Sandy Ch. 02

"Oh, ... yeah," and handed it to me so that I could wash my cock and balls, and my asshole between my legs, she snickering as her hand moved down to my ass. Then she let me rinse myself, offering to get me a razor. She slipped past the shower curtain at the other end of the tub, as I said that I would shave under the shower. While I shaved, I heard her drying herself, hoping she wouldn't leave, but she was there, brushing her hair, when I had turned off the water and opened the curtain. She handed me my towel and then watched appreciatively as I dried myself. After a glance around for a place to hang my towel, I flipped it over the rod for the shower curtain. When I turned back, Sandy was standing closer to me than I expected, smiling, and then said:

"That was great, thank you, and ... uh, thanks ... that was the part I still wasn't comfortable about."

When I nodded understandingly, she moved a little closer and said softly:

"Don't you think we should kiss or something? I mean, we haven't even held hands, but have touched each other almost everywhere else."

Her nipples touched my chest.

"Um-hmm, good idea of yours," I murmured, and we did, it soon developing into a tongue-sucking, cock-arousing kiss as we embraced, Sandy nodding with a hum when she felt him pressing against her. When we released each other, he was standing straight out towards her. She looked at him pointedly with pleased snort, as I took her hand. But after a squeeze, she drew it back as she said:

"I better take my pill while I'm still here."

She did, smiling at me, and then we held hands again. As we left the bathroom, she glanced at him again - now more relaxed - with another, softer snort and suggested:

"I guess we don't have to put on much for dinner."

"We don't have to put on anything, if you want."

She glanced up at me and responded:

"Really? ... I guess not, ... if you want," and she snickered and squeezed my hand.

I set the table while she started the steaks. "Ouch!" she cried once when I was at the table, and then called: "I should have put on an apron at least; damned fat," and then she snickered.

While she dished up, I opened the bottle of wine, recalling the first dinner with Martha, at first thinking that it had been nude, but then remembering that we had put on something. I poured the wine as she sat down, Sandy snickering slightly as she watched my cock above the edge of the table as I returned to my chair. Then she looked at me, and we raised our glasses:

"Here's to us, ... here's looking at you," I toasted. She snorted slightly with a nod and repeated: "To us, ... and looking at you," and we drank.

She had prepared a potato salad and a green salad, with the steaks, a nice meal. We didn't say much during the first few bites, just looking at each other, smirking occasionally. When her nipples tightened once, I smiled pointedly, wondering what might have crossed her mind, especially when she glanced down at them with soft "um-hmm" to herself, and then said:

"This is certainly different, nice, ... I like it, but I feel sort of like that girl in the painting "Breakfast in the Park," at least like I always had imagined she must have felt."

"Manet, but the men were all dressed. I used to wonder about that: how she felt; and how the men did; and how the artist justified the scene."

"Um-hmm, kind of funny. They looked very posed, probably painted separately in his studio. Well, that's what I learned in my art appreciation course. Yeah, Manet, of course. How did you know?"

"I don't just study the nudes in the museums, I read the labels if I like them - the nudes, ... like you."

Her nipples tightened again, and she smiled, maybe a little smugly, and we returned to eating. After a few more bites, she looked up and asked:

"Oh, what do you want for dessert? Ice cream, a pear?"

"Just you."

She grinned with a nod as she responded:

"Just me? Yeah, well, that too," and she grinned again: "but for dessert?"

"Just you, ... nice and juicy, I hope."

"Oh! Me? ... Like that? ... You want to ... , me, for dessert?!"

"Um-hmm, just you, ... like that."

She looked at me for a moment with a silent "oh" on her lips, and then asked:

"You like it, you want it, ..." continuing as I smiled and nodded: "... I never ..., no one ever ..."

"Maybe you should have asked," I interrupted her.

"Yeah, maybe. ... And you really like it?"

"Almost as much as ..." and I left the sentence unfinished.

Again, her mouth formed a silent "oh" for a moment, and then she voiced it:

"Oh? ... You mean, ... uh, ... like for my dessert?"

"I was thinking of something else, ... but since you suggested it."

She looked flustered, blushing apparently at her having anticipated that I had meant something else; that she had immediately assumed that is what I had meant; that my response implied that her question could be an offer. Her "I never ..., no one ever ..." had made it clear that that she didn't have experience, but also wasn't rejecting the idea, at least, of my having my dessert. And as she continued, it seemed that she was more curious than disinclined:

"Oh, ... and girls like it, ... to do it? I know it tastes funny, but ..., they like to do it?"

"Some of them, at least. ... You know it tastes funny?"

Sandy grinned with a nod, maybe pleased to be on familiar ground after her surprised questions.

"Yeah, of course, and I liked it - it has been a couple of years - but I never, ... uh, ... did it to a man. It didn't occur to me when I might could have, and after that, ... well, ... no one asked me, ... and I - we - usually didn't have time for anything else - if you know what I mean - and it wasn't till this spring that I heard of people who really did it - were said to do it."

Sandy smiled at me brightly, and reached for her glass, but it was empty. I quickly refilled both glasses, and then almost simultaneously we both said "Skaal," and drank. After she put down her glass, she looked up and said:

"If you want me to, I am curious. At least I know that I won't mind the taste. Somewhere I heard that some girls think it is terribly yucky and probably think a ..., it's dirty."

"Good reason for an early shower."

She snorted with smile at the reference to our earlier conversation, while I recognized her avoidance of the use of a four letter word, and let my own curiosity show:

"How did you discover that it tastes funny?"

"You really want to know?"

"Sure, and especially since you don't mind the way it tastes, maybe you have a secret that could be useful for others."

"I doubt it, and I had sort of forgotten about it till recently ..."

"Looking for an old fantasy? I've been going through my files recently."

"You know too many girls."

She - we - took a good sip of wine.

"So what did you remember?"

"When I really started making out - the spring I turned eighteen - once my boyfriend and I were alone in his house. Till then, we had only kissed outside after parties, but this time we had the chance to lie down and go further. I wanted him to hold my breast, but it took a while before he got up the nerve to, but then he did, and I wanted to touch him, to hold his ..., him. Of course, I had felt it between us when we were embracing, but when he started to hold my breast through my bra and shirt, I found his ... cock, just holding it through his pants, but it was exciting, and it was excited, moving under my hand. Well, he came real quick, not that I understood what had happened, and he was a little flustered, not telling me, and then his mother came home, so we had to stop.

"But the next chance we had, of course, we were like that again very quickly, and when he opened my shirt and held me through my bra, I opened his fly, and then he pushed my bra up and held my bare breast and didn't object when I pulled down the front of his jockey shorts.

"Wow, exciting, touching his bare penis, exploring with my fingers around its funny head as he rubbed my nipple, exciting me. But it was more exciting for him, suddenly shooting my hand full - I didn't know a word for it yet - and again and again as his hips jerked. 'Real wow!' I remember thinking."

Sandy and I both took another drink of wine, snickering at her story.

"And then?"

"And then he just held my breast, and I cupped my full hand around him, somehow thinking I should save it or not let it get on his clothes, and asked him: 'What do I do now?' 'I'll give you my handkerchief,' he finally suggested and fished it out of his pocket. With my other hand, I tried to collect the thick, sticky liquid from my hand and then wipe up what else I could find, touching his pubic hair for the first time, and then discovering how his cock had become soft and smaller. Finally, I took the sopping handkerchief out of his pants - it wasn't a very big one.

"Of course, I was curious; I knew that I didn't smell of pee when I played with myself, so I held it to my nose and sniffed at it: strange, funny, but it was his. I'm afraid that I was really thinking: 'it's a man's, my first 'man's, not caring so much that it was my boyfriend's. I pressed my nose in the wet cloth, intrigued with the smell and the thought that I had made him come.

"When he reached to take it from me, I clutched it and said that I wanted to keep it, so he let me. I realized that it would be a problem to get it home without leaving its odor in my purse, but then thought to empty the Kleenexes from my packet. That was good, it was still just as wet and smelly in the evening when I got it out again."

We snickered and grinned at each other, nodding. I emptied the rest of the wine in our glasses, and we drank again, both now almost unconscious of our nudity as Sandy continued:

"Well, you can imagine what I did that night, with his handkerchief draped over my nose, and better than ever before, now with an impression of what a cock was really like."

She snickered:

"At least two fingers," and I snickered out loud at her openness and agreed:

"At least two." She laughed with a nod:

"Yeah, but I didn't find out with him.

"After a couple of nights, the odor had weakened, but we found a chance to refresh it - about the same situation - but I wanted more, to really see it.

"How come I'm telling you all this? ... I never told anyone about this, ... or anything else. ... Well, just my girlfriend, admitting that we had done that much, the first time, ... but no details.

"You asked what I want for dessert."

"Hm-hmm! Oh, yeah. Kind of fun to tell, though, ... and to remember."

"Um-hmm. And then?"

"We had gone with our bikes to a swimming pool and knew we had the afternoon to ourselves, but not there for what we wanted to do, and I wanted him finally to really help me - not just through my panties. Maybe he was worried about my cherry, but I could show him that that was no longer a problem - if we just got the right chance. So I got him a little aroused at the pool, and then suggested we go somewhere else.

"He agreed, of course, and maybe had been planning the same thing. When we had packed up and were on our bikes, he took the lead and turned off on a farm track between almost ripe wheat fields, and then stopped, telling me that nobody could find us if we didn't tread on the stalks near the track. He picked up my bike, over his head, and carefully entered the field, as I followed with our things, feeling that it was all a little unromantic, especially when he told me to flatten down the stalks while he went back for his bike. I did so, spreading our towels out on them and wondering how we would get back in the mood again.

"We just had shirts on over our bathing suits and took them off. Then he reminded me that we had to sit down, so that we couldn't be seen. And then we lay down on the uncomfortable wheat stalks, and pretty soon were in each other's arms. When he unzipped my bathing suit, of course, I was half naked - and enjoying it - and then told him that I wanted to see him - 'all of him' - and that I wanted him to see me."

"I've heard that before," I broke in with a chuckle.

"I bet," Sandy agreed with a grin, and we both had a sip of wine before she continued:

"We were still a little embarrassed as we each took off our bathing suits, but then it was just fun, finally seeing his cock and balls, his cock standing up as he sat there, and proudly showing my breasts. He said that he had been surprised when he first saw my pubic hair, and then we started to fondle each other, soon lying down, and then I had my head on his chest and was watching my hand on his cock.

"I had learned not to make him come so fast, and it was funny to see, moving his skin up and down a little. Well, I got to see it, really good, squirting again and again. I guess I knew that it was white, but it was still a surprise to see how far it shot. He was accustomed to my smelling it, and I had no problems with the way it smelt, on the contrary, so it just seemed natural to want to taste it, and it wasn't much different, and so sexy, making him come like that and then licking it up. Maybe it surprised him a little that time - we went back there until the field was mown After that, I tried to catch it in my mouth, but it never occurred to me to do anything else. And I don't think we even consider really having sex, but I showed him how to help me, better than I could myself."

Sandy smiled, almost a little triumphantly, and emptied her glass, as I quickly emptied mine. After a moment of looking at each other - we had long since finished our dinner - at once, we both asked: "Dessert?" and then both almost laughed out loud at our common thought.

"How do you want your?" Sandy asked.

"On the table."

"On the table?"

"Where do you usually eat dessert?"

She snickered cheerfully and responded:

"Then we better clear the table."

As we started to, she said softly:

"But I want to ... want mine first. I've been thinking about it. If it's ..., your dessert is good as I hope, I may not be interested afterwards."

She looked at me questioningly, and then added: "Is that okay?"

"Of course. ... Actually a good idea - another one. If my dessert is maybe not as good as you hope, well, then I can try to make up for it later."

"Hmm!" she responded with a grin, and then we soon had the table cleared.

Despite our nudity and all the innuendoes and her story and the clear understanding about what would happen next, I - my cock - wasn't aroused when we returned to the table. She looked at it and then up at me and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"We could kiss again, first," I suggested: "but if you are really curious, it may be more fun to start the way he is."

Sandy snickered with a smile and nod, replying:

"That was what I was wondering about. You must have read my mind. Yeah, that's what I want to do. ... Hm-hmm, ... have my dessert on the table!"

She grinned, and I perched my ass on the edge of the table. For a moment, her eyes darted back and forth from my face to my cock as she licked her lips, then she reached out and fondled him, now not quite as small as before, then chuckled as he grew a little longer. When I spread my legs, her fingers slipped down around my balls, moving them in my soft sack.

"I better sit down for my dessert," Sandy murmured and found the chair with her other hand and shoved it in place, glancing up at me as she sat down. Then she looked back at what her hand was doing and remarked softly:

"This is going to be fun," and joggled my balls back and forth.

"Um-hmm, not just fun."

"Um-hmm," she agreed with another glance up at me, smirking.

Her fingers slipped up and raised him, now quite full, and she leaned down and kissed him on top of his head, and then nibbled up with her lips, burying her nose in my hair, sniffing so that I could feel it.

"Nice, man smell," she murmured as her lips moved back down him, snorting softly when he rose slightly from her fingers. Then I felt her tongue moving in the groove, exploring, following it a little in both directions, and he was no longer resting on her fingers. Her lips and tongue moved onto his head, and he surged, pressing up against them. She snorted in appreciation - I felt the soft puff of her breath - and her fingers crept under my balls again, gathering in the skin so that she could cup them in her hand, reminding me that she certainly had experience with doing that. Her lips slid over his head, and her tongue found my little slit. After a moment, she murmured, more to herself than to me:

"Nice. Now I remember seeing that, but didn't taste it. Anyone would like that," and her tongue returned to taste it.

"Um-hmm, ... real nice for me, ... and that you are in no hurry. You know, it just gets better the longer it takes."

"Hn-hnn" she chuckled and squeezed my balls gently and then let them slip from her grasp and drew at the skin of my sack with her fingers, then experimenting with rolling it between her finger tips and stretching it - kind of funny to watch below her lips, that were holding the tip of my cock as her tongue moved on my hole.

I thought that she was going to take him in her mouth now, but her tongue slid under him, and she pressed him up with her mouth, trying to hold him still as her tongue rubbed behind his head.

"Oooh! That's good!" I whispered: "That's his most sensitive place."

"Um-hmm!" Sandy acknowledge and continued for moment, making him surge a couple of times, then she chuckled and raised her head with a grin:

"Suddenly I remembered about that - with him. He could hardly stand it when I touched him there. Once I made him come just by rubbing there with one finger, his cock just twitching and twitching," and she grinned again.

"I bet, ... you pricktease, but you'll miss your dessert if you try that with me, ... or get it up your nose, if you do it with your tongue like that."

Sandy laughed and shook my balls and cock with her grip of my sack.

"No fear, no way; I'm not going to miss the best part. Geez, I wish I had known about this back then; it's too good: feeling you, knowing I'm making you aroused. And it was your idea to start at the beginning, ... for curiosity's sake."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, smiling back at her, delighted with her attitude.

"Um-hmm," she agreed, and shook my balls again, but the wagging of my cock caught her eye:

"Oh, I guess I have been talking too long," and she did it again so that he wagged further, both of us chuckling about it. Then she caught him with her other hand and with a glance up at me took him in her mouth.

"Ummm!" I sighed as her tongue found where it had been before, first just the tip, and then as she took him deeper, the rough surface of her tongue moving on him. He stiffened again, and then surged in her warm mouth, and she nodded with a hum and sucked him deeper, squeezing him with her hand when he surged again. And then her head was moving on him while I watched, feeling her holding his head to her palate with her tongue, both of them rubbing him. Slowly, deliberately her head moved, and in slow rhythm he surged. Then my hips started to move - pure reflex - as I felt my balls draw up.

"Stop! Stretch my sack!" I whispered urgently and held her head still. With a quick nod, she caught my tight skin with her fingers.

"Stretch it real hard. It won't hurt."

Sandy nodded again and did, rolling the skin between her fingers as it loosened. When my arousal had subsided somewhat, I gently encouraged her to move her head again. As she resumed her motion, I whispered again:

"Thanks. Maybe you will get an extra helping for that."

Sandy chuckled deep in her throat and gathered my balls in her hand as her head moved on my cock, now more insistently. And my cock began to surge again. I wanted to arouse her by asking if her pussy was going all moist, but all I could do was gasp an encouraging "Good!" between my aroused gasps and moans, and then I tried to warn her when I felt my balls draw up again and felt my first ejaculation coming. With a gasped "Now!" I started to come - suddenly remembering that Martha had said that she had tasted it before the first spurt.