Afternoon delight
The telephone call was unexpected, as we were together just not too long ago. "Hi, how are you?" she had asked hesitantly. But the slight nervousness in her voice was a clear innuendo to me, so I dropped everything and made an excuse to be out of the office.
Her dress was hiked up to her waist as she reclined on my bed. She arched her back to help me remove her Sloggi panties. We were in the guest room where the airconditioner was non functional. I intentionally left the window curtains drawn open, so every part of her anatomy would be brightly lit for my scrutiny. In anticipation of a sweaty bout, I persuaded her to remove the rest of her floral dress, with the lame excuse that we didn't want it wrinkled.
As I walked across the room to drape the garment over a chair, she laid pensively with her spread legs dangling over the edge of the bed. Anyone looking down from the adjacent block of flats would be rewarded with a rare scene of a leggy nude spread eagled on the Queen size mattress in broad daylight.
I took my time to undress, the mind locked in limbo. Not a time to ask irksome questions when such a gourmet treat was on the buffet table. Perhaps the last coupling woke up the dormant sexuality in her. There were no tan lines on her lithe body, just an expanse of white except for the dark triangle crowning her swollen pubis. The rays of the afternoon sun played an optical trick, turning the brown pubic fur a tawny hue, a flaming bush igniting from the smouldering embers within her loins. Her long glossy hair spread a rich luxuriant coat around her turned head. She was looking out the window. It must have been deliciously exciting for her too, the potential of being spied upon.
My hands reached up to fondle her breasts, thumbs flicking her nipples into life, as my tongue skated across her pubic area. The mons veneris was sparsely covered with short hairs, a grass scrub rather than a savanna thicket. Her legs now hung over my back, thighs clamping my exploring head, smothering me with her secret scents. I eyed her clitoris being teased out of the protective hood, and the yawning vagina orifice still flanked by the remnants of her hymen. She must have been deflowered gently when her cherry was first plucked. The labia minora at her vestibule was a healthy set of pink tissue, not some dark loose flaps of extra skin. There was no hint of the musky odor from natural feminine secretions, she must have washed specially for the occasion. Under the probing attention of my tongue, she started to get stimulated. I saw tiny droplets of fluid forming on the hidden surfaces of her insides. Nature's lubrication process underway. The cylinders greased to receive the piston.
Inching up her body, my roaming tongue traversed the hairless skin from navel to cleavage. Now my head was eclipsed by her protuberant breasts. Even lying down, her mammaries were impressive hills. They did not collapse flat onto her chest, or flop pathetically down the sides. As her excitement rose, they inflated further. She could feel my hardening phallus seeking out her vaginal opening, brushing and probing tentatively, attempting to locate the entrance to her pleasure hole. "Don't ejaculate in me, I'm not on the pill," she advised. Talk about waving a red cloth in front of a raging bull.
My erect member was now primed for service, a ready poker to stoke the smouldering firebox of her lust. The dipstick would be testing the lubricity of her gearbox, affirming the need for a fresh oil change of seminal fluids. Inserting it with one well placed thrust, I rammed home expertly.
Her fit was perfect, a custom pleasure glove made to measure. The spasms wrecking her body evidenced her orgasm was quick and fierce. She must have languished a lifetime for this release. I felt every ripple of her vaginal muscles, sensed every contraction of her pulsating flesh. I drew it out partially to enjoy the delightful sight of the penile shaft emerging from within her clinging vulval folds, and then buried it deeply in again. As anticipated we were both drenched in sweat, from our exertions as well as from the afternoon sun. Our wet bodies made loud smacking noises, as our genitals slapped and ground together violently. While she was bucking like a bitch in heat, she threshed her sex against my tool, trying to cleave to my penis tenuously with her love vise, never letting go. I was grabbing both her breasts tightly, to leverage the onslaught below. Fingers left angry red marks on her mangled breasts, such was the intensity of my grip.
The tremor was recognisable, and the flood would surely come. Just in time, I pulled it out, and sprayed her belly with the spurting semen. "Good boy," she said, remembering her own caution not to empty the discharge in her depths. I wiped her heaving torso with a tissue, lest some might flow down to the nether lips. Unplanned parenthood was not on the agenda.
But I wasn't done yet. Even she could see I was still ramrod stiff. "Eat me clean, I want to go in again," I commanded her. She sat up obediently to take it into her mouth, and proceeded to lap up every drop. Using her lips skillfully to roll the foreskin back, her tongue rimmed the undersides to clean the exposed glans more thoroughly. Her fellating actions stirred my organ even more, and there was danger I'd cum into her right there and then. I fell her on the bed once more, and burrowed into her hot cunt again. We kissed madly this time, as we copulated frenziedly like two primal creatures lost in wanton lust. My bludgeoning penis was locked in her pocket of sin, and the copious sweat we were bathing in glued our parts together. I had to break her clutch, so that I could withdraw strategically and shoot the cum at her bosom this time. The chalky cream splashed the underside of her breast, a thick lava flowing down the slope of the curve. Her hand traced the sticky fluid, and then spread the thinning liquid all over her bosom, her moisturising lotion of eros.
I was knotting my tie, when I walked over to the bathroom where she was washing up. She had left the door open. Standing naked under the massage shower head, she let the pounding waters cascade down the deep valley of her cleavage, and flood the other V of her sex. It was a picture straight out of a porn movie. She turned to flaunt me her complete nude ensemble, jutting breasts, erect nipples, taut belly, the pubic hair dripping with fluids, a mixture from the water stream and her love juices. Her hand was gliding the lucky bar of soap wickedly between her legs. She smiled a secret smile, a smile of contentment, and maybe a smile of surreptitious invitation. I was tempted to join her in the shower, and replace the soap with something more satisfying for her.
Her dress was hiked up to her waist as she reclined on my bed. She arched her back to help me remove her Sloggi panties. We were in the guest room where the airconditioner was non functional. I intentionally left the window curtains drawn open, so every part of her anatomy would be brightly lit for my scrutiny. In anticipation of a sweaty bout, I persuaded her to remove the rest of her floral dress, with the lame excuse that we didn't want it wrinkled.
As I walked across the room to drape the garment over a chair, she laid pensively with her spread legs dangling over the edge of the bed. Anyone looking down from the adjacent block of flats would be rewarded with a rare scene of a leggy nude spread eagled on the Queen size mattress in broad daylight.
I took my time to undress, the mind locked in limbo. Not a time to ask irksome questions when such a gourmet treat was on the buffet table. Perhaps the last coupling woke up the dormant sexuality in her. There were no tan lines on her lithe body, just an expanse of white except for the dark triangle crowning her swollen pubis. The rays of the afternoon sun played an optical trick, turning the brown pubic fur a tawny hue, a flaming bush igniting from the smouldering embers within her loins. Her long glossy hair spread a rich luxuriant coat around her turned head. She was looking out the window. It must have been deliciously exciting for her too, the potential of being spied upon.
My hands reached up to fondle her breasts, thumbs flicking her nipples into life, as my tongue skated across her pubic area. The mons veneris was sparsely covered with short hairs, a grass scrub rather than a savanna thicket. Her legs now hung over my back, thighs clamping my exploring head, smothering me with her secret scents. I eyed her clitoris being teased out of the protective hood, and the yawning vagina orifice still flanked by the remnants of her hymen. She must have been deflowered gently when her cherry was first plucked. The labia minora at her vestibule was a healthy set of pink tissue, not some dark loose flaps of extra skin. There was no hint of the musky odor from natural feminine secretions, she must have washed specially for the occasion. Under the probing attention of my tongue, she started to get stimulated. I saw tiny droplets of fluid forming on the hidden surfaces of her insides. Nature's lubrication process underway. The cylinders greased to receive the piston.
Inching up her body, my roaming tongue traversed the hairless skin from navel to cleavage. Now my head was eclipsed by her protuberant breasts. Even lying down, her mammaries were impressive hills. They did not collapse flat onto her chest, or flop pathetically down the sides. As her excitement rose, they inflated further. She could feel my hardening phallus seeking out her vaginal opening, brushing and probing tentatively, attempting to locate the entrance to her pleasure hole. "Don't ejaculate in me, I'm not on the pill," she advised. Talk about waving a red cloth in front of a raging bull.
My erect member was now primed for service, a ready poker to stoke the smouldering firebox of her lust. The dipstick would be testing the lubricity of her gearbox, affirming the need for a fresh oil change of seminal fluids. Inserting it with one well placed thrust, I rammed home expertly.
Her fit was perfect, a custom pleasure glove made to measure. The spasms wrecking her body evidenced her orgasm was quick and fierce. She must have languished a lifetime for this release. I felt every ripple of her vaginal muscles, sensed every contraction of her pulsating flesh. I drew it out partially to enjoy the delightful sight of the penile shaft emerging from within her clinging vulval folds, and then buried it deeply in again. As anticipated we were both drenched in sweat, from our exertions as well as from the afternoon sun. Our wet bodies made loud smacking noises, as our genitals slapped and ground together violently. While she was bucking like a bitch in heat, she threshed her sex against my tool, trying to cleave to my penis tenuously with her love vise, never letting go. I was grabbing both her breasts tightly, to leverage the onslaught below. Fingers left angry red marks on her mangled breasts, such was the intensity of my grip.
The tremor was recognisable, and the flood would surely come. Just in time, I pulled it out, and sprayed her belly with the spurting semen. "Good boy," she said, remembering her own caution not to empty the discharge in her depths. I wiped her heaving torso with a tissue, lest some might flow down to the nether lips. Unplanned parenthood was not on the agenda.
But I wasn't done yet. Even she could see I was still ramrod stiff. "Eat me clean, I want to go in again," I commanded her. She sat up obediently to take it into her mouth, and proceeded to lap up every drop. Using her lips skillfully to roll the foreskin back, her tongue rimmed the undersides to clean the exposed glans more thoroughly. Her fellating actions stirred my organ even more, and there was danger I'd cum into her right there and then. I fell her on the bed once more, and burrowed into her hot cunt again. We kissed madly this time, as we copulated frenziedly like two primal creatures lost in wanton lust. My bludgeoning penis was locked in her pocket of sin, and the copious sweat we were bathing in glued our parts together. I had to break her clutch, so that I could withdraw strategically and shoot the cum at her bosom this time. The chalky cream splashed the underside of her breast, a thick lava flowing down the slope of the curve. Her hand traced the sticky fluid, and then spread the thinning liquid all over her bosom, her moisturising lotion of eros.
I was knotting my tie, when I walked over to the bathroom where she was washing up. She had left the door open. Standing naked under the massage shower head, she let the pounding waters cascade down the deep valley of her cleavage, and flood the other V of her sex. It was a picture straight out of a porn movie. She turned to flaunt me her complete nude ensemble, jutting breasts, erect nipples, taut belly, the pubic hair dripping with fluids, a mixture from the water stream and her love juices. Her hand was gliding the lucky bar of soap wickedly between her legs. She smiled a secret smile, a smile of contentment, and maybe a smile of surreptitious invitation. I was tempted to join her in the shower, and replace the soap with something more satisfying for her.
posted by sandy @ 7:57 PM
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