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Maybe not. Maybe she'd come in and tell me she wanted to fuck my brains out right away; maybe she'd slip her hand under the table and stroke my cock through my pants; maybe she'd rub her tits along my arm as she sat next to me; maybe she'd lick her lips and whisper words like, "let me suck your cock," or "I want your cock in my pussy, now!" Maybe. Maybe not. I hauled myself out of the chair and out of my indecision, took another quick shower, brushed my teeth, re-dressed as I had promised her I'd be, and left the room for the elevator ride to my doom or my redemption, I did not know which it would be. Arriving in the bar at about 6:10, I ordered a Beefeater & tonic and sat in a dark corner, facing the door so I could get a good look at whoever came in. I could always cut and run, right? She'd promised to wear a navy blue business suit and would be carrying a small, red overnight bag. I supposed that would be a definite identification. I watched. I waited. A dozen or more men and women came in and went out the entrance to the hotel, directly across from the bar alcove. No blue business suits. No red overnight bags. Lots of very attractive women. None looking my way. 6:20 Nothing. 6:25 Nothing6:30 NothingOK, you've figured it out.
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She never showed up! I sat there until 7:15, nursing several gin & tonics and munching on bar nuts, but no blue-business-suited-red-overnight-bag-carrying woman came in the door. I walked out into the lobby several times and looked around. I asked at the desk. Nothing. Nobody. I was out of luck. Or was I?Wasn't this actually the answer to my 'situation?' I did not have to worry at all about not being able to satisfy or be satisfied. I began to relax. But then I stiffened and ordered another drink. What if I had missed her coming in and she'd seen me and decided to turn around and leave? What if she had been so disappointed in what she saw that she figured it was not worth the effort? Damn! That would really piss me off!Finally, at about 7:20, I got up, paid my tab and left the bar. Well, here I was, in the outskirts of Philadelphia with nothing to do. The room was already paid for. I'd told my wife not to expect me before midnight (banquet and speaker and discussion sessions, of course). I'd be damned if I was going to go home at this hour!I walked down the hall and slipped into the banquet room just as the after-dinner speaker was being introduced. I found the table where our group had been assigned and slipped into one of two unoccupied chairs, the one with a clean table setting still in evidence.
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The woman across the table from me leaned in and whispered, "Where have you been? Robin's been looking for you. " Robin Watters is my direct supervisor, the Dean of Admissions at the college. Was I in trouble? Oh, shit, again! As I began to focus my attention on the speaker and at the same time tried to come up with a good reason for having missed the afternoon sessions and the dinner itself, Robin slid into the chair next to me. She leaned in and whispered into my ear, "As soon as he is finished, I need to talk to you. Can you come up to the hospitality suite on the mezzanine level?" I turned and assured her I would be there directly after the speech, and asked if there was something we could discuss here and now. She shushed me, touched my shoulder and sat back in her seat. I turned my attention to the speaker and realized I was starved. Four gin & tonics and nothing on my stomach since lunch (with quite a bit of physical activity during the afternoon) did not bode well for my physical condition. I could almost hear my stomach rumble. Approximately fifteen minutes into a rather boring (any other kind?) speech, I felt Robin's hand on my arm, but since the hand did not seem to be urging me to turn, I did not; and sat still, waiting to see what she had in mind. The hand slowly moved down along the back of my upper arm and then onto my hip and then around to my thigh, where it gave me a little squeeze. What in the hell was going on here?This was my boss! There was no mistaking her intent here. One does not squeeze an older man's thigh to indicate some sort of punctuation to the speaker's thoughts. She could only be hinting at something, and I had no idea exactly what it might be. Let me do a quick backtrack here.
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Robin is approximately 36-37 years old, the Dean of Admissions at the college where I work, never married (that I knew of), one adopted daughter of about 8 years, and – get this – a former student of mine when I was a junior high school principal! What in the hell had I stumbled onto here?Robin was tall. By tall, I mean approximately 6' 1" tall!! The usual: basketball, volleyball and track while in high school. Very athletic. Very coordinated. Very physical. Very Butch, some would have said; but quite attractive in the "handsome" sort of way large women are sometimes described. Dark red hair, long, below her shoulders; large, plain face with dark green eyes; shoulders that looked like they could wear a pair of men's football pads without wasting an inch; legs that went on from here to eternity; and no chest! Absolutely no chest! I would imagine her breast measurements were in the A cup range. If it had not been for the long, beautiful hair and the make-up, she could have passed for a man with her physique. And she was touching my leg, squeezing it softly. Jesus! What to do? What to do? My mind went in fifty different directions wondering exactly how I should or IF I should respond to this move. But, thank God, the moment passed without me having to make a decision. Her fingers traced a line along my thigh and retreated to her lap, I suppose. Nothing more occurred during the remainder of the speech. I sat there like the proverbial 'wooden Indian' for the rest of the presentation and when I finally did turn, found that Robin's seat was vacant. When had she left? I looked to the others at the table, but they were occupied with applauding or picking up their purses and things to leave for the after-dinner discussion sessions.
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I, too, stood and exited the banquet hall quickly through a side door. I went to the men's room to straighten my tie and splash some cold water on my face to rid myself of the heated flush in my cheeks. Frankly, I was agitated about what might be in store for me up at the hospitality suite. Leaving the men's room, I looked around the lobby and noted that it was nearly deserted; everyone had proceeded to their assigned sessions and only hotel staff members and other guests not associated with our conference were in the lobby. I decided to take the long, curving staircase up to the mezzanine where the hospitality suite was located. One of the vendors at the conference usually sets up a suite with sodas, snacks, sandwiches, samples of the wares they are trying to peddle, and – of course – alcohol. None of the sessions or seminars would make alcohol available, of course, but in the hospitality suite there was everything from Champagne to beer (domestic and imported) for the conference-goers' pleasure. All in the name of business, I suppose. Entering the suite, I noted that it had not been cleaned up since the before-dinner rush for free cocktails and had to search to find something decent to eat. I settled on a half-dozen crabmeat-stuffed mushroom caps and some rather delicious small triangular sandwiches of an indeterminate origin. I began to wash it down with a glass of still-cold Riesling and heard a sound off to my left. On the left side of the suite's sitting room, there was a set of double doors that led into a beautiful bedroom. I had been here early this morning when there were bagels and cream cheese and coffee available during session intermissions, and had wandered in there to find several small tables with hors-d'œuvre trays on them, ready for the lunch rush. I marveled at the expense to which some businesses would go to sell a product. Didn't they know that if the product did as promised, it would sell itself? Ah, well.
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I now moved toward those double doors and opened them quietly. Standing in the middle of the room, at the foot of the huge bed was Robin. She was holding an open bottle of Champagne and two glasses. She was in stocking feet, her shoes tossed to one side, and she was smiling right at me as she gestured for me to close the doors. I let the doors swing closed behind me as I felt my heart fall into my stomach with a thud. "Thought you'd never get here," she slurred. Apparently, she'd already had a few drinks and was quite comfortable and relaxed with the feeling. "I have something I need to discuss with you, but first I want to toast a successful year. Our student retentions have increased some 35% since you came on staff, Ed; and I know it is almost totally due to your efforts at making them feel like our small college is the place for them to find whatever it is they are looking for. "I murmured my thanks and accepted the glass of Champagne she held out to me. We clinked glasses, toasted, and sipped at the golden bubbles. I watched her eyes. Were they greener than I had imagined? The last time I actually looked into them was when she was about 18 and just a big, gangly kid trying to fit in where she obviously did not. At that time, I remembered, I had made an attempt to make her feel like she had something to offer and encouraged her to investigate more physical applications for her talents. She had, ultimately, become the quintessential female jock in high school, blowing away competition right and left, and earning all sorts of honors, awards and scholarships.
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I remembered when she had come back to the local area and accepted the Deanship at the local community college. Everyone had been quite surprised she had not gone on to bigger and better, but she had silenced all criticisms with her vow that she wanted to 'give back' to the community that had given so much to her. Good kid, I had thought at that time; now, I was not so sure what to think. She stood right in front of me, actually towering over me by a good two inches (it would have been more, had she kept her heels on) and looking at me as if she was the queen and I was some lowly peasant caught robbing her vegetable garden. "Why do you think I asked you to come up here when I knew no one would be around?" she asked. I told her that I supposed she had something to discuss with me that she did not want any of the other participants from our college to hear. I also let her know with the tone of my voice that I was not at all frightened by her aggressive physical display. I looked back at her with calm eyes – but an absolutely scared shitless heart. She turned and walked across the room and leaned against the ornate dresser there. Locking her eyes on mine again, she asked, "Do you remember one time back in Junior High School when I was standing in front of your desk and you were asking me where I had been for the entire afternoon the day before?" I nodded a 'yes' with a small smile.
"Well, you never found out where I really was, did you? I told you I had cut the afternoon classes and had gone down to the Jungle (our environmental laboratory behind the school; approximately four acres of woods, a pond, etc. , used for field study) with some friends and would not rat them out. You took my word for it and gave me detention after school, but didn't suspend me from the team. I thought that was pretty nice of you. I never thanked you.
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"I told her that I did that more often than not. I believed that giving a student several second chances allowed them more latitude to make better decisions in the long run. I attempted to continue with this line of talk, but she interrupted me with, "I want to tell you where I really was. I want to tell you now. And then I want to thank you for being a really nice guy when I needed it. ""I was in the jungle that afternoon, but I wasn't with a couple of friends; I was with a teacher. Mrs. Crawford and I used to go there a lot to sit and talk. She was really nice to me when not many others were. When I found out what she really wanted, I wasn't terribly surprised; and it was easy enough to be nice back to her. Do you understand?"My smile told her I did, but I went on to let her know that I had known about Mrs. Crawford's 'arrangements' with some girls for special after-school 'tutoring' but was never really sure, deep-down sure, that those sessions were anything else but academic help. I stopped there and waited for her to fill in the blanks. "She was gay, Ed; everybody knew that. Some girls called her a dyke; some called her queer; some made a lot of really nasty remarks about her; but I always thought she was something special because of the way she treated girls who didn't have all the popularity that some girls had.
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She was always especially nice to me. ""And your Jungle meetings, Robin? Were they more than just academic help?" I asked. "Yeah; we had sex. Lots of times. I liked it. She liked it. Nobody got hurt. It didn't screw me up for life. Nobody ever found out about it. And even if they had, I would have beat the shit out of anybody who said anything, and they all knew it. ""I figured that's what you were going to tell me, Robin. And, you know, I should have been more aware at the time. Maybe you didn't have any lasting problems from it, but maybe some other girls did. I really don't know, I said. "Oh, yeah, there were other girls who couldn't handle it, I know that.
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When Marianne Dickerson was in high school, she turned into an absolute fuck-slut because she wanted to prove she was not gay. She fucked the entire soccer team in one week-end at John Romig's cabin up in the Poconos. She also gave blow jobs to three of the janitors in the storage room next to the swimming pool while the team was racing right on the other side of the wall. I can still see her there, kneeling in her black racing suit, with a cock in each hand and one stuffed into her mouth. Christ, was that ever sexy looking!""You were there?" I yelped in surprise?"Sure, I was her protection. No one would fuck around if they knew there were two of us to tell on them if they did something they weren't asked to do. And, also, she could always say that I was there to prove that she had really done it. That way, nobody would ever call her gay. I was at the cabin, too; but I didn't do anything more than drink a lot. Two other girls from the volleyball team were there and joined the action, but not me. Of course, the way I looked back then, nobody would have been interested anyway. ""That's only because boys that age have no idea what they want, Robin," I told her. We talked a bit more about her connection to her former English teacher and how she had been introduced to girl-girl sex. She described a few of the things they had done together and it became evident in a few minutes that the girls had done all the 'giving' and the teacher had done all the 'receiving' during those little trysts. Apparently, Robin and the other girls who were privately 'tutored' had never really had the pleasure of the woman doing anything to them; they always did for her.
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"OK, you've told me where you were; you've given me a peek into your past; you've said thank-you for me being a nice guy a long time ago. That brings us up to now; what did you want to talk about?" I asked. "Now, it's my turn to ask," she smiled at me; "where were you this afternoon? You didn't attend any of the sessions and you were nowhere to be found. You were exceptionally late for dinner and you looked very uncomfortable when you got there. "I didn't hesitate a moment: "I had an emergency I had to take care of; a personal matter; and I just got everything cleaned up when I showed up at the dinner. I'm sorry, but it couldn't be helped. ""Hmmmmm, let me think about this for a minute. Could that emergency have been short and black? Could that emergency have been dressed all in beige? Could that emergency have had a set of tits like watermelons? Was that the emergency, Ed?" And she grinned like the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. "I…I…don't know wh…what you're talking about," I stammered, undoubtedly flushing a bright red all the way up to my bald head. She threw back her head and laughed loud and long, and began striding back and forth across the room, pouring and sipping more Champagne as she launched into a narrative that would spell trouble for me, I knew it. "Don't try to bullshit a bullshitter, Ed; I went looking for you and when you were nowhere in sight, I asked the little Korean girl behind the registration desk if she had seen a guy with a white beard and a bald head and a blue, pin-striped suit. She told me in two seconds that you were upstairs with one of the presenters; she had seen you get into the elevator earlier. I caught a gleam in her eye and a little smile on her face and gave her your name. Sure enough, you were registered in room 414. Gee, guess where I went next? Right on, cowboy!""I stood outside room 414 for almost fifteen minutes and what I heard coming from the inside certainly sounded like an emergency.
At one point, it sounded like somebody couldn't breathe; and another time it sounded like somebody was screaming. Gee, Ed, what sort of emergency was it?" And she pushed me backward into the chair at the side of the bureau. I looked up at her, huge in front of me, tapping one stockinged foot as she sipped more Champagne. One knee was cocked and her suit skirt was pulled tight across her thighs and I could see that she certainly had a lot to offer a man who loved legs. They were magnificent. But I didn't have much time to reflect on her thighs, she was pressuring me for an answer. I figured I might as well tell the truth, or at least a version of it. "You're absolutely right! I was having an afternoon delight. The time got away from me. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. ""The hell it won't!" she bellowed at me. "Get up and follow me right now!" she ordered, as she headed toward another door to the side of the bed's headboard. We walked through the door into another suite next door and she closed and locked the connecting door behind her. "You are not going to make it to any of the evening sessions, either," she smiled at me.
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"We are going to have our own 'evening delight' right here. Unless, that is, you want your lovely wife to find out about this afternoon's adventure. Is that what you want?""Oh, my God, no, Robin. Let's not even talk about that. What the hell do you want me to do?" I almost pleaded. "Oh, we'll think of something," she grinned at me. And she sat the Champagne bottle and glass down and pushed me to the edge of the bed. She forced me to sit down on the side of the bed and moved back a few steps and stood there looking at me. "Now, it's real simple: I undress; you watch; you tell me how beautiful I am; we fuck like little minks and your secret is safe. How's that for blackmail?""Christ, Robin; I can't have sex with my boss," I protested. "The hell you can't!" she roared, and proceeded to unzip the back of the back of the long, straight skirt she was wearing. She pushed it down to the floor and stepped away from it. She was wearing pantyhose in a suntan shade and I automatically looked directly at her crotch. She was not wearing panties at all, and I could see nothing there at the apex of her thighs…nothing. Had she shaved? Was I going to see my boss's shaved pussy right here? She pulled the hem of the sweater she was wearing over her head and I realized that she was not wearing a bra, either.
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Of course, as I had alluded to before, she didn't really need a bra. On here chest were breasts that appeared to be two fried eggs with bright auburn circles in the center instead of yellow yolks. Without exaggeration, she basically had no tits! I mentioned before that I would have guessed at an A cup, but now it appeared as though even that guess may have been generous. Actually, describing her breasts would have been easier if I had said that there really were no breasts, just aureoles and nipples. The aureoles, bright auburn in color, were large, nearly three inches across, I'd estimate; and the nipples swelled up out of them in puffy cones. Puffy? It seems that somewhere I'd heard that word used on the Internet to describe pictures of young girls who were just beginning to develop breasts. I think they called them 'puffies' but I never really visited any of those picture galleries, so I'm not sure. But that is exactly what I would have called Robin's breasts – puffies. "I know, I know," she said, covering them with her hands; "They're nothing. No-tits Watters, they called me. And they still do, I guess! But you don't need tits to fuck, do you, Ed?" I could tell she was compensating. I could also tell that she really didn't know what the hell she was doing. This was all an act! She was as unsure of herself as I was unsure of why I was here or what I was going to do. Without any other preamble, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her nude-to-waist pantyhose and rolled them down, down those incredibly long legs. She was bending over to roll them down her thighs and calves and then to take them off her feet, one leg at a time, so I could not get a good view of my real target of affection.
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When she stood up and flipped the pantyhose onto the bed beside me, I looked. Not shaved! Blonde! Wispy, corn silk, blonde curls in such a small patch that they were almost invisible. The pretty little triangle began far below her navel and slid into the hidden valley between her thighs. The curls were almost translucent and were shiny like silk thread would be in certain light. I was immediately intrigued and felt myself becoming aroused. My cock thickened and I squirmed on the bed to make myself a bit more comfortable. She saw something on my face and said, "What? What's the matter?""The matter? Not a thing, woman! You are gorgeous! That is the absolute most beautiful pussy I have ever seen in my entire life. Have you ever looked at her? Do you know how beautiful she is? Do you know how soft and tender and pretty she looks? A man would have to be out of his fucking mind not to fall in love with her at first glance. And if I get to touch her, I know it will be like silk and velvet all in one touch. And if I get to taste her, I know I will be satisfied that I have tasted a bit of the best heaven has to offer. You are a god-damned Amazon standing here in front of me! I'm just getting uncomfortable because I want to touch, to feel, to taste, to fuck that beautiful pussy so much, and also because I don't know what you want out of me. ""I don't want anything out of you; I want something in me. I'm not fooling around here. I want you to fuck me. I've had the idea for a while now, but this afternoon sealed the decision.
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There is something you don't know about me. Of course, there's lots of things you don't know about me, but one important thing. I'm a virgin. ""Robin, I almost want to believe you; but how does somebody who looks like you get to be your age without ever having sex?""Oh, I've had plenty of sex, Ed; sex with women; sex with girls; sex with one or two other guys, but I've never been fucked.
I know Clinton said oral sex was not really sex, and since that's all I've ever had with a guy – blowjobs or hand jobs – I am still a virgin. OK, OK, I have done the dildo thing and the vibrator thing, so I am not fully a virgin; but in technical terms, since I've never actually been fucked by a man, I'm still a virgin. Do you buy that?" She stood in front of me, hands on hips and legs spread apart so that I could see that tiny cloud of golden fluff that decorated her puffed-up lips. "Of course, I buy that. And in case you don't know it, one of every man's honest fantasies is to 'deflower' a virgin at least once in his life. While I am not in to doing little girls or teenagers, I do think that you will fill the bill in ending that fantasy for me. That is, if you are honestly thinking of fucking this old man. "In answer to that, she dropped to her knees and removed my shoes, socks and belt. She unbuttoned my pants, unzipped my fly and grabbed the cuffs to pull them from me, forcing me to lie down on my back on the bed. I was still wearing my Jockeys and a blue oxford shirt, tie and suit coat. That did not faze her in the least.
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She leaned forward, slipped her fingers into the leg bands of my shorts and pulled them down and off my feet. I was thickening rapidly, but the shock of what she had just done stopped the immediate growth and she looked down at my cock, lying there against my thigh. Not long – perhaps just a shade over 7" – but thick; thicker than average; thicker than many I've seen in porn videos. And the head? Almost plum-sized, violent purple in color and swelling rapidly. "Jesus Christ, Ed," she breathed, "I had no idea. I figured a nice, average guy with a nice, average cock for my first one. But this is fatter than any of the vibrators or dildos I've ever used. I'm going to have to work if I really want this to fuck me. " And she lifted it with one soft hand and held it up to look it over. She traced the large, ropy vein on the top of the shaft, from pubic hair to crown, and allowed her fingertip to run over the head and down underneath to that tiny spot where it is sooooo sensitive. She knew exactly what she was doing. I couldn't help but wonder who the guys were that she had given blowjobs or had jerked off. When had that been? How old had she been?"Jack Monroe and Steve Whitman. I blew Jack and I jerked Steve off into my hand," she offered. Had I been thinking out loud? Had I actually asked? "You didn't ask who, so I thought I'd tell you.
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I was 18 and they were seniors. Both on the same night. In the back of Jack's old Mustang. Not a lot of fun, but enough to get the "gay" tag lifted from behind my name, too. Never did it after that; never really wanted to. Spent a lot of time with girls in high school and then in college, after. Liked that a lot. And it was a lot safer than getting knocked up by accident by some fraternity jock who didn't give a shit about who I was or what I wanted out of life. If you have sex with a girl, you are in love while you are doing it. If you have sex with a guy, you are just getting fucked. Now, come on, let's get going!" and she bent to suck the head of my cock into her mouth where I immediately stiffened under her tongue's attention. Her eyes popped wide open as the head swelled inside her mouth and she was alarmed when it didn't stop swelling until it had almost completely filled the cavity. I held onto her face and moved her head back and forth a little bit to wet the shaft and to show her there was still room in her mouth for her tongue to move. She took the hint and began a beautiful tongue massage of my fat, purple cock head. I sighed deeply and laid back on the bed and she raised up a bit so my cock was pointing straight up and her mouth was moving up and down on the shaft, wetting it and making me very, very hard.
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Upon reaching my full length, I told her I was ready if she was. She slid my cock out of her mouth, wet and shiny, and began to climb up on the bed to straddle me. I gave her a hard shove and she went sailing over on her side and landed beside me on the bed with a look on her face that was a mixture between shock, surprise and anger. "What the hell did you do that for?" she hollered at me. "You never said you were going to fuck me," I responded. "You said I was going to fuck you. And If I'm on my back and you are sliding up and down my cock, you are fucking me, not the other way around. "I stood up, threw off the remainder of my clothes and moved to the side of the bed. I grabbed her two ankles and pulled her ass to the very edge of the mattress. I lifted her legs straight up in the air in front of me and trapped my cock between her thighs, sliding it along the cleft between her lips. Not good. She was not at all moist. I spread her legs by pushing her ankles apart and looked down. There was my cock shaft, stretching straight across that golden patch and toward her navel. I bent a bit and let the underside of the shaft make contact with the slit of her pussy and moved back and forth a half-dozen times.
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Each time, I pressed down a bit harder until I felt her pussy skin pulling and tugging with each stroke. I backed off and placed the head directly against the center of her pussy. Now that I had a good look at it, I was amazed. Really, truly amazed! It was tiny. I mean, it was the smallest pussy I've ever seen in my entire life. The entire length of her slit, from top to bottom, could not have been more than 3 ½ or 4 inches. God, how much contradiction was in this woman? No tits on a 6-foot-plus frame? And a pussy that looked like it belonged to a twelve-year-old! And the pussy itself was tufted with the sweetest covering of silky blonde curls that if I did not have a picture of the body that went along with it, I would have thought this girl was actually one of my junior high students, and not a grown woman. With my cock head lodged at the tender opening of her little pussy, I took one hand away from her ankle and leaned that leg against my chest. I used that hand to hold onto my shaft and move the head in circles, small at first, then increasing in size until I was stretching the skin that surrounded the entrance to her grotto. As I moved, her hips responded. I stopped. "Don't even think of moving until I tell you it's ok," I said. She stopped and looked up at me between her legs. She nodded agreement, but I could see she was anxious to move her ass with me. I could see her pulse in the vein of her neck as it increased in speed and intensity.
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I felt the moisture before I could see it. Not much, but enough to allow the head of my cock to move more freely. And she smelled delicious. God, after what I had encountered earlier this afternoon, this was the Ambrosia of the Gods. I couldn't help myself, and said to her, "Hold very still; I am going to enjoy myself for a minute; don't even think about lowering your legs. "I dropped to my knees and sunk my face into her golden curls and licked at her cunt so hard that I pulled the hair into my mouth with my tongue. I licked and sucked and wet her with my own saliva until I realized it was no longer necessary. She was producing a new quantity of oil that lubricated everything in sight, including my face and beard. I spent another ten minutes licking and sucking at her outer lips, then the rubbery red inner set, and then found her tiny (very, very tiny) clit, hidden in the deep folds of her sheath. Teasing and tickling and sucking at her clit caused two things to happen. First, she began to move without being given permission. I decided to disregard this because the motion had also caused a new and different type of lubrication to appear. Thick, slick and very wet, this new nectar tasted deeply musky and signaled her readiness for the next step. I kissed my way up along her stomach and to her ribs and directly to the puffy swellings of her breasts. I opened my mouth and took her left breast – almost the entire thing – into my mouth and sucked on the nipple and flicked at it with my tongue.
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You would have thought I'd hit her with an electric cattle prod. She jumped, causing her entire body to clear the surface of the bed. When she slammed back down, my mouth was still clamped to her left nipple and I proceeded to suck so hard I could almost feel the pain myself. I took the other nipple between thumb and forefinger and pulled and twisted it until it, too swelled away from her chest and became a real breast. I sensed a difference in her breathing and realized she was crying. "What's the matter?" I mumbled, with my mouth half-filled with nipple and aureole. "Am I hurting you?""No, no," she sobbed, "nobody ever paid any attention to them before. None of the guys, of course; but neither did the girls or the women I've been with. They ignored them. I play with them sometimes and I know I get really excited from it; but no one ever did that before. Ed, I already came once. If you don't stop, I'm going to cum again. " And she turned her face seemingly to hide in embarrassment. Stop? Me? Never? I thought to myself. And I renewed my attack on her nipples, first one, then the other.
Her body thrashed and pitched and jumped around on the bed so that I had to insert one knee between her thighs to hold her in place. Needless to say, that knee was immediately treated to a wet bath and a furry rubdown by her pussy. And she did cum again. At least twice more, while I sucked and bit on her nipples and aureoles. She was sobbing and her chest was heaving when I moved my lips back to her rib cage and then down to her now-sloppy cunt lips. I flicked my tongue out and speared her opening with it. I inserted it as far as I could and licked at everything I could find. She simply went nuts. "Yes, dear woman," I mumbled into golden pussy hair, "A main is eating your pussy; not a woman; a man who loves the smell and the taste and the feel of a woman's cunt in his mouth. Get used to it, Robin. I'm not stopping yet. " And I face fucked her incredibly hot pussy for another fifteen minutes and at least two more orgasms of spasming stomach muscles and clenching thighs. When I finally stood up, she was fully red from her thighs up to her face and breathing like she'd just played a hard game of basketball. I leaned over her and kissed her – for the first time, I realized – and allowed her to taste herself on my beard and lips and tongue. She did not recoil at all.
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She opened her mouth and sucked my face clean and dry and licked up all stray drops of herself with her tongue. "Like that?" I asked, and she nodded her assent, licking her lips. "Then I guess we are ready for the piece de resistance, dear girl. "And I backed off to lift her legs straight up again and hold them apart at the ankles. I told her to take my cock in one hand and put it right where she wanted it. She slowly stroked the shaft with her fingertips and moved the head up and down her slit a few times until she shivered and then placed it against her hole. She didn't let go immediately, but did as I had done earlier – slowly made circles with the huge head, stretching the lips around her velvety entrance. "It's big, Ed; it's fat; please take it slow; I want to enjoy it, not be really hurt by it; is that ok?" she whispered up at me. I responded by telling her to remove her hand. She did, and began to play with her nipples by herself. I looked her directly in the eyes until she allowed her eyelids to droop down over them, shutting out either who I really was or what was about to happen. And I pushed forward with just a tiny bit of strength. Her mouth flew open but no sound came out as my head pressed against the extremely tight opening. I quietly thanked myself for the extra preparation I had put into this pussy, because if I had tried this ten or fifteen minutes ago, she would probably have quit at this very spot. I could feel her lips stretching.
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I told her to relax and let things take their natural course. And I applied just a tiny bit more pressure. Her mouth was still open in a perfect 'O' but I heard nothing except the rushing of her breath in and out of her nose. And within the next 30 or 40 seconds, the head magically popped inside the fleshy gates of her pussy lips. I was inside my boss! I was now actually fucking Robin Watters. I smiled down at her and she tried to smile back, but the pressure was building. I reminded her not to tighten her leg muscles and immediately felt them relax in my hands. I moved a fraction of an inch forward and heard a gasp deteriorate into a groan. Cutting to the bottom line here, it took me almost twenty additional minutes of slowly advancing and retreating and moving my hips and playing with her clit until my dark pubic hair was commingled with her blonde curls and I was sunk to the limits our bodies would allow. Now, I leaned on her and pushed hard against her pubic bone with mine and looked into her eyes. "Is this what you had in mind, boss?"Look for chapter 3 in the very near future (I hope).
