-Part 4-
The first time I ever actually ejaculated was under not-ideal circumstances, but they were somewhat beyond my control. I had gotten suddenly hard repeatedly over the years, unsure of what that meant but finding it amusing. I was never exposed to the core information on self-manipulation, ergo I had no clue what a wank was.
But one occasion, a few years before this story begins, my father’s then-girlfriend was staying over for the night. She was a pleasant lady named Stacy and we got on well enough over supper and TV. However, late in the evening while I was reading in bed, the two of them took to his room. Only a single wall separated us. Now I had spent my childhood in a bedroom underneath the spacious attic my parents slept in, so I was separated by too many levels and layers to catch any sounds of nocturnal activities. However, on this evening, my now-divorced father whom I was living alone with was clearly getting some pent-up frustration off his hairy chest.
The two of them went at it hard, and pretty soon I heard the unmistakable sound of Stacy moaning and gasping, starting quietly, but growing in intensity in a way that began to distract me from my book and then swiftly arouse me. Fairly soon I felt something new… an urgency to *do something* about my erection.
I quietly left my bed, checked in my lower drawer and retrieved a Durex condom I had been keeping in there, just on the off-chance I should ever wind up on the way to something racy with a teenage girl. I lay naked on my bedclothes, fiddled with the packet and opened it up, finally getting to handle one. It was thinner than I had expected, and smelled of rubber and lubricant, a rather singular odour I had not encountered before. As the sound of the bedstead thumped against the wall and Stacy began to whimper in pleasure, I experimentally began to roll this condom down over the end of my cock and down, savouring the feeling of tightness and friction until it felt like I was being insistently clasped.
I imagined Stacy’s body, devoid of clothing, her breasts bare and wobbling, her hard, suckable nipples, her legs spread, and her head thrown back, her body moving with me. That was it, just a few more strokes as I heard her orgasm, an intense feeling that had been building in my frame, akin to the preliminaries of an itchy sneeze begging to be released from every fibre of my being suddenly peaked and was thrust out through me. I gasped along with this magical lady as cum flooded into the condom, before my astonished eyes, filling the reservoir with pearlescent fluid from inside me. I remember laughing, biting my fingers with surprise and delight. This was something I now wanted to do all the time.
And I did. For several years of being a frustrated young man with so much energy to spend and nobody to spend it with.
That had now changed.
I am nose-deep in Green-eyes, my tongue making love to her impeccable nethers. Her clitoris is like a little, round, soft fingertip, and she responds amazingly well as I apply pressure and movement, teasing out that sensitive nerve-cluster from under her hood. Her outer lips are beyond luscious and her labia minora has a sweet lime undertone that spurs my passion as much as her hands caressing and gripping my face. This is an experience adjacent to kissing on the mouth, but with a different kind of powerful intimacy.
I am well aware of how ashamed women are encouraged to feel about these parts of themselves. How they are told they are unclean, and that this thing is nothing but trouble, and at the same time, it (and everything attached to it) somehow *belongs to men*. Purchased in the distant past and theirs to decide upon what goes in and what comes out.
This is the most grotesque of long-cons. Women possess these astonishing bodies, whether average, wobbly, wrinkled, firm, capacious, petite, squat, lofty, lean, muscular, every possible skin tone, every birth-designation righteously defied. It is a privilege and an honour for us to go down on them. And over the years of dreaming and imagining this activity, I have always thought of what might run through a lady’s mind when someone like me is so diligently worshiping at the temple between her legs. I would wish for this to be passionately welcomed, and enjoyed with wild enthusiasm, all thoughts of shame expelled as waves of pleasure ripple through her mind, body and soul.
Green-eyes cries out and her hips buck against my jaw. I have been trying to determine how to breathe while maintaining the movements that she desires and expressly asks me to keep going with. I slow myself down and breathe through my nose as I start to tease her. This, as it turns out is well-timed, as after climaxing, she becomes rather sensitive and holds me off for a moment. Just a few seconds as she catches her breath and gets herself comfortable again. We have moved to the living room area now, and she is lying on the wide, leather sofa, beads of perspiration upon her brow as she looks down at me, kneeling between her legs with an expression of surprise.
“Oh…” she is trying to catch her breath. “I think you’ve been fibbing. There is absolutely no way this is your first time tending to a lady.” A little burst of pride fires off and I betray it with a grin.
“Like I said, I’ve studied,” I say, and her eyebrows arch as her hands reach out and she guides me back in between those legs. The next words come out of her as a harsh, roll-on whisper.
“Oh yes, just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop.” I bring her to the edge again as a long, hoarse moan relinquishes and evolves, leaving her actively laughing, which of course reminds me of the first time I came. Her hands are covering her face, partway between relief and what might be the first signs of embarrassment… she lost control. This is very interesting. She breaks off from the little moment she was having on her own, composes herself and becomes catlike, sitting up and looking me straight in the eye again.
“Let’s do something for you,” she purrs, her fingers on my chest, pushing me gently back towards the carpet as she parts the dressing gown she lent me, exposing my waist and legs. Her hands descend as she pushes the cloth aside and I feel her fingers touch and close around my straining cock. She breaks her gaze with me and looks down, turning her head slightly to examine what she is holding.
Here is where anxiety sets in for me. You see, I was born with one single testicle, the other undescended, leaving me always a little nervous about comparing my wedding tackle with that of other men. Would it look smaller and less appealing? Thinner? Of course, flaccid they never look particularly impressive. There are only so many things you can do to dress up something that looks like it should be hanging out of the side of a shark’s mouth (thank you Dylan Moran for that one). But mine is probably -and at this moment in time my internal needle is creeping towards *definitely*- lacking. I have never been in a scenario where a lady could pass judgment and now, I am under the microscope… or magnifying glass, either way it isn’t flattering.
The look on her face goes from curiosity to adoration as she descends and takes me in her mouth. I feel her sensual lips delicately kiss the head and pass around it and she slowly swallows my length. The sensation of her sliding down the sides and her tongue fluttering against the underneath is blissful and shiver-inducing, but as she draws back upwards, taking her time, guarding me from her teeth, that sensation gets even more intense.
“Oh god,” I warn her. “You are so monumentally fucking sexy.” I make sure I slow this statement down and keep my voice partway between smooth and rough. I cannot let her feel like I am not enjoying this, when it is quite the opposite scenario. “But if you carry on like that only a bit longer… I am definitely going to cum!” At this she disengages her mouth and looks me in the eye with a playful smile.
“Oh my darling,” she croons. “You are young, virile and have exuberance to spare. And I have use of you for this entire night. So, I am absolutely *counting* on you cumming right now, this very moment, just as a… *taster*.” And something about the way she says this last part, flashing me a wicked grin and extending the tip of her tongue to lick all the way from my perinium, over my tightly straining sack, all the way to the base of my glans, which she flicks with relish.
I see stars!
I shudder and groan with pleasure, and a single spurt of creamy white cum leaps across her cheek and drops onto her right areola, the droplet half-coating her erect nipple and hanging there. In triumph she opens her mouth and receives the second arc with a sigh of pleasure as I shout an unintelligible word as she closes around me. I feel jet after jet haul out of me, into her mouth. She closes her eyes and gently bobs her head up and down, massaging and lubricating me as I continue to twitch and shake. My fingers clutch at her bare shoulders and I stroke her back, running my hand through her hair as she opens her eyes once more, pulls her lips free, and visibly swallows with a glow of intense satisfaction.
“You’ve been eating pineapple,” she murmurs. “You’re sweet, through and through.”
I wilt and flop on the carpet, the towelling robe acting as a welcome rug to pass out on. I start laughing again, thinking about how wild this day has been so far, and my own edginess about getting even a speck of effluvia on her nice, cream carpet. She plonks herself down beside, stroking my chest, asks me what’s funny and I tell her honestly, which makes her chuckle too. I love this sound so very much already.
She is so beautiful, laying there, those cares she seemed to be carrying absent for the time being? Yet that total confidence she always exhibited potentially challenged. We are naked now, beside one another. Frankly anything could happen next.
“I hope you don’t mind about the er…” I begin, unsure of how to put it. I glance down at myself. “One plum?” Is that poetic or childish? There had to be a better way I could have-
“Actually, it makes your cock look longer and bigger,” she smiles magnanimously. I feel her little finger playfully stroke me from the outermost point of my left hip, down to the base of this mono-bawbag. The sensation is so pleasant, ribald and reassuring that I find my member quivering into vertical action once more.
“Oh… well,” she exclaims. “That didn’t take you long at all.” She rolls onto her side, so I am surveying the length of her body, props her head up on her arm and gazes at me with a quizzical expression and an agile, punctuating leap of her eyebrows. “What do you think we should do next?”
End of Part 4 |
