4768, or, The Thingy

Her hands, oh, god, all that was hands-free, wasn’t it? She reached up and grabbed a meaty fistful of me, giving it a hard squeeze that was about three notches too much to be comfortable, and she looked up at me.

“Yummy Dick.” She smiled, showing lots of teeth.

I made a noise with lots of the letter G in it. I realized why she’d been squeezing so hard- she’d pinched shut the vein at the top and let my dick inflate like the Goodyear Blimp. Seriously, it was almost twice as big and twice as purple as it usually gets… and about six hundred times as sensitive, since my skin was stretched out like a balloon! She was making a little oval with the pad of her thumb right there against its throat, and I thought my head was about to explode. Er… both heads. Then, oh shit, her squeezing hand kept up the pressure and jacked up and down along the root, never going more than about a third of the way up, as her other hand grabbed my balls, not gently.

“Mmmmmm! I love Baaaaaalls!”

She rolled them around in her hand and waggled her tongue out, licking and slapping the underside of my cock while continuing to jack and squeeze really hard at the base. It occurred to me that my cock and balls were like one of those complicated puzzles on her shelf when I felt that familiar tingle at the base of my spine and managed to moan out that she was about to find my solution.

“That’s the idea, stud, let ‘er rip. Gimme your come! Come for me, you can do it, hon, I want you to squirt for me!”

Well, shit, she opened the floodgates, didn’t she? I didn’t have enough will power to hold it even if I’d wanted to, and I released my genes into her open hand in seven healthy pumps. She let out a little giggle and smeared it against my naked chest over my halfhearted protests.

“Don’t worry, lover, the party’s still a long way from over. Guys always last longer when they’re on their second wind. Gives a girl a better shot at satisfaction, you know?”

She went back down and I screamed! The little guy was still much too sensitive- she’d sucked it raw! I literally could not stand to be touched! I think something in the way I tried to claw my way backwards up the door and onto the ceiling while shrieking “STOP STOP STOP!” tipped her off.

“Ooooh, okay, you need a break? I hope you don’t mind if I go on ahead without you for a while, ‘cause I’m really itchy, and I need it bad now. Just watch me, okay, and maybe you’ll be more… inspired… in a few minutes?” She was unbuttoning as she said this, showing me a satiny-smooth shell-pink bra that made me just want to run my hands and face all over her soft boobies just to feel how comfortable that thing must be. Her panties were plain cotton ones that didn’t last long, she whipped them off along with her slacks and turned around, bending from the waist in a practiced move that gave me the scenic view; the white hills of her buttocks, the rich dark asterisk in the valley between them, and the light foliage of fur framing the rolling foothills of her fragrant pink river orchid. As she stepped forward, freeing her ankles from her puddle of slacks, her hand snaked upward, parted her puffy pussy folds, and started rubbing in little circles with the flats of her fingers. She was smearing her glistening juice around, making it all slippery and gleaming wet. I caught her musky scent right away as she stirred it into the air with her fingers.

That sight and smell sparked at my dick! Oh, I was still a long way from getting it back up, but I knew it hadn’t been totally murdered and would be back soon. She made her way forward to her bed, and climbed onto it on her hands and knees, bent over with her ass in the air towards me. Her hand was still between her thighs, playing with herself from below and she sank her shoulders forward to support her weight on a pillow beneath her collarbones. Her other hand came around the outside, gripping around the firm curve of her haunches and squeezing, pulling herself open for graphic display as she tunneled two fingers deep up into her furry puss, drawing out the richer oils from within.

I kept my gaze forward and tried to untangle myself from the scraps of my shirt, but more importantly from my balled-up pants, underwear, shoes and socks without looking. I almost fell over flat on my face in the attempt, but I got free and my face just kind of guided itself forward into the sweet wet warmth right in front of me. She cooed in delight.

“Ooooo, Jacob, I thought I’d take care of myself… are you game? You don’t have to, honey, it’s really all right.”

“Mmmmmmmmph,” was the best I could manage with a mouthful of her flesh and fluid. My eyes had closed themselves as I drank in her nectar. My tongue lolled out of my mouth and my lips extended, slobberingly caressing her own blossoming petals as I allowed myself to get drunk on her sweaty, sweet, bitter, musky, creamy funk. I remember my (much too long) time as a virgin, not knowing the rich taste of pussy. I remember being surprised at how big a role the smell and the taste of it played in the act of physical love, or lust, or… just plain ‘ol sweaty fucking. I’d thought it was all about sight and touch, but man, was I ever wrong. One of my very favorite things has always been to just let my face go slack and mop it around in a girl’s wide-open wet honeypot. Sometimes I get hairs in my mouth and throat and they tickle and itch and I don’t give a hoot. I’m too busy eating and smearing and kissing and sucking and drinking and drooling. It’s always different from that angle, though, because I can normally drag some pressure above and around her clitoris, but from behind like this, the lil’ guy is there at the bottom, where I have to use my lower lip and chin. Or, when she rocks her hips up and down like that, it’s forward of me, so I have to stick my tongue way out to bat it around a little once in a while. That’s okay, though, I didn’t mind a bit, and she was rubbing her fingers against her mons like she was polishing brass- I’m sure she got a lot of mileage out of that, too. Oh, I could do that for a year.

I tried to scoot her knees out from under her, so I could get her on her back and drink from her dish, but she stayed planted, and I realized that that position was the one she used! She wasn’t just putting on a show for me, this was how she liked to make herself come. I got lost in her all over again until I felt her shudder and heave, her hips jerking out of control for a minute until they calmed down, and I could sample the quantity of new juice from her persimmon, it tasted and felt clearer, smoother, thicker. How do you know when a woman isn’t faking her orgasm? That’s one sure-fire way to know it’s the genuine article right there.

She pulled herself upright and looked at me, red-faced and gasping.

“Ah. Ah. Aha. Mmm. Ok.” She took hold of my bone… I was up again, I hadn’t even noticed, and rolled over flat on her back, tugged me down after her by holding onto my handle.

“Fuck now. C’mon, in, in, in.” That’s all it took, and I was suddenly on top of her, all the way in, and my skin felt three sizes too small. My brain was on fire, my spine throwing up a dorsal crest of white-hot sparks… no, wait, that felt too good. Too good. Damnit. I pulled out and away.

“Rubber,” I said apologetically. “We’re being bad. We need a condom.”

She looked up at me like I’d just woken her, and she was semi-consciously wondering if it was really worth waking up all the way right then.

“Yeah. Crap. Over there… Ohhh, do we have to? You feel sooooooo good without it.”

“Be a good girl or I’ll have to put you over my knee and spank you.”

“Promises, promises, big boy. Check the nightstand drawer, I can’t reach.”

Yep. I tore it open and rolled it on, and wasted no more time getting back in. She let forth a nice throaty groan as I pushed in this time, since the lubrication situation was now all different. Ah, much better. There’s a lot less sheer ecstasy, but a lot more security with the raincoat in place. Besides, I can always go longer with one of these. I rested my head on her clavicles… we’d never taken that cool bra off, the silky stretchy shell-pink one, and its satin caress was nearly as welcome against my cheek as her own glowing skin. Still, the breasts need attention, so I brought my hand up and began squeezing down on the one I wasn’t using as a pillow. She growled her encouragement as I ground her down into the bed with my hips and my hands, her own fists pulling up the sheets where she’d grabbed them and drumming out a staggered rhythm against the mattress. I pulled at the bra with my teeth and her rosy nipples poked up at me- they somehow ended up in my mouth and I had to check myself against chewing on them too hard. I admit that sex with a condom isn’t generally as…“raw,” but this was still the hardest, roughest, most enthusiastic screw I’d ever managed up to that point. When I felt that same shudder and gasp and sudden extra-wet glurp from her, I kept going, and she got me on the next one, a few seconds later. I’d left enough room in the tip for my gooey essence not to leak out, thank god.

Oh, shit, the marks, I forgot to mention the marks. At some point, I don’t remember exactly when, she dropped the sheets and grabbed me around the small of the back. She sank her fingernails in and drew blood. Not a lot, but definitely enough to count as breaking skin, and she left claw marks six inches long. I think it must have hurt, but I don’t actually remember it happening. I can’t blame her. I was really pounding on her there for a while. All the veins in both our necks were drawn tight as guy wires, our voices were reduced to breathy grunts and gasps, and I just know I must have left bruises. She did.

We were lying there in her tangle of sheets, soaked in sweat and thicker stuff, spotted with blushings, hair tossed and tangled, and so far out of breath that we were still heaving to catch up with our need for oxygen. She managed to stammer back to her senses and spoke.

“Jeeeeezus. That was, that was intense.”

“Guh. Uooooh, yes. Yes. Yes.”

“Listen, Jabob… “Look, uh… here, okay?” She threw herself over onto her elbows and scrabbled over to the phone on the nightstand where I’d fetched the condom. I got a nice show of the way her butt wiggled when she crawled like that, and when she reached out, all I could do was stare at the arch of her back, her soft, extended underarm, and the gentle form of her perfectly suspended breast. She scribbled something on a little colored pad there, tore it off and pressed it into my open hand.

“This is my number, okay, and I want you to use it. I mean, I’ll see you on the bus, you know where I live, and now you have my number. I’m… I’m not asking you to get serious right away and I won’t go all psycho on you, just… just don’t be an asshole, okay? Please?”

“Damn right I won’t. I’m a long way from done with you, honey. Let’s get cleaned up and we’ll get something to eat, okay?”

When we finally made it out of the bedroom… walking funny… the Thingy was still sitting there where we’d left it on the coffee table. It wasn’t ringing. It was right- we were all fucked out. She gently scowled at it.

“Well… the damn thing doesn’t have to be so smug, does it?”