A change in weather
"I regret doing it with you," she protested softly. We were alone in the same house where she first humped me like a wild animal. What was on her mind?
I had picked her up at the block of flats, a week after she flew in, so she could complete her rounds of meeting old friends and running the odd errants. Didn't want to appear too enthusiastic to hook up up with her again. We hadn't corresponded during the two year break, except for the odd greeting/birthday card. She still remembered my birthday.
The lunch outing didn't start off well. After the ignition was switched off, we kissed in the car. While our eyes were closed in the embrace, one hand cupped her right breast and gave it a welcome squeeze. But when I reached under her bra to feel the familiar nipple, she demured. Instead of being pliant and soft under my groping palm, she hardened and stiffened. Persisting, I clutched at the breast, trying to free it from her blouse, to see it naked, and to taste the warm flesh. She blocked me with her arms, folding it akimbo to embargo her teats. The struggle would attract attention of others in the car park, so I decided to call it quits.
We ate lunch without a word about her change of attitude. If she was upset, she didn't show it. She simply put it behind. She asked about my travels, and my state of health. We were both slim, and a good looking couple. Eyes from nearby tables glancing our way were either in admiration or envy.
"Where are we going," she asked, "I don't want to go to your house."
But we arrived there.
As soon as we closed the living room door, we kissed, standing up. She was more accommodating this time, and her tongue thrusted into my mouth at her own volition. I took in the invading flesh, she seemed to get a kick out of having it sucked vigorously. If she was born male, she'd probably be sticking her tool into every available orifice. Between soft moans, she started to protest again as I pushed her back against the wall. Both my hands were now rummaging her breasts, tenderly massaging the firm globes, and wantonly manhandling the nipples protruding through the fabric. They were growing in size under my caressing hands, her body's confirmation of her simmering desire. I tried to unbuckle her belt, but they were fastened too tightly. Her thick denim jeans also similarly bonded to her hips, resisting my effort to unbutton her fly. The denim stretched tautly across her crotch, so it was impossible to feel her vulva through the clothing. Squatting down, I muff dived to bite where her labial lips should have been, but all I got was a mouthful of fabric. I pressed my face hard against her mons veneris, pushing from behind with the hands which were gripping the cheeks of her buttocks. She would not let me remove her jeans. In frustration, I pulled up her blouse, so at least she would be naked for me waist up. The bra was a half cup. I shoved them rudely aside for my voracious mouth, and devoured one breast, then the other. Feasting on the delictable flesh that was denied by time and by distance. The gourmet nipples were fiercely attacked, alternately sucked in with lips and chewed about by teeth. The lovebites were scattered around the periphery of the aeroles, red reminders of the violence visited upon her breasts. She was completely nude from the waist up now, and I held both her hands up against the wall, a sexy crucifix that was still fighting submission. Sunlight seeped through the drawn curtains to splash across her torso, outlining the sensuous curves. She looked down the slopes of her own heaving bosom, the erect nipples betraying the lie that she did not want me inside her.
"Let me give you a handjob instead," she volunteered.
Tired of the charade, I seated myself on one of the dining chairs, and let her hands free me of my pants. Mechanically, with practised fingers, she slipped out my penile shaft, veins now engorged with blood from the unfulfilled excitement. Normally, the flaccid penis was of humble proportion, almost puny compared to the large scrotum on both sides. But erect, as it sprung from the fly opening in the underwear, it stood a good length in her fist. Her lips took in the glans, while the fingers worked a staccato pattern on the rod of hot flesh. She deep throated it, then let it out thoroughly moisturised, a glistening popsicle to tongue around the sides, and under the sensitive shaft. If she wasn't a willing sex partner, her concentration on the phallic organ must be motivated by industrious research. She used one hand to squeeze the base of the penis, fondling the testes, while the other to stroke the entire length, sliding foreskin with the reciprocating action. My shaft had been standing at attention for nearly an hour by then, and I could sense the inevitable coming soon. Reading my reaction, she increased the pace, pumped faster and harder. The hot cum shot out, and overflowed from the meatus of the glans to her gripping hand. The cloudy fluid looked like melted ice-cream on her fingers. I would have wanted her to lick me clean, like she did the very first time, but she used the Kleenex for the task.
She mellowed after the effort. Still gloriously nude except for the damn jeans. A sexy pose with long flowing tresses and twin set of naked breasts, sunlight silhouting the shapes from behind. Tenderly I licked her teats, and she held me close to her chest, my face buried in her cleavage. Will she strip now for the entree? I never found out.
I had picked her up at the block of flats, a week after she flew in, so she could complete her rounds of meeting old friends and running the odd errants. Didn't want to appear too enthusiastic to hook up up with her again. We hadn't corresponded during the two year break, except for the odd greeting/birthday card. She still remembered my birthday.
The lunch outing didn't start off well. After the ignition was switched off, we kissed in the car. While our eyes were closed in the embrace, one hand cupped her right breast and gave it a welcome squeeze. But when I reached under her bra to feel the familiar nipple, she demured. Instead of being pliant and soft under my groping palm, she hardened and stiffened. Persisting, I clutched at the breast, trying to free it from her blouse, to see it naked, and to taste the warm flesh. She blocked me with her arms, folding it akimbo to embargo her teats. The struggle would attract attention of others in the car park, so I decided to call it quits.
We ate lunch without a word about her change of attitude. If she was upset, she didn't show it. She simply put it behind. She asked about my travels, and my state of health. We were both slim, and a good looking couple. Eyes from nearby tables glancing our way were either in admiration or envy.
"Where are we going," she asked, "I don't want to go to your house."
But we arrived there.
As soon as we closed the living room door, we kissed, standing up. She was more accommodating this time, and her tongue thrusted into my mouth at her own volition. I took in the invading flesh, she seemed to get a kick out of having it sucked vigorously. If she was born male, she'd probably be sticking her tool into every available orifice. Between soft moans, she started to protest again as I pushed her back against the wall. Both my hands were now rummaging her breasts, tenderly massaging the firm globes, and wantonly manhandling the nipples protruding through the fabric. They were growing in size under my caressing hands, her body's confirmation of her simmering desire. I tried to unbuckle her belt, but they were fastened too tightly. Her thick denim jeans also similarly bonded to her hips, resisting my effort to unbutton her fly. The denim stretched tautly across her crotch, so it was impossible to feel her vulva through the clothing. Squatting down, I muff dived to bite where her labial lips should have been, but all I got was a mouthful of fabric. I pressed my face hard against her mons veneris, pushing from behind with the hands which were gripping the cheeks of her buttocks. She would not let me remove her jeans. In frustration, I pulled up her blouse, so at least she would be naked for me waist up. The bra was a half cup. I shoved them rudely aside for my voracious mouth, and devoured one breast, then the other. Feasting on the delictable flesh that was denied by time and by distance. The gourmet nipples were fiercely attacked, alternately sucked in with lips and chewed about by teeth. The lovebites were scattered around the periphery of the aeroles, red reminders of the violence visited upon her breasts. She was completely nude from the waist up now, and I held both her hands up against the wall, a sexy crucifix that was still fighting submission. Sunlight seeped through the drawn curtains to splash across her torso, outlining the sensuous curves. She looked down the slopes of her own heaving bosom, the erect nipples betraying the lie that she did not want me inside her.
"Let me give you a handjob instead," she volunteered.
Tired of the charade, I seated myself on one of the dining chairs, and let her hands free me of my pants. Mechanically, with practised fingers, she slipped out my penile shaft, veins now engorged with blood from the unfulfilled excitement. Normally, the flaccid penis was of humble proportion, almost puny compared to the large scrotum on both sides. But erect, as it sprung from the fly opening in the underwear, it stood a good length in her fist. Her lips took in the glans, while the fingers worked a staccato pattern on the rod of hot flesh. She deep throated it, then let it out thoroughly moisturised, a glistening popsicle to tongue around the sides, and under the sensitive shaft. If she wasn't a willing sex partner, her concentration on the phallic organ must be motivated by industrious research. She used one hand to squeeze the base of the penis, fondling the testes, while the other to stroke the entire length, sliding foreskin with the reciprocating action. My shaft had been standing at attention for nearly an hour by then, and I could sense the inevitable coming soon. Reading my reaction, she increased the pace, pumped faster and harder. The hot cum shot out, and overflowed from the meatus of the glans to her gripping hand. The cloudy fluid looked like melted ice-cream on her fingers. I would have wanted her to lick me clean, like she did the very first time, but she used the Kleenex for the task.
She mellowed after the effort. Still gloriously nude except for the damn jeans. A sexy pose with long flowing tresses and twin set of naked breasts, sunlight silhouting the shapes from behind. Tenderly I licked her teats, and she held me close to her chest, my face buried in her cleavage. Will she strip now for the entree? I never found out.
posted by sandy @ 7:56 PM
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