“Here,” she said, pointing to her crotch.
I moved slow, not wanting to take my eyes from this topless
woman sitting under me. Her breasts were the better part of a
c-cup, 38’s she had told me, each nipple covered judiciously by a
strip of black vertical ribbon connected to the thigh-high black
boots she was wearing. Tracing my gaze to her triangle I spied
just a whisper of chestnut curl peeking from her snug G-string.
From what I could see of her ass it looked delicious as ever and
as I knelt to get my mouth to her covered pussy I smelled only
slightest hint of her sex in the tight air.
“Here,” she repeated as I placed my open mouth on her mound and
she squiggled up into me.
“Do it well and you will be rewarded,” she cooed as I licked at
the soft material, pacing myself for when I’d very soon move it
aside and get into her sex. “Do it bad and I’ll have to punish
you.”
Who was she, why was she here, were questions I asked myself
often these wild Friday nights. But answers I didn’t much care
for as I teethed the material of the G-string, managed it to the
side and began to lap at her wet thick lips.
“Very very good,” she sighed from someplace above me.
“Go ahead,” she suggested and I reached under my naked belly to
take my raging hard cock in hand.
“You are sooo good at thissss,” she purred as I buried my mouth
into her briny thick lips, attacked her clit with my tongue. My
chin at the recoil of the G-string I kept the right side of her
pussy uncovered as I licked. It was all I could do to steady my
mouth as I pumped my cock through my fist.
“Urm,” she said as I licked at just the topper-most nub of her
rock clit.
“Urm,” she repeated, bringing her legs up and her heels to my
back.
“Ur…..” she sighed as I held onto her, she arched her ass to
me and I felt my balls tighten as the come filled my pulsing
vein.
“Yes!” she screamed as I flatted my tongue onto that hard flick
of muscle.
She shook her pussy to the pressure, I clenched my ass and we
came together.
“Now stand so I can get to your ass,” she said, leaning back in
my cloth recliner a minute later.
I stood slowly, dripping cock in hand to obey like I always
did.
I didn’t really get back to sitting properly until Sunday night.
The relentlessness of her fisting left me a bit sore, but the
three erections she coaxed out of me-and her pleasure over
them-were worth the pain and humiliation. That she knows me so
well without ever asking my limits, never inquiring about my
wants makes my blood run deeper and hotter then her mouth on my
cock when she kneels to hug my ass and push the dildo in deeper.
That we have found one another at all is a blessing, that she
isn’t real a curse that would kill me if it didn’t keep me so
alive!
She first came to me a year ago almost to the day, on a Friday
night like ever other. I had just returned from a night of
barhopping with my buddies. Given the fact that I don’t drink all
that much and dance even less, my ‘hopping’ usually consists of
leaning on a bar or sitting at a table and trying to catch as
many women in my stare as possible. Blessed with the ability to
bullshit, a rather strong chin and what I have been told are
piercing blue eyes, on many occasions I do meet women, gain a
allowed a phone number, even attempt to dance. But most nights I
leave a bar with the friends I have come with, as I did the night
in question. And although I was a bit horny, I flicked off my
smoke-drenched clothes, turned on the t.v. in my attic room and
hoped not to wake my parents.
At first I thought I was dreaming. Suddenly there stood a woman
at the side of my futon!
“Mark,” she said, smiling down at me.
I stood as she took a step back. She was wearing a long blue
coat, but it fell to her ankles as she literally flicked it off
her shoulders in one fluid movement. It was as if she was peeling
the thing off herself, as if it was a move she had made only for
me but had practiced all her life. She stood there then in a red
corset, fanning and fitted to her voluptuous form, ending just at
her belly button. I took my time regarding her, as she seemed to
want me have do. She was naked from the waist down, a trim thin
triangle of brown public hair tickling my stare. Her long white
legs ended in what I imagined were, at the very least, three-inch
red heels.
I finally looked up.
Her skin was porcelain, or so it seemed. She had a wide smiling
face, small grey-green eyes and a slight scar over her right full
lip. Her nose was long but perfect. Atop her head and cascading
to her creamy shoulders sat a mess of loose chocolate-colored
curls.
Quite simply, she was a vision.
“It’s time you and I met,” she said and moved past me to
position herself on all fours on my bed! I was transfixed by her
ease, the squeak of my futon, her white round ass in my face!
“Get used to kissing it baby,” she cooed from over her shoulder.
“You’re gonna be doing it for a long long time.”
I did and have been ever since.
What can you ask for at twenty-one? It would be nice to admit I
have had experiences to brand me a great lover…I have not. It
would be wonderful to look back on encounters that could rival
the Friday nights with her…I cannot. It would even be nice to
have some knowledge of science fiction so I could start to
explain, at least to myself, what she really is, but I don’t read
all that much. All I know of her is what she has told me and that
is very little.
“I am here because you need me to be and I want to be,” she
said, as I lay across her lap, face-up and naked.
Again she ran the flat of her palm up the side of popping
erection.
“But I’m just dreaming you, right?” I asked.
“Does this feel like a dream?” she replied, bent her head and
began to suck the tip of my cock until I bounced up and down on
her naked thighs.
“You don’t need to understand this,” she said a minute later,
upright and smiling down at me again. “Just enjoy me as I enjoy
you…
“…and learn,” she added, cupping her right hand around my
penis, the other reaching down to pull my balls ever so
slightly.
“Learn.”
That word stays with me most, and still arouses me a year on.
That she is beautiful, available even before I call her (or
realize I need her), skilled yet demanding makes her a dream I
know I cannot have sleeping. That she is certainly a
hallucination or at the very best a fantasy that I have created
real frightens me…but not enough that I’ll ever ask her to stop
coming. That I am ‘learning’ from her at every swat of her open
palm across my ass (how my parents don’t hear I have no idea);
every muted inch of dildo up me; those sweated smothering seconds
when suckling her breasts keeps me knowing that I need her beyond
reason. Do we all have this power to make real what we need? Am I
lucky? Am I cursed?
I know when the cold air of day touches my face she is still
with me. What we shared, even if it is her leading, colors my
daylight moves. I engage ‘real’ women now with a confidence I
have never managed before and if I’m not exactly acting on all
these new flirtations at least I feel the potential to do so. I
am a new man at twenty-one or maybe I am only actually beginning
to be a man at all. As the old adage states (slanted to meet my
gender bias): ‘so many women but so little time.’
Of course though I will have to find the time around these Friday
nights and all the learning that still needs to be done.
