The Ballet Dancer, Part 4

I awoke as I passed out – naked and spread-eagle on the bed. A knock on the door roused me from the post-fellatio slumber.“I ordered food while you sleep,” she remarked. When the door opened and the light streamed in, I realized that she was still naked as well. The glory of her perfection framed by the light of the door roused me again. The gawking boy who held our food was speechless and frozen. “Put it there,” and she pointed, casually unaffected by her nudity. He moved stiffly into the room.“Let me get you a tip,” I stammered, now finally aware of my own birthday attire.“If you don’t mind…” he stammered as he pulled out a cell phone and quickly switched on the camera.“A picture with that?” Danielle queried, “..will not be very good. And you make me blushing.” She said it with a splash more accent than usual so it came out ‘blushink.’ She was toying with the boy and she enjoyed it. She offered a pose as the rest of her answer and he clicked away until she pushed him out the room.“Best tip I ever got….thanks!” And then he was gone as the click of the electronic locks restored our privacy. I was about to admonish her but I never got the chance. “I see you’re back,” she smiled at my renewed vigor, “we eat now.” This was no erotic 9 ½ weeks kitchen floor food play. We ate hungrily, eyeing each other’s nakedness as we replenished our sapped strength. Sated with food, my thoughts began to linger to what lay ahead. She ate on. She needed to refuel from her audition this afternoon, and the encores in the hotel this evening. She noticed the quizzical look on my face, but misinterpreted my intense gaze. “What?” she asked defensively between gulps of food, as if I was accusing her of eating too much.“I was just wondering,” I started defensively. “Then what were you wondering?” She bit back before I could finish. “I wondered what you look like when you orgasm,” I answered bluntly, “I couldn’t see with my face between your legs.”She smiled mischievously, “Is not my fault, are you big enough to fix mistakes?”I pushed away the food cart, and standing showed her the fullness of my conviction. Her hungry mouth was on me instantly, but this time I pushed her away. Lifting her, I laid her on the bed. As I approached, he stopped me with a delicate foot placed strategically but gently in my groin.I lifted her foot from where she was teasing me and raised it slowly up the muscle of my chest until I could rub her toes across my lips. I sucked on her toes while she softly moaned her pleasure. I lifted her other leg and rested both feet on my shoulders. As I eased myself down her calves and thighs, I was leveraging her body open with mine, as I kissed and nibbled my way to her center. Just as I was about to taste the nectar glistening on her lips, she clamped her powerful thighs, locking me in place. “No, no, bad boy! You cannot do what I cannot.” “Fair is fair,” I smiled. Then I raised myself back up to bring my cock to the petals of her pussy. I held it at the entrance while the heat of our loins pulsed together. This was not technique – though it wasn’t a bad one. I really needed time to plot my approach. I did not want this to be a second-rate climax to what had been an Oscar-worthy performance. I wanted to torture her with a slow, agonizing entry. Just as fervently, I wanted to pummel her pussy with the full fury of my passion. I wondered too what she wanted. In the space of the few glorious hours I had known her, I could not claim to know her.The danger of these encounters is that you don’t get do-overs. Try it this way once, and the next time we can try the other. There may be no next time. This was the championship – win or whack off. Adding to the pressure, the clock was ticking. I knew she had a return flight and I had no idea how long I had slept. Damn that post-coital sleep gene. The cure for that is the next Viagra. I made up my mind. Slow first because there was always the race to finish at the end. As I was deciding, she read my hesitation and confirmed with soft encouragement, “ I want savor [she lingered on this word in a most satisfying way] every inch of you.” My entrance was lingering, solemn – an absolute contrast to the fireworks of sensation wracking my body. The slow pace drew out and intensified our mutual satisfaction. I measured my entrance in cadence with her moans and her short sharp breaths as my crown finally slipped entirely within the vanguard of her outer lips. She gave out a soft, throaty, “Ohh” that was the most satisfying sound I had heard in my not too many years. Our eyes met briefly, until I continued my descent into her depths and her eyes rolled back. With the eye contact broken, I was free to drink in her body with my eyes and to see the electric point of contact between our two bodies. There are few sights more pleasing to me than seeing my cock between the lips of woman, whichever lips they may be.I was able to reach her nipples with my tongue, working little circles around the stiffening tip for our mutual amusement, but most of all because it offered a welcome distraction to delay the progress of my shaft. For all I know, it could have been a minute or an hour before I finally hilted my full length inside her. I timed the arrival with a gentle but clear nip on her most aroused nipple. After that the languid pace of our lovemaking gradually accelerated. We flowed together like a river coursing down a mountain pass, crashing through rapids until it finally empties into the sea. Her legs danced around my body, wrapping my waist, digging into my back with her heels. She also used her legs to pace me faster, or slower, as was her desire. I responded as best I could, although at times I couldn’t help being lost in my own pleasure. I think these rebellions pleased her as much as my responsiveness, enjoying a stallion she could not fully tame but which was trained enough to be useful.I became aware that her breathing had quickened and the pace of her moaning had grown and now blended with urgings in her native Russian. I understood her only on the most primitive level, giving into the rhythms of our own fantastic dance.Her cries intensified, matching my thrusts and her legs no longer sought to control my thrusts but to hold herself on the mount. I was vaguely aware of pounding on the wall – not from the bed knocking, but someone in the room next door who did not enjoy the vicarious audio voyeurism. Too bad for them. This time I would not miss it. My face was not buried in her legs and I looked at her face as it contorted in ultimate pleasure and release. Then she closed her eyes. “Open your eyes,” I commanded, holding my control as I punctuated each word with a full thrust of my cock. I was pounding intensely and I could feel my muscles straining to the point of tearing as I neared my own climax that still would not quite come. If she had not emptied me earlier, I would have dropped out of this marathon long ago in absolute disgrace. Thankfully, tonight I would finish. She opened her eyes and locked on mine. I could feel she was waiting for me, sensing my impending release. “Yes, now,” she pleaded once, then again until on the time my satisfaction exploded inside her. It was mirrored in her eyes a thousand times. I have never had such reward for any deed, good or ill.Again, without my awareness and to compound my earlier shame, I slipped into the coma of post-coital satisfaction. When I woke, she was gone. She left some hotel stationary on the bed, but instead of a note, there was only the print of her lips.

The Ballet Dancer, Part 3

“Did you like that?”“Hmmm, maybe not so smart,” she breathed in reply. “Well, you should rest then, from your performance earlier and my performance now,” I suggested smugly.“I think, No,” she sparked and her hand shot out and wrapped firmly around my stiffened member. While I was surprised at her recovery and stamina, she switched to a tennis grip and with a squeeze, she used my own racket to flip me on my back. She brought her other hand to the task so that all the blood flowed through the shaft of my desire burning between her hands. My agony of pleasure was fueled by the devilish smile delight that flashed on her face. Licking her own lips, she wiped the smile away and offered a guttural groan of anticipation. “This is what I had in mind,” she said inspecting me, “The size is good, but I make bigger. You have beautiful cock and body I can make use of.”Down she went. Whether fast or slow, I couldn’t tell but it seemed like and eternity as she licked the head of my cock and then pushed the tip through her lips to take it in her mouth. With just the crown of my cock in her mouth she worked her tongue around the ridges and teased at the hole on top. Her fingers ringed the base of my shaft and her other hand worked on the stepchildren. I lost all track of time as she moved to lick her way around my pleasure stick, the tip, then the shaft, then my balls, and around again; all while her hands played my nipples like she was tuning a violin for concert. My body was a super nova of excitement. She kept me on the edge but never too far. She brought the tip of my cock back into her mouth and sucked hard, then while keeping the pressure up, she pulled her head back until I popped out. She did it again, pulling back but not quite letting me pop. Next she nibbled and sucked the crown, the shaft and my balls – a choreography of fellatio that rendered me completely in her power. When she took me again deep in her mouth, I was lost and could no longer tell what she did and when. He hands played on my nipples, my balls, my shaft and even into my ass. As she inserted her finger my cocked engorged more than I’ve ever known. She worked her mouth and tongue furiously now and I began to realize that she was beginning to tire. I tried to pull her off. She shook me off, saying over ragged breaths, “I want to drink you,” then she redoubled her effort. I finally came in a gusting torrent, my hot seed shooting into her mouth and down her throat. She sucked it eagerly until I was left a quivering puddle on the bed. I did then what many men do, although I am ashamed to admit it. I fell asleep.

The Ballet Dancer Part 2

I had no time to think, not even to react, which may have been all the better for me. As she glided towards me, she let slip the towel, revealing her full, firm breasts, with large, deep red nipples that had stiffened in the shower. I could see as well that she was a natural blond, though she had trimmed her patch into a tasteful landing strip. And then she was on me and through me. The heat of her passion crashed into me, burning my crotch even through the layers of the suit I wore still. The hard nakedness of her breasts and stomach writhed on top of me.We kissed deeply and hard and she matched my aggression with her own graceful intensity. She sat astride me, pinning to the bed, boring into me with her heat and desire. Her fingers worked the buttons of my shirt and slipped off my tie until she could scratch her nails and dig into the muscles of my chest. She flicked my nipples, sending shivers of delight straight through my engorged cock. How much more could I take?I flipped her over. If I didn’t get some control of her soon, I would lose control of myself. That would truly scar my ego. I finished pulling off my shirt, buying a few more precious seconds of delay and then launched myself back into a kiss deep in her mouth, transferring the energy of my loins through the working of my lips. I caressed her breast with one hand, firmly and methodically, not like some porno boy slapping at a balloon. She needed to be played like a Stradivarius not a piñata. I used my other hand on the small of her back to draw her into me. Her moans, her scent, and the feel of her skin mixed an erotic potion that I could scarcely withstand. I’ve never felt such sustained tension, such passionate energy. It was like an orgasm, but I somehow still had control. Or she did. The musk of her loins and the dampness I could feel seeping a hot invitation through my pants. My lips were being drawn below her breasts to the source. I managed to detour to the buttery skin of her thighs, tracing small circles with my tongue. I lingered not a little, working my way to her core and she moved to open herself to me and present her lips for mine. Soft moans and the tensing in her stomach spoke of her restrained eagerness. I kissed greedily with my lips and tongue, but not too eagerly, playfully instead. I have always had a certain talent for cunnilingus and knew how and when to approach a clit. Drawing it out, teasing it, and then fulfilling it. It didn’t hurt that I loved the smell and taste of women. Each one delicious in its own way, but none like this. I worked and played my own tongue ballet until she was spent from her own shudders and all of her dancer’s strength was little more than a quiver.

The Ballet Dancer, Part 1

She was the kind of woman that drew your eyes to her. She had a long, lithe body and shockingly straight golden hair. Looking for a place to sit in the airport "holding pen" I wanted any seat with a view of her. There was still time before Southwest's cattle-call to queue up that I could use to make small talk. If that failed, I would find a spot to drink her in with my eyes.Stealing these small pleasures was about the only thing that made these business trips bearable. With luck, the small talk might turn to flirting and it never hurt to boost your ego before a big presentation. An extraordinary woman like this would be quite a boost. No sooner had I chosen the seat across from her, when she stood up, stretched to her full height – her ample but not large breasts straining against a tight black sweater – and then she sashayed away. I was so caught up in the perfection of her body and the grace and assurance of how she moved that I couldn’t be sure if she had cast me a dismissive glance or if I had merely imagined it. This kind of deflating defeat was the risk of my little game. Now I had to decide whether to continue my pursuit, or be satisfied with whatever mental sketch I could build and hold in my fevered mind.I chewed these thoughts in my head, not casually as might a good meal, but fast and hard like necessary food – like airport food that you have to choke down for a purpose. I was entangled in these thoughts when an alluring scent tickled my consciousness. If I were any good at discerning flowers or such things I could name it for you. All I can do is describe its effect on my. It went through my nose and straight down to my cock, awakening it from restful slumber. My eyes soon connected the scent to its source, breaking me from my frustrated reverie. The goddess had returned to sit next to me.She had pulled her long hair into a tight bun, adding a new severity to her raw sexuality. A wry smile framed the utter appreciation that flowed across my face. This time she acknowledged my attention. She met my eyes with a bold stare that traveled to the bulge in my pants and returned to meet my eyes with a soft flick of her eyebrows. As the opening dance goes, I have never been so quick out of the gate.She spoke before I could find my clever icebreaker. “I need to fix my hair before flight. I have no time when I land.” Her English was good, but the Russian accent was the icing on this most erotic cake. “What could you possibly do that requires you to hide your hair?” It is always best to counter within whatever common ground you’ve established, or complete the hanging thread of her comment. “You must guess, but I give little hint,” and on that word she flexed one leg to show the length of it and the smooth firmness of her muscles.“A dancer,” I answered and she responded with her eyes that I needed to say more, “…ballet, of course.” “You are not stupid, good. I go to audition in Chicago. I need to be ready to dance. My hair is ready. Now I sit with you – not slob or baby to bother me. OK?” Until that last word she had been commanding rather than asking. I don’t know if she was aware that she had just saved me from begging. Never was I so glad for Southwest’s open seating policy.We passed the flight in conversation about music and culture. I had no meeting until tomorrow, so I offered the services of my driver to take her to the audition. In return, she would let me watch her performance. She would only be in town for twelve hours, but I figured there might be time for dinner and maybe more. During the limo ride I made some calls to give her some peace, but I also hoped that it made me seem a little less desperate. She was stretching and preening, making it hard not to stare even while I was on the phone. She noticed my half-hearted disinterest. “Dancers must be comfort their bodies on display. Look all you want.”And so I did.Her performance was captivating. She moved gracefully and in command of her body. You could feel the energy flowing through her. When she finished, the judges – who had to be made of stone – merely thanked her and indicated that she would have their decision within the week.“How did it go?” I asked.“They never show their thinking. I have to wait.”“You must be starved.”“Yes, but I stink like whore on payday too,” she teased and brushed by me.“If you say so,” I offered, “you can use my shower at the hotel.” The offer hung there like an axe above my head until she answered, “But how can I repay the generosity.”“By letting me take you to dinner,” I said. “Agreed, but I hope you make better deals in business.” “Never,” I deadpanned.Back in my room, she started the shower and before she closed the bathroom door she burned into my eyes with a hungry stare, “Be ready when I come out.”Damn. What did that mean? She knew she trapped me with those words. My cock was instantly hard, but I couldn’t overplay my hand and strip down for her return. She was too classy for a frat-boy move like that. What was I thinking? I have a gorgeous dancer, naked, in my shower, how could misread that? But still, getting naked seemed to be a below the belt stunt for a woman of this caliber.When she came out, her clothes were in one hand, which she casually tossed on the bed. She was wrapped tightly in a too small hotel towel that barely concealed the essentials. Adding insult to injury, I could only imagine how that cheap, rough cloth must have chafed her creamy skin.She smiled at my obvious erection. “You are ready.”“But you must be hungry,” I announced playfully.”“Yes but for nothing in any restaurant.”

The Teacher, Part 1.

I know this would be a really hot story if there were a few changes. I am not above literary license, but the fact is that it just didn’t happen the way I would have wanted. There are times when all of us would want to go back in time and do things differently, or take the knowledge we have gained later in the life and replay certain events, but it just doesn’t happen that way. So here is the story of the teacher.

It would be a hotter story if this was MY teacher, or even my kid’s teacher, but it didn’t happen that way. She is just a teacher. Well, not just a teacher. She is a hot teacher and she happens to live on my block. She is the teacher you wish you had when you were a boy, unless you’re exclusively into blondes. I am not, so she works for me, big time. Semi-curly dark hair, cropped close in a bob cut and usually tied back from her face. It gave her that hot librarian look – naughty and nice, sweet as spice. She had a full bosom, not Pamela, but an ample ‘C’ cup, which presented awfully well in a slightly stretched teacher’s white button-down. You could easily picture her wearing nothing but your dress shirts parading around the bedroom with her perfectly round, tight ass peaking out from the shirt-tail begging to be fucked.

I should stick to the facts, however, and not my fantasies of what could have happened or what I wish had happened. It began innocently enough, as it were. As neighbors we shared the occasional street side chat and the friendly wave. Sometimes the conversation lingered longer, making wonder if there was more there than just a good neighbor. The problem was, is, she is married. Her husband is a nice guy too, and someone that I was happy to share a beer with. I felt a little guilty that I sometime ogled his wife, swishing her tail in those shorts on a hot summer night – but sometimes a guy has to expect that kind of violation. Maybe it isn’t even so much of a violation as an affirmation of what he has, a compliment even that his wife is desirable. I know that I am rationalizing, but certainly these small transgressions of the eyes and the mind don’t equal the betrayal that was about to happen. I will just tell the story and the rest of you can engage in the ethical debate. I can’t change what happened and at this point, I don’t want to.

On most mornings, I take a walk in the park before work. The dog is my excuse, but I really do try to get out every day because doing something for myself first – even if I try to pass it off as a chore – “I have to walk the dog” - it makes it so much easer to start the work day. My timing is such that many mornings, I happen to pass the teacher’s house when she is on her way to school. Most of the time there is not much more than a quick wave, a hello, maybe some small talk about the weather.For a time I began to sense that an intensifying pattern was occurring. That she was getting closer to me, the occasional hand on my arm when she said hello, or a slight squeeze she offered “We should all get together soon.” The way she smiled and the look in her eyes make me think that she meant without her ball and chain.

For a long time I passed it off as wishful thinking. After all, my grandmother, god rest her blessed soul used to advise me, in her own grandmotherly way, “Don’t shit where you eat.” Which in this case I took to mean, “Don’t fuck your neighbor’s wife.” But even dear old grandma could not have imagined the temptation of this sweet teacher’s ass.

I began to suspect that the flirtation was not purely imaginary when she broached the topic of our culture’s sexual repression. That particular morning she was not going to work and her husband had already left. She came out to the street to greet me. She was wearing only a thin shirt and tiny shorts that were small enough and translucent enough to tell me that she had no underwear under there.

After a brief exchange, I learned that she had an in-service day, which in teacher parlance is basically a day without the kids to catch up on grading and like. So she was taking some extra time for herself at home, enjoying her coffee and the paper. When I came by, she offered to walk with me. I couldn’t refuse, but I almost needed to. She wasn’t the only one who was not wearing underwear. I didn’t really care if she saw me get hard, but a 7” boner might be kind of hard to hide from the rest of the neighbors. I didn’t really have a say in the matter anyway as she quickly slipped on a pair of Crocs and said “Let’s go!”

She slipped her arm through my elbow and started off on a jaunty pace that was just enough to give a seductive bounce to her barely concealed boobs. I could feel myself stirring instantly. Right away she started into the conversation with topics that did not distract my desire. “The school environment is so stifling. I have to dress like a school marm, or else the boys in my class won’t be able to think straight. On my days off I just want to be free.”

I had a great opening for a compliment. “For most women, that wouldn’t be a problem, but you have to realize that you’re a fantasy for these kids.”

“Thank you for saying that, but I think I am a little old for them,” she admonished.

“You really don’t know boys or men, do you? Especially at this age, if you have T&A they are interested and you have the T and the A.” I couldn’t put it any straighter than that.

“That’s very flattering, but not as flattering as what’s happening down there,” she pointed with her eyes at my shorts, which were tented by the rising pole inside.

“Exactly my point, you’re sexuality can’t be constrained by arbitrary age limits,” I said with mock authority.

“Oooh! That is a mighty big mouthful for someone whose blood is flowing to their shorts!” At this point, the directness of her teasing was hard to misinterpret.

“All I’m saying is that….” I stopped her and looked her eyes, which she met hungrily and with more than twinkle of mischief. I was about to make some grand argument built on flattery and the insecurity of men and all kinds of flowery semi-erotic poetry to woo this fair prize. However, my words, or more properly, my brain failed me because too much blood had engorged the lower head for me to piece together my puzzle of seductive innuendo. What came out instead of some erotic, yet noncommittal discourse was simply, “All I’m saying is that….I can give you a mouthful.”NOOOO! That wasn’t what I wanted to say. It was too crass. I should be more intellectual with this attention starved teacher. Yet, to my eternal gratitude, the brain short-circuit caused by throbbing manhood proved to be the exact medicine.

“I bet it is,” was her urgent response as she dropped to her knees right in the middle of the trail. I have not described the trail to you yet and if truth be told it is a quite pleasant woodsy path that I could describe in great detail. But in the events that happened, in my recollection of this encounter, the trail and its surroundings are mostly incidental (mostly) to my tale. What I remember is that she dropped immediately to her knees and pulled my shorts down enough to free my rigid cock. It wasn’t exactly hidden by my loose shorts anyway, but now the full cool breeze of the morning was on me. I might have shrunk if not for the company of her warm hands and the proximity of her lips and well, just her.She wrapped one hand and then other around my shaft and took a studied look at the bulging crown of my cock peaking from her grip. She eased her mouth over the tip and as she slid me inside her lips and flickering tongue she moved one hand down to my balls until she had me backed into her throat with the other hand still encircling my shaft.

“Yes, I would have to say more than a mouthful and more than two hands-full, depending on how you want to measure.”I was in too much of a swoon to answer and anyway the sound of approaching voices broke the spell of our privacy. I have always fantasized about truly public displays of affection, but when it comes down to it, I previously found the reality less thrilling than I had thought. As a result, I have never truly had sex in public and I quickly wondered if this would be it.

It was not, as she quickly tucked my pole back into the tent of my shorts, which did a poor job of hiding it and then straightened herself up as if her nipple weren’t on high beam and there was no stain of wetness on her shorts.It was in this state of consciousness that we passed by two other walkers in the next minute.

They were both women, slightly older than us, maybe ten years senior, but due to their walks or maybe private lessons with their trainer, they maintained a certain tight MILF sensuality. What I like about sexy older women is that they are trading on their assets. If they still look good after a few kids or after 40, there might have been some good genes, but mostly, they earned it. Which means it really meant something to them.Well, it was no mistaking what their appreciative smiles meant to me as we walked past. As we approached they offered the usual noncommittal neighborly smiles that say, “we’re just passing by.” But as they came close enough, their eyes locked on my swaying cock, which was noticeably erect beneath my shorts. If it had softened a little it might have merely slapped gently against my thighs and caught their notice as they passed, but it was front and center, helped in no small measure by the fact that there was an audience for my erection. If I wasn’t at my full 7, then I was damn close and the swaying and bouncing as I walked might have been a blinking arrow signing “look at me, look at me.”So look they did. And smile. It was a smile of appreciation of that I swear took me beyond my usual size, swelling my member to a record length.

They also noticed the arousal of my teacher friend, whose nipples were straining against the tight, thin tank top she wore and whose shorts bore the faint trace of seeping excitement. We passed them by and I made up my mind to seize the initiative. It wasn’t that I didn’t know where this was going. It was a question of whether to consummate in the woods, or take her back to my house or hers to finish the job in style. I opted for the latter, because she was, after all, a married woman and fucking in a public park might be more exposure than either of us really wanted.So after the women were well down the path, I grabbed the elbow of my hot teacher companion and spun her into me. I briefly paused to look her in the eyes and then planted a kiss on her full red lips. I grabbed her bottom lip lightly with my teeth and tugged a little as I pulled away, saying, “I don’t want you to mistake my intentions.”

“And what would those intentions be?”

“I intend to fuck you.”“

Good,” was all she said and grabbing both my shorts and my cock in her hand and turned to take the shortest path out of the woods.When we came out of the woods, she let go of my steering rod and suggested I hide that somehow while we passed by the houses in our neighborhood. My only option was to put one hand in my pocket to press my cock against my leg. It worked to hide the erection, but it certainly didn’t diminish it. We got to my place in a few minutes, walking so quickly that we were winded when we got there.Breathlessly I pulled off her shirt to reveal breasts much larger than I thought and nipples that were leaking ever so slightly. I’ve never had a lactater so I was anxious to lap it up. As I teased her nipple with my lips and tongue, I could barely taste the faint traces that had seeped from her swollen motherhood. But when I closed my lips and nibbled with my teeth, I was greeted with the warm flow of watery milk. It wasn’t the taste of it, but the psychology of it that I found ultimately erotic. The only thing was that I had to avoid overthinking the issue because skirting the oedipal ice was for me, decidedly un-erotic.

After battling these competing tensions for a while I decided to turn to other matters of pleasure. She stopped me from going down.

“We need to even things up a bit.” She slipped my shirt over my head and began to torture my nipples as I had with hers. In this case, I had no conflicting tensions in my mind or body. When she moved to take it to the lower level, it was my turn to stop her.

“How do we keep this fair? Which one of us goes down first?” I inquired playfully.

“Hmmm, there really is only one solution. We go down together.” She slipped off her shorts to reveal a shaven pussy that took me back to adolescence. I removed my shorts, causing my boner to spring around like a Jack-in-the-Box.

Naked we moved to my bed where she pushed me down on my back. She climbed on top of me and then reversed herself so we were in the 69 position. I really love 69. I don’t exactly know why. I have always loved to have a woman take me in her mouth – it is such an erotic act because it has nothing to do with procreation and everything to do with pleasure. It is also a supreme act of submission – on both parts. She is submitting to my cock, accepting it into her mouth while I am placing my full manhood into a completely vulnerable position. It is extraordinarily erotic. I have also always loved to lick and suck pussy. With a few exceptions who have an unpleasant taste or odor, I find the smell and taste to send shivers down my cock and I enjoy seeing the pleasure I can generate from just my tongue or the caressing of my fingers. But 69 combines both of those sensations and pleasures. It is a symphony of sexual stimulation; a Feng Shui circuit of sensation that feeds upon itself. In normal genital intercourse the cock and pussy form a sparking connection – and don’t get me wrong, it is fantastic –but the sexual energy generated from that contact flows out through the rest of the body. In 69, his mouth passes the energy to her pussy which flows up to her mouth and sends it to his cock and back again. Erotically efficient.So I was pleased to see our encounter turn in this direction.

It usually takes some time before most women, even those who are into cock-sucking and pussy licking as separate activities, will feel comfortable with the oral octopus. She grabbed my cock firmly around the base with one hand and slid her hand the length of it a few times. Don’t ask me how many times because I was too busy on my end. She used her hands to lengthen and swell cock to bursting. Then she swirled her tongue around my helmet until she sucked the tip fully inside her lips. With strong pressure from her mouth, she twisted her hands like she was wringing a towel. I felt a jolt of pain that rode in with the pleasure and I can’t say it was at all bad. Her motion left a burning along my shaft which she soothed as she eased me fully inside her mouth. Now that was extraordinary, like having a bad itch that finally gets scratched – except that she created the itch and then took it away.

She alternated that technique with some straight sucking, and then moved entirely to full-shaft sucking. She stopped only to suck on my balls. She kept going until my own work on her pussy forced her to stop to catch her own breath. Even still, she pumped my piston with her hands until the combination of her pussy juice streaming into my mouth and attention to my cock got me ready to come. She sensed my warning spasms and rather than stop to let me gain control, she plunged my cock deep into her mouth to take my full load in a few swallows.I wasn’t just lying there while this was going on.

I was hard at work myself. With her pussy hanging above my head, I was in the perfect spot to work her clit. I tired not to rush it, but in that position the tongue is almost always working from her clit to her pussy galore. My hands couldn’t very well reach her tits, but they were free to squeeze her tight ass and finger fuck her open pussy. When I had my finger well lubricated with her dripping honey I began to explore her ass. I’ve never been big into anal, but I wanted to know if she was. The ease with which she opened to my probing and the not so soft moaning told me that my finger was most welcome and that perhaps more of me as well. Now I played her ass and her pussy off against each other, moving from one to the other when I needed to change fingers or catch a break.

My tongue on the other hand needs no break. I don’t know if its true for other guys, if these two things go together, but I can talk for hours and I can lick a pussy almost as long. Maybe all that talking keeps my tongue in shape or maybe I’m full of crap, or just energizer batteries. Maybe I shouldn’t say this but I finished long before she did. We were too far into it to change positions and I don’t think she wanted to me stop anything I was doing. Her clit had gotten so swollen that I couldn’t resist sucking it inside my mouth and when I did, she began to buck and shudder as the orgasms wracked her body and her hot juice ran down my face. I had a face full of her glistening honey dripping along my jaw and down my neck, so much so that I had to wipe it off.

After she rolled off me and we were again face to face we took a little time to catch our breath. “I can’t wait to fuck you,” I said earnestly.

“You’re going to have to wait. I never fuck on a first date.”