Hardwood

"Oh my God, Michael. Ohhhh."

We did this several more times; me feeding him my girl cum in small doses. Then, once his digital desire had ebbed, Michael went back to dining expertly on my gaping succulence, and I placed my hands on his head again to feel him move against me . Several times I heard out of body cries, only to realize they were emanating from somewhere deep inside me. When Michael would moan, the vibration would stimulate my clit to a point that my hips were bucking and spasming to his oral maneuvers. I looked down between my legs in utter amazement. Here I was on the very counter where I had done homework as a child, where I'd eaten so many meals with my parents, where our extended family had gathered for holidays. Here I was in the very center of our house; naked, legs spread wide, cunt pulsing as a sexy older man ate my pussy and made sexual music with his tongue.

"Oh, God, Michael! That feels so good. That feels soooo fucking good. Don't stop. Oh, Michael, don't...."

Suddenly he picked up the pace, grabbing each cheek of my ass with his strong hands, pulling my slit apart and absolutely accosting my pink juicy flesh with his entire mouth. I had never had anyone eat me like this -- never. The moment became too much for me; I couldn't hold back any longer. I felt a wave of arousal rush through me and felt that steady throb of an impending climax. Michael knew -- he just knew. And as I looked down at the sharp contrast of our bodies and felt the pleasure coursing through every fiber of my being, an orgasm overtook me suddenly and violently. It was like an unexpected wave that crashes over your head when you've got your back turned unwisely to the sea.

"Oh, Michael. Oh, fuck, I.... Don't stop! Don't .... Ohhhhh."

My hips spasmed with a twitch and I felt my fingers tightly entwined in Michael's scalp, holding on for dear life as I was rocked with an intense climax that came in steady pulses until my body collapsed in a drenched heap of post-orgasmic bliss.

I was unable to move; unable to speak. My breath sounded like I'd just run a sprint; my heart pounded. Michael slowly withdrew from his niche and looked down at me with a smile that combined pleasure and care. His lower face glistened with the traces of my copious lubrication.

"I knew you'd taste good," he joked. "I enjoyed the appetizer earlier, but the main course may have been the best thing I've ever tasted, Molly. Ever."

I smiled at the compliment, mini after-shocks still catching me unaware as my climax slowly subsided.

"Oh, Michael," I cooed. "Do you treat all your wood technology students like this?" I queried.

He smiled and shook his head.

"I do not, Molly. Please know how special you are," he stated.

I looked down at his strong hairy forearms, casually draped over my pale knees, and the desire to have him, to return the favor in some small way, suddenly overtook me. I needed this man and needed to return some modicum of the pleasure he had just bestowed on me. I needed him. I suddenly had an overwhelming desire to suck his cock; to take him in my mouth, much as he had done me.

I slid off the table and spun him around so he was still standing, but leaning back against the counter edge. I grabbed a cushion off a nearby chair and threw it onto the floor at his feet. Then I leaned my body against him, letting him know I was all his, and began to kiss him deeply. As our tongues swirled and our kisses regained the passion of only moments ago, my hands went down to his belt buckle. My fingers worked nimbly, but desperately; eager to unleash the hardness that had been hiding in his jeans. Once his belt was undone, I unsnapped him and reached my hand down to cup the gigantic swell of his manhood. I stood up on my tip toes so I could whisper in his ear.

"I need you in my mouth, Michael. Now. I want you to fuck my mouth," I seethed.

I couldn't believe what I was saying this to a man I had met only two days ago. But his mouth had uncorked a flood of physical and emotional arousal, and I wanted nothing more than to please him, to give him pleasure, to make him come.

"Yes, Molly. I want that. Suck me," he implored. "Please."

I kneeled down on the cushion so that my head was at the very height of his crotch. I could see how fully and tightly he was engorged; snug in his denim. I reached up to the zipper and began to pull down, ever so gently. I didn't want to catch any tender skin in the teeth. My eyes almost popped out of my head as the zipper began its southerly descent, only to discover that his cock was slowly emerging below. He had not been wearing underwear and so I had one less layer of clothing to concern myself with. I smiled inwardly and wondered if he went to work commando every day.

The zipper reached the bottom and his cock protruded forth at a steep angle. It had to be the most beautiful cock I had ever seen: larger and thicker than average, the shaft cleanly shaven and standing straight and true. I couldn't take my eyes off of it as my slender white fingers tried to enwrap the turgid dark flesh of his glorious erection. All I could think about was what it was going to feel like in my pussy when we finally got around to fucking.

His balls were still tucked in at the crotch of the zipper, so I pulled his jeans off his waist a little, loosening the access, and reached in with one hand to cup and lift his balls out of their confines. His balls were big and full and also shaved smooth. I loved the feel of their slippery roundness as I let his balls lie gently against the outside of his zipper. I leaned back to admire this display of masculine flesh -- so hard, so big, so beautiful.

"Oh, Michael. I love your cock. Oh my God. It's....."

Words failed me. I needed to show him what I thought of it with my actions. I encircled the bulbous tip with my thumb and forefinger and slid the sensitive skin back and forth, watching the huge helmet of his head protrude forth so proudly. A small drop of pre-cum appeared at the slit and I leaned in, tongue sticking out, to lick it up.

I loved the feel of his spongy head leading the charge. I loved the smooth texture of the thin outer layer of skin as it slid over the rock hard flesh below. I loved the dark color and veiny ribs that lined his shaft. I loved the dark tuft of pubic hair that contrasted so nicely with his smoothly shaved shaft and balls. I loved it all. I ran my hand along his length and looked up at him.

"It looks like you shaved too, Michael," I stated, as my hand glided along the silky skin of his straining shaft.

"I did," he replied. "Just for you, Molly."

Oh my. As I looked up into his smiling eyes, I opened my mouth wide and swallowed the head. He was thick and I had to stretch my lips to take in his girth. I heard him moan softly and say my name as I began to rock back and forth, bobbing the first two inches into my hungry mouth; my tiny hand wrapped around the base of his thick dark shaft. I don't think a cock had ever tasted so good

I pulled away and sunk down low, looking back up into his eyes as I began to lick and kiss his very sizable balls. I took the left one in my mouth, swirling my tongue, enjoying the smooth loose texture of the skin. He clearly liked the feeling, or perhaps it was the image, of me sucking his testicles. I pulled back and let his left ball pop out with a loud thwoping sound. Then, not to play favorites, I took his right testicle and sucked it lightly to even the exchange.

"Oh, Molly. I love looking down and seeing my balls in your mouth. It might be the sexiest sight I have ever seen."

After finishing with ball number two, I began to slowly lick my way up his throbbing shaft, washing my tongue along his sensitive ridge. But it was when I reached his frenulum that I slowed and concentrated. I turned my head sideways, opened my mouth wide, and enveloped that tender ridge that I know men love so much. I slid my mouth back and forth, just moving about an inch, and combined that with a twirling tongue. As I did that I kneaded his smooth balls carefully with one hand and moaned loudly so the vibration of my vocal cords would further stimulate that most sensitive spot. I felt him gird his loins, unsure whether to let me keep going or stop me so he could fuck me. He chose the latter.

"I'm not ready to come yet, Molly. Stand up," he commanded. I did as he said. I felt like putty in his hands.

We took a short break as he discarded his boots and jeans. Lastly, he unbuttoned his shirt and I saw his thick chest, covered in fine dark hair. He was naked now, as was I, and his erection hadn't subsided one bit. It wavered and bounced stiffly as he disrobed. I looked hungrily at it; wanting it inside me.

Suddenly, and with no warning, Michael lifted me up in both his arms and laid me down on the comforter. He lay me down sideways along the edge, and leaned down to kiss me. His right hand began to run along my legs and, as I opened them wide to give him ready access, I reached out to gently stroke his magnificent dick.

As his kisses became more passionate, his fingers entered my folds and began to play an expert tune along the ridges of my labia. I felt his meaty fingers explore my flesh, and I could hear the evidence of my excitement as his probing elicited sticky sounds of wetness from my juicy lips. From the sounds of his breathing, Michael seemed to be enjoying this as much as I was. I could feel my hips bucking to meet his hand, trying to maximize his touch. Finally, I was overwhelmed by his manual stimulation and had to stop kissing and just enjoy the moment. He pulled his head away, but continued to look at me as his fingers slid off my clit, down through my soaking wet folds, and into my pussy -- all in one motion. I moaned loudly and my hips bucked to give his fingers free and unfettered access to my juicy warm hole.

He slid his middle finger all the way in and grunted deeply as his palm slammed against my mound. I whimpered and ground my hips, wanted him to fuck me hard with his fingers.

"Molly, you're so tight. So nice and tight," Michael crooned.

His finger began to establish a steady pace and I don't know that a finger in my pussy had ever felt so good. He knew just how to touch me as the crescendo continued to build. I lifted my hips up off the counter, digging my heels into the cover, grinding my hips as Michael began to finger me with rapid fire thrusts of his hand. If his middle finger felt this good, I could only imagine how wonderful his cock would feel thrusting into me.

He must have come to the same conclusion at the same time, because he stopped abruptly and seemed desperate as he jumped up on the counter. He pulled my legs around so he was holding them and kneeling between them and looked down at the wide open gash of flesh that was mine to offer him.

"Fuck me, Michael. Now. Hurry," I demanded. "Fuck me hard!"

He pushed up on both arms and I reached down to guide his thick hard cock toward my oozing opening. I felt the spongy head of his dick sink slightly into that magic indentation, and then push past my labia to gain entrance. It took a minute of gentle back and forth insertion for his cock to finally slip all the way into my tight hole. But once he was in, once he had filled me with his hard meat, I felt him angle himself just so and begin to fuck me in earnest.

All pretenses were gone. He might be the carpenter working on the kitchen; this might be the kitchen of my youth; but at that moment we were just a man and a woman -- and we were fucking. I moaned his name as he began a steady deep assault, bottoming out on each thrust and grunting in rhythm to his pumping hips. I don't know that I'd ever felt more filled or more satisfied. He cradled my knees in his elbows, pushed them back, and plowed into me deeper than I can ever remember a lover going. I had been dreaming for two days about Michael fucking me, and now that fantasy was a reality.

"Oh my God, Michael. Fuck me! Harder. Don't stop, Michael. Don't stop. Awww fuck," I screamed.

We rearranged on the counter several times, trying new positions and establishing new and different angles. My previous boyfriends had always come far too quickly once they were inside me, but Michael had a stamina I had not come across before. He was certainly enjoying himself; there was no doubting that from the sounds of his voice and the movements of his body. But for him it wasn't a race to the finish; he was clearly relishing the pure carnal act of fucking, as was I.

I exhorted him with words and moans; making sure there was no doubt in his mind that I enjoying every thrust of his hard cock; every slap of his hips against mine. He leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"I need you doggie, Molly," he asserted. And I need it now."

With little fanfare, he slid off the table and pulled my body with him. He was so much stronger than me, and I knew he could throw me around like a little rag doll, if he so chose. But he somehow tempered his strength and force with a tenderness and kindness that made me want him even more, if that was even possible.

He pulled me onto the floor and turned me around roughly to face the counter. He pushed my head forward and spread my legs. I could feel him positioning himself directly behind me, and moments later I felt the huge head of his cock entering me again, but now from a rear angle. This position made his cock seem even bigger than before and I groaned and shifted my hips upward to accommodate his girth. As he slid in, inch by inch, taking care not to go too fast, too soon, we both gasped at the intense pleasure washing over us.

"Oh, God. Oh, fuck. That feels so good. Right there. Oh, Michael. Don't stop," I wailed as Michael began to pump into me with a steady carnal rhythm.

I looked up to see the familiar surroundings of my childhood home, albeit somewhat torn up with the renovations. But, nevertheless, it felt so dirty and naughty and strange to be getting fucked face down on the kitchen counter of my own household. I felt all those things, but it also felt fucking hot and sexy. I felt Michael plunge deep and I grunted approval, lifting my hips slightly to accommodate his every push.

Within a minute he was grinding and pushing deep into my pussy. He grabbed my hips and with each forward thrust he pulled me back onto his throbbing dick. It felt so good and so deep. I could hear his grunting pumps and the sexy sound of the flesh of his hips smacking loudly against my ass. I turned to look back at him, his face a grimace of lust. He was staring at my ass and cunt, gaping open as he watched his cock slide in and out of my body at an increasingly rapid rate. I reached my right hand down to rub my clit as Michael pummeled me with his heavy prick.

I could feel a familiar vibration begin to curl up deep in my inner loins. I pushed up on my hands and arched my back, urging Michael on.

"Oh God, Michael. Fuck me. Fuck me hard -- just like that. Yes. Right there. Fuck -- right there. Don't stop. Fuck! Unnhh!"

He slammed his cock home. He wasn't stopping for anything. His dick was like a runaway freight train careening off the tracks. I heard a high pitched wail come from someplace deep inside him and could tell from his staccato breathing and deep long thrusts that he was close to climax. I arched my back and ass up as far as I could and, just then, heard him scream my name as the first spurt of cum shot deep against my vaginal walls, followed by another, and another, and one more. He let out a pitiful cry of fulfillment as his pace slacked off precipitously and the last drops of cum dribbled into my slippery fluid folds.

"Oh, Molly. Oh my God, Molly," was all he could muster.

I lay still, having had one orgasm and having come so close a second time. I was glad he had climaxed, but could have used another minute of his primal pumping. But Michael understood this. He allowed himself a moment or two to catch his breath and collect himself. He withdrew his semi-hard cock carefully, slimy and slick with the juices of our union.

"Molly. You were so close, I could tell. Hop back up on the counter, baby," he commanded.

He lifted me up on my ass and I leaned back on my arms, spreading my thighs as he pulled up a chair. He grabbed my calves and pulled my legs up over his shoulders to rest on his back. He wasn't going to eat me again, was he? I could still feel his cum dripping out of my crevices as he went down on me again.

"Relax, Molly. I'm going to eat you, baby. I'm going to suck my cum right out of you. Come for me, Molly. Again," he claimed as he looked me in the eye and leaned down to place his open mouth on my still quivering cunt.

I watched closely; infatuated by his hungry mouth. This man had such an appetite for sex, and I'd never in all my days had a man eat me after coming inside me. I watched in awe as he licked and kissed me, slurping any combined juices with no hesitation -- eating me like I was his last and most delicious meal ever. But once I felt his fingers enter my tight pink hole and join with his tongue as it accosted my clit, I knew I wasn't going to last long.

He brought me to the brink and knew it clearly. He licked and finger-fucked me non-stop, as I lifted my hips to offer my juicy opening to only him. And as my heels dug into his back and my arms supported my upper body, I lifted my ass up to press and hump my cunt against his wailing tongue and flailing fingers. I was on the verge and needed to lock him into my pussy. I clamped my thighs hard around his head as my hips bucked against his mouth.

And then, I came. I mean, I came so fucking hard. My arms gave way and I collapsed on the soft comforter as he ate his way through the most intense orgasm I could ever remember having. My legs, which had been clamped around his head in a death lock, suddenly relaxed and gave way as my orgasm spiked and slowly subsided. Our hearts were pounding and we were both breathing hard and fast.

"Michael," was all I could say.

There were no words. I was truly speechless. I looked up at our kitchen ceiling, realizing I'd never actually seen it from this particular vantage point. Nothing had ever brought me to lie on my back on the kitchen counter before. I laughed at the thought and ran my hands through Michael's hair as he gently nibbled my soft white thighs and planted tiny soft kisses on my totally splayed open pussy.

"You, young Molly, taste, and look, so good. So good. You have given this old man a real treat, dear. Thank you," he smiled, his whiskered face still glistening from me, and some of him. It was precious.

"Has this little incursion thrown you off schedule, Michael?" I asked with a knowing smile.

"It has, but I'll find a way to make it up. Tomorrow. Or the next day. As long as there are no distractions from the peanut gallery," he joked.

"Well, fine. But you're not planning on going back to work today, are you?" I asked in a pleading tone.

"Well, I don't know, Molly. Did you have a better idea?" he asked with that broad grin that made me melt the first time I saw it.

I leaned down and curved my fingers around his semi-turgid shaft. I felt it warm and thicken slightly with my touch.

"Well, if you've still got some wood left, then I have some things that need fixing in my bedroom," I teased.

With that I grabbed his hand, hopped off the counter and pulled him toward my room. I could feel his eyes on my backside.

"Well, Molly. I'd follow that ass anywhere. You know that. Lead on," he added.

And I did.