This is one of my older stories, found in a dustbin and only marginally dusted off, but I figured that it was appropriate for the day. Happy Valentine’s Day!
She worked my cock with her mouth, warm and wet. Her tongue swirled miracles along the underside of my shaft. Soft fingers traced circles between my legs. Her soft hair brushed my thighs. I was close. I could feel my release boiling.
Opening my eyes, I looked down at the beauty between my legs. Her sun-kissed brown hair, shining in the morning light streaming through the windows, was tucked over one ear, the rest spilling languidly across the other—across her naked shoulder to the small brown nipple of her left breast. Her soft brown eyes danced as they met my own. My body shuddered.
So beautiful. High cheekbones. Long lashes. Full lips. Lips that knew exactly what to do.
And once again, my heart skipped as I watched Mrs. Price between my legs. It was fucking Jerry’s mom! As though she were reading my mind, the brunette pulled off my cock to smile, the corners of her mouth turning up, her eyes brightening even further. She continued to stroke my saliva-glistening shaft with one hand before winking and dipping her head back down, swallowing me up. As I felt the head of my erection enter her throat, my breath caught.
She sensed my coming orgasm and pumped me faster. So good. So close. “I’m going to—”
“I’m going to—”
I was jarred from my sleep, disoriented. I clawed for the alarm clock. What time is it? And why wasn’t that sound going away, no matter how many times I pounded the snooze button?
Not my alarm clock. My phone. Ringing. Scrambling, I got to the phone just as it stopped ringing.
One call missed. “Via 19.”
Shit, the restaurant had called. And then it dawned on me. The time. 7:05. My shift was starting! Had started five minutes ago!
I was out of bed as though someone had thrown a bag of live vipers into it, a two minute shower, a three minute dress job, and to the Metro. Unfortunately, the DC Metro wasn’t the most punctual transit system at the best of times, and my ride into the city today was particularly delayed. Fate’s way of saying, “Fuck you.”
I’d only been at this job for about a month and a half, starting it just after the New Year as a way to supplement my income before my upcoming graduation in June. College wasn’t cheap, and while my parents had agreed to pay for some of the tuition, it was up to me to make up the difference. But high school and working nights didn’t always work well together, and I found that I used most of my free time sleeping or doing homework.
Of course, sleeping wasn’t always that bad. Especially when I had dreams like this morning. I had fantasized about Mrs. Price since I was old enough to fantasize, and the one I had just been having was nothing new—although maybe a bit more intense than usual. Jerry and I had been friends and neighbors since we childhood and his mom was nearly a second mother to me. Nearly.
Jerry went off to college last year and since then, I had only seen Mrs. Price a handful of times.
A train pulled up and suddenly, thoughts of the pretty brunette mother fled my mind, replaced once again by the anxiety of getting fired.
Via 19 is an upscale French place nestled just off 19th and N in a quiet little neighborhood, just south of Dupont Circle. Its patronage is on the higher end, its atmosphere is soft and quiet, and its management is… uncompromising. I found that out as I was told to turn in my work uniform before I even had a chance to explain.
“You can use the back exit on your way out,” Mr. Blanc said in his snobby French accent.
Sighing, I tried one last time to explain. After all, this was the first time I’d ever been late. Surely he could—
“No!” he said, nose up, head shaking.
“Fine,” I said as calmly as I could. “If you’re not even going to listen to what I have to say, then I have no desire to work here.” And with that, I unbuckled my black trousers, pulled them off, unbuttoned my black shirt, handed them to an open mouthed Frenchman, and marched towards the bus doors leading into the restaurant.
Mr. Blanc got hysterical when I realized my intentions. I was going to parade through his restaurant in just my boxers and a t-shirt. I was already grinning.
“Wait! Go out the back!”
I ignored him, pushing through the doors and passing Cheryl, a pretty server who I’d had a small crush on since joining. Her mouth dropped open.
It was only when I had actually entered the restaurant proper, doors swinging shut behind me, kitchen noises growing muffled, that I realized how embarrassing this situation could be. Not just for Mr. Blanc—which was the goal—but for myself. I had failed to take into account two things: one, that taking off my shirt and pants and walking through a room full of strangers was going to involve a bunch of strangers and me; and two, of all the days that I’d decided to make this scene, I had to do it on February 14. Valentine’s Day. Via 19 was normally crowded on a Saturday night, but tonight it was brimming. The vestibule was packed with people waiting to be seated. The bar (located between myself and the door, naturally) was hopping. And every table was filled.
The hush traveled like a wave through the crowd as they looked up. At me. Boy, was my face red. At least no one here would recognize me, I told myself, taking comfort in that anonymity.
Of course, the moment I thought this, I spotted, in the corner, Mrs. Price. Of all people, my gorgeous neighbor. My heart sank as our eyes met. Even from across a dimly lit room, she was beautiful. The delicate, European bone structure of her face glowed in the candlelight, her lips glossy and her long hair shining and smooth. She put a hand to her mouth, to cover the smile that formed at the corners of her lips. My face burned even more. I walked to the door quicker, eyes on the ground, ears on fire.
“I’m sorry for the disturbance. Everything’s fine.” Mr. Blanc’s voice behind me suggested everything but. “This crazy man no longer works here.”
I hoped that Mr. Blanc drew everyone’s attention away from me, but I dared not look up to check.
When I nearly got to the door, I felt a soft hand on my shoulder. With my head down, all I could see was the lady’s legs: long, slender, and bare. A short white skirt hung around the middle of her thighs. I knew who this was the second I saw those legs. I hadn’t been fantasizing about them for years for nothing.
Mrs. Price was even more breathtaking this close. Her white dress was simple and elegant, hugging her slim body just tightly enough to let you know that she had a good one. The purity of the whiteness contrasted with the light tan of her skin, her bare arms, the smooth lines of her long neck and collarbone. At last, my eyes alighted on her own, large and brown, beautiful. Even in her late 30s, she had managed to fight off the presence of wrinkles, and the way she wore make-up was to emphasize her high cheekbones, her graceful nose, and her soft lips—very different from the girls my own age, who didn’t understand the proper way to apply mascara, thinking that more was always better.
“Hey, Danny, rough day?” A hint of a smile glinted in her eyes.
My face colored. I couldn’t seem to form a word.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. It’s too cold for you to go walking outside like that…” She made a quick gesture to my bare legs, but kept her face solemn.
The valet brought her Mercedes up to the curb, giving me a smirk as I got into the plush interior of my neighbor’s car.
I couldn’t help watching Mrs. Price’s long legs as she slipped into the driver’s side, noticing the tall white pumps she’d worn, and the way her dress slid up just a bit on the leather seats. She tossed her jacket to me.
“Here, cover up before you freeze to death.”
In the cold, her nipples were hard and high on the ends of her small, perky breasts. I looked away before she caught me staring.
“I’m sorry to cut your night short, Mrs. Price. Did you even order?”
“No, but that’s okay. I was thinking that I was just about finished with that place anyway…”
Then something occurred to me. “Your date!”
She laughed to herself.
“I think he’ll understand,” she said quietly.
Mr. Price had died just over five years earlier, driving just a little too fast on an icy road. No one else was injured. I hadn’t known Mrs. Price was dating again, and in a strange and irrational way, it made me jealous.
“Um… if you don’t mind, could you not drop me off at home just yet? I don’t really want to deal with my parents right now.”
She looked at me from behind the wheel, appraising me, then nodded.
“Sure, but I’m not dropping you off at the Metro like that. You have a girlfriend I can bring you by?”
I shook my head.
“I’m saving myself for you.”
I groaned inwardly. Did I really just say that?
Her neatly trimmed eyebrows shot up.
“Is that so, young man? Then you probably should stop calling me Mrs. Price. You should also know that I only date men who wear pants.” Then, staring at me, she added, “Most of the time.”
Had she really made that joke with me? It made me feel very adult.
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t do much about that.”
“Why don’t we go swing by my place and you can wear a pair of Jerry’s jeans. He’s about your size, right? And then we can go and grab something to eat. How does that sound?”
“Sound great, um, Morgan.” Her name didn’t sound right coming out of my mouth, even though it was the name my mom used all the time.
I thought that Mrs. Price was going to change out of her formal dress, so I chose a pair of Jerry’s jeans that he’d left behind when he went to college. Splashing water in my face, I regretted not having shaved. Having dark, shaggy hair was nice, but because my hair was so dark, I had to shave it daily or else develop a wicked five o’clock shadow.
When I came down, the mother-of-one was standing there, her long, sleek black coat over that same white dress. Her hair, I noticed for the first time, looked professionally styled. She had a Southern belle thing going on with her normally straight brown hair falling in ringlets where it wasn’t pinned up and off her neck.
We went to a local pizza place for dinner, making an odd couple: her in her short silk dress, me in my jeans and t-shirt, sitting on either side of a red and white checkered table. Despite the potential for awkwardness, though, things were relaxed.
“So, how are things with you, Danny?”
We talked about my life, about school, about the schools I wanted to go to. And the whole time, I was staring into those large, beautiful eyes and thinking how sad she looked.
“Is everything alright, Mrs. Price—er, Morgan.” The name still stumbled off my tongue.
She smiled at my slip, and nodded. God, I could get used to those smiles. Like nothing mattered but me.
She exhaled, as though releasing something pent up over many, many years.
“You know, I have this tradition. Just over five years, Jim was killed.” She grimaced. “I was… a mess back then. I real… mess. I refused to acknowledge that he was gone. And then, the call came from Via 19 for our Valentine’s Day dinner reservation. That was when the reality finally sank in. He was gone, and we’d never have dinner out together. We’d never cuddle in the mornings. We’d never argue, and make up.”
Her eyes were glazed, far-away.
“I forced myself to go to that dinner. I ate by myself. It was my way of dealing with it. And you know what?” She was looking at me again. “It worked. Kind of, anyway. I slowly accepted that he wasn’t coming back. I’ve gone back every year for Valentine’s Day. And every year, it gets easier.”
Silence descended and the pizza came. I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry to disturb your… tradition with my scene.”
And one more time, that smile emerged, warm and full, touching her eyes and enveloping me. She shook her head.
“No, Danny, don’t worry about it.” She reached across the table and covered my own hand. Her palms were soft, her fingers delicate and warm. “It was exactly what I needed. I need to move on with my life. It’s been over five years, you know? And I’m only 37. I’m not ready to stop enjoying life just yet.”
She sat back, took her glass of red wine, and toasted.
“To renewal.” Then, “To Valentine’s Day.”
I held up my Coke. She laughed, then sipped her wine.
“I must look old and pathetic to you. How old are you? 18?”
I nodded my head. “Yeah, 18, but I don’t think you seem old and pathetic. You’re… gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” She averted her eyes.
I stared at her, shaking my head as though she still didn’t believe it.
“I’m serious… Morgan! I wish that I could get someone as beautiful as you to even look twice at me.”
“Don’t think you’ll have any trouble there,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Excuse me?” My ears must be playing tricks on me. Did she just say that?
“Danny.” Her eyes were back on me. “I don’t know if you know this, but you’re a hunk. I can’t believe you don’t have a girlfriend. I can’t believe you don’t have girls crawling all over you.”
Now it was my turn to blush and look away. For this stunning woman to be telling me that I was a hunk was absurd. So, possessed by this absurdity, I blurted, “So, um, will you be my Valentine?”
Her smile spread wider. Her teeth were perfect, pearly white and perfectly straight.
“I would be honored.” She laughed delicately. “What are my duties, as your Valentine?”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Well, first of all, you’ll have to split a chocolate brownie sundae with me.”
“So, you’re trying to get me fat?!”
I glanced down at her. She probably didn’t have an ounce of body fat on her. “You could use a little bit more meat on you.”
“AH!” she said in pseudo-anger. “Anything else?”
“Let’s see… how about a massage?” Where did that come from?
“Done. Anything else?” Whoa… how far could I push this joke?
“Your bedroom or mine?”
Some of that bravado that had overwhelmed me at the restaurant had returned. But I smiled, making sure she knew I was joking.
“I think that mine would be more convenient. No chance of your parents bursting in and interrupting us.”
She, too, was smiling, but there was something more to her tone than playful flirting.
“You know, I haven’t slept with someone since Jim?” She froze, flicking her eyes up at me. “God, I can’t believe I just said that! No more wine for me.”
I felt embarrassed for her, but also privileged that she felt comfortable enough to tell me that. “So that’s five years, you say? Wow, I should stop complaining about my six months.”
She covered her mouth as she burst out laughing. It was wonderful to hear her so happy. “Maybe we really should go back to my place. HA!”
The dessert arrived, one plate, two spoons. I even got to spoon feed her, watching her soft lips close over my spoon, sucking the ice cream off slowly. I shivered. “Let’s get out of here.”
The drive home was filled with the same comfortable, flirtatious banter that the dinner was. Thoughts of the evening, of her lonely Valentine’s Day dinner and my disastrously embarrassing display, were distant history. She pulled into her driveway. The evening was over, yet I didn’t want it to be. I felt so full of energy. I felt like I could run for hours and hours, shouting at the sleeping homes on either side of our quiet suburban neighborhood how wonderful the world was.
“Thanks for a great evening,” I said, starting to head off towards my own sleeping home, when she grabbed my hand. I had more to shiver about than just the cold.
“I owe you a massage,” she said, pulling me playfully towards her house. “Come on in.”
As she unlocked the door, I felt a rush that normally accompanies doing something bad: the first drag off my first joint, stealing cigarettes from the 7-11, breaking into the school after dark with my ex-girlfriend to fuck on our English teacher’s desk. The thought of that encounter, of sex in general, brought heat to the back of my neck and the tops of my ears, and I felt my cock stir in my pants.
Inside, she kept most of the lights off, switching on a small lamp beside her couch.
“So… take a seat over there.”
I went to the couch where she’d pointed and looked back over my shoulder. She stood there, tall and slender in the shadows. She stepped out of her heels, then released her hair. The curled waves of light brown fell around her shoulders before she pushed them over her ears. Maybe it was the elegance of her dress, maybe it was the way she held herself, the sureness of her movements, but even in the low light, there was no mistaking that Morgan Price was a woman, not any of the girls I had ever been in this situation with.
Padding quietly across the room, she sat softly behind me.
“How’s this feel?” she asked as her long and firm fingers when to work on my shoulders and neck.
I responded with a sigh. It felt great, actually.
“You’re very tense, young man,” she laughed. “Is there something that’s making you nervous?”
Possibly the semi-hard erection I was sporting in my pants, and my fear that she’d see it. I decided not to respond.
“This night has been so wonderful, Danny. I haven’t been this happy in… years.” Her fingers began to work themselves out along my broad shoulders.
She whispering in my ear, startlingly close. I could feel her hot breath; I could smell her light perfume.
“I feel very comfortable with you.”
When her lips brushed across my neck, I sighed. A weight was withdrawn from my whole body and at last, I relaxed. Her butterfly kisses walked down my neck, at the opening of my t-shirt. Then her hot lips were gone. I looked over my shoulder at her, right into her eyes. She was smiling, her eyes warm with resignation.
“I shouldn’t do this, but it feels so right…” she whispered, her lips inches from my own.
Our lips melded into one, our slick tongues quickly finding one another, dancing playfully within her wet mouth. I reached behind me, circling the back of her head so I could draw her closer. I felt her soft breasts against my back, and her hands soon worked their way up under my shirt, across my flat abs, and over the hardness of my chest. I felt her sigh into my mouth as her hands explored the contours of my muscles. I grew rigid with that exploration.
But I needed more. My hormones were taking charge and I needed to touch this incredible creature behind me. I twisted into her, pushing her back against the plush couch cushions. My lips and tongue never left hers. I ran a hand down her body, feeling her warmth beneath the thin material of her dress: her ribs, her soft waist, her athletically slim hips.
Her thighs felt like warm silk. My fingers moved up under the hem of her dress of their own volition. She felt my hand and her kissing intensified, her tongue pushing against mine, seeking the back of my throat. Her own hands began to claw my back under my t-shirt, grasping at the bottom and lifting it up and off. We broke our kiss long enough to pull that shirt over my head. I caught the look in her large brown eyes. They smoldered.
My hand between her legs crept higher. The other cupped her small breast, feeling the thin lace of her bra and the hardness of her nipple through that. She gasped, a groan forming in the base of her throat as my hand moved up and over her ass.
To my surprise, I found she wore a thong, her tight buttocks left bare. Crawling further up onto the couch, I ground my hardon into her other thigh, sliding a knee between her legs, closer and closer to the warmth of her sex.
She groaned, breaking our kiss for a moment as my knee made contact with the damp lace. Even through the jeans, I could feel the fire radiating from her cleft. I pulled her closer, tighter against me. Her hand snaked down and into the jeans, searching out my shaft.
Things were moving faster than I had ever imagined. One minute I was receiving a comforting massage from Mrs. Price; the next, Morgan had her hand down my pants and her tongue down my throat. The brunette fumbled with the button on my jeans, opening my pants for easier access to my cock.
“Oh, baby…” she moaned as she felt it long and hard in her small hand.
Pushing me away from her, onto my back now, she crawled across me, her lithe body slithering snake-like along my exposed chest. The silk of her dress caressed my straining erection.
“I need you in me, Danny. I can’t wait any longer.” As she said this, she reached under her dress and pulled her thong off, tossing the scrap of white material onto the coffee table.
“I’m sorry. I promise you more foreplay later. But right now, I need to feel this thing inside me.”
She had my cock in her hand again and was positioning herself over me, still wearing her dress. This isn’t how I imagined it going in my fantasies, but hell, I wasn’t complaining. Her expert hands guided the head of my member into the moist lips of her vagina and we groaned in unison. The brunette was tight. Incredibly tight. The couple girls I’d been with had been tight as well, but not like this. She wasn’t lying about five years.
She’d push her way down a little, then pull up before pushing down again, slowly coating my erection in her flowing moistness, slowly adjusting to my girth.
She moaned through her clenched teeth, a sweat working up on her brow. Pushing her long brown hair from her face, she slowly ground down on me, pain mixing into pleasure as I penetrated her for the first time.
“Oh, God! Uhhh…”
“Yeah…” I myself groaned. Based on my limited experience with women, I’ve found that I’m usually quiet. But Mrs. Morgan Price’s pussy felt too good to stay quiet over.
When at last I was buried fully, she opened her eyes and smiled down at me.
“God, this feels so good.”
With that, she began to gyrate her hips, massaging herself with my cock. Leaning down against me, we brought our lips together in a passionate embrace as I began to slide in and out of her. My hands were all over her body, tracing down the line of her back, her bare shoulders, her neck, her thighs and ass. I took hold of the hem of her dress and began to pull it up. I needed to see more. I needed her naked.
She helped. Together we pulled her dress free, leaving her naked but for her lacy white bra. Blood pounded in my temples as I glanced upon Morgan’s nudity for the first time. Long and compact from what I could only imagine to be hours spent in the gym, she was awesome.
She removed her bra as I gawked at her, my eyes immediately going to her round breasts, small on her svelte body, but perfectly suited for her willowy frame. Her tan was complete, I noticed with some surprise as my eyes traveled further down her body and across her flat stomach.
Her compact pussy lips stretched themselves around my girth as she slowly undulated her body with skillful grace. This wasn’t the unpracticed, frantic humping of a teenager. Morgan knew what she was doing, she knew exactly what brought her pleasure, and she did it.
When I finally pulled my eyes away from her tight body and looked at her, hovering above me, long, shiny hair framing her face, I saw the amusement that danced in her eyes. The enjoyment. “See something you like?”
I was speechless, opening and closing my mouth like a fish.
“Shh…” she reassured me with an almost motherly affection. “Don’t speak, just enjoy.”
Once again, she lowered her body to me, bring her lips to mine. But this time, she was naked, her firm breasts and hard little nipples meeting my own naked chest. Her flesh was warm and soft, like lotion, and she smelled fresh and feminine.
We fell into a rhythm, the darkness of the living room punctuated with her soft crooning and my quiet grunts. Every once in awhile, she’d moan softly, whisper, “Yesss…” to no one in particular as her pussy worked its magic along my young cock.
It was perhaps the most pleasure I’d ever felt in my 18 years. But as they say, all good things must come to an end. Only this time, this good thing would blossom into more good things. Our quiet, soft love-making yielded into stronger, harder thrusts. Martin panted hard, her words unintelligible. She pulled her mouth from mine so she could pump her hips against mine harder.
Her voice was strained, fevered. “More! Yes! God yes!”
She sat up higher as she worked me and my hands quickly descended on her tits, tweaking her nipples as she writhed harder and harder above me. Hands in her hair, head thrown back, eyes shut tightly, Morgan—Mrs. Price—came violently, loudly, on my cock. It was an image that will be burned in my head for the rest of my life.
I came with her, no amount of self-control able to save me from such a sight. It was only as I felt my cum race up through my cock that I realized that I was erupting directly into her depths, into her unprotected womb. But the worries passed out of my concern as quickly as they came, disappearing in a wash of pleasure unlike any other.
She grunted hard, the sound forming deep in her throat, primal and true.
She was grinding her hips down onto my pubic bone, her swollen labia hard against my pubic hair.
Long after I was spent, all my energy packed up and thrust into her tightness, Morgan came down from her rolling orgasms, collapsing—sweaty and panting—against my limp body.
We lay there in silence, listening to one another’s deep breathing, until the sweat of our workout began to cool on our naked bodies.
“Danny,” she cooed, kissing me lightly on the neck, “that was incredible.”
We kissed tenderly and at last, she pulled herself free of me.
“I’m getting cold,” she said. “Care to join me in the shower? Or better yet, a bath?”
Without waiting for me, she stood up and stretched. “God, you’re beautiful,” I said aloud.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she winked back at me, then began to lazily make her way towards the stairs. I watched her for a moment, marveling at the tightness of her buttocks, and the deep dimples that formed at the base of her spine. I thought of Nicole Kidman. I thought of a wild cat.
Then I followed her.
She started the bath—a large whirlpool easily big enough for the two of us—and sprinkled some bath salt and rose petals in. She lit candles around the bath and I stood there, watching as her nude form danced in the soft light. Blowing out her match, she looked at me, her bangs hanging over her left eye.
I felt my cock begin to stir once again as she slinked her trim body towards me. The trickle of cum down her thigh did nothing to detract from her grace, nor did the wetness of her pussy.
She ran her fingers along my chest, leaning into me and whispering again, “What?”
I took her head in my hands, bringing her lips forcefully to my mouth. I would never grow tired of kissing this woman.
She placed delicate kisses down my neck, over my chest, leading a trail down my body. Slipping to her knees before me, she flashed me a wicked smile. At first, she just stroked me, my cock blossoming to its full length in her hands. She was doing. I could see it in her eyes. Just as I couldn’t take it anymore, she formed an O with her mouth and sucked in my head.
I thought of my dream, just a few hours earlier, but the pleasure that the brunette administered with her mouth was better than any dream. Her technique was perfect, the ideal amount of pressure and tongue play. She jacked my shaft with her fingers as her head bobbed, slurping noisily. With her cheeks sunken in with her suction, she looked even more like a model, even more angelic.
She sped up as I drew close, feeling my balls tighten, feeling my orgasm approaching. Her mouth was so soft, so wet. Tongue corkscrewing along the underside. Fingers tight, lubricated by her own saliva. Slurping, then moaning onto me. Oh my God, her left hand was between her legs, fingering herself on her knees. Too much. Too close. And—
She pulled off me, sitting back on her knees, letting the moment pass. My cock strained, threatening to fire anyway. Somehow I was able to rein myself in, my balls groaning in complaint.
Morgan found her voice and stood.
“I think the water’s ready.”
I slipped into the bath first, the brunette’s warm body settling down against me. Rose petals floated around her hard nipples and my hands caressed her body beneath the water. One hand cupped a small breast as the other found the soft nest between her legs.
“Ahhh…” Morgan cooed, leaning back further into me. “Your hands feel wonderful.”
“You feel wonderful,” I whispered back. My fingers slid along her neatly trimmed mound, penetrating the compact lips of her vagina. My cock strained against the crack of her ass where it rested.
“Oh God, that feels so good…” she moaned, her body writhing slightly under my touch.
She sighed as I slipped a second finger into her, my thumb gently circling her exposed clit.
“Every year, just before Valentine’s Day, I get all dolled up, go to a salon, and get the works done. Massage, hair and make-up.”
With the mention of Mr. Price, my fingers froze, then slithered out of her depths.
“You still miss him?”
I was painfully aware of my nudity, and her nudity against me.
She twisted her body around, splashing water and rose petals out of the tub as she did so, and brought her face inches from mine.
“Danny, oh Danny…” Her hands were soft and soapy on my cheek. “I don’t want to cheapen a single thing that’s happened tonight. You don’t… you can’t know what it’s meant to me.” She shook her head. “I’m a different woman than the one who sat down in Via 19. I can’t explain it. Yes, I still miss him. That will probably never change. But…” Her left hand found my erection beneath the water, squeezed it. “I think that you’ve shown me that I need to move on. Christ, it’s been over five years!”
I just sat there, staring into her deep brown eyes as she slowly pumped my cock with her hands. I could see her sincerity, her acceptance. I could see a wealth of intelligence in those sharp eyes. And I could also see passion, smoldering around the edges.
Our lips clashed together, tongues grinding and swirling in the dark. My fingers found her manicured cunt, easily sliding two fingers in. She bit my lower lip as a groan escaped her throat, and her fingers became surer on my penis, a firm and knowing ring of jerking pleasure.
“Get up, get up on the edge of the tub,” she said.
I did as I was told, my erection waving proudly in the cooler air. She straddled me before it grew too cold, legs on either side of my sitting body, her breasts pressing hard against my chest. I entered her much easier this time, her pussy having grown accustomed to my girth.
She clung to me, hands around my neck, and I clutched her back to me as we began to rock back and forth, slowly fucking one another. She gasped, her feet finding purchase so she could pull away with each rock back, and push back in with each rock forward.
“Oh, Danny… I’m close!”
I was, too. That blowjob tease I’d received put me on edge.
She crushed my head into her chest, burying my face between her firm swells as she came hard, pounding violently down on my cock. That was it for me. I groaned loudly as I spilled myself into her for the second time in a half hour. Oh God, this woman was going to be the death of me.
Our sweat soaked bodies slithered back into the warm water and she pulled free of my softening member. The water washed the remnants of our combined love. As I held her there, something occurred to me.
“Aren’t you worried about pregnancy?”
She turned and kissed me softly on the lips.
“I’m on the pill. Have been for years. It regulates my cycle. But thanks for your concern. That’s so sweet.”
After we got out of the tub and dried each other off, she led me naked into the bedroom. God, I still couldn’t get over that I was actually here, with this incredible woman. I took charge now, gathering her willowy frame in my arms and kissing her hard before guiding her to the bed. She lay back, supporting her head on the pillows as I crawled between her parted thighs. She smiled at me, both of us knowing where I was headed. I had been aching to taste her beautiful pussy from the moment I laid eyes on it.
Her musky, womanly scent mingled with lilac soap and flowery bath oils. Her nether lips were tinged red and slightly open, like a just-blooming flower. Hands on either leg, I took my first, long lap at Mrs. Morgan Price’s pussy. It was even softer than I had imagined a woman’s skin could be: the wet petals of a rose.
“Ohhhh…” I heard her moan as my tongue brushed across the sensual bud of her erect clit, finishing in the trimmed patch of brown curls.
My second run along her silky gash was lazier, a zigzagging path like a luxury car along a windy, mountain road. Shifting from one swollen lip to the other, I drummed across the inner lips as they blossomed further, emerging as her sex opened to me.
My third pass was more deliberate, the flat of my tongue dragging across her moistness, soaking up her sweet musk. My fingers followed, two pushing into her as my tongue found her clit, and my lips closed around it. From what I remembered in my limited experience, I was careful to keep the pressure on her clit light, never constant, my lips and tongue making slurping sounds as I worked her closer and closer to release. Curling my fingers up towards the button of her g-spot, I stroked into her harder, faster, as my tongue whipped back and forth with ever increasing urgency.
She was warm against my fingers. Wet. Tight. Her clit was hard. Her stomach muscles rippled. She bucked her hips up into my mouth. I sucked harder.
She was close. On the edge. Her juice flowing fast against my fingers, into my lips.
“There! Yes, Danny. Therethere!”
She screamed, my mouth flooding with her heat as her tight butt rose up off the covers. Her lean legs wrapped around my head, smothering me. I drowned in her flesh. I was hard again.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” she kept whispering over and over as her body lay there, limp, a sheen of sweat turning her skin to warm satin. I crawled up beside her, wiping my face on the pillow before kissing her. She must have tasted the remains of herself on my tongue, my teeth, but if she did, she only kissed me harder. The kiss breathed life back into her buzzing body.
“Your turn, big boy.” She pushed me onto my back and crawled down between my legs. “And this time, I won’t stop until I swallow every last drop of your cum.”
Those words coming from this woman… these large eyes glittering mischievously back up at me… It was all too much like my dream that morning.
She worked my cock with her mouth, warm and wet. Her tongue swirled miracles along the underside of my shaft. Soft fingers traced circles between my legs. Her soft hair brushed my thighs. I was close. I could feel my release boiling.
Only this time, it was real. Only this time, it wouldn’t end there.