Annette and the Professor Ch. 02

Annette and I had made arrangements that she would come to my house in two hours. I had specified my pool area in the back. We could still enjoy the remaining sunshine of the day.

I went out to my patio to enjoy the ample sunshine with a cold Pepsi-Cola and wait for Annette to arrive. There was no reason to sit with a bathing suit on, so I took it off. I love the freedom of being nude, and it gives me access to one of my favorite hobbies: playing with myself.

"Mr. Dexter!"

I was jolted out of my reverie by Annette's voice.

"Mr. Dexter! Alphonso!"

It was Annette at the entrance to my patio. I forgot that I had locked the door.

"I'm coming, Annette."

"Gosh, I hope not too soon!" She laughed at her own double entendre.

As I let her in, her attire was entirely informal: loose jeans and an oversized dress shirt. She was also carrying a grocery sack that appeared to be filled.

"Let me guess," I said, "it's your father's shirt."

"And my brother's jeans."

She looked at my nudity and the beginning of my erection.

She looked right at my erection and said, "I missed him, and he seems happy to see me. So, when in Rome . . ." She began to disrobe.

"No, let me. I find removing clothing to be a sensual part of making love to a beautiful girl. It makes me hard, and I hope it makes you wet."

Before I did anything, I kissed her, and her response was enthusiastic: our kiss seemed to suck the air out of each other's lungs.

When we broke from the kiss, I pulled the shirt up over her head. I was ready to pull her bra down, but she interrupted me.

"Use the clasp; it's easier."

"For you perhaps; I'm a complete maladroit when it comes to brassiere hooks. I have always been a klutz with bra hooks."

"Whatever," she mumbled. "Shut up and kiss me again."

On the next kiss her nipples hardened in my hands, so I very lightly ran my index finger around the areola, avoiding the actual nipples themselves.

"Oh, god," she murmured, "you send chills down my spine."

I got on my knees to remove her jeans, but they were held up by a necktie, which was used as a belt.

"Let me guess," I said, "it's your father's necktie. At least you didn't tie it into a knot."

When I slipped her jeans down, her style of underwear set me off-balance.

"Let me guess," I said, "it's your father's underwear."

"No, it's my brother's—Art's. His boxers make me feel horny, and if I need to scratch or finger myself, I have this neat slit in the front to allow for easy access."

"Indeed, you are a kinky young lady."

"Well, that's because I'm hooking up with a kinky old man."

"Thirty-nine isn't old; sixty-four is."

"You are kinky though, aren't you?"

"We never stop being kinky—even at sixty-four. Now I have to smell you, and it's a fragrance I can never get tired of."

"Tell you what," she said, "let's arrange these plastic cushions out so that we can stretch out on them in a comfortable sixty-nine. I want to suck your cock, and I want you to ravish my pussy and asshole with your tongue. After you did that to me earlier today, I have been thinking of nothing else."

"In that case," I replied, "you're going to miss me when you go to graduate school."

"What if I told you I applied to a university that's really close?"

"Where?"

"I'll tell you later. Get on your back. I also came here for a swim, so I don't want to waste time on conversation."

I knew she was teasing; her smile gave it away, but I was eager to get my mouth on her naughty bits. And I, too, wanted to get some swimming done.

Because we were in the sun, both of us were coated in a light sheen of sweat. I lay down on the cushions, and she positioned herself on top of me in a proper sixty-nine. The sheen of sweat enabled us to move freely; in fact, it was erotically slippery.

She took my cock in her mouth and almost began sucking on it while I was parting her pussy hair for better access.

"Alphonso . . ."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know that I hate that name?"

"I figured; most of my friends hate it too. My friends call me Al. My high school buddies used to call me Weird Al."

"Am I your friend?"

"Of course you are, and my lover. Call me Al, or call me by any endearing name you want. Just don't call me Late For Lunch."

"God, that was lame. Your jokes in class are much better than that."

"Uh, Annette, I have to pee . . ."

"So do I, but I don't want to get up."

"I don't mind if you want to pee. The cushions are waterproof, and the concrete payment won't be damaged by our pee."

"You drank my pee today . . . after all, turnabout is fair play, as the cliché goes."

"And I'll do it again anytime you want me to. I love all of you."

"That's sweet, but I want to drink yours, too, and for the same reason."

I was hard, and I had to piss; with her rubbing my penis and sucking on the glans, I was sure that my urinary flow would be anything but predictable. I tried to relax and concentrate on her pussy and asshole.

The way she was positioned at my face, I had easy access to the perineum; to get to her anus or vagina would have required a little stretch, so I tongued her perineum thoroughly.

As I did so, she broke contact with my cock, and my need to urinate overcame me.

"Holy fuck!" Annette screamed. Then I felt her mouth on my cock as I pissed. I just wish I could watch what was happening.

Then her waterworks poured forth! I put my mouth on her vagina, but I was missing most of her pee as I felt the rivulets run down my neck.

Both of us were lost in the mutually obscene urinary bathing, but it was over quickly enough.

We both up sat on the pee-soaked cushions and laughed and hugged each other's wet bodies. With our pee-soaked faces we kissed each other lovingly and deeply.

"Let's go for a dip in the pool," I suggested.

"Let's. Race you to the other side."

"OK, but you'll win."

"Why?"

"Because I have this somewhat erect cock that will slow me down. It will be a terrible drag in the water, you know."

"Quit yer damn bragging. Besides, I'm not going to let you get off until I'm damn good and ready for you to get off. In the meantime I expect you to get me off plenty."

After swimming and playing in the pool for the next two hours, we got out for a rest. We sat in the lawn chairs in the shade. My erection had not diminished at all.

"So, what's in the grocery sack you brought with you?"

"Things."

"Such as?"

"An extra change of clothes and clean underwear."

"That's all?"

"Um . . . no, I have some shaving gear."

"Shaving gear? What are you going to shave? Your legs are as smooth as glass." I rubbed her legs as I spoke.

"You're going to do the shaving," she said.

"Not my goatee!"

"My bikini line. Actually, my entire pussy."

"But why me? I like pussy hair. It adds character and odor. Besides, yours is blonde. Not too many of those around, you know."

"Well, I can't ask my mother. My friends tell me to use a mirror. And I won't use a depilatory cream. Ever read the ingredients on depilatory cream? If it contains two or more words that are unpronounceable, it doesn't belong on anyone's pussy, especially mine."

I gave it some thought and made my decision: "OK, I will do it—reluctantly--but you have to get everything set up. I will fetch whatever you need, however."

Soon she had everything ready, including towels soaking in hot water. "We'll do this on your kitchen table; I will lie down on it, and you will be seated comfortably so you can shave me."

She got on the table, and I sat facing her cunt lips, which were slightly parted and very damp. I was so hard and horny that I wanted to stand up and ram my cock deep into her cunt and cum hard.

But decorum prevailed.

"How should I start?" This was going to be a new experience for me.

"How ever you want."

I knew what I wanted. I was seated at my kitchen table with a cunt facing me, and we eat at kitchen tables, so that is precisely what I did. I ran my tongue along the outer lips, between the inner and outer lips, and into the soft flesh inside. Her clit can wait; I wanted to savor the taste, the wetness, and the fragrance of her. Then I pulled her lips apart and buried my face into her. Then I sucked on her clit.

"Oh god!" she cried. "Don't stop!" Her body went into convulsions as I continued my oral assault on her.

Finally she trembled and moaned, raising her hips off the table; then she fell limp.

After several minutes she raised her head and upper body, balanced on her elbows, looking at me, smiling. By then I was standing.

She saw my erection; she also saw the razor in my hand.

"You are NOT going to shave me in while you're in THAT condition." She pointed at my erection.

"You mean I don't have to shave you?"

"It means I want you to fuck me blind. Then you can shave me."

Who was I to argue with the fair young lady? I slid into her easily. She wrapped her legs around my torso, pulling me to her. I had never realized how strong a woman's legs can be. I wanted to draw the action out and use some back-and-forth motion; she wanted me buried into her until her body heat and contractions drew the cum from me.

I leaned over and used my hands to caress her shoulders and breasts. I trailed my fingertips between her breasts down to her belly button then across her hips. But none of that could delay my ejaculation.

I groaned as I ejaculated in her, and I felt myself go limp.

"It's getting soft," was all I could say.

"Now you can shave me." Her voice was barely audible.

I really didn't want to shave her. I liked her as is: her hair is soft, light, and sparse, forming a pretty triangle on her pubic mound. To shave it would be a crime.

"Whose idea is it to shave you?" I asked.

"Mine."

"I'm not convinced, and I don't think you're entirely fond of the idea either."

"Okay, it's my boyfriend's idea. He thinks it will reduce the odors if I remove my hair. He said then he might be willing to eat my pussy."

"For Christ's sake, there's nothing wrong with the way you smell. Your boyfriend has shit for brains and Jello for balls. Dump him—fast. You'll be glad you did."

Annette looked up at me and said, "You know, you're right."

"Of course I'm right."

"Smart ass. Then would you be my boyfriend?"

That was a bombshell I hadn't expected. I really did like her. Not only was the sex great, but her personality also clicked with mine. We got along well. Intellectually I regarded her as my equal.

By now she had removed herself from the table and stood facing me.

"Yes . . . I would like that very much. Our age difference doesn't matter to you?"

She gave me a strong embrace and kissed me hard. Our tongues did another dance with each other.

Almost out of breath, I said, "Let's take a shower and get something to eat. We can prepare dinner together. After that, I want you to spend the night with me."

She smiled. "I have to pee again. Race you to the bathroom!"