A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 10

I had never seen an uncircumcised penis before. Not even in pictures. So when I first ogled his long appendage, uncoiled as it was directly in front of my face, it took me a second to realize what I was must be looking at. It was smooth to its tip, where the skin gathered to an opening. I was leaning forward. His body was completely hairless except for his pubic area, and what little hair he had was barely perceptible.

“Is this what you do, Annie, follow young men home and then make them undress for your pleasure.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off his penis. I wanted to touch it. I refrained. I motioned him to turn around. He did. I gaped. I loved the way his lower back swooped into his buttocks with two thin tendon-like muscles. His hips were narrow, and his ass was tight and round, with two large dimple-like depressions on each side. His shoulders were broad and his back was strong. I stood up behind him and ran my hands under his arms. I pulled his back against my chest and ran my hands over his sculptured chest and stomach.

“You are quite the specimen, Alshara.” Then I feigned a high-pitched voice and squeaked out teasingly, “Do you work out?”

“You are a funny girl, Annie. When do I get to see you?”

“When I am ready.”

Alshara chuckled. I could look over his shoulder and watched my hands explore his firm flesh. I reached for his penis. Unlike the rest of him, it was supple in my hand. It started to grow firmer. I pulled at his skin and watched the tip swell. The head of his penis was emerging from its cocoon, and it was glistening and the skin was lighter, a brownish-pink. I cupped his dick in my hand and pulled it back again, and more of the head became visible. His penis was long, but not relatively thick. I tried to imagine its size if Alshara was as tall as Charlie, and suspected he might be as long, but not as substantial – still very impressive. I touched the head. It appeared damp, but it was not. It was velvety to the touch, indescribable really. It was like fine, silky-smooth leather of an unimaginable grade of quality. It was quite beautiful in its own way.

I stroked him until he seemed fully erect, and noted that his penis was more familiar in its shape now, not so different, I thought, from an uncircumcised one. I stroked it again and it stiffened in my hand. The head, once loose and fleshy, was straining against the tightness of his skin. I pulled my hands up and turned him at the shoulders until he was facing me.

I could see over the top of his head. He looked up and I kissed him. I rubbed his back, and lower, my hands lingered over his rock-hard ass. He started pulling up my dress. I raised my hands and lowered my body until he could pull my dress off over my head. I sat down on the couch, his penis directly in front of my face, and I took the head in my mouth. It tasted sweet. The skin felt even softer against my tongue. I could tell it was sensitive. I licked at it, tickling it. Then I tasted it again.

I cupped his ass cheeks in my hands and pulled him deeper into my mouth. I freed one hand and stroked him while my lips encircled his penis. I took more of him in my mouth. I could feel the head against my throat, and it tickled. I pulled it out of my mouth and stroked it with a tight grip, and I marveled at its glistening sexuality. My panties were wet. I replaced the long organ in my mouth and proceeded to give Alshara what I can only imagine had to be the best blowjob I have ever given. He seemed to enjoy it, anyway.

When I sensed the slightest orgasmic convulsions, I withdrew the sensitive member from my mouth and stood up. He was gracious enough to let me continue to lead despite the urgency of his condition. I turned him around again and seated him on the couch. I made him watch me as I slowly removed my panties and played with myself. If he wanted dynamic and incorrigible, I thought, he hadn’t seen anything yet.

I ran my hands all over my body. I pulled at my clit and fingered my wet heat. I watched his eyes as he watched me. He didn’t stroke himself, though I wanted him to. His erection stayed true. I pushed the coffee table more to the side and I got down on my hands and knees on the soft carpeting, wiggling my copiously enticing ass at him. Then I rolled over on my back with my legs straight up in the air. I arched my back to expose more of my twat to him. I reached around and touched myself, slowly running my finger up and down the exposed portion of my labia. Then slowly I spread my legs as wide as I could.

I inserted two fingers in my soaking pussy. And he watched me. I used tow hands, and slowly unsheathed and sheathed my clitoris. And now, finally, he reached for his erection.

“Go on,” I encouraged him. He began to stroke. I massaged my pussy with two hands. After a tender orgasm, I pulled back my folds and exposed my pink, perhaps now almost purple clitoris.

“Come to me,” I whimpered, and he crawled to me.

He started to mount me, and I whispered in a breathy voice, “Taste me.” He looked at me pleadingly. I didn’t know if he was anxious to fuck me or unwilling to taste me. I didn’t care.

“Taste me, or I will leave,” I said more forcefully, and I meant it.

He lowered himself and pressed his lips against my pussy. His tongue entered me slit. He was not experienced. I tapped him on the head and pointed at my clit. He licked at it.

“That’s good,” I moaned. He got better in a hurry. Her sucked at it, and I moaned louder.

As we progressed I could tell that my pleasure was exciting him and spurring him on. It felt good, but I made it sound like I was in ecstasy. When I finally took hold of his ears and pulled him up on top of me, I closed my eyes and imagined his lithe, hard smallness crawling on top of my bountiful voluptuousness. As he entered me eagerly I wrapped my long, prodigious thighs around his narrow hips and I enveloped his torso with my long arms. I pulled him down into me, smothering his face in my breasts. He pumped his long rod into me emphatically, and I squeezed him forcefully, not to slow him down, but to feel all his muscles writhe and tense against all my flesh. I was whispering against the top of his head, “Come on baby,” over and over again.

His stamina was impressive. I picked up my cries of pleasure. He seemed invigorated by them. He went faster, and then faster still, and yet he didn’t come. I couldn’t believe the speed at which his hips were working. The friction was unbearable, and now I was squeezing him to slow him down. I was exhausted. I dropped my arms to my side and relaxed the muscles in my legs. I went as limp as I could, and I closed my eyes tight. He pressed his hands on the floor and pushed himself up, and then he went at me in a fashion I can only describe as a jackhammer.

My breasts were vibrating wildly. My whole body, limp as it was, seemed to jiggle and quiver on the floor. I mustered the energy to run my hands down his sides to his hips, and I felt the power of his shaking. His stamina was beyond impressive. The friction built up within me. My legs stiffened and stuck straight out from me. I clenched his ass. My whole body tensed. The fire shot through my nerves. I cried out something. He kept going. I relaxed, he continued.

And then, stunningly, it happened again. For the first orgasm, I intentionally tensed my muscles. This time they tensed involuntarily and spasmodically. I could fell my pussy juices running down my legs and ass. And still he kept going. I started to shake. I cried out something again. I was twitching and writhing underneath him with no control. I was lightheaded.

For a moment, I imagined I was taken to another world; I was a queen in Africa, a giantess from the north, and Alshara was my peasant sex slave. I was in a marbled bedroom on a huge bed, being adroitly pleasured at my command. I came yet again.

Alshara black skin was now exuding his sweat, his scent.

He started to slow, and uncontrollably I whined. I wanted more – not only incorrigible, but insatiable. I was cruel, and I felt sorry for him.

“Lie back,” I said as I put my hands on his ribs and guided him as he rolled off of me and on to his back. I was now atop him, and we never lost penetration.

“Oh, Annie, I am sorry, but I tired.”

He closed his eyes and I petted his forehead. “Don’t be sorry. You really DO work out! That was fabulous.”

I began to ride him. I felt as if I was gripping his penis with my vagina and stroking him. I tensed my vaginal walls and tried to contract them as much as I could. He groaned with pleasure. I picked up my pace. I put my hands on his chest and pushed myself up high, arching my back and tilting my head up. I bounced on him. He grabbed my breasts and squeezed them and stroked them. My legs felt strong, and I was enjoying the exercise of being on top. I got more energetic. I tried to work him faster and harder. Now I started to sweat.

I looked down at him. He was small when he was on top of me, but now he seemed even smaller. I guessed he weighed only ten pounds less than I did, but that was only because he was so hard and compact. My body frame was much bigger that his. I was at least a half-foot taller than him. I rode him, and I felt large. My ass and my thighs engulfed his hips. When I spread myself over the top of him, so that my breasts swayed and bounced over his face, he seemed tiny, but his dick was plentiful. It filled me and satisfied me.

As I rode him, I fantasized again. This time he was a large man, big by human standards, but I was a goddess from another realm, and when I took on a fleshy form, I was to be feared by mortal men. I was taking advantage of him, raping him really, for my own pleasure. I came down on him as hard as I could. Again the heat in my pussy started to build. I was sweating profusely.

I remembered my time on top of Tom, and my experience with Alshara was similar conceptually, but totally different in effect. I was enjoying Alshara more. He was much smaller than Tom, but his dick was much larger. It was a magical combination for my fantasy. Alshara suffered my savage, fleshy fury. I pounded on him.

My fantasy continued. We were in a field, where I had captured the mortal and disrobed him, and I marveled at his masculinity when I surveyed his nudity. There was a marble gazebo by a lake where I took him and ordered him to disrobe me. I made him worship me, worship the immensity of my nudity. I forced him to taste me in order to quell his fear. I allowed him to mount me in order that he might please me. I then mounted him in order to please myself.

The heat kept building. Alshara began bucking up into me, but with each of my thrusts downward I pinned his hips beneath me. I came for the fourth time. Now it was I who tired.

He kept bucking into me. I leaned forward, coming up on my knees, and he clung to me from below. He was hanging onto me, holding his back off the ground. Only his feet were touching the floor. I froze on all fours to see if he could do it. He did. He bucked into me while I supported most of his weight. His face was buried in my floating, robust breasts. I thought I would come yet again, but his grip slipped in our sweatiness. He fell out of me and to the floor. He was panting.

“Fuck me from behind, Alshara.”

“Yes, Mistress Anne, as you wish.”

Ooh, I liked that. “Mistress.” He scurried behind me and mounted me. He poked his long cock deep inside me and then he rammed into to me barbarously. He was able to get onto his feet, leggs splayed, and clasping my expansive hips, he thudded into me violently, my ass spreading and jiggling with each slap from his hips. My pussy swelled, my sex muscles stung with fatigue.

“May I come inside you?” He was still polite.

“Yes, you may.” I played along.

He sped up his thrusting till his long cock became only a blur of sensation inside of me. Then he stopped and pressed deep into me, and I could feel his penis contracting and his hot cum exploding into me.

He stood up. I rolled onto my side to look at him. His cock looked even longer than before, and it was dripping wet with my juices. His whole body glimmered with sweat in the afternoon light. I was wet too. He knelt down next to me. I could feel his hot cum oozing out of me. Cum was still burbling from the shiny head of his penis. He was still erect. He touched my hair and felt it in his hand. I started to sit up and more cum squeezed out of me. He seemed to sense my dilemma and got up to get me some Kleenex.

I lay back down. When he returned, he stood next to me, and looking at him I realized that he was still erect. He handed me the Kleenex. I cleaned myself. He took it from me and left to throw it away, and when he came back he still had a full-bore erection. He knelt by my side. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of his stiff cock. I was bewildered.

“I have rarely…no I have never enjoyed myself with a women this much before, Annie.”

I thought to ask jokingly, “But you have with men?” but resisted the temptation.

“You are so comfortable with your sexuality, and the simplicity of your beauty is so provocative and tantalizing.”

“I’m big, too,” I said. He laughed. “Thank you. You are very charming.”

“You are a temptress, Miss Annie. You arouse me in a way that is not familiar to me.” He paused. “May I make love to you again?”

And as God is my witness, the little bugger climbed on top of me and fucked my lights out again.

****

Afterwards we both lay on our backs next to each other on his Persian rug, panting, oily with sweat and exhausted. I turned on my side and rubbed my hand over his chest and stomach. Part of me was sad. I was probably never going to see this man again, and he was interesting, and a great lay to boot. Finally, his dick was, limp. I was actually relieved to see that. We talked for a while. He offered me the use of his shower, and I was grateful.

I put on a terry robe I found on the back of the bathroom door after my shower. It was noticeably small on me. I liked that, and I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. I found him in a silver-gray silk robe sitting on the couch drinking champagne. We finished the bottle. I admired his robe, and he offered to give it to me, but I told him it wouldn’t fit; I was too fat.

“You mean I am too small,” he said, and before I could say anything else stupid he said silver wasn’t my color anyway. White, he said, was the color that captured me—pearly white.

We chatted on about nothing in particular. He told me he had a party to go to that evening and he wished very much to invite me, but there would be people who knew his family there. I told him I understood. Without speaking about it directly, we both seemed resigned to the fact that we wouldn’t see each other again, and I could sense genuine regret in his face.

He asked if I would join him at his favorite restaurant for dinner. He drove me there in a black BMW. The restaurant that was a converted farmhouse in the country only twenty minutes away. I had never heard of the place before. We shared another bottle of wine, an expensive cabernet that was rich with tannin and deliciously complex. I thought about how easy it would be to get used to this kind of living. A gentle, comforting calm settled over me in the candlelight. We toasted to our ourselves and our futures, sealing our unspoken agreement that this would be our last and only meeting. He told me I looked beautiful and radiant. I blushed.

When he dropped me off at the blues house it was about nine o’clock. We sat for a while in his car. It was quiet.

“I fear you may have corrupted me, Annie,” he said calmly and slowly, urging me to look into his eyes. “I want to say that I wish we had met earlier, but I suspect you would have tantalized me for only a brief time, and then left me in shambles with a ruined life, a broken heart, and an urgent, insatiable longing.”

I was moved. Tears welled in my eyes, and I had to wipe one away, and this embarrassed me. “I would have taken you for every penny you’re worth,” I said laughing away the lump in my throat. He threw back his head in laughter.

“You are a marvelous enigma, Annie.” He patted my thigh. “The allure of your beauty is its wholesome grace, and yet there is a depth to your passion that is quite alarming. There is much for men to fear in you. Promise me you will be careful with their hearts.”

“You overestimate me. I am a simple girl. I like simple things.”

“You underestimate yourself. You are a woman – a real woman. You are voluptuous and complex, and your will is quite irresistible.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything, of course.”

“Promise me you will be a good husband to your wife, a good father to your children, and generous with your wealth and your heart.”

“I will.”

“I know.”

He looked away from and stared thoughtfully straight ahead.

“I will always remember you, Annie Malone. Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” We both smiled. My heart hurt.

We kissed good-bye.

There was a note for me on the kitchen table inside the house. Everyone was at the club and they wanted me to join them. I poured a glass of wine and sat down in the big armchair in the living room. The only sounds I could here were the crickets and the rustle of the leaves. I started to cry, and then I sobbed inconsolably. I wasn’t sad. I just wanted to sit alone in a quiet room and weep. I was beginning to doubt I had an emotional skin tough enough for all this gratuitous sex. I wanted to be loved.

After a while I calmed myself down, and then I had to chuckle at my sentimentality. I slept very well that night.