you always grit your teeth and somehow hold it until I have or like today had, oh my gosh, three orgasms.”
I was a tad uncomfortable, but lamely responded, “Thanks.”
“And that ‘Oh, shit!’ moment after the head of your cock slips into my cunt, followed by that overstuffed sensation.”
I must have looked at her quizzically, as she went on. “I don't want you to get weirded out or anything, but your cockhead is kinda small. No, wait! In a good way. You always make sure I’m all wet and ready to be fucked. Then you slowly inch in your prick. It feels so good and never hurts.”
I looked her in the eye. “But, what?”
“Well, that would be enough to make me cum, but then comes the surprise. Your dick is just so, you know, thick. Like a Paul Mitchell styling gel bottle.”
She held up her tiny right hand, making a “C” with the fingers tips separated a good inch.
I almost busted a gut when she opened her mouth widely and pushed her tongue against the inside of her cheek. She made an obscene jacking maneuver and rolled her eyes up into her head.
Neither of us busted a gut, but we both laughed so hard we snorted like braying donkeys. I had to wipe away tears with the back of my hand.
“Geez, Pam. You’re a real piece of work,” I managed to say.
“I know I am,” she laughed. “Tell me what you like about me. Start at the bottom.”
“OK, fine. You have a great ass,” I suggested.
“Not that ‘bottom’.” She punched my arm. “Start with my feet.”
“Let me start over. I love it when you jog by the house wearing those clunky Hokas with the white Bobby-socks. Your tan legs look great. I close my eyes and envision you as a cheerleader. One I’d like to fuck behind the football field concession stand.”
She leaned up and kissed my cheek. “Now you’re getting somewhere. Go on.”
“Swell. Moving on up. I like that clear line where you stop shaving your legs, just above the seam of your shorts. The feel of that glistening peach fuzz on my cheek makes me get a boner just thinking about it. I love running my lips up to your groin where you start shaving again to girl-scape that cotton ball of pubes.”
“Bart, you’re a perv.”
“Pam, you started it. I’ll finish it. I like the way it tickles my nose when I’m licking up and down the sides of your man in the boat. Speaking of him, I love it when you place both hands on the top of my head while you tilt up your pelvis, grinding your snatch against my face as I suck his head. The things you say would make a pirate blush. ‘Grrr, oh yeah, suck my clit, harder. Make me cum, Baby. Lick my ass. Fuck, yeah.’ Like that.”
“Bart, I can't help it. Every Thursday morning, I masturbate, but somehow stop just short of cumming: first while still under the covers, again in the shower after my run and again just before I come over. By the time I hit your garage, I’m primed for cock.”
I continued. “Well, that was graphic. Moving on up, did I ever tell you what great tits you have?”
Before I could elaborate, she pulled away and rotated toward me. Cupping her mams and juggling them upward, she coyly queried, “Gee, Bart. You mean these little ol’ thangs?”
“Pam, there’s nothing little about them and yes they’re Grade A, ‘Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue’ model quality. I almost have a heart attack when you wear a short crop top without a bra. Those puppies push the hem a good two inches away from your belly. And don't get me started on how your nips get hard when you walk into the air conditioning. They look like acorns pointing up toward the ceiling. You’re lucky I’m not a squirrel! Fuck, I think I’m gonna shoot, just thinking about the sight of you stretching and pulling your shirt over your head.”
Pam licked her lips. “Bart, it would be a shame to waste all that tasty jizz, but tell me more.”
I reached down and adjusted Mr. Wiggly. Sure enough, he was leaking precum onto my left thigh. I made an “ugh” sound.
Pam’s reaction was different. She raised the corner of the afghan to spy the source of my consternation. Seemingly without a further thought, she dipped the tips of her right index and long fingers into the glistening puddle. She sucked them into her mouth with a satisfied "mmm.”
I rotated my face toward her with what probably was a shit-eating grin. She pouted her lips out, “What? A gal can’t enjoy sampling a little bit of her favorite pervy neighbor’s joy juice?”
And with that, she flipped off the blanket. Pam dropped to the floor, pushed my thighs apart and balanced her forearms on my respective thighs. She fisted my cock and levered the dripping head toward her face. She caught a drip of precum on the very tip of her tongue, but not before locking eyes with me and biting her lower lip.
I figured Pam would slip her lips around my boner and suck out my third load of the morning, but she had other ideas.
With her right thumb and index finger, she circled the collar of my prick just below the head. She levered my now throbbing appendage into a vertical position and began licking the bottom of the shaft from her finger-gauntlet down to my ball sack. I performed a Kegel and twitched my cock muscles in rhythm with her lapping, as much as anything to let her know that Mr. Johnson was appreciating all the attention.
After the fifth or sixth stroke, Pam turned her head ninety degrees and began licking behind my scrotum. I rotated slightly and brought my left heel up onto the couch cushion. My taint was ready for whatever Pam had in mind.
She didn't disappoint.
I felt her tongue explore that ultra-sensitive path leading to my forbidden zone. I thanked the hygiene gods that I had spent an extra five minutes in the shower scrubbing my nether regions, preparing for our tryst.
And then I felt it. The tip of her tongue flicked against my puckered anus like a copperhead searching for prey.
I could have placed both hands on her head, pressing her face into my crotch while commanding her to eat my ass. Instead, I chose the gentleman’s approach.
“Pam, if you don't stop that, I’m gonna embarrass myself and cum all over the side of your face.”
She licked back to my ballsack, laughed and then asked, “Would that be so bad?”
I didn't have a retort; not that it mattered.
Much to my dismay, she released my cock and started to rise from her knees. Was that it for the morning?
Pam must have read my mind. “I’ve gotta get going. Besides, I was getting a crick in my neck. But, you got one more fuck left in ya.”
Before I could answer, she crawled up onto my lap and straddled my thighs. With her left hand, she pulled my head forward, my face buried between her tits. I felt her other hand slide between us as she simultaneously posted upward like riding a show horse.
Pam grabbed my boner and ran the head to and fro through her slit, lubricating it in preparation for our goodbye hump.
I shifted my hands from her waist down to her ass-cheeks and dug my fingers into her bubble-butt. My right long finger drifted toward her crack and ultimately found her backdoor. I applied the lightest of teasing pressure. Previously Pam had avoided ass-play like the plague, so it came as a total surprise when she settled slightly onto the tip of my social digit.
She voiced a single, “Umm.”
I figured it was time to go big or go home (rhetorically speaking, since we were banging on my family room couch) and proceeded to bury my finger up to the knuckle in Pam’s ass.
She initially seemed to take it like a champ, pistoning up and down a half dozen times as if she’d been doing the rear-entry her entire life. Just when I was imagining where this might lead, she abruptly posted upward again several inches, simultaneously pushing my hand away from her forbidden zone.
Before I had time to become dismayed, Pam somewhat roughly shifted the head of my cock from between her labia, backward to her pucker. She seemed to them relax and let out a sigh.
I felt the head of Mr. Johnson slip into the entrance of Pam’s ass.
Pam froze for a few seconds and then locked eyes with mine. “Be gentle,” was all she said as she tentatively relaxed downward onto my now rock-hard cock.
I felt the flare of my glans slip past her internal sphincter.
She uttered another, “Umm,” and lowered herself inch by inch until she was sitting squarely on my lap.
I really was in a full-throttle, fucking frame of mind, but I could tell by the tightness of Pam’s virgin tushy, that it couldn't take the punishment I wanted to deliver. As a result, I adopted a gentleman’s passive approach and let her set the pace.
“Pam, take a deep breath. Don't be in a big hurry. It’ll feel better in a minute.”
Her response? “Bart, shut up and fuck me.”
I felt her begin sliding up and down on my pole, rocking her pelvis forward with each stroke. Pam slipped her hand between our pubic areas and began furiously rubbing her clit. I knew she was getting close to orgasm. She clenched her teeth, flared her nostrils and closed her eyes.
She released almost a scream. “Baby, I’m cumming. I’m cumming. Give it to me. Shoot in my ass, Bart.”
And just like that, I did.
