tagHumor & Satire365 Days Ch. 04

365 Days Ch. 04

byDear_Dora©

Cyndi -- Day One (Afternoon)

I don't think I'd ever been more excited in my life, and Cyndi seemed to have shared in my excitement about what just had happened. So, imagine my surprise when we both reacted to this high level of stimulation and excitement by falling asleep.

I dreamed about a landscape made entirely of breasts ... soft, undulating hills of breasts, some topped with lovely ornamental temples, strawberry in color, surrounded by strawberry patches laden with fruit, others surmounted by only an ornamental circle of darker earth, with the suggestion of a cover in the center for a subterranean silo of some sort, from which might emerge, with the proper tender loving care, yet another alluring hill-top temple.

Slowly, something was intruding into my pleasant dream of the land of nipples. But the intrusion wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, the something that called me to the surface of my consciousness was a warm, gushing pleasure, which, in my dreamlike state at the edge of sleep and waking, reminded me of the warm relief and temporary pleasure I used to get from wetting the bed when I was a boy.

But this was not bladder control problems, I could sense that much even in my sleep. This was MUCH more pleasant than the best of those. I slowly roused and came to realize that something warm and wet was wrapped around my erect penis, and was slowly sliding up and down my shaft while constricting itself to form a tight, all-enshrouding sheath for my member.

Cautiously, I opened one eye. I was in my own bed, and it was the middle of the day. My head was propped up on the pillow, and there, down below me, in the approximate location where one would expect to find one's manhood, was a tousle of blond hair, rustling quietly as the head bearing it moved slowly up and down on my shaft.

"Hi, Cyndi! Thanks!" I said.

The head turned, and Cyndi's face turned to look at me with a radiant smile. "Hi, yourself! You looked like you were having a nice dream. I'm sorry if I disturbed it, but I thought I might add some special effects for you!"

"Oh, don't apologize!" I said. "I was basically dreaming about you, and it was very nice! But what is it you're doing there? That's really very nice, too!"

She flashed me one of her 1000-watt toothy smiles and turned her head back away from me to resume her oral work on my erection. She was draped over my torso, facing away from me, her left arm on one side of me, resting on the mattress, her head on top, and the rest of her flowing away to my right. I had a terrific view of a very sexy back and a previously under-noticed butt that I soon realized needed more study.

I bent forward enough to be able to reach her ass, but being careful not to disturb the delicate maneuvers which she was conducting in the regions of my crotch. I was able to get close enough to her to pry open her ass cheeks with my hands. This is an area of anatomy I had never really contemplated before, let alone had an interest in studying.

I don't know what I expected to find, exactly. Again harkening back to my earlier concerns about sanitation and bodily functions, I guess my original expectation was of a sweat-soaked valley, dark from uncleaned excrement, fetid, humid, and foul.

Imagine my pleasant surprise when what I found was a clean, soft, very warm, fragrant (I'm not being sarcastic, it mainly smelled of soap and/or body oil) landscape of attractive female flesh. I could plainly see the puckered orifice of Cyndi's rectum, but at just that moment, it was snuggly closed for business. I encountered no forests of body hair, as I may have feared, and I don't know to this day if it was simply a feature of Cyndi's anatomy that she was hairless there, or whether she included this valley when she cleared the brush elsewhere in the vicinity.

At the head end of the valley was a small soft mound which quickly gave way again to a shallowing vale and eventually ended in a graceful three-dimensional horseshoe curve before continuing up onto the Cyndi's downy lower back.

The landscape in the other direction was even better. After passing Cyndi's asshole again, I could see that there were only a few fractions of an inch before the contours of her cleft began to form additional wrinkles, which dropped down between the enfolding outer lips of her slit, to be lost forever in its mystery and darkness unless, perhaps, some bold explorer again set out to penetrate those depths.

While Cyndi continued to suck her way up and down my shaft like an express elevator in a big hotel during a convention, I began to sense that weird combination of feelings behind my scrotum, that mixture of intense pleasure, slight discomfort, and pressing urgency that I knew would soon become irresistible. But before surrendering myself completely to that feeling, I did something that surprised and shocked even myself.

I stuck out my tongue, rolled it into a cylinder as best I could, and started to lick (not too lightly, mind you, but not too assertively, either) along the flow line of Cyndi's butt crack. I started at the small of her back, up over the plump little hill there, swooping down into the deep pink valley, and along it to the Grand Canyon. My mind recoiled at what I was doing, and sent me a crudely-worded telegram to "be prepared for my first taste of shit straight from the source."

But my tongue refused to be dissuaded, and plowed steadily onwards, tasting nothing other than perspiration, body oils, and maybe a little something carried over from our earlier activities.

But I noticed, as I passed the Grand Canyon, Cyndi's successive strokings and vacuumings of my erect penis took a sharp uptick in intensity.

I pushed on, passing over that bridge of material between the anus and the vulva which I have since come to know as the "taint." Again, the flavor and aroma was surprisingly pleasant.

At last, I arrived at the more familiar territory of Cyndi's outer lips. Serious delving into these treasures as I had done before would have to wait for a later opportunity, as her legs were together and I simply didn't have proper access; I certainly didn't want to divert Cyndi from her current task, either.

But I noted that the entire region seemed to be suffering from a series of small earthquakes, as Cyndi wiggled around in response to my explorations. I noticed also that a small but productive artesian spring had sprung forth from between Cyndi's lips, and availed myself of a little sip before wandering back to her nether regions.

I wandered through the taint again, and decided to bivouac on the south rim of the Grand Canyon. For one thing, I noticed the strength and frequency of the earthquakes there grew significantly when I was dragging my tongue through the Grand Canyon region. For another, I sensed imminent eruptions from Mt. Foreskin in our immediate future.

I closed my eyes, and leaned forward, pressing my nose into Cyndi's asshole, as my penis erupted into her waiting mouth. Her wet, soft, warm, caressing, stroking, sliding, lapping, squeezing mouth.

It is my unconscious habit to count things as they happen. I have a talent for remembering the pattern of a repeated noise, like firecrackers or gunshots, and can easily replay them in my mind and count them accurately at my leisure. So with this ejaculation. With my nose buried in Cyndi's ass, I felt rather than heard a quick series of spurts leave my penis, and I was rather too busy appreciating the aesthetics of the experience to count them right then.

But shortly after I settled down from my orgasm, I subconsciously counted my ejaculations into Cyndi's mouth. Ten. There can be no doubt, although I find it very hard to believe myself, as I'm sure I never ejaculated with more than three or four spurts before in my life. But there can be no doubt ... I shot exactly ten spurts of semen into Cyndi's mouth that day upon waking from our nap.

Not to say the last spurt could have been much to speak of in terms of volume ... I'd just had one of the most massive orgasms of my life maybe a half hour previously. Like the anemic guy at the Red Cross Blood Drive, I don't think I had a lot more to give. And I hadn't even had my juice and a cookie yet.

But what the tenth spasm into Cyndi's mouth lacked in volume, it made up for in intensity. To say I was an excited boy understated both my age and enthusiasm substantially. But I began to notice something physically that I was to come to be very familiar with in the days and weeks to come.

Besides an amazing and profound feeling of pleasure and joy, there was also a very real twinge of pain, like going back out to play hockey even though you twisted your ankle the previous day. Like finishing your ice cream cone even though you've got brain freeze. Like burning your mouth on the first piece of the best pizza you've ever eaten in your whole life, but not being able to stop your self from eating the whole thing despite the pain.

To put it plainly, my scrotes hurt by the time I was done with that cum.

But tempis fugit, as they say, and as soon as I had relished the afterglow of Cyndi's wake-up gift, I resumed my explorations of her butt crack.

I curled up my tongue again, and began running it around the wrinkly rim of her anus.

This activity intrinsically summons up lots of salivation, which I simply let run down the tube of my rolled-up tongue onto, into, and around her asshole. My mouth was very wet, but her ass was soon even wetter.

Cyndi lifted her right leg, placing her foot flat on the mattress up behind the left leg's knee. This gave me a little more room to work with (especially, I gleefully noted, should I decide to renew my expedition to the Love Canal.)

I was determined however, at this juncture, to prove to Cyndi that my limbo bar of excretory and sanitary hang-ups was not just lower, but lying on the ground next to the bonfire. So I took the plunge, as it were, and pushed my tongue into her asshole.

Cyndi jumped involuntarily, resulting in my tongue pulling right back out of her ass. I pulled it back into my mouth, and contemplated the taste there before proceeding to decide whether to resume drilling or simply roll over and throw up.

The taste was, finally, a little earthy, a little less sanitized, a little less composed of soaps, oils, and emollients. The taste was, not to put too fine a point on it, quite a bit like the smell of shit.

But right at this point, Cyndi groaned, writhed her back such that her beautiful butt rolled back against me, and reached behind herself to grasp my head and pull me forward into her ass crack again.

Well, okay, it tasted a little shitty, but bigger things were at stake here. I knew I needed to power through this -- I had a lot to learn, and I wanted to do something nice for this Cyndi person who had done so many nice things for me. Maybe I didn't really love doing this particular thing, but hey, who knows, maybe in time, I would learn to like it ... to love it, even?

So, I tightened my tongue again and used it to swab around Cyndi's ass hole, plunged it in, and licked her all over that general region. Cyndi either continued to make very encouraging noises, or a sequence of goats and cows came through the room. "Aaaah! Mmmm -- Ooooh!"

Cyndi grasped one of my hands - which were, you will recall, being used to pry open and keep apart the globes of her shapely ass - she grasped one of these and guided it down to her labia, inside, to the front, and there guided me to find and stroke the little lumpy nodule I'd discovered earlier at the juncture of her inner lips. When she removed her hand, I took the clue and didn't follow, but stayed to twiddle around in there while I mainly concentrated on lathering and polishing her anal zone.

Again, the sheep, goats, and cattle came through, while at the same time, the earthquakes resumed, this time in force. I had everything I could do to stay in contact with ground zero (oh, yeah, and in the case of the fingers on my right hand, ground one or what ever you'd like to call her clit).

After a bit, Cyndi's moanings, groanings, and thrashings around suddenly stopped as she went completely rigid, trapping my poor head with its poor tongue tightly in place. I hoped first that this was a good thing going on for her, and second that it would soon be over, as I was cramping up and couldn't breathe.

Sure enough, Cyndi's rigor mortis quickly subsided, and she fell limp back against me. I pulled my self back a bit, leaned up and forward to see her face, and asked, "Was that okay?"

By way of answer, Cyndi grabbed my head and pulled me forward for another one of those deep-penetrating kisses. I was delighted. So much so, that it didn't even cross my mind until much later where both our mouths had been just prior.

Cyndi smile up at me and said, "what do you say we grab some lunch?"

... to be continued in Cyndi -- Day One (Lunch)!

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