Seeing Stars

I let her lead me and then turn me around until the bed was just behind me. She slid my hands to her waist and her own up and over my chest, reaching for my neck to pull me close for a kiss. I thought about resisting, but it was a fleeting thought, engulfed by a rising feeling of lust. Her lips touched mine, her fingers curled against my neck, and we kissed with a passion that surprised me, it was so intense.

She felt it too. Her mouth opened against mine and sighed, pulling at my neck as if she could pull me any closer. Then her hands were working at my buttons, making swift progress downward, and in what seemed like an impossibly short amount of time, she had my chest bared and was pushing the sleeves down my arms. Through it all, her mouth didn't leave mine, and her kisses grew more and more forceful. I'd only ever kissed my wife, and never with this much passion, so the way she varied her kisses from slow and deep and passionate, building to an almost fevered, desperate pace punctuated with little gasps of delight was intoxicating. I felt completely at her mercy.

When my arms were free of my shirt sleeves she let the fabric drop and turned her attention to the front of my trousers. She drew back then and her motions slowed as she drew my belt from the buckle.

"I'm going to guess your wife didn't like giving blow jobs," she said, slipping the leather from my belt loops. I should have been used to her candid language by now, but the direct comment startled me. "I've heard it's the first thing to go."

Two deft movements and she had my button undone and my zipper lowered. She was obviously experienced, and I knew I should be grateful for that—I was sure I was in for a hell of a ride, so I tried not to think of how many times before or with how many men she'd done this very thing, maybe in this very position by this very bed.

"Well, I like giving blow jobs," she said, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. "In fact, I've been dying to suck your cock, Eliot. For months."

I gasped involuntarily. My wife and I had never used language like that, nothing so provocative. If we'd had reason to talk at all during sex, I'm sure we would have used more clinical terminology. It had been a long time since I'd thought of my penis as a cock.

Stella smiled, reading my expression and liking what she saw. I felt her tugging at the waistband of my trousers and shorts, beginning to ease the fabric down my hips.

"I'm going to suck your cock until you come," she continued, her voice even softer. "I want you to come. I want you to fill my mouth."

I groaned, not sure I'd last a minute.

She continued easing my pants lower, still looking deep into my eyes. I felt the fabric slide over my erection and felt it bob forward, finally freed from the confines of my trousers. I had a moment of self doubt. Would I satisfy her? Would I measure up to her other lovers -- to Ira?

"I want you to empty yourself in my mouth and I'll drink every drop of your cum."

"Oh Jesus," I swore. "Stella."

The girl was outrageous. Thrilling. She let the fabric go slack in her hands and it slid down my legs, pooling at my feet. I was ready to step out of it when she spoke again.

"Just one thing you have to do for me."

She wrapped her hand around my cock and I froze.

"What's that?" I croaked.

"Tell me to do it."

I stared at her blankly. "What?"

She nodded and began moving her hand slowly up and down the length of my erection, with the lightest touch, her skin silky against mine.

"Tell me to suck your cock. I want to hear you say it."

"Oh God."

I'd never thought talk like this would turn me on, but the words coming out of Stella's full lips were awakening a long suppressed lust.

"Say it," she whispered.

She kissed me once and then dropped to her knees in front of me and I let out a groan as I stared at the fantastic scene before me—Stella on her knees, looking up at me, my cock in her hand. She stroked me slowly and waited.

"Tell me, Eliot. Tell me what you want me to do."

I opened my mouth, but couldn't form the words. Too many years of suppressing my desire had left me with an unreasonable fear. They were only words, but I couldn't free them.

She tilted her head and dropped it slightly, bringing her open mouth to the base of my cock. I felt the heat of her breath, but no contact, as she blew across my skin.

"I'm very good at this," she promised. I had no trouble believing her.

She dropped her head lower and blew again, sending a chill through me as her breath spread out over my scrotum. Just above her head, her hand still stroked me slowly and lightly.

"I know you want to feel my mouth on your cock."

She lifted her head again and touched me with her open mouth. For just a second her tongue flicked out, grazing the skin at the base of my cock. I groaned as a shock of pleasure zipped through me. I saw her smile and repeat the motion, this time letting her tongue make contact a little longer.

"To feel my lips around it." She licked again. "To feel it sliding over my tongue..." She licked again, moving upward now, and I watched in rapt surprise as she slowly made her way up, her hand cradling my cock as she did. "Don't you want to know how deep I can suck you?" She reached the head of my cock dragged her tongue up and down over the underside, applying pressure to the sensitive ridge just below the head.

"Tell me," she prompted. "Tell me you want me to suck your cock."

I groaned her name and watched her angle my cock away from my body toward her mouth. I wanted it, I wanted everything she was promising me, but the words still stuck in my throat.

She opened her mouth and brought the tip of my cock to her wet lips. She extended her tongue and laid the blunt head in the trough of her tongue and looked up at me expectantly.

"Holy shit," I swore as the heat of her tongue seared the skin of my cock. I could feel her soft breath moving up the length of my shaft and thought I would come right there and then, whether she sucked me or not.

She flexed her tongue and I felt her hand curl around my balls, cupping them in her palm.

"Oh God, Stella," I gasped, my words exploding from my mouth. "Suck me."

Her lips closed and the shock of her touch and my own request sent a powerful surge through me, making my head swim with pleasure. She swirled her tongue around the head of my cock for a moment and then pushed her head forward, taking me into her soft, velvet mouth, drawing a long and desperate, "Jesus Christ" from me.

She drew back and the sight of my thick cock wet with her saliva thrilled me. She smiled as she let the head pop from between her lips.

"Say it again," she said, and waited, looking up at me while she stroked me with one hand, her other hand gently kneading my balls. "I love it. It's so fucking sexy, Eliot."

I stared in disbelief at her genuine enthusiasm. My wife had never enjoyed oral sex, but here was this girl—this beautiful girl half my age who appeared to want nothing more than for me to tell her to suck my cock. She was unbelievably sexy.

She closed her lips around the head again and held it there, her hand moving up and down the shaft, her silver bracelets making music as they touched. She did something with her tongue on the underside of my cock at the same time her hand shifted between my legs and I felt an intense pressure build, thick with pleasure, but so overwhelming I thought I would faint.

"Fuuck," I groaned. "Oh Stella." I didn't usually swear, but Stella was pulling every foul word out of me with her clever tongue. She turned her head, her lips still tight around the head of my cock, and looked up at me. She was waiting for me to say it again, and I was pretty sure she'd wait a long time, holding me here in this agonizing state of painful pleasure. Her brow twitched slightly, a subtle pleading; she wanted it as much as I did.

"Suck me," I said in a strained voice. "Suck my cock, Stella."

She made a noise of excitement and moved her head forward, letting me slide between her lips. She bobbed her head then, the suction tight but gradually lessening as her pace increased. I knew I wasn't going to last long.

"Oh God, oh God," I moaned. "God, Stella..." I tried to hold my orgasm off, to turn my mind to something else, anything but the exquisite sensation of this young girl's talented mouth sliding up and down my cock, but it was impossible. I closed my eyes, but the sound of her wet mouth and the little hungry noises she was making filled my ears. It was obvious there was no way, apart from pushing her off of me, I would be able to delay coming.

She seemed to sense it, I don't know how, but she drew her lips off long enough to gasp a breath. "Do it, Eliot," she said quickly. "Come in my mouth."

A second later she took me deep into her mouth and I almost screamed with pleasure as her tongue wriggled beneath my cock, the back of her throat offering a soft resistance. She bobbed back and forth, taking me deep each time, her hand applying the lightest pressure to my tight balls. Her eagerness was obvious and I had no doubt she meant what she'd said; she really wanted me to come in her mouth. I started to warn her, but she pulled back as I did, somehow aware of how close I was, and began pumping her hand up and down my shaft, her lips held tight just at the end of my cock. Ready, waiting, wanting my cum.

"Fuck, Stella," I cried out. "I'm gonna come..." She answered with an excited noise and lifted her eyes to mine. Her lips slid a fraction of an inch lower and as the widest part of my cock head slid between them I felt the heat and pressure build in my balls, so intense I saw stars when I closed my eyes. A second later the pressure spiked and my cock jumped, pushing further into Stella's mouth. I moaned and babbled, panting, as two thick streams of semen erupted from my cock, one right after the other.

Stella whimpered with delight and I saw her swallow.

"Jesus fucking..." I swore before I shot another stream of cum into her closed mouth. She swallowed again and then opened her mouth, holding my cock against her extended tongue and I stared in blissful disbelief as my cock emptied again, flooding her tongue with a thick white fluid. It was lewd and it thrilled me. I swore again and she held still, waiting as the last spurts of cum dribbled onto her tongue, then she closed her mouth and swallowed a third time. She took my cock back into her mouth and pulled me all the way toward her until the tip touched the back of her soft throat where my cock pulsed weakly a few more times.

My cock left her mouth with a wet sound and she stood immediately and pushed me down onto the bed, climbing on top of me and kissing me hard.

"Oh my God, that was so hot," she panted. She kissed me again, her mouth wet and tasting like my own semen. "You turn me on so fucking much."

I lay breathing fast for a few seconds and she squirmed above me, kissing my face and throat, a warm, sleepy contentment spreading through me. She sat up, looked down at me, smiling with obvious arousal. If I had an imagination I might have thought I was dreaming the whole thing up, but I wasn't creative enough to come up with this, not with the scenario, not with the intensity and certainly never could I have invented Stella.

"I'm sorry," I panted. "I came so fast..."

She groaned and kissed me, her tongue snaking between my lips. "It was so fucking hot."

"You really did enjoy that," I said with wonder. She was beautiful with her messy hair and flushed face.

"Are you kidding me? Fuck. It was hot as hell." She wriggled around on top of me excitedly. "You make me so wet, Eliot."

I couldn't hide my surprise. I should have believed her by now, but this whole experience was too bizarre for me to wrap my brain around. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this woman—for her sexual appetite and enthusiasm. My orgasm had been like a supernova—a powerful blast of pleasure exploding inside me—and nothing had come even remotely close to that intensity my whole life.

"You think I'm lying?"

She dropped her head and kissed me one more time before pushing herself up to a sitting position. She stripped off her top and I feasted my eyes on the cream colored satin bra that held her full breasts high and tight against her body. She reached behind her and undid the fastener and the next second I heard myself groan with pleasure as her breasts fell softly from the fabric, round and full and tipped with large nipples a slightly darker shade of brown than her skin.

"God, you're beautiful," I said in awe. Even her tattoos, which I'd never found attractive on a woman, added to, or were a part of her beauty. They dotted her skin like freckles, swirling up her arm and across her shoulders in a loose formation. I wondered if they reflected any real constellations, or if the stars themselves had meaning beyond the obvious—an echo of her name.

She smiled, tossed the bra behind her with a flourish, and shifted her weight, pushing herself up to stand above me. From my perspective, her body elongated, her legs stretching up, her breasts far away and as beautiful viewed from below as when she was right in front of me. She reached for the zipper at the back of her skirt and smiled down at me. The zipper stuck for a moment, and while she struggled with it she arched her back and I stared, enjoying the view.

Her hips tilted forward slightly, giving me more of a peek up her skirt. She wore a pair of cream colored panties beneath it that matched her discarded bra, and in the darkness against her brown skin, it clearly defined the curve of her pubis and the cleft that ran through the center, deepening as it met her full ass cheeks.

She fussed for a half a minute until the zipper came unstuck and the silky fabric went slack. She let it fall and balanced herself on one foot and then the other, giving me a lovely show, her thigh muscles flexing as she balanced, the fabric of her panties shifting as they stretched over her labia.

I looked up at her. I'd never seen a more beautiful sight. She had a little belly, just the slightest curve below her waist, and I watched as she ran her hands over it, looking down at me. She wasn't fat, not by any means, but I knew that little swell of flesh on many women would make them feel flawed. Stella obviously didn't share that opinion. She ran her hands up and over her breasts then down again, enjoying her own curves, clearly accepting and loving the way she was shaped. I lay watching, sharing her appreciation from below.

But it wasn't just her body, which to my eyes was flawless, that made her sexy. It was her attitude, her confidence, and the irrepressible spirit that shone through every movement. This woman loved life, and she lived it fully every second of the day, seeking pleasure and sharing it. It was one of the things about her that made her so appealing, so real.

She slid her hand the front of her panties, her fingers curling around her sex, and dragged her middle finger up the center, pressing the fabric close so that it accentuated the indentation between her labia. She sighed and her knees bent slightly as she swayed with pleasure.

"Mmm," she said, and for a moment she closed her eyes and I watched her finger stroke up and down, pressing against the fabric of her panties as she did. When she finally moved her hand away it was to slip it under the waistband and I watched with interest as the fabric stretched over her fingers. She sighed again, her head rolling slightly on her neck and I watched her fingers move in slow, undulating motions.

"Oh my God, I'm so turned on." Her voice was soft, as if she was enjoying a private moment, not masturbating in front of me, and her brow creased, giving her face a slightly tortured expression.

I wasn't sure I'd manage another erection—it had been too long since I'd had the opportunity to try a second time—but my body reacted to the scene before me, my blood pumping fast, rushing through me. I lay passive, just watching as she pleasured herself.

I watched her hand moving under the damp fabric of her panties and could smell her wetness, a little flowery, a little earthy. She lifted her other hand to her breast and rolled her hard nipple under her palm. "Mmm...Eliot," she moaned. I watched, waiting, not sure if she wanted me to do something, until she finally opened her eyes and looked down at me.

"My pussy's so wet," she said, her voice breathy and excited.

She lifted her hand from her panties and brought it to her mouth. I could see the wetness on her fingers. She put the finger to her mouth and sucked it between her lips, tasting her own arousal. My mouth watered and I realized I wanted to taste her too. I had little experience in this area, though not for lack of interest; my wife had found oral sex too dirty, and along with blow jobs, that little pleasure had become a taboo.

"Do you want to see how turned on you've gotten me, Eliot?"

Her hands moved down to the elastic strip at her hips. She hooked her thumbs underneath and began to lower her panties. My eyes were glued on the slow progress of the lowering fabric.

"Do you want to see how wet my pussy is?"

"Oh God," I said, thrilled by the her use of the word pussy, one I'd long since let slip from my vocabulary.

I looked up at her, only reluctantly dragging my eyes from the the slow progress of her lowering panties.

"Show me," I said. My voice didn't sound like my own. "Show me your pussy."

Now it was her turn to be shocked, but the expression of surprise only lasted a second before it was replaced by that hungry look she'd had since she'd brought me into the room.

"Mmmm," she purred, clearly pleased.

She wriggled her hips in delight and continued pulling the flimsy garment down her hips. I watched as her pubis was revealed and inhaled sharply as the slit of her labia came into view. She was shaved—completely bare, and glistening with her sexual juices.

"Stella," I breathed, in awe.

She continued dragging her panties lower and I watched with mounting anticipation as the curves of her sex came into view—the valley of her pussy just visible between her swollen labia. She shifted her weight and balanced, like before, on one foot then the other, tugging the thin garment from her ankle, and for a moment, as one leg lifted, her labia parted slightly, giving me a glimpse of the flesh within—pink and wet and glistening like a treasure waiting to be discovered.

Her panties were tossed, landing on the floor with her bra, and for just a second her sexy expression turned girlish and giddy, as if she was about to burst into excited laughter, and I was reminded of how young she was. Then she narrowed her eyes and her smile turned seductive again.

"I can't tell you how many times I had to spend an entire shift with wet panties," she said, grinning. "Sometimes all you have to do is say hi to me and I get turned on."

I knew how she felt.

She stepped toward me and I stared up her body, thrilled by the new angle she was giving me, enjoying her curves all over again from a new perspective. She stepped to either side of my head, straddling me, and I held my breath in anticipation as she began to lower herself, her knees bending and moving outward.

As she drew nearer her sex opened, the outer lips of her pussy parting, releasing a fragrant aroma I'd nearly forgotten—the scent of a woman's sexual arousal. I watched, transfixed, as the smooth lips were pulled apart by her spreading legs and her whole glistening center came nearer.

She paused when her pussy was 6 inches from my face and balanced carefully, bringing her hand down between her legs. She covered her sex for a moment, pressing her palm against the wet flesh, and then drew the swollen lips apart, revealing the pink folds within. She wasn't kidding when she said she was wet; she was practically dripping.