God, she stretched like a cat in the morning. Or a dog, I suppose. Downward dog, they say. Anyway, what she was doing was everything she could to accentuate the dimples above her ass, swelling a supercell in the back of my brain. Hormones, hormones, hormones- The Apollo to my brain’s Olympus. I really wish I was in control sometimes.
She was leaving, picking up her white panties from the ground and giving me a hell of a view in the process. Her tits were just right so that when she was bent, they swung slightly, but maintained a firm point at her constantly-erect nipples (she had some as-yet-unidentified eastern blood, maybe cantonese?). I was horny, but figured it was best to just let her go. My mouth tasted like stale Belmont, and sour breath was one of the few things in this world that can kill my mood. We’d had our fun, anyways.
I’d met with her yesterday and we’d gotten Gelato in a quiet neighbourhood (Caramel Pistachio for both of us, if you must know) and caught up some. I hadn’t seen her in ten months or so. Back then, she’d told me she’d fallen for some man she’d met on the street, and that we couldn’t see each other anymore. I didn’t care, to be honest. All loss is, unavoidably, a loss, but I understand that many (most) of these girls are just using me. It’s unspoken but obvious- At first they like my eyelashes and the way my bones poke between my muscle. Then they enjoy the way I can fuck them, how I hold them down. The ice I project eventually burns their skin, though, and the ones that genuinely like me realize I have nothing for them. They find somebody who needs them, or is at least a warmer lead than my own jagged hands, and fuck off. Then they break it off, because the shallow city we exist in will constantly scream in their face that there is better, and you deserve better. This better remains undefined and eventually brings them back to me. This is, of course, only until the faceless better finds a new mask and promotion, and off they go again. Fads come and go, good fucks store deep in a dark and primitive portion of your brain you only wish you could hinge and articulate. I’m quite comfortable in that cave. I digress.
Anyways, here she was, eating gelato in the winter, contemplating a snow angel. It was cute, even if I thought she was mental. I could tell by her choice of conversation (“He said going down on girls is “weird”) and her glances to see if I’d noticed the unseasonal cleavage she exposed in the gelato shop, that she just needed some satiation. Therapeutic multiple orgasms. I was still going to give her the benefit of the doubt and offer some pursuance (we all enjoy being chased).
We were sitting on the river before the twilight, when the sky turns to a rose carnival starring the crescent moon, when I finally laughed and told her to cut to the chase. I asked her why she’d called me.
I never thought of myself as a great listener. You look beautiful, by the way. Your blouse and eyes are perfect together.
Thank you. I…I think you know. I know you know. I missed you.
I laughed. You missed me? Or you missed my sheets? Did you miss my hand in the middle of your back? Around your neck? Did you miss my tongue? Is that it?
She blushed, and the corners of her mouth lifted. Actually, it was how you aren’t afraid….her smile returned. And your tongue.
I kissed her, and slid my fingertips to her collarbone, then slowly towards her throat, to her jaw. When I held her face still and our tongues danced, I got hard. The sound that slipped from her throat was soft but perfectly expressive. I felt her tension leave and the weight of her head in my hand increase as she was overcome when I flicked the tip of her tongue the same way I would her clit.
The walk home was a blur. I let her lead the way to the front door, reached to unlock and open it, then wrapped my arms around her waist from behind in the doorway. I heard her inhale sharply when I gripped her waist, and slowly let my hands slide to her fly. Unbuttoned, my hand explored her pubic mound, her lips. I stopped my index and middle finger on either side of her hood, and paused. Her breath was almost a stammer, and one of her arms had reached up and around my neck, pulling my face to hers. I whispered-
I know exactly what you need, and how you need it. I also know how torturous it would be if I decided not to. So before I oblige, I’d like to make sure you at least try your hardest to get it for yourself.
She acted like she understood what I meant, and with a very deliberate squeeze of her ass, I walked her inside. I’ll spare you the details of my home, but the particular room we ended in was lined with fossils, antique wood, white sheets. She headed to the bed, I walked across the room to the Navaho-printed occasional I kept in the corner. She laid back against the headboard, looking expectant and slightly confused. She’d unbuttoned her blouse and was now in her black leggings and a (very full) red bra that looked like it clasped in the front, putting her wavy black hair into a ponytail near the top of her head. I could see by her peeking red panties that she had expected this to happen. I guess I’m easy.
Are you going to join me?
Take off your leggings. What did I just tell you at the door?
She rose to all fours, and crawled towards me. God. How am I supposed to suck your cock all the way over there?
She must have been with a simple man. There are a hundred things that get me harder than blowjobs.
You’re funny. Stay on your hands and knees, face the other way. What I said was, I want to see you try your hardest to solve this depravity without me.
I saw her eyes light up slowly as my intention clarified and soaked into her, and she slowly turned around. Her ass was big, her thighs not as much. When she leaned her head down and pointed her ass to me, her panties pulled up slightly and creased where the cheek met her thigh. Her hands rose from between her legs and began stroking the outside of her panties. I could see a small dark spot that told me she was thinking of me before I’d said a thing. I love to watch girls touch themselves- nobody knows their bodies like they know it themselves. Her pace, how high her knuckles climb, how she chose to press her face into the duvet, all told. Her hand began to press harder, and she slid her panties to the side. My hand was on my cock. I heard her moan when she found herself, and her hips jumped. After a minute her other hand had released her panties, which stayed to the left but fell closer to her pussy. Another moan tied her hand in the air for a moment, before it fell back to skin and onto her asshole, ringing the perimeter with her own wetness. Her right hand sped up, it was making long strokes with her whole finger. I realized at this point I was lost in the voyeurism, fully stroking my cock. I stood up.
I have a fetish for eating grateful girls like this out. Not just her clit, but her ass and frenulum, I let my tongue wander to her spine, dive into her pussy. She’s making frantic noises into the covers. I gave her a swift spank on my way to her head. I need to hear her. Counter intuitively, when I gripped her loose ponytail she inhaled and held it, and as she came her hips flexed up and down on my face. My tongue was making its best at the same extended strokes I had watched her hands explain, and it was obviously working. I didn’t plan on stopping until I heard her come again.
This is one of the best stories I’ve read in a while. Thank you