When we met the next night, my eyes started at her feet and travelled up her body, taking in every curve, every detail. The blue jeans. The grey babydoll top. The coat. Her glasses. Her flowing, straight brown and blonde hair. Her blue eyes. The choker. A narrow, jeweled band sitting tightly around her neck, the gems winking at me with suggestion. Her sexuality symbolized in a way which not everyone would understand. At that moment, I knew it would be all she was wearing when the evening would wrap around into morning and limbs would untangle. At some point very shortly after that thought, I said it aloud.
Boots unzipped, jeans slid down. Her pale, smooth legs running from delicate feet up to soft thighs; her most intimate of places still hidden seductively from me. I was not in a rush; I wanted to kiss and lick that sensitive skin; tickle it with my goatee. As I nibbled closely along her upper inner thighs, the scent of her arousal told me that I would like the way she tastes. Panties gone. I did like the way she tasted, which is unusual.
One climax later, the relaxed smile on her face and slightly lost look in her eyes is a reward for a hopefully skillful tongue. “You certainly know your way around a woman’s body,” she whimpered at me. Had I stripped and shoved my cock into her pussy right at that moment, I would have encountered no resistance; we both knew it. But I chose to take pleasure in some psychological torture by telling her that I am not going to fuck her tonight. I didn’t.
I slid between her tits as she pushed them together from either side… two fingers on the base of my cock, pushing it down through the valley she has created. Her tongue circled and flicked at the head on each stroke. The sweat started to bead on my back and chest, and the wonderful, intense pressure began to build in my groin. I was less in control then, my focus on bringing that orgasm up from deep in my balls. When it arrived, along with the deep-rooted feeling of ultimate masculinity, there was cum everywhere. Her hair, face, and tits were covered in streams of white juice sprayed by me. She squealed like a little girl with glee, a broad smile on her face – and that was the final signal to me of her submission.
She licked some of it off her fingers which traced wet paths around on the skin of her tits, telling me I taste good. She didn’t know I’ve always been self-conscious about that. Watching her lick her fingers some more, dehumanized images of her licking my spilled cum off the floor or drinking it from a shot glass flashed through my mind.
More kissing, caressing, exploring. A mild spanking, enough to make her sweet ass pink and hot to the touch. I knew I was in trouble – wondering if perhaps I have met my match. My head swam as we lay together on the couch again. I wanted to see her climax again, but this time at the mercy of her own fingers. She complied without question, her body damp with sweat and curled up into a ball as the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. It was time to sleep, and I have still not yet fucked her, although I know she was lusting for it as much as I.