Rainy Day Girl

“Oh, God,” she moaned, “oh God.”

Bringing up both hands I suddenly clenched a breast in each hand and brought them together, both nipples in my mouth, sucking and licking them. Beneath me her body writhed with passion.

“Oh God,” she moaned, “you’re gonna make me come, and you haven’t even touched me yet.

I carried on regardless. Letting go of her with my hands, my mouth moved down the gentle slope of her right breast, and roamed her body again, across the belly, and down to the juncture of her legs. Here, the white panties betrayed her further still. A patch of darkening material between her thighs bore testimony to desires. I grabbed hold of the silk fabric.

“Yes,” she cried, “take them off.”

Once again I ignored Lisa’s pleas. Bunching the material in my fist I pulled it upwards so that it created a narrow thong, the sodden material moulding itself to her pussy lips. I brought my mouth back to the tender flesh at the side of the now saturated material and nipped the delicate skin there. I felt the knuckles of her hand brush my forehead as Lisa’s own fingers dipped down to work her clit through the cloth. M y tongue now ventured across to lick her slit through the drenched material. We worked together, fingers and tongue, clit and slit until her body arched under me and she explode into orgasm.

We lay there for a moment, my head to one side lying on her belly.

“Come inside me,” she whispered.

“In a moment,” I said, “There’s another little pleasure I want first. I want to taste you.”

“Oh, god, no,” she said, “you’ll drive me over the edge.” But I wasn’t listening. Pulling the drenched strip of silk to one side, I lowered my tongue to her pussy. Licking round the entrance briefly, I thrust it inside her, tasting the sweet nectar.

“What do I taste like?” she asked.

I lifted my head. “You don’t know?”

“No, I’ve never tasted myself,” she said.

“Well, its, er, sweet taste, slightly salty. Like nothing else really. You should bottle it and sell it!”

She giggled. “And I guess you’d be willing to do the bottling? I don’t think it would be a very profitable operation!”

“Probably not,” I said, “But I’d enjoy coming to work.”

Lisa giggled again. “And I’d be coming at work! She paused for a moment. “Can I taste it?”

“Of course.”

I moved up her body so I was lying on top of her, our mouths inches apart. She stuck her tongue out and licked her juices of my lips.

“It’s OK,” she said, “but I don’t think it’ll make our fortune.”

“Would you like some more?” I ventured.

“No, please, no,” she said, “my pussy will explode if you keep me licking me there.”

“That’s not what I had in mind,” I replied. With my hips I now began to make gentle thrusting movements. Her drenched pussy opened up and took my cock inside. Propped up on both hands I watched as her eyes closed, and the fervour overtook her again. For a few minutes I slid in and out of her, a very gentle rhythm compared to our coupling a week earlier. Just as the moans started escaping her mouth again, I withdrew, got off her and knelt next to her face on the bed.

“There, you can taste some more of your own sweetness,” I said.

Lisa turned her head and with her tongue licked along the length of my cock. For a few moments she kept this up, licking down on side, then back up to the head, where she briefly flicked at the opening. She brought her head back down, this time taking the head between her lips, and the sliding down to engulf me, her tongue teasing the tip. I shifted my position slightly, my cock still in her mouth, so that I was lying alongside her now. The crotch of the panties had slipped back into place covering the entrance to her sweet pussy again. Once again I brought my face down to sopping triangle of lace between her legs. Extending my tongue like a miniature penis, I pushed against the silk gusset and into her. Even with the tiny scrap of material separating my lips from hers, I could again taste the sweetness of her juices. I brought my hand up and probed it under her panties and found her clit, standing proudly erect demanding attention. Just a few flicks form my fingers, and thrusts from my tongue inside her were enough to drive her over the edge again. Her mouth let go off my cock as she gasped and moaned to her climax, her body again arching off the bedspread, her thighs clamped firmly around my head to prevent me doing any more damage.

“Oh God,” she said when her breathing was back to normal, “your turning me into a wreck. I’ll sleep all the way back home.”

“We’re not done yet,” I said sitting up. With both hands I edged my fingers into the straps of her panties and tugged them down. They eased past her hips easily, but I had to give them a hard tug to pull them away from her sticky crotch. I eased them down her legs, past her stocking tops, and off her feet, and threw them on the chair. Her pussy finally lay naked before me, neatly trimmed brown hairs covering her glistening slit, widening to a small brown patch further up. Once again I lowered my face to her wetness, but this time I eased slowly upwards, briefly flicking her clit in passing, up across her belly, the delicious valley between her breasts, and her neck until finally it reached her mouth. Further down the bed I could feel Lisa’s legs encircle me pulling me against her. Without guidance from either of us, my cock found her pussy and slid inside. Her hands reached round to my ass, as I slowly eased in and out of her. Rather than our hurried coupling a week earlier, this time we maintained a slow sensual rhythm. I propped myself up on my elbows as before, and our eyes locked as we united and re-united continually. Slowly, very slowly the tempo increased until we were finally thrashing about wildly, those hazel eyes still staring at mine. With a final twist of our bodies we reached the pinnacle of this long and winding road crashing together into a shuddering climax.

Afterwards we lay on the bed side-by-side, for half-an-hour, until I told her I had to go.

“How can I contact you,” she asked. “What’s you e-mail address?”

I fished a business card out of my suit and handed it to her.

“Oudenaar,” she said, “it’s an unusual name. Is it Scandinavian?”

“Dutch,” I told her, “I came to Britain with my parents when I was 15.”

“Really?” she said, well you wouldn’t think it, your English is very good.” She paused for a moment. “Hmm, quite a cunning linguist aren’t you?”