A Weekend for Blowjobs (4) … Noises in the night

This is the fourth part of my weekend away with Rachel. A weekend that would be filled with blow jobs. In case you missed it, the first part is here and part (2) is here.  Part (3) is located here.

Knowing that we had a a likely aural audience I was becoming rapidly excited. I wasn’t afraid to let it be known how happy I was feeling. It didn’t take long. I cried out with a yell and arched and came hard into her mouth.

That was three blow jobs so far.

With that we both fell right asleep. The day had been long, the play with my cock effectively tiring for me.

But somewhat later I felt Rachel stir. She had found her way into my arms and I heard her whisper …

“Do you hear that? They’re at it again.”

And sure enough, from across the hall I could hear the telltale squeaks of a bed in action mixed with Scott’s unmistakable grunts.

“Hmmm,”  I replied.

Almost by default, I pinched Rachel’s right boob and nipple. It caused her to sigh and nibble my ear lobe.

We were off to the races! I slid myself down and spread her legs. As my tongue slipped between her folds I could hear Rachel sigh again. Then softly moan. Louder. I increased my pace and pressure. Even louder moaning from Rachel. Perhaps it was the turn-on of having pleasured me so many times already that day, maybe the fact this was our first weekend away, or the sounds from the room opposite, whatever the reasons Rachel reacted quickly. She bucked savagely and cried out as she spasmed to my mouth.

By now I was again rock hard. I shimmied my way up Rachel’s still quivering body and knelt above her shoulders. She parted her lips and I shoved my cock inside. This was no time for fancy moves. Face fucking 101.

I pushed hard. Deep into her mouth. I pumped faster. With each stroke she lifted her head to help get me deeper.  My need was urgent. This was animal action at its rawest.

I exploded in Rachel’s mouth. She gulped down every drop.

Are you counting? Four blow jobs since we left home.

To be continued …

 

 

 

Between The Times (3) … Getting The Lay Of The Land

This is a series on our young Marty. Some of the stories that laid the foundation for who he is … or perhaps more accurately, who he thinks he is.

Should you have missed the three introductory pieces, you can visit them here and here and here

As we touched down at Prestwick International Airport the excitement was reaching a crescendo. I felt ready. Ready for anything. What would I do? What would I find?

I was soon to find out.

British Customs and Immigration was relatively quick. I had been worried. A 19-year old on his own. No return plane ticket home. A relative pittance in his pockets. Probably not a likely candidate to sweep through. But I was wrong to worry. There were no awkward questions. No issues about being able to get home.

“Welcome to Britain.”

Whew! I was in! I didn’t know what to think.

With a small group of other young travelers I found my way to change some money, then boarded a bus that would take us into Glasgow proper. On the bus I remember looking at the coins, and trying to decipher them and calculate their value. There were shillings, half crowns, 6d, and 3d, and large coppers (pennies, naturally). It was all so exciting.

But let’s not continue with details. Shall we get to the heart of the matter? I feel we should.

Somehow, on that first night, our 19 year old Marty ended up alone, drunk, almost penniless in front of abandoned warehouses and buildings near the Glasgow docks after midnight. Not through any nefarious means, rather his own innocence and stupidity led him there. An unpleasant situation to be sure. Fraught with potential danger.

Surprisingly I refused to panic. I considered my options. Unfortunately I was drawing a blank, beyond finding a corner somewhere to be unobtrusive and maybe grab some sleep. Just then I heard the klop, klop, klop of a woman’s heeled shoes against pavement. In the very dim light cast by the old and few street lamps I saw a woman walking alone, headed my way. She looked to be wearing a long trench coat. I was carrying a small suitcase so I was likely to appear as no threat to her.

As she neared me I put down my valise.

“Excuse me,” I said, “but do you know if there is a youth hostel nearby?”

She stopped. Looked at me incredulously. In the shadows it was hard to make out her features, but she seemed to be early to mid 30s, medium height, with shoulder length dark hair. Not unattractive.

“Oh Luv, there’s nothing like that near here. Are you lost? How did you get yourself here?”

I confessed my innocence and stupidity . How I had been led here by false promises of transportation. How I was fresh off the plane. How I had only a few British pounds in my pocket.

“Oh my. You can’t stay here Luv. Come with me. You can sleep on my couch. And my husband will drive you to the motorway in the morning.”

“Thank you!” I answered. “Are you sure it will be ok?”

“Yes, Luv. It’s fine. Come with me”.

As we walked towards her flat, I learned that Deidre was just coming home after her shift as a barmaid. She was Irish, and she and her husband and small child had made their home in Glasgow for 5 years.

We shortly arrived at a tumble down apartment building. After walking up 2 flights of stairs, we entered Deidre’s flat. A small,  one bedroom. The couch was in the tiny sitting room, and Deidre immediately set to work making it up for me. I was very tired. Sleep had been non existent for almost 2 days now.

“Can I get you anything, Luv? Will you be alright?”

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” I replied. “And thank you so much, again.”

“Good night”, she said as she headed to the bedroom.

“Good night, Deidre.”

I’m sure I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. Exhausted and relieved at my good fortune.

Then sometime later I awoke. I could see a light from under the door in the nearby bathroom. Momentarily, Deidre came out and approached the couch. She crouched down beside me and whispered.

“Are you alright Marty, dear?”

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you Deidre.”.

“Good,” she said as she lightly brushed her hand along the length of my face. Then she softly kissed my lips. I was taken aback. With sleep still controlling me, I couldn’t really think. What was happening here? But I instinctively kissed her back. Her lips pressed harder in return. And before I knew it, Deidre had slipped her hand under the sheet covering me and had found its way inside my jockies. Despite my fatigue, my cock reacted instantly. Youth will do that I imagine.

She slowly stroked while we continued to kiss. I was perplexed, but didn’t fight it. Deidre pulled off the covering sheet. I slid the jockies down. Without another word or sound my cock was between her lips. I gasped in excitement and wonder. She slowly sucked. Then ran her tongue up and down my length.

“You have to be quiet, Luv. We don’t want to wake Gerry.”

I mumbled an agreement and bit my lip.

It wasn’t long. I arched and held my breath, trying to be totally silent.

Deidre kissed me. Got up and headed to the bathroom again. I could hear her brushing her teeth as I fell again into a deep sleep.

A few hours later I met Gerry as he came over and woke me up and introduced himself. I quickly hit the bathroom, washed, cleaned up. We had tea and toast for breakfast. Then it was into his Mini for the ride to the Motorway for me to continue my journey as he headed off to work.

I wasn’t a great conversationalist. I really didn’t feel like talking. And what could I say?

 

A Weekend for Blowjobs (3) … Cookie’s Influence

This is the third part of my weekend away with Rachel. A weekend that would be filled with blow jobs. In case you missed it, the first part is here and part (2) is here.

Then she reached over, unzipped my pants, and sucked me off right there on the city street! I have no idea how she got me erect and had me cumming so fast given my mood. But she did. And I did.

That was two blow jobs in the car before we had even arrived at my friend’s apartment.

I was now totally relaxed. Despite the late hour, the long drive, and the previous harrowing experience on the interstate, I had no tension whatsoever. Take note ladies how you can easily make your man relax …

After a few more false turns and unexpected delays, we finally found my friend’s apartment. It was now after midnight. The apartment was the bottom floor of an older, well to do executive home from the early 1920s. As my childhood chum Scott greeted us, through the dim lighting I marveled at the intricate detail of the crown molding and the rest of the surroundings. It was beautiful.

Scott had never met Rachel, though he had heard much of her from me. I could see from the twinkle in his eye, he approved.

Scott’s “date” for the weekend had not yet arrived. During the car trip down, I had explained to Rachel what the situation was. I wanted to avoid surprises and any embarrassment for all parties. Scott’s date this weekend was Cookie, an exotic dancer who had become enamored with him. We had met Cookie a couple of months previous. She was working at the city’s most notorious strip club. And naturally, Scott frequented it, and I had become very familiar with it during my several recent visits. Cookie was bright, engaging, and fun to be around. And I probably don’t need to add, with amazing tits and ass. How on earth she came to be fascinated by Scott still remains one of life’s great mysteries. I had explained all this to Rachel. Cookie was to come over after she finished her late night shift at the peeler bar, and Rachel was looking forward to meeting her. Cookie would, naturally, stay the night.

While we waited for Cookie’s arrival, beers and a bottle of wine were opened. Events were caught up on. Not too long thereafter, a gentle knock on the front door announced our highly anticipated guest’s entrance. Dressed in light sweater and slacks, she gave Scott a big kiss and then another one for me, too. It had been a month since I had seen her. I could see Rachel was wide-eyed, and a little shy. Nothing could perturb Cookie though, and she gave Rachel an affectionate cheek kiss in meeting.

We were all tired, so after one more quick drink, it was time to hit the hay. Rachel’s and my room was just across the hall from Scott’s. Rachel and I quickly stripped and began to snuggle. While we were gently kissing, we heard it. The noise from across the hall. It was clear Cookie was giving Scott a blowjob as we could hear the sounds of her slurping through two doors. And Scott’s gasping and grunts. Rachel looked up at me and smiled. She was getting turned on, I knew.

She slowly slid down between my legs and started on my balls. Then licks along my shaft. Swirls around the head. I think Rachel felt like she needed to compete with the noises across the hallway.

“So big,” she said in a not so soft voice. “So hard! I love sucking you.”

Knowing that we had a a likely aural audience I was becoming rapidly excited. I wasn’t afraid to let it be known how happy I was feeling. It didn’t take long. I cried out with a yell and arched and came hard into her mouth.

That was three blow jobs so far.

To be continued …

 

 

 

A Weekend for Blowjobs (2)

This is the second part of my weekend away with Rachel. A weekend that would be filled with blow jobs. In case you missed it, the first part is here …

As my body lurched upward in ecstasy, suddenly I realized I needed to turn the wheel hard and brake as quickly as I could in this unfamiliar car! Unknowingly I had floored it and goddamn it but we were headed for a big curve and I had obviously missed the warning signs to slow down dramatically …

Remember neither of us had our seat belts fastened and Rachel was part way in my lap. I extended my arm out to hold her back. I braked as hard as I could without throwing the both of us into the windshield. I used all my strength in my left arm to turn the wheel into the curve. Luckily I didn’t have time to worry about what the first responders would think when they saw my dick cut into pieces from flying glass.

Rachel was super cool. She said nothing. No screaming, no crying, not even a gasp. Perhaps it all happened too fast.  We sailed into the turn and made it through! Not even into another lane or a fish tail. Even now I can remember how great my post orgasmic joy was. Different of course from the usual, but no less satisfying.  Now I realize how fortunate I was to not have my road head displayed on a splattered platter.

After we straightened out and I had the car comfortably under control, Rachel sat up and put on her safety belt.

“Oh, that almost ended badly,” Rachel quietly said.

“No kidding!” I replied.

We drove on in silence for several minutes, undoubtedly both realizing how close our cravings had brought us to near disaster. Then Rachel broke the quiet.

“I did love sucking your cock though. A lot.” And then she giggled. The air was lightened.

Not too much time passed and we came off the interstate, then on to a local expressway, down a ramp, and into the edges of the core of the city.  I had never been to my friend’s new apartment, so I was trying to remember his directions. It was now after midnight. We finally got into the area near his apartment. It was a bit of an older, upscale neighborhood, with short streets and lots of stop signs. The older street lamps weren’t particularly bright, so seeing the names of cross streets was somewhat difficult … this was long before GPS … heck we didn’t even have mobile phones back then … and my frustration was beginning to rise.

Drive 75 yards. Then stop. Try and see the name of the cross street. 75 more yards. Stop. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat …

“What’s that street?” I asked Rachel.

“I can’t really see,” she sighed.

“Grrrr,” I growled.

“Ok,” Rachel said. “Pull over. We’ll figure this out. You need to be calm”.

Somewhat reluctantly I edged the car ahead and pulled off to the side.

“Turn the engine off,” Rachel said.

Then she reached over, unzipped my pants, and sucked me off right there on the city street! I have no idea how she got me erect and had me cumming so fast given my mood. But she did. And I did.

That was two blow jobs in the car before we had even arrived at my friend’s apartment.

 

To be continued …

 

 

 

A Weekend for Blowjobs (1)

This is another story about Rachel. You can learn more about her here and here should you be interested, or may have forgotten about her. I sure haven’t.

We had been been dating for about 6 weeks or so, and the sex was building, and commencing to be quite good.  I invited her to come along with me to a weekend in a large city about 6 hours up the road. Some old high school and college friends of mine (both genders by the way) had planned a rather wild weekend, and I thought Rachel would fit in rather well.

She was very keen to go along but under the proviso that we take her brand new car. It was a stick shift, you see, and her skills with a manual transmission were a little rusty. I was a bit taken aback, but also flattered, that she was anxious to trust me with her major new purchase.

We headed out after work on a Friday evening, fighting the traffic out of the city, and knowing we had a long drive ahead. But no matter; this was our first weekend away together, and despite staying with an old friend in his new apartment, I promised her we would have fun and it would be a sex-filled two days.

As we drove along the interstate I tried to describe several of my friends and their various idiosyncrasies. Like “Tall One” (6′ 5″) who only dated girls 5’2 ” or shorter, “Memory Stick” who had a photographic memory of every Hustler magazine he had ever seen (and he had “read” them all), and our host who was a big fan of strippers. In fact, his bedmate this weekend was a rather busty dancer we had befriended the month previous at a particularly notorious establishment, (but perhaps that’s TMI?)  All these characters only served to tantalize Rachel’s innate curiosity. She could hardly wait to get there.

We were not far past half way in our voyage, darkness had begun to set in, and I was feeling a stirring in my cut off jeans. I casually mentioned this .. cough … fact to Rachel and she didn’t miss a beat. Unbuckling she glanced over and with a wink … sigh … she said, “I guess I better get busy then.”

I followed her example and unlatched my safety belt. “That would be good!” I replied quickly.

She sidled towards me and deftly undid my pants’ belt. Another quick move and she had the button undone and my fly down. With her left hand on my shoulder, her right reached in and began to stroke my stiffening cock.

“That didn’t take long” she chuckled.

“I’m all about anticipation, Rachel” I replied. “And I’m anticipating feeling very good real soon.”

As Rachel began licking my length I needed to concentrate. Not on her, though I wanted to of course, but on my driving. We were doing more than 70 mph, plus even though dusk was setting in, I knew the truckers we passed would have a pretty good view.  I didn’t exactly want the toot of horns from 18-wheelers to disturb my concentration, nor Rachel’s.

Over the past 6 weeks we had been working on Rachel’s technique. She was certainly a keen student and was a very quick learner. Sometimes too quick I think. For 15 to 20 minutes she teased me. She showed me no mercy. She had me at the brink oh so many times. Either because of our passing a trucker, or purely from the sinister pleasure she was deriving, she’d lift her head from her perch and momentarily look like a good girl in the passenger seat. I couldn’t stand it.

I don’t beg, but if I were honest, I’d have to say I was pretty close to very serious pleading. Rachel was enjoying every second of my discomfort-pleasure. Dare I say she was lapping it up?

Finally neither of us could postpone the moment. I cried out with a yell as I dumped into her sucking mouth.

As my body lurched upward in ecstasy, suddenly I realized I needed to turn the wheel hard and brake as quickly as I could in this unfamiliar car! Unknowingly I had floored it and goddamn it but we were headed for a big curve and I had obviously missed the warning signs to slow down dramatically …

To be continued

 

 

 

Sometimes I Get Embarrassed … When Girls Talk

I have decided to revisit certain posts from time to time. Call them a Marty-Replay.  Posts I like. Or I’m happy with how they were written and catch the moment just right. Or are particularly relevant even now. But mostly that I like. Here’s the 2nd.  I’m sure most of you are not familiar with Marcie. If you are curious, here is some background.

Here    and   here

It was like a girls night out. Except the boys tagged along. Three couples sitting around the pool on a warm evening. Marcie and I were on a winter break and had booked a week at a Mexican beach resort. During the evening meal of our second day there we had started to chum around with two other couples around our age.

After dinner we adjourned to a patio near the pool for drinks and conversation. For some reason the three women sat beside each other in patio chairs, while the men were together opposite. As the cheap Mexican red wine flowed, the inhibitions began disappearing like a rapidly outgoing Caribbean  tide.

The women were all extremely attractive. There was the tall Chicago blonde with below shoulder length Farah curls and the 38Ds. Then there was Virgina beauty, short with long raven hair complementing her cute button nose, tight little ass, and 34Cs. The men didn’t really have much to say. We were more interested in listening, I guess. Wine induced, the girls’ conversation became very sexual, very quickly.

It wasn’t long before Marcie got into describing the evening we arrived. How a few Mexican beers had led to a walk on the beach as darkness was setting in. How in the blackness of the night, the softness of the zephyr off the sea, and the effects of the beer we felt totally alone. How I sat on the solitary beach chair, beer can in hand facing the sea, and how Marcie knelt and took my cock deep in her mouth. How she slurped noisily  How after several minutes of that she grabbed my hand and I pushed her to the sand on all fours and took her roughly from behind. How as I pulled her hair and she grunted while climaxing a group of people could be heard strolling nearby. How we couldn’t have cared less.

Chicago eyed me with a sly smile. Virginia Brunette’s eyes opened wider. I was on the hot seat and I could feel my face flushing a bit. Good thing it was early evening and the light wasn’t so good.

There was more wine and more girl talk. Lots more. And it started to get dirtier. Chicago blonde explained how in order for her husband to get fucked at all, he had to perform cunnilingus just right on her, and for the length of time and number of orgasms she felt appropriate that night. She made it quite clear who was the boss, and who gave the sexual directions

I flashed her my “that’s not how it would be with me Hottie” look with my deep blue eyes. And she nodded back in agreement. I looked over at her husband and even in the dimming light I could see him silently slouching lower in his chair.

Virginia Brunette, not to be out done, filled everyone in on how she took care of her husband. Apparently she had a coterie of 4 or 5 men. Periodically one would be invited to their house in the Washington suburbs for the evening, for dinner and drinks with her and her husband. Which would be followed by raunchy sex with Virginia Brunette. In the bedroom with the lights on. While husband stood in the bedroom doorway to watch and listen. At the appropriate command, he would be allowed to undress. And should she feel generous, she would give him permission to stroke himself while he watched his beloved wife in the throes of outrageously noisy sex with the visitor. Then after her upteenth orgasm, if she was feeling really generous, she would go to the doorway and finish him off with a hand job.

I had always wondered what those Beltway civil servants did with their free evening time.

Marcie was loving it. The other men, not so much. Marcie had this laugh, that became raunchier the drunker she became. She was very drunk now, and the laugh was an outright cackle. Given the spirit of the conversation, and fearing the worst from her mouth, I suggested it was time for us to call it an evening. I wasn’t really interested in having my personal modesty tested any more than it had been. But she wasn’t interested in leaving.

“You know Marty has just the best cock I have ever had” she blurted out. My heart sank.

“It is such a good length, and nice and wide. And oh, does he know how to use it on me!”

“Marcie! Enough!” I could feel my whole you don’t-really-know-me, I’m-so-respectable world becoming a distant memory if I didn’t get her to quit soon. But I feared she was just getting started.

“But what is really amazing about Marty is how incredibly hard he gets! Like hot, hot rock! Yes, that’s it, hard as rock.  With super big and hard veins. I have never had a cock in all my parts that is so hard!’

Chicago Blonde raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Really, Marty?” she purred. I knew I was squirming noticeably even in this light. Could they see my sweaty brow? I’m pretty private, and the discomfort I was beginning to experience was, for me, stomach turning.

Virginia Brunette eagerly slid forward in her chair. “How often do you get to Washington, Marty?”

Damn this was embarrassing. Normally I would love the attention these two beautiful women were directing my way. But not like this! It wasn’t me doing the selling. I wasn’t in control at all. And I couldn’t handle it.

“Marcie, we’re leaving now!” I commanded

“I’m going to finish my drink. And my story!” she retorted

Uh-oh. This was not good. Though usually very compliant, Marcie had a stubborn streak at times, and I didn’t want to test it. I wasn’t going to win if I did. That was certain.

“Well I’m going back to the room,” I huffed. It was a gamble on my part. I was certain Marcie was terribly horny, but she was also enjoying her girl time. But I couldn’t handle the spotlight, I knew that for sure. At worst, I figured she’d be along in 2-3 minutes.

I was right, of course, it was under 3 minutes when she joined me in the room. I have no idea what else she confided in the group. And I didn’t ask. But she got one helluva spanking that night.

 

Fuck Toy Mea Culpa – Penny the Nurse (Part 2)

keira-knightley-83560[1]

If you missed it, or are interested, or would like a refresher on Penny, here is (Part 1)

I was pretty much on pins and needles the rest of the work week. This was, of course, way before the internet. The world had no such in-house detective known as Google. I really had no idea what to expect. And what was expected. It had been a while since a beautiful woman had approached me so directly, so I was feeling pretty contented with myself all of a sudden.

Now for some quick news bytes. I really don’t remember the date at all. What movie we saw, if we had a drink afterward. That date is a complete black hole in my mind. Neither the conversation that ensued during the evening, nor what happened as we said good night.

I can already sense the disappointment in your minds, dear readers. After the buildup, nothing? Yup. And that’s only the beginning. We dated for perhaps 6 weeks. I don’t know what got into me.

Penny was probably the worst fuck of my life. No the opposite of life. She was absolutely lifeless. When I hear men talk of women who are cold fish in bed, I think they must have been with Penny. It was near impossible to get her out of missionary. And suck my cock? Well, yes. But not eagerly. Reluctantly would be the charitable term.

At first I was confused. How could this apparently outside the bedroom reasonably aggressive woman be a slab of cold flesh in the bedroom? In the beginning, I chalked it up to lack of experience. And surely that was part of it. But that didn’t explain the absence of any fire. I could get her to cum, but only once at a time. Then she would practically shut down. I know she liked me. Quite a lot, actually.

I decided to take it upon myself to bring Penny “along” so to speak. And have fun myself. It would be a win-win situation. She would get some needed education that would serve her well in the future, and I was going to end up with a beautiful (albeit rather skinny) fuck toy for my amusement. Inflated ego or what?

For the next month or so, 4 or 5 nights a week, I went to Penny’s, or she came to my apartment. I fucked her consistently. Hard. I put her in every position imaginable. Her hands were bound. She got to sample blindfolds. Her skinny ass was spanked. She was instructed how I wanted my cock sucked, and she practised several times every night. I taught her how to look up apparently lovingly from her knees with those deep brown eyes of hers. She was indeed submissive, but not a very enthusiastic one. She wanted sex, but didn’t crave it to any degree. Didn’t crave anything. She was actually a turn off in bed for me. I had never experienced anything like this before, and happily, have not since.

Once I realized progress wasn’t being made, I started to feel guilty. I knew I had no emotional attachment to this women. I stayed around firstly, because she was singularly beautiful. When we walked down the street, we drew lots of attention. I fed on that. Secondly, I was amused to have her. But I quickly grew bored. There was a zero connection, and even with great sexual chemistry, without the emotional attachment I really had no long term interest in the relationship. Here there certainly was no sexual connection. She had to go.

And she did. I tried to be gentle. But it wasn’t received that way. I hurt her. I’m not very proud of my actions, or lack of feeling.

It also hammered into my head that I do not like skinny women as sexual partners. I love my women with curves. That I can follow with my eyes and my hands.

So be forewarned.

Midweek Fantasizing [VIII] – The Finish

I answer the door holding my breath. The wait all morning has been almost unbearably long. You are visiting on your lunch hour.

We kiss at the door, then stride to the bed together. I lie on the bed as you come around and continue kissing and fondling me. I have my hands all over your luscious body and then take firm control of your heavy, heaving breasts.

As you stand next to the bed, you slide off my jeans then grab hold of my hardening cock as it slips through the opening in my boxers. A small gasp-grunt escapes my lips while you kiss me fiercely.  Then with a deft move of your left hand you pull the boxers down to my knees. I complete the task, then remove my shirt. I lie displayed in front of you.

Before I know it my hard cock is in your mouth and your lips are caressing it’s length, top to bottom. Bottom to top. You pump my cock like you mean it; your tongue rolls around the shaft, the head, you lick like a panting dog in the summer. I arch into your mouth in an unwitting aid to have you gobble my length. In no time you have me in a frenzy I can’t control. But you can. As your hand fondles my balls you steal a glance at my face. I am practically drowning as the suction through your lips pulls the soul of my need into the cool olive pool of your eyes.

Your grip becomes firmer, your pace intensifies. I want only to give you my release. I cry to finish. I crave completion. The tight palm of you hand twists the shaft as you inhale all I can give. You have had me orgasm five times in the past 16 hours, the last time five hours ago just before you left for work. For an antique I have done well. Vintage Ferraris can still perform impeccably. They have been built to amaze. It’s in their DNA.

I yearn to empty into your mouth, but I can not. I can feel the semen rush to the gate, but the path seems barricaded. It is as if an internal battering ram smashes relentlessly at the exit, demanding freedom. But the door is barred, my glory imprisoned.

My frustration has reached its limits. My cock exits your startled mouth as I rise from the bed. As we stand facing each other I gesture for you to remove your remaining clothes. I need to see your stunning figure in all its glory. While you strip I turn and grab a pillow from the bed, tossing it to the floor between us.

I love the look of pure lust in your eyes as you look at me and slowly kneel on the pillow. Still tempting me with your eyes your right hand slides around my stiff, eager cock and slides it between your moving lips. I hear you gently sigh. I respond with moans of my own. My hands grasp your hair.  The sight of you kneeling before me, taking me all in, the feel as you speed up your motions sends me, finally, over the edge.

“Baby! Baby!” I gasp

I finish.

Your lunch break is over.

 

 

 

 

Midweek Fantasizing (IV)

couple-bed-9[1]We were texting early this evening and I was complaining that I had to find the energy to head out the door and go to the gym for a second workout of the day. I wasn’t really looking forward to it.

Her : Be much more fun to get in bed with me

That brought an immediate flood of high octane memories surging through my brain. Our three days together and the impact it had on us both

Me: Yes it would! I’m a lot more eager for that. I really want to see your beautiful face up close. See you nod your head and beg “Yes. More. Please!”

Her: Mmmm. Yes please

Me: That was soooo good wasn’t it, Baby?

Her: Best ever. The very best ever

 

Girl Talk

It was like a girls night out. Except the boys tagged along. Three couples sitting around the pool on a warm evening. Marcie and I were on a winter break and had booked a week at a Mexican beach resort. During the evening meal of our second day there we had started to chum around with two other couples around our age.

After dinner we adjourned to a patio near the pool for drinks and conversation. For some reason the three women sat beside each other in patio chairs, while the men were together opposite. As the cheap Mexican red wine flowed, the inhibitions began disappearing like a rapidly outgoing Caribbean  tide.

The women were all extremely attractive. There was the tall Chicago blonde with below shoulder length Farah curls and the 38Ds. Then there was Virgina beauty, short with long raven hair complementing her cute button nose, tight little ass, and 34Cs. The men didn’t really have much to say. We were more interested in listening, I guess. Wine induced, the girls’ conversation became very sexual, very quickly.

It wasn’t long before Marcie got into describing the evening we arrived. How a few Mexican beers had led to a walk on the beach as darkness was setting in. How in the blackness of the night, the softness of the zephyr off the sea, and the effects of the beer we felt totally alone. How I sat on the solitary beach chair, beer can in hand facing the sea, and how Marcie knelt and took my cock deep in her mouth. How she slurped noisily  How after several minutes of that she grabbed my hand and I pushed her to the sand on all fours and took her roughly from behind. How as I pulled her hair and she grunted while climaxing a group of people could be heard strolling nearby. How we couldn’t have cared less.

Chicago eyed me with a sly smile. Virginia Brunette’s eyes opened wider. I was on the hot seat and I could feel my face flushing a bit. Good thing it was early evening and the light wasn’t so good.

There was more wine and more girl talk. Lots more. And it started to get dirtier. Chicago blonde explained how in order for her husband to get fucked at all, he had to perform cunnilingus just right on her, and for the length of time and number of orgasms she felt appropriate that night. She made it quite clear who was the boss, and who gave the sexual directions

I flashed her my “that’s not how it would be with me Hottie” look with my deep blue eyes. And she nodded back in agreement. I looked over at her husband and even in the dimming light I could see him silently slouching lower in his chair.

Virginia Brunette, not to be out done, filled everyone in on how she took care of her husband. Apparently she had a coterie of 4 or 5 men. Periodically one would be invited to their house in the Washington suburbs for the evening, for dinner and drinks with her and her husband. Which would be followed by raunchy sex with Virginia Brunette. In the bedroom with the lights on. While husband stood in the bedroom doorway to watch and listen. At the appropriate command, he would be allowed to undress. And should she feel generous, she would give him permission to stroke himself while he watched his beloved wife in the throes of outrageously noisy sex with the visitor. Then after her upteenth orgasm, if she was feeling really generous, she would go to the doorway and finish him off with a hand job.

I had always wondered what those Beltway civil servants did with their free evening time.

Marcie was loving it. The other men, not so much. Marcie had this laugh, that became raunchier the drunker she became. She was very drunk now, and the laugh was an outright cackle. Given the spirit of the conversation, and fearing the worst from her mouth, I suggested it was time for us to call it an evening. I wasn’t really interested in having my personal modesty tested any more than it had been. But she wasn’t interested in leaving.

“You know Marty has just the best cock I have ever had” she blurted out. My heart sank.

“It is such a good length, and nice and wide. And oh, does he know how to use it on me!”

“Marcie! Enough!” I could feel my whole you don’t-really-know-me, I’m-so-respectable world becoming a distant memory if I didn’t get her to quit soon. But I feared she was just getting started.

“But what is really amazing about Marty is how incredibly hard he gets! Like hot, hot rock! Yes, that’s it, hard as rock.  With super big and hard veins. I have never had a cock in all my parts that is so hard!’

Chicago Blonde raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Really, Marty?” she purred. I knew I was squirming noticeably even in this light. Could they see my sweaty brow? I’m pretty private, and the discomfort I was beginning to experience was, for me, stomach turning.

Virginia Brunette eagerly slid forward in her chair. “How often do you get to Washington, Marty?”

Damn this was embarrassing. Normally I would love the attention these two beautiful women were directing my way. But not like this! It wasn’t me doing the selling. I wasn’t in control at all. And I couldn’t handle it.

“Marcie, we’re leaving now!” I commanded

“I’m going to finish my drink. And my story!” she retorted

Uh-oh. This was not good. Though usually very compliant, Marcie had a stubborn streak at times, and I didn’t want to test it. I wasn’t going to win if I did. That was certain.

“Well I’m going back to the room,” I huffed. It was a gamble on my part. I was certain Marcie was terribly horny, but she was also enjoying her girl time. But I couldn’t handle the spotlight, I knew that for sure. At worst, I figured she’d be along in 2-3 minutes.

I was right, of course, it was under 3 minutes when she joined me in the room. I have no idea what else she confided in the group. And I didn’t ask. But she got one helluva spanking that night.