Archive for September, 2009

Wild Bill

“Hey Kid, you know the difference between kinky and perverted?”  Wild Bill put down the grinder and sat down beside me.

We were up on the thirteenth floor, a hundred feet or so above the sidewalk, sitting on a big steel beam.  All day he’d been grinding off angle clips, moving them two inches higher, clamping them in place; and then I would weld them back onto the steel column.  All kinds of fun.

“What’s the difference Bill?”  I’d been on the gang a little over two weeks, and Wild Bill and me had immediately hit it off.  He was probably 20 years older than me; when he forgot to shave his head, the stubble came in grey.  He had a little bit of a beer belly and a whole lot of jailhouse tattoos and some nasty scars and a collection of bent and twisted fingers that had all been broken many times over, but he was also piercingly intelligent, possessed of a sick sense of humor, and the man walked the high steel like a great, malevolent spider.  I kind of had a crush on him.

I’d come on as a welder, $25 an hour cash under the table.  Nobody ever asked to see my welding certification, which was good because I didn’t have one.  I’d learned to weld at art school, making huge and fantastically ugly sculptures out of steel.

“The difference is if you’re kinky you use a feather.  If you’re perverted you use the whole damn bird.”

Much later that day.  We were across the street at the Mother Superior, getting soused on cheap red wine.  Most of the gang drank Budweiser, but Wild Bill drinks wine and I did too.

“The important thing is to know whether you’re just kinky or fully perverted.”  Bill does that a lot: he picks up running where he’d left a conversation hours before.  He spent a lot of time in the joint (apparently he had a nasty habit of knocking over liquor stores and gas stations when he was younger), and that may be where he picked up that habit.  I found it alternately disorienting and endearing.

The rest of the gang: Carlos, Tulio, Ugly John and Jitters, had cut out a while ago.  It was a weeknight and we all had to be at work the next morning at seven, sober or not.  The place was pretty empty and kind of dark.  We were sitting at a small table in the corner, and I realized that we were sitting a little closer than strictly necessary, and that the sexual tension in the room was off the freaking charts.  I hadn’t masturbated in, well in several days, and all of a sudden my clit was stiff as a jelly bean.  I strongly suspected that my panties were more than a little bit moist.  I really wanted him to touch me.

Wild Bill poured me a short glass of wine, killing the bottle.  He leaned over the table and almost shyly placed one hand on my knee.  I swear all of a sudden I was sitting in a puddle of joy juice.  My panties were drenched and squishy.  He ran his other hand over his scarred, bald head.  “Would you care to step into my office?”

Well, that sounded just fine.

About two seconds later I found myself in a place I’d never been before: the men’s room of the Mother Superior Bar & Grill.  There was a urinal on the wall, a toilette with the seat up right next to it, and a sink.  The place smelled like pee and dirty man.

Wild Bill was leaning against the wall next to the paper towel dispenser, and I was on my knees on the filthy black-and-white tiled floor, trying to tug his jeans down.

Ok, I was a little drunk, and more than a little horny, and over-eager, and not very coordinated.  I had a lot of trouble with his button-fly.  It didn’t help that his boner was doing it’s best to burst through the denim.

Finally I got his pants down around his ankles.  It was then that I noticed his underwear.  Where I had expected to see tighty-whities or maybe striped boxers, Bill was wearing green, lacey, low-rise Victoria’s Secret bikini panties.  And his junk was protruding eagerly from the front of them.

Well, I liked his taste in panties!  I tugged the soft material down out of the way and his cock sprung out to meet me.  My friends, Wild Bill was HUNG!  I’m not especially a size queen, though a big dick sure looks good in porn; and I’m lousy at estimating penis size, but this was ridiculous, well outside the mean.  I didn’t think I’d be able to fit the entire thing in my mouth, but I was more than willing to give it a shot.

It was thick and veiney, and the bulbous head was bright red and oozing sweet, sticky boy-juice.

“Yeah, suck me good, Kid”

Well I certainly intended to!

I opened my mouth wide and swallowed.  I was right, I couldn’t get more than maybe half that thing inside my mouth.  I wondered what it would be like to try taking it in certain other places.  Probably pretty nice, given a proper warm-up.

His cock was alive, thrusting in my mouth, fucking my face.  I did my best to keep up, grasping his tight muscular buns in each hand and swirling my tongue all over his big dick, keeping my teeth well out of the way.  Bill had both hands in my hair, still thrusting, but honestly I was doing most of the work now that I knew how he wanted it, bobbing my head up and down his glistening rigid shaft.  Bill was moaning and groaning so loud I thought the whole bar could probably hear, and I didn’t care at all.  In fact, I thought it was pretty hot.

I slipped my middle finger in between his buttocks and started tickling his little hole.

“Aw fuck Kid, I’m gonna come!”  Bill did his absolute best to jam his whole cock down my throat, and I did my absolute best to accommodate him.

He howled out loud like he was giving birth or something and jammed my face into his crotch.  I penetrated his asshole with my middle finger and I felt his cock spasm in my mouth and then he was squirting copious amounts of hot sticky, salty, bitter semen.  I swallowed it all and stayed with him as his proud erection started to go soft.

“Do you mind if I piss in your mouth, Kid?”

“Mmm-mmm!” I agreed happily, lips wrapped around his much-reduced dick and eyes gazing worshipfully up at his scarred face.

It took him a few minutes to relax enough.  I kept expecting someone to thump on the bathroom door and ruin the moment, but thankfully we were left in peace just long enough.  He closed his eyes and bit his lip and I let his soft dick rest on my tongue and then I felt his balls twitch, and finally he let a squirt of pee out.  I swallowed it hungrily, and it was followed by another, stronger stream.  My mouth was suddenly full of his hot, salty piss, and I was having to swallow fast and hard to keep up.

I’d never tasted pee before, and I was relieved to find that it was non-disgusting.  Not exactly something I’d put on my breakfast cereal, but in the heat of the moment and fresh from the source, it certainly did the trick.

When he was all done, he withdrew his penis and I licked the last golden drops off the tip.  Then he pulled his panties back up, buttoned his jeans, kissed me roughly on the lips, and we exited the men’s room together.

I half-expected a standing ovation from the bar, but nobody was paying us any attention.  They were all busy getting drunk.  We freshened up our wine glasses.

“That was fucking awesome Kid.  You wanna hang out here some more, or do you feel like coming over to my place?”

His place.  Definitely.

Wild Bill’s place was out on Staten Island.  We took the ferry over there, standing on the deck in the moonlight watching the towers of Manhattan recede, bodies pressed together against the chill night wind.  He was big and strong and solid and alive next to me.  I was so fucking horny I could taste it.  I playfully felt up his dick through his work jeans.  He was nicely erect, long and hard.  So Bill was still horny too.

Bill put his arms around me and whispered huskily in my ear, “I can’t wait to suck your cock.”

Holy Shit.

He still thought I was a dude.

Honestly, I hadn’t set out to fool anyone.  I’m not built like a supermodel, I had short hair at the time; and if you’ve ever done outdoor construction work in New York in the winter, you know you have to wear a bunch of layers: long underwear, Carharrts, jog bra, t-shirt, sweater, thermal socks, etc etc.  Even my name is kind of androgynous; and the guys mostly just called me ‘Kid’ anyway.  Actually I’d kind of forgotten that there might be any confusion at all.  I wasn’t the strongest of the gang, but I certainly wasn’t the weakest either; I could pull my own weight.  It had never occurred to me that I had Bill fooled anyway.

I felt his erection, straining through his dirty jeans, and gave him a squeeze.  “I want you to fuck me cross-eyed” I whispered back.  I really wanted him to, too.

We stumbled off the ferry and into a taxi, and then after a short drive, we stumbled out of the taxi and up the steps into Wild Bill’s duplex apartment.

As soon as the front door closed behind us, we were all over each other.  Bill wasn’t a physically big guy –I was a hair taller than him-, but he was incredibly strong and solid and compact and it felt really good to have my hands all over him– on his stubbly, scarred face, around his shoulders, gripping his tight little butt.  He was a really good kisser; aggressive and sensitive and playful and not too much tongue.

We maneuvered, still smooching and groping, into Wild Bill’s living room.  A little shove from me and he went sprawling onto the floor.  His t-shirt went flying.  He had a wicked scar on his chest, as if someone had tried to do unauthorized open-heart surgery on him sometime in the past, and a lot of tattoos.  His jeans came off, and his green lace panties too.

I got him on his knees and stuck my face between his cheeks, doing my damndest to stick my tongue all the way up his ass while I tugged on his cock.

Bill was moaning and gurgling as I assaulted his tight little asshole with my wine-stained tongue.  If I got any hornier, I was going to soak all the way through my Carharrts.  I unbuttoned the fly and stuck a hand down my own panties, finding the situation down there shockingly slippery.

“If you keep that up, I’m going to come” Bill moaned into the carpet.  Well, I wasn’t that far off myself.

“I want you to fuck me now” I said.  I was grinding my fingers against my clitoris and teetering right on the brink.  His balls were drawn up tight and his oversized cock hung down thickly.

“Condom” he said, “Lube.”

While he rolled the condom on, I pulled my workpants and undies off and knelt down in front of him, ass thrust up lasciviously.  He applied lube to my rear end generously.  It was cold when it touched my sensitive flesh and it made me shiver delightfully.  I wiggled my ass and he chuckled.

He started fingering my butt and it felt heavenly.  I really wanted him to stick a couple fingers up my cunt while he was doing that, but I couldn’t exactly ask him for that.

“Do you like that Kid?” he asked.

Oh man, the things his fingers were doing to my backside!  I think my joy juice was running in streams down my thighs.  “I want you to fuck my ass hard” I told him.

“You want it,” he said, replacing the finger up my butt with his latex-wrapped cock between my cheeks, “you got it!”

I felt the head of his dick nudging at my asshole, and I breathed deep, trying to relax.  Between the lube and my own juice, I was incredibly wet back there.  He pushed forward, and the pressure back there increased.  Another gentle nudge forward.  I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to take this.  It almost hurt, I was right on the edge.

“You ok?”

“Yeah.  Keep going.  Slow.”

I couldn’t resist petting my wet cunt.  His  hand was pressing down on my lower back.  Just as my asshole started to get used to the idea it was getting invaded by the battleship Missouri, he pressed forward and there was a flash of pain and then it was gone and suddenly he was inside me.

The sensations back there were absolutely blowing me away.  I felt stretched to the limit, full of cock.  He started out gently, pressing in so I thought my clit would pop, then pulling all the way out, then shoving it back inside.

“Are you all the way in?”

“Almost”

“Do it harder.”

He had found his rhythm now, and he was using my ass for his pleasure.  I knew he was all the way in when his chest was pressed against my back.  He offered me a finger to suckle on, and reached around the front, presumably to jerk me off while he fucked my ass.

I felt his puzzlement as his hand groped my crotch, feeling for something that wasn’t there and then finding something very different indeed.

He stopped mid-thrust.  “You’re a girl?”

“Just fuck me!” I begged.

He complied, fucking my upturned ass harder and harder as I showed him I could take it.  He buried a long crooked finger up my sopping wet pussy.

“I’m gonna come girl!  I’m gonna fucking come in your asshole!”

Oh yeah.  The things his cock was doing to my ass, his finger up my cunt, my clit rubbing against the palm of his hand, two months of deprivation, nothing but solo action with fingers and vibrator; I went off like a roman candle, shooting balls of flame from every orifice.  I came and I came and I came, swearing like an ironworker, spitting and shaking and cursing and writing, impaled on his dick.  I heard him come more than I felt it, a long, drawn-out growl/groan, and he collapsed on top of me, breathing hard as if he had just run a race.

He carefully extracted his wilting condom-covered cock from my now super-sensitive asshole.  We drunkenly, sloppily kissed a little bit more, and then staggered off to his bed, where we both slept naked, like spoons in a drawer.

When Bill’s alarm went off at 4:30, his hand was cupping my breast, which felt right and good.  He got up, naked in all his scarred and tattooed glory, and started the coffee, then came back to bed.

“Why didn’tcha tell me?  I’d a fucked your pussy.”

I stretched and groped him lewdly.  “I wanted you to fuck my ass.  Maybe later on you can fuck my pussy.”

I liked watching him get dressed.  He put on a pair of girls’ panties again, a red g-string.  He caught me staring and winked.

Coffee and a quick taxi ride to the ferry.  It was still dark out and a few bright stars braved the light polluted sky over the city.  We sat quietly near the bow, surrounded by other bleary-eyed construction workers just trying to get to work.

“Sometimes I wear a butt plug to work,” Bill told me quietly, “Whatdya think, kinky or perverted?”

“Depends,” I told him, “Do I get to pee in your mouth after you eat me out?”

“Definitely perverted, Kid” Wild Bill chuckled, “Most definitely.”

END

Comments (7)

Damien

1.

The house was big and old and very hot and there was no A/C and barely even dial-up internet, and I was alone most of the time and unemployed and often depressed and usually bored out of my head.

I took to hanging out down in the basement, where it was darker and cooler than the rest of the house.  There was a comfy old sofa down there, and a bare incandescent light that I mostly left turned off; and I could lounge around in my underwear and read a book or wank off or listen to my iPod or take a nap.  That was more or less the extent of my daily activities; now and then I’d fire up the laptop and try to work on the grant proposal or send out resumes, but the slow internet connection was really frustrating, and the more resumes I sent, and the more I didn’t get any responses, the more depressing the whole situation felt.

It must have been mid-August.  The summer was near its blazing peak and the kids were still out of school.  The temperature was already up in the mid-90s, and the heat and humidity were percolating down into my hiding spot.  I reluctantly extracted myself from the woman-devouring sofa and padded upstairs in my bra and panties to get myself an ice-cold lemonade out of the fridge.

I think I must have heard something, some noise.  Something made me pause at the top of the stairs and open the door quietly and poke my head cautiously through.

The stairwell opened into the kitchen, but I had a clear view into the living room from where I stood.  The TV was on, a tape playing on the VCR: a porno.  A blonde chick with improbably large boobs was being rather mechanically fucked by a greasy-looking guy with muscles and bad hair.  Now I love porn, but this was definitely not my kind of porno, and anyway the action on the TV set wasn’t what caught my eye.

Damien, the 15-year old son of my friend and current housemate Melissa, was naked on his knees on the carpet-covered living room floor.  He was skinny and kind of Harry Potter-looking with a slight, skinny build and unruly dark hair but without the glasses.  He was deeply tanned, except for the nicely defined pale patches where he wasn’t.  He had a smooth chest and a triangular patch of dark pubic hair, and a nice thick cock hanging down between his legs and his head was bobbing rhythmically up and down and he appeared to have a mouth full of his friend Bobby’s dick.

Bobby was a year older than Damien, burly (for his age) and blonde; a future high-school football star.  I’d seen the two around quite a bit already that summer, but not quite like this before.  I wondered if the two were gay, which would be a really hard thing to be growing up in a small town in the South.

Damien came up for air.  I had a nice view of Bobby’s cock, bigger than his young friend’s, wet and floppy fresh out of Damien’s mouth.  He had a fat set of balls and a curly patch of sand-colored pubes.  I slipped a finger down my panties and realized that I was shockingly wet.

The scene had changed on the TV.  Two girls with scary fingernails were 69ing each other.  The brunette on top had really big ‘80s hairsprayed hair.  The blonde one on the bottom was a little chunkier, had a shaved pussy, and was kind of cute.  Neither one of them seemed incredibly into it.

“Oh Man, I’d really like to fuck her!”  Damien said.  I wasn’t sure which girl he was referring to.  I loved the way his hard cock waggled, and I loved the unselfconscious way the two boys were all naked and turned on together.

“Dude,” Bobby said, stroking his saliva-slick cock, “I’d like to fuck YOU.”

“Did you really used to let your brother do that to you?”

“Yeah, it felt kind of good.  You’ve got to make sure it’s really slippery.  I’ll be careful.  It won’t hurt.”

“Will you do me when you’re done?”  Damien was still mostly watching the movie on the TV.  I swear his dick had gotten even harder.  For a kid, it really wasn’t bad-sized.  I could see a bead of moisture balanced on the tip.

“Ok, I will.”

“Alright then.  But you have to use a condom.”

“Ok.”  Bobby got up off the couch, sporting a grown-up sized boner.  He already had some muscle under his baby fat.  His big balls hung low in the summer heat.  He headed toward the kitchen, and I had to quickly and quietly close the door to avoid being caught spying.  I heard him moving around in the kitchen as I crouched at the top of the stairs.  My nipples were hard and poikey, and my panties were positively drenched.

When it was quiet again, I took a deep breath and cautiously opened the door a crack.  The boys were back in the living room.  The scene on the VCR had changed: it was the same two girls, but the blonde one was now sporting a big, fleshy strap-on.  It was actually kind of sexy.  I hoped she would fuck her friend in the ass with it, but I figured she probably wouldn’t.

I got to watch Damien go down on Bobby a little more (which I could have watched ALL DAY, let me tell you!), and then Damien fished a condom out of his school backpack.  Bobby tore the wrapping off and rolled the latex down his rigid dick.  Damien got down on his hands and knees on the hard wooden floor of the living room.  I had a prime view.  His cock hung down between his legs, and his cute little ass was thrust up and spread wide open.  His butthole looked tight and pink.

On the screen, the blonde girl was fucking her friend (in the pussy) with vigor.  The brunette was moaning and gasping on cue and her big tits shook with every thrust.  At least the blonde girl looked like she was actually enjoying herself.  She had a nice ass that was attractively framed by the strap-on harness.  I wouldn’t have minded getting in on some of that action myself.

Bobby had pulled a gallon container (!) of Wesson from the kitchen, and he proceeded to pour it all over Damien’s rear-end and his own condom-sheathed hard-on.  They managed to make quite the puddle on the wood floor.  I hoped they got it all cleaned up before Damien’s mom came home, or they’d really have some explaining to do!

Bobby got behind Damien, kind of obstructing my view of the good stuff.  The door had drifted pretty much wide open, and I had my panties down around my knees and two fingers up my twat and a hand up inside my bra.  I fantasized about the boys turning around and noticing me masturbating to them, but they were WAY beyond noticing anything.  Melissa could have come home that instant and I don’t think the guys would have stopped.

I could see Bobby adjusting himself behind Damien, positioning his hard cock at his friend’s tiny opening.  I wished I could see up close, but all I could see from where I was was Bobby’s backside.  I heard Damien groan, a long, drawn-out throaty groan, and I knew he had been penetrated.

“Dude, are you in?”

“Yeah, just the head part.  How’s it feel?”

“Uh… it feels good.  Just go slow.  How’s it feel for you?”

“Oh man, it’s so good!  It’s really tight!”  I could see Bobby’s ass flexing as he started to thrust.  I could just see his big balls between his thighs.  He’d wrapped his hands around Damien’s chest as if he were playing with his friend’s nipples.  Every now and then I caught a glimpse of his shiny, condom-wrapped shaft plunging in and out.

“Oh Dude!”  “Oh Yeah!”  “Oh Dude!”  “Oh Yeah”  “Oh Fuuuuck!”  Bobby collapsed onto Damien just as my first orgasm threatened to overwhelm me.  My cunt spasmed on my fingers as I bit my shoulder hard to keep from crying out.

I recovered a little bit and ducked behind the door while they disentangled and cleaned up a little bit.  By the time I dared peek my head out again, they were back on the couch and I was well on my way to my second orgasm.

On the VCR, some dude with a pony tail was fucking a red-haired chick with (surprise!) big hair and tits.  The boys were sitting arm-in-arm on the couch and Bobby was jerking off Damien’s poor neglected cock.

“Oh man that feels good!  What about that friend of my mom’s who’s been staying with us?  Don’t stop, dude…”

Bobby didn’t stop.  Rather, he increased the pace.  “She’s pretty hot,” he conceded as he pumped.  “I’d totally do her.  You should fuck her.”

“She thinks we’re just kids.  Oh dude, you’re gonna make me come!”

“You should walk in on her in the shower.  I bet she’s got an awesome body.”

“Oh dude, I’m fucking coming!  Oh! Oh! Oh!”  I really wanted them to kiss, but I guess that really wasn’t their thing.  Damien squirted an absolutely amazing amount of come all over his chest and tummy, and Bobby milked him for all he was worth.

“Your mom’s gonna be home soon, we should get dressed and clean up.”

No Shit.  I had some cleaning up of my own to do.  I slunk down the stairs, lemonade forgotten, and spent some quality time alone on the sofa.  Later on I put on some real clothes and went upstairs in time to meet Melissa coming home from work.  Damien was reading Tolkien in the living room.  Just seeing him sprawled on the couch made me moist all over again.

2.

Damien almost didn’t walk in on me in the shower.  It was early -I’ve always been an early riser- and I knew Melissa was still asleep.  He tapped softly on the bathroom door, and I pretended not to hear.  I almost didn’t have to pretend, I barely heard the knocking over the running water.  He waited a few heartbeats and tapped again, slightly louder.  I soaped up my tits.  He opened the door and stuck his head in.

“Oh!” he said, doing a really bad impression of being surprised.

“Oh!” I said, doing my best impression of being surprised.  My toes clenched as I walked a teetering tightrope between being totally mortified and utterly thrilled.

The part of me that was ecstatic to be naked and on display and desired won out by a hair.

“Could you hand me that loofa Damien?” I asked all casual like, pulling back the shower curtain and giving him a nice unobstructed view. Inside I was totally cringing.  What if he didn’t really think I was attractive?  What if he thought I was OLD?  What if he thought I was FAT?  What if he thought I was WEIRD?

He panicked, said “Excuse me!” and slammed the door shut behind him.  I exhaled.  I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.  My heart was beating like a bunny rabbit, and my nipples were stiff and erect.

3.

I didn’t really mean for it to happen, it just happened.  It was about a week later and the late August heat had gotten even more intense.  It was like a stifling blanket had been laid down over the whole countryside.  I was down in the basement, lounging on the Sofa of All Despair in a t-shirt and panties, sipping ice water and wishing it were beer and giving myself an ulcer worrying about things I couldn’t change anyway.

Damien came slinking furtively down the stairs.  I saw him before he saw me.  Everything about his posture said ‘Guilty’.  He was wearing cut-off shorts, flip-flops, and nothing else.  He was holding a glossy magazine in one hand.  I let him get all the way to the bottom of the stairs before I said “Hey.”

He jumped so high I was glad he didn’t catch his head on a joist or trip over the bottom stair and break his back.  “Oh hi” he said sheepishly, “I didn’t realize you were down here…”

“It’s a lot cooler down here,” I said, putting down my book, “It’s a good place to get out of the heat.”

“I guess I’d forgotten you were home…”

“Where else would I be?  Hey, whatcha got there?”  He had a porno magazine, circa 1982, clutched in one hand.

He actually tried to hide it behind his back.  Poor kid was blushing furiously.  So was I.  But I persisted.  “Come on, let me see!”  He sheepishly held the magazine out for my inspection.  “Oh My God!  I used to love that stuff when I was your age!  Let’s look at the pictures!”

I actually loathe that kind of porn these days: glossy, fake and airbrushed; but I wasn’t about to tell Damien that, especially not with him snuggled up next to me on the Sofa of Death in nothing but a pair of cut-offs.

We were looking through a photoset of a couple girls in a hot tub going through all the motions but not actually touching (which I found equal parts charming and annoying, and how in the hell were they supposed to have real girl-girl sex with fingernails like those anyway?!) when we started kissing.  I think he actually started it, but I’m not sure.  It could have been either one of us.  The sexual tension down there was thicker than the humidity, and we were both turned on way beyond belief.  The magazine tumbled to the floor and we commenced sticking our tongues down each other’s throats with gusto.

There wasn’t even a trace of stubble on his face.  His skin was so soft!  Kissing him was more than a little bit like kissing a girl, in all the good ways.  But the insistent boner in his shorts reminded me that I was smooching on a boy.

I guided his hand under my t-shirt and up to my breast.  When his trembling hand touched my boob I swear it made me gush even more.  How long was it since I had been touched?  Months.  It felt like years.

I couldn’t stand it any more.  I must have moaned out loud.  The head of Damien’s penis was peeking shyly out the waistband of his shorts.  My lustful fingers undid his button fly and relieved him of his tighty-whities.

His dick flopped out in all its glory, up-close and personal.  He wasn’t as big as most of the guys I’d been with.  I really didn’t give a crap about that: at the moment it just meant that it would be easier to fit it all in my mouth.

I pulled my shirt off over my head and swallowed him whole.  His dick was red-hot and alive and thrusting in my mouth.  It felt SO good to have an actual cock in my mouth again!  I played gently with his balls like a pair of candy almonds while I wrapped my lips around him and sucked for all I was worth.

I came up for air, savoring the moment.  I had my thumb and forefinger wrapped around the base of his cock and I was jerking him off with little butterfly strokes.  The head of his dick was very red and absolutely bulbous and leaking pre-come.  The veins on the shaft were positively pulsing.

“I am going to give you SUCH a blowjob…”  His busy hands felt really nice on my tits, which had become super-sensitive.  I stuck out my tongue and traced the underside of his shaft, following the vein from his ball-sac all the way up to his pee-hole.

When my tongue reached the head of his penis, Damien cried out suddenly as if he’d been stung.  It took me a second to realize what was happening, and in that second he managed to squirt all over my tits, neck, and face.  Only a little bit of his hot salty bitter juice made it into my mouth.

I stayed with him, stroking and licking and sucking until he was all done.  I was amazed at how much come he had squirted out: it was all over me.  It was totally sexy!

“I’m sorry…” he stammered.

“Don’t be.” I kissed him wetly on the lips, pulling him close to me.  He kissed me back, hard, and I hugged him tight, squooshing his come between our bodies.  In the summer heat, it felt extra slippery and sexy and nasty.

“That was amazing,” Damien said, “that was even better than…”

“Better than Bobby?” I asked.  Damien blushed.  He blushed! It was too cute!

I let him remove my panties.  He was still semi-hard and I kept wanting to get distracted, but he knew what he wanted.  I’d been keeping myself cleanly shaved down there, for reasons of vanity and comfort even though I was at least a hundred miles from the nearest waxing salon.  Damien seemed to appreciate my smooth pussy, but then again he’d probably have appreciated it if I had a full-on jungle down there.

I was really fucking wet, my friends. His fingers made sexy squooshing noises as he explored me.  I have to say, it felt really good to have him fingering me.  We lay side by side for a while as he finger-fucked me and we kissed and I enjoyed the feeling of his hard dick pressed against my tummy and he intermittently licked and sucked my come-slick boobies.

Eventually though it was just too frustrating.  Even after I showed him how to touch my clit, his inexperienced (though enthusiastic!) fingers kept bringing me close to the edge and then distracting me.  I needed to come like a dam needed to burst.

“Would you mind going down on me a little?”  I’d never actually asked a guy for that before.

Damien grinned really big.  “Could I really?”

I spread my legs wide and he climbed in between.  I pulled back my clit hood to give him easy access.  Damien was certainly a quick learner: he flicked his tongue all around my Panic Button while he kept his fingers busy up my cunt.  He was rapidly becoming a virtuoso with those fingers.  I felt myself slipping over the edge.  What I really wanted was for him to take one of those talented, slippery fingers and stick it up my ass.  But I wasn’t ready to ask him for that, not yet.

He kept slurping my clit and fingering my pussy, and I came all over his face.  Literally.  Sometimes, when I’m really excited (and I don’t seem to be able to control or predict it) I squirt when I come.  This was one of my most intense orgasms ever.

Damien came up from between my thighs, soaking wet with my come and a great big grin on his face, and a nice hard dick projecting from his crotch, bouncing as he moved.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this!”

“I want you to fuck me now” I said.

“Ok” he said.

“You should wear a condom.”

“Ok” I did happen to have one or two, in the bag with my toys and lube.  You know, just in case.  I tossed one to Damien and he carefully rolled it on.

I lay back on the sofa and spread my legs wide apart.  I was SO ready for this!

“Are you a virgin?”

“Yeah.”  (I guess we both meant ‘virgin’ in the narrowest, penis-in-vagina sense, because just last week I had very explicitly witnessed how not a virgin he was to being butt-fucked!)

He clambered between my legs and took aim.  “Go ahead,” I said softly, and he kind of lurched forward and then he was INSIDE me.  God it felt so good!  I hadn’t had a penis up there in forever and I had really missed it.  Damien pressed forward until he was totally buried in my sopping wet cunt, his feather-soft pubes pressed up against my hairless pussy.

“Oh My God!” he gasped, “It feels amazing!”

“Come on,” I said, “fuck me!”

“I’m not going to be able to last…”

“Don’t worry about that.  Just fuck me.  Fuck me hard!”

He did start fucking me hard.  It was just enough to push me back over the edge: he looked so sexy pounding his hard dick in and out of my pussy.  I came, shaking and groaning and that totally set him off.  He cried out loud and buried his dick all the way up inside me and I felt his cock twitching inside the condom and he collapsed on top of me, a limp, sticky mess.

We kissed and snuggled a little bit, and then he slipped out of me and disposed of the condom, and I let him watch while I masturbated myself to another nice little orgasm.  Then he wanted to help, so he climbed on top of me in the 69 position and started licking.

This, of course, put all the goodies right in front of my face.  His dick had never exactly gotten soft, and as I licked the underside, it started to firm up again very nicely.  God!  Why hadn’t I started boinking 15-year olds earlier?!  My own goodies were getting a little too sensitive and tender, so I had to redirect the energetic lad away from the ol’ clitosaurus.  He skootched down and concentrated his licking on my juicy pussy, which felt rather nice, and had the effect of placing his (once again erect) cock right between my tits, and his ball sack pretty much right on my chin.  A whole new set of goodies was just within tongue reach!

I amused myself licking his adorable, fuzzy balls for a little while.  Then I moved on up, tracing the tender flesh of his taint.  When I couldn’t stand to wait any longer (about 3 seconds into it), I took both hands and pried open his cute little butt cheeks, spreading them wide apart.

I’d never licked a guy’s ass before, and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed licking Damien’s.  (he certainly seemed to enjoy the experience as well…)  He smelled and tasted clean and sexy and earthy and male.  He hardly had any hair at all back there, and his cute, puckered little asshole winked and opened for my exploring tongue.  Right about then I really wished I had a strap-on like the blonde girl in the video.  Damien moaned and squirmed as I worked my tongue deeper and deeper up his asshole, more or less forgetting about licking my pussy in the throws of his bliss.  He was humping my tits, sliding his cock between them, lubricated by our combined sweat and juices.  I pushed my boobs together to better accommodate his penis, and greedily tongue-fucked his anus, my face buried in his ass. Suddenly his entire body went rigid, his back arched like a cat, his asshole spasmed, and with a long, protracted, drawn-out noise that was somewhere in between squeal and moan, he came, splattering hot boy-come onto my tummy.

We cuddled for a little while, but we couldn’t cuddle very long because it was just too fucking hot.

“Man, that was really amazing!” Damien said, all cute and sweaty and naked and finally flaccid.  “Thank you!”

“Thank you!” I said, “That was exactly what I needed.”

“Can we, um, do it again sometime?”

“Sure!  How’s tomorrow for you?  And do you think your friend Bobby might want to come over and play sometime?”

First he blushed, then he grinned, and then we both collapsed in a fit of giggling.

It felt like a weight had been lifted, I felt like I was through the worst of it.  Later on, in a long, cool shower, I fantasized about the next time Damien and me got together.  Would he really invite Bobby along?  Was there anywhere in this backward state I could buy a strap-on?  The possibilities were almost endless.

I plugged in the modem in my bedroom, finally motivated to send out some more resumes and work on the grant proposal.  When the be-booping and chirping finally stopped and I was (painfully slowly) online, I checked my email.  An interview I had done six months before and more or less forgotten about had written back to me, could I report for work next Monday?

The long dry spell was finally over.  Next week, I would be in Manhattan and Damien would be back in school.  I would have to thank Melissa for her hospitality and pack all my shit, which would fit in a medium-sized backpack.  I wondered just how much trouble I could get into in the next three days.

END

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