A Tale of Two Paramours Ch. 09

“Fuck me,” she pleaded, her bright blue eyes smoldering with lust.

“What is the magic word, Jessi?” I inquired, grinning down at her.

“Please fuck me!” she implored, her voice desperate.

I slammed into her, and a loud gasp that turned into a moan escaped her soft lips as she closed her eyes and arched her back, pushing her pelvis up against me. I stayed buried deep inside of her for several moments, and then I began to pound my rigid shaft in and out of her again. Jessi shuddered beneath me, but I did not think she had climaxed – I had not felt any spasms in her tight pussy. However, I was quite sure she was very close. So after a few more hard thrusts, I again stopped with just the tip of my penis inside of her.

Much more quickly this time, Jessi begged me to continue. I teased her a bit first, starting to move in, then pulling back, until her pleading became pitiful. Then I rammed myself inside of her, and like before, she gasped and shuddered but did not reach orgasm. Unfortunately, that hard thrust back into her had brought me close, and I knew I would have to pull out longer next time if I was going to keep this going.

“Don’t you dare pull out of me again, Mark Warner,” the blonde growled as I began thrusting, her now open eyes glaring up at me.

“Do you like having my hard cock in your pussy?” I asked her even as I pulled back, this time completely out of her.

“Fuck yes!” she cried, and she began pushing her groin up, trying to capture the head of my rock hard penis in her needful pussy. “Please shove your cock in me. I need it in my cunt.”

I felt some surprise at her word choice – the only other time I could remember my young lover using that particular term was when she had discussed a fantasy scenario of having another woman with us as a way to arouse me. It was clear to me that I had teased her to the point she was desperate to climax. Taking pity on her, I thrust into her wet warmth, not as forcefully as the time before, but still with enough vigor to again cause her to gasp and close her eyes.

I leaned down until our sweat slickened torsos were pressed together, and Jessi clamped her arms and legs around me as I established a steady, driving rhythm. As I moved in and out of her, I kissed her deeply, and her tongue played with mine even as she moaned and squirmed beneath me. Suddenly, the blonde pulled her mouth from mine, arched her neck, and let out a long, undulating moan. Her muscles grew rigid as her body tensed, and I felt her pussy spasm around me.

As Jessi’s orgasm took her, I sped up my thrusting; I wanted to climax with her. However, I soon realized that I might have waited too long. Much to my consternation, I was no longer as close as I had been, so I slammed into her even faster and harder. When I did so, my young lover’s body shook and she grunted with each thrust. Her tight, wet pussy continued to grip at me as I pumped in and out of her, and I wondered whether she was still in the throes of her climax.

It took only a few seconds of this for me to reach my own climax, and with one final, hard thrust, I buried myself inside of her and felt my penis twitch as several spurts of semen shot into her receptive pussy. I worked to catch my breath – both Jessi and I were panting quite hard by that point – and shuddered as I felt her continuing vaginal spasms clutch at my softening penis. Finally, Jessi’s body relaxed, and her arms and legs slid from where they had been wrapped around me.

I pushed myself up off of her, my arms bracing my upper body, as I looked down at her flushed face. As I did so, Jessi opened her eyes, smiled up at me, and released a deep sigh. She then ran her hands up and down my arms as we held each other’s gaze. My penis was now completely flaccid, but I made no attempt to withdraw it from her. I was enjoying the closeness of that moment, and I was quite sure my blond lover was as well.

“So, how was that,” I asked her after we had stared at each other for several heartbeats.

Jessi laughed, smiled wide, and reached up to run her hand along the side of my face before answering, “Awesome.”

“I thought you might like it,” I told her.

“I did,” she replied, then her look became serious as she continued, “But I thought you wanted to make love.”

“Why do you think that was not making love?” I challenged her.

The young woman’s eyes narrowed, and I could tell she was pondering my response. I was hoping she was starting to understand that there was not always a clear line between raw sex and making love.

“It was pretty intense,” she pointed out a few seconds later.

“But making love can be intense,” I countered. “It does not always have to be slow and gentle – that is just one way of doing it. It can be hard and raw; it can be playful; it can even be a bit rough. What matters in making love is that you are doing it because of the way you feel about the other person and because you want to make that person feel good. That is what separates it from mere sex.”

“So, was the pussy cat stuff we did earlier making love too,” Jessi asked, and I would have laughed had she not been completely serious with the question.

“If we want it to be,” I answered. “But there are also times when two people who care about each other might want to just play or, well, fuck for nothing but the physical excitement of it. That is okay too. It does not change how they feel about each other, and it does not mean that sometimes they might want to make love rather than just have sex.”

“And what about me being your slave?” she whispered, and I saw doubt creep into her blue eyes. “I want that because I… because of how I feel, and I want to give myself to you, to be yours, whatever you want.”

“But you also want that because it allows you to not worry about how or why I want you, and just concentrate on the fact that I do want you,” I reminded her, paraphrasing what she had told me earlier.

Jessi looked away from me, and I could tell she was struggling with her thoughts. Afraid she would emotionally withdraw, I decided that I needed to get her mind on something else. So, I rolled off of her, my soft penis slipping from the warmth of her, and got up from the bed.

“I am going to fix breakfast. Are pancakes again okay?” I asked her.

Jessi sat up in the bed, and for a moment her face had that blank look on it, the one that usually preceded her leaving or asking me to leave. I braced myself for her to announce she had to go, but instead she shook her head, looked me in the eye, and smiled.

“I would love some pancakes,” she beamed.

***

I had the pancakes ready when Jessi came out of me bedroom. She was dressed as I was – knit shorts and a t-shirt – but somehow she made it look incredibly attractive. I have always known that I preferred women who wore less makeup, but with Jessi, I think that preference went a step further. I was beginning to understand that I found her to be her most alluring when she was at her most comfortable.

“Your pancakes are ready, Jessi,” I smiled, indicating the place I had set for her at the table.

“Thanks, Mark,” she smiled back as she sat at the table.

Over the next couple of hours, Jessi and I sat at my table and talked about many things. She told me about her job and her plans for the future. She worked for a finance company where she scanned old records into the computer and then checked for errors in the scanned data. She admitted it was dull work, but that she liked it because she could work at odd hours and did not really have to work with other people. She also told me that, in her spare time, she was working with some online acquaintances on creating a video game, and that her plan for her future was to earn a degree in computer science and be a game programmer.

I told Jessi some about my marriage, and why it had ended. I explained that my ex-wife had pushed me to quit teaching full time so I could go to work for her father and her uncle in their marketing agency in order to make more money. I admitted to my young lover that I had held resentment toward my ex-wife because of that, and because she had discouraged my writing. I also admitted that my decision to take a job teaching full time again had been the beginning of the end of my marriage, and that I had known that particular outcome was likely when I had decided to make that change.

When I was done talking about my marriage, Jessi asked, “So what kind of things did you write?”

“Mainly short stories, although I have a couple of novels partially written,” I replied.

“But what kind are they,” she asked, and I realized she wanted to know the genre of my writing.

“Some general fiction and some horror, mainly,” I told her. “But, I started out with science fiction…”

“I love science fiction,” Jessi blurted out, and for the first time since we had started talking, I was on the receiving end of one of those overlong and disconcerting Jessi stares.

“I thought you did not like literature,” I pointed out, remembering our first evening together, when she had told me that she was much more comfortable with math than other subjects.

“I like reading, especially science fiction,” she replied. “I don’t like talking about what it means. It does not work out for me. But you know that.”

I nodded and then asked her, “What else do you like to read, besides science fiction?”

“Comic books,” she answered, looking down as her face colored.

“Comic books can be quite interesting,” I agreed, wanting to assure her that she had nothing to be embarrassed about. “I have a friend at the college who teaches a class in which she uses a couple graphic novels. Anything else you read often?”

“Um, dirty stories,” she whispered, her face now bright red.

“Oh, well, um, I see,” I said, then added, “I have never written any erotica.”

“You should, Mark,” Jessi said earnestly, as she looked up and met my eyes again. “You certainly know what you are doing.”

It was my turn to blush and look away, mumbling “Thanks,” as I did so.

I was not sure why her comment embarrassed me, but it did. I had never considered myself particularly skilled as a lover, a topic on which I suspect my ex-wife and I would agree, but these last few weeks with Jessi, and Jessika as well, had been different. With both of my paramours, I seemed to have a sexual compatibility that was extraordinary, at least in my experience.

Jessi, who was not always the best at knowing what other people were feeling, seemed to realize I was uncomfortable, so she changed the subject. However, the new subject she chose was also a bit uncomfortable for me.

“Do you have any science fiction stories I could read?” she asked.

Looking at her expectant expression, I pondered how I would answer her. I had rarely let anyone else read my stories, other than my ex-wife, and she had been far from encouraging when I had let her. But, I knew Jessi had really put herself out there emotionally with me, and I decided I would do the same for her.

“There is one I have been revising.” I replied. “I think it is almost where I want it to be.”

“So I can read it?” she grinned, her blue eyes bright with anticipation.

“Yes,” I affirmed, even as a queasy feeling started to spread through my stomach. “I will be right back.”

I went to my office, booted up my computer, and printed a copy of the short story. I also grabbed my e-reader so I could read something while I let Jessi read my story. I doubted I would be able to focus on anything else while she was reading it, but I needed something to do other than stare at her.

When I brought the printed out story to Jessi, she beamed at me. Then for the next thirty minutes or so, I tried to read the novel that I had started reading the day before while waiting for Jessi to come over, but I could make little headway. I kept glancing up at the blonde to see how she was reacting to my story. Each time I looked, she appeared to be absorbed by it.

I eventually gave up on my reading and went to my office, where I attempted to work on some new grammar exercises for use in the coming semester. After several false starts, I was finally able to immerse myself in my work. The first clue I had that another forty minutes had passed was Jessi standing in the doorway of my office, the printed pages of my story in her hand.

“I loved it, Mark,” she grinned. “It was cool.”

“I am glad you liked it,” I told her as she walked across my office until she was standing in front of me. “I wrote that one over twenty years ago…”

My voice trailed off as Jessi pulled her t-shirt over her head, revealing her modest but perfectly formed breasts. She tossed the shirt on my desk and then dropped to her knees in front of me. Smiling up at me, she pulled my suddenly hardening penis out of my shorts.

“Thank you for letting me read it, Mark,” she breathed as she stared into my eyes.

“You do not have to…” I started, but Jessi cut me off.

“Remember what you said about doing something because of how you feel and because you want to make the other person feel good?” she asked.

“Yes,” I affirmed.

“And you said that was making love, right?” she pushed.

“Yes,” I again affirmed.

“Then this is making love, what I want to do for you right now,” she reasoned. “So, please let me do it for you.”

“Okay,” I sighed as she wrapped her lips around the head of my now fully erect member and sucked and licked at that most sensitive part.

My young blonde fellatrix teased the tip of my shaft with her soft lips and active tongue for several minutes, by which time I was squirming in my chair. This slow, loving, intense performance was even more excruciatingly arousing then her licking had been when she had been pretending to be a cat. And just when I was at the point that I thought I could not stand a second more of such tortuous pleasure, Jessi slipped her lips from my penis and smiled at me as she rubbed the now slick shaft on her face.

“I love your cock, Mark,” she purred. “And I love sucking it.”

“I love you sucking it,” I admitted, thankful for the momentary relief but also wanting her to take it back between her soft lips.

“There is one thing I have been wanting to tell you, though,” she continued, and I might have been worried had she not had a mischievous look on her elfin features. “You don’t have to tell me when you are going to cum. Just cum when and where you want. I’ll figure it out.”

Not waiting for an answer, the young woman started to take my penis back between her lips, then she stopped and clarified, “In fact, I don’t want you to tell me first. I want it to be surprise.”

“Okay,” I moaned as she wrapped her lips around me and dove all the way down in one slow, continuous motion, not stopping until her nose was buried in the pubic hair above the root of my erection.

The feeling was pure bliss for me. My blonde lover was quite skilled at oral sex even when she did not deep throat me. When she did, however, it took the experience to a different level. Not even Jessika, who was probably a slightly better fellatrix absent deep throating, could compare to the full package of what Jessi could do.

As Jessi sucked up and down my entire shaft, her tongue always in motion against it, I felt my climax building inside of me. I did not want this fantastic experience to end, however, so I tried different techniques to make it last longer, including grabbing her hair and momentarily stopping her with just a couple of inches of my manhood in her mouth. But at best, I might have prolonged her performance by a few minutes before it became too much for me.

I almost warned Jessi that I was going to finish, but I held my tongue, as she had asked. My young lover was just starting down my shaft again, with maybe a little more than half my length inside her mouth, when I grabbed her head, humped my hips up at her, and flooded her mouth with semen. I must have caught her at just the wrong time, however, because the blonde’s eyes went wide and she quickly pulled her mouth off of me. Several squirts of my semen landed on her face as she squeezed her eyes shut and coughed.

“God, I am sorry, Jessi,” I apologized.

Wanting to help her, I reached down and started using my fingers to clean her face, even as a line of semen trickled from the corner of her still open mouth. At my touch, Jessi opened her eyes, gabbed my hand, pulled it away from her face, and shook her head. She next took the two fingers that had started to wipe the semen off of her cheek and sucked them clean. When she was done with that, she used her agile tongue and her fingers to clean up what had leaked from her mouth when she coughed.

Then, without a word, she pushed back from me and stood up, the lines of semen still on her face. Grabbing her t-shirt from where it had landed on my desk, the young woman carefully pulled it over her head, making sure that it did not smear the gooey substance. My surprise at her efforts to preserve the evidence of what we had done must have been written on my face, because Jessi redden after she looked at me.

“I want to let it dry there,” she said sheepishly, dropping her eyes.

“Why?” I blurted out.

“I want to remember this the rest of the day,” Jessi replied, looking back up, a grin spreading across her face.

And then I understood. She was bolting again.

“You do not have to leave,” I told her as I reached out to take her hand.

The young woman clasped my hand in hers, squeezed it, and then drew me to her for a hug. After a few seconds, she pulled out of the hug, put both her hands on my cheeks, and stood up on her toes to kiss me. I must have looked like a complete idiot as I stood there and stared at her, my mouth open. And I have no problem admitting that I felt like one as well, considering I had no idea what was happening.

Luckily, the lovely blonde helped me out by saying, “I do. Have to leave, that is. I am starting to feel too much, and I do not want to just run out like I have before. I want to leave feeling good about this, and about us.”

“I understand,” I assured her, and she gave my hand another squeeze.

Less than ten minutes later, Jessi had all her stuff together (although she left both collars with me), and we were saying goodbye at my door.

“Are you sure you do not need a washcloth or towel?” I asked, for at least the fourth time.

“I am sure, Mark,” she assured me, and I could hear some annoyance seeping into her voice.

“I will quit asking,” I said, admitting defeat.

“Thank you,” she smiled, and then she was in my arms and I was kissing her.

When we finally broke apart, she beamed up at me and whispered, “I am feeling pretty good about this. Thank you for understanding that I need to leave now.”

“No problem, honey,” I responded, not catching the term of endearment before it left my mouth.

The young blonde stared at me just a couple of seconds too long, and then in a rush she said, “Think about whether I could be enough for you – just me, no one else.”

With that, she kissed my cheek before turning to walk to her big convertible, which was parked in my driveway. I waved to her as she got in the car, and she smiled and waved back. It felt good that our parting was much happier than it had ever been before, but it was also difficult to see her go, especially given her parting words. As I stood and watched her back out of my driveway and then drive down the street, the old car rumbling as it rolled away, I thought about what she had said, and I wondered what I was going to do.

TO BE CONTINUED…