tagErotic CouplingsDamnit Janet

Damnit Janet

bybe0wulf©

I must admit that although I have often been accused of being forgetful and absent-minded, I have never had any of my significant others complain about the sex. My ex-wife has grudgingly and through gritted teeth, admitted that though there isn't much she misses about our marriage, she indeed misses the sex. It's not that I am a particularly well-endowed or skillful lover; it is that I am patient, enthusiastic and approach sex with the single-mindedness of an addict.

And that was what drew me to Janet. Janet and I dated for a few years after I graduated university and it was one of those hot and passionate love affairs that you look fondly back on, especially when looking over the bed at the unresponsive figure of your wife who has just regarded you with a look usually reserved for winos and lepers.

A few years ago, I ran into Janet at the mall who excitedly told me about her upcoming marriage to this dreamboat of a guy. What with my own marriage turning into a special cycle of hell, I nodded politely but utterly and completely was unable to share her enthusiasm. As conversation continued, she coyly referred to our steamy little history and confided that she had learned a lot about sex from me. I was flattered and a bit taken aback as she had come to the relationship with much more experience than I.

A year later I crossed paths with Janet again, but this was a more jaded and bitter Janet. Her marriage had ended with her husband's infidelity and she was currently holding a grudge against all males. My marriage at this point was kicking its legs into the air one last time and somewhere in a lawyer's cabinet was my wife's divorce papers, ink still damp from the pen. During that meeting Janet and I didn't talk much about anything at all, certainly not our own marriages, certainly not our past relationship and most certainly not about sex.

A few weeks ago, I bumped into fair Janet yet again on a busy street. I convinced her to join me for a coffee and we sat and chatted. She had mellowed a bit as time distanced her from her divorce and she even admitted that she was dating some. I confessed that I too had divorced and was eagerly out on the dating trail. We swapped a few horror stories and laughed quite a bit.

In the course of conversation, I told her where I lived as it was coincidentally just around the corner from her parents' house. She said she knew the house and thought it was in a lovely neighbourhood. We promised each other we would get together again soon, and all the usual meaningless polite things people say when they have no intention of seeing each other, and parted ways.

A few weeks later I got a knock at my door and opened it to find a coy and demure looking Janet on my doorstep. She explained that she had just been to her parents and was driving by when she saw my light on. I invited her in and made her a drink. She looked around my house appreciatively, noting the lack of underwear hanging from lampshades and ceiling fans. I replied that she had come just after laundry day and I assured her that all my intimates would be back on inappropriate objects by no later than noon Wednesday. I also opened my fridge to her inspection and she was pleased to find a lack of furry colonies growing in tubs and on plates. She even nodded appreciatively at my collection of salad dressings and my promise of actually purchasing items that may someday actually end up in a salad.

We sat and chatted idly for a little while and then she put her drink down, leaned forward and looked very deliberately into my eyes. She told me directly that she had come with a very clear purpose in mind and was wondering if I would be at all interested in having sex with her. Now, perhaps I should have hesitated, played it cool so to speak, even let her complete her sentence before answering...but, an offer like that doesn't come along very often and I was no fool.

Janet was a lean woman, with a long curving body that was built especially to make sweat form on men's lips. Her movements could only be described as liquid. I remembered why I had been so heartbroken when we split up. She decided to undress first and I admit that I was in no hurry to discourage her. I took a seat on the couch and sipped my drink. She lifted her blouse off to reveal a pair of round, full breasts encased in a silky black bra. Her taut tummy and curving hips made a bit of sweat break out on my lip.

There is something unbearably exciting about watching a woman take off her pants. When men do it, especially in the heat of passion it is a stumbling affair in which the entire article gets turned inside out and caught around the ankles, dragging behind the feet on the floor like some poor grasping child. When we finally do extricate ourselves from our pants, usually by sitting on the floor, which is where we've ended up after a nasty fall anyway, we tend to look like slightly bruised fools in white socks and drooping underwear. However, when women take off their pants, it is a ballet of the most erotic order. The fabric of the pants seems to melt off the skin, and long luxurious legs are revealed, bending and stretching in the most inviting manner imaginable. The pointed toe is the ultimate expression of subtle sexuality and it is from this that the final deliciously crumpled remnant of clothing is delightfully kicked. By now my top lip was thoroughly soaked and other parts of my body were responding in their own unique ways.

She stood there in front of me, one knee slightly bent, hand gently on absolutely divine hip, toying with the waistband of a truly startling pair of black bikini briefs. Startling not in the way that they were in any manner extraordinary, but startling in the way that they were on such a gorgeous woman in my living room. She placed one of those incredible legs in front of the other and drifted over to me. Bending at the waist she leaned over and touched the tip of her nose to mine. From that vantage point I had a remarkably clear view of her breasts and the shadowy cleavage between. I tried to maintain my composure, but I could not stop myself from blinking and swallowing hard. I honestly think that I made a gulping sound. I was a suave bastard.

She whispered that she hoped that ten years or so hadn't eroded any of my sexual prowess. I prayed with every fiber of my being that it hadn't either. She asked if she could undress me, but I didn't really need to answer as she began unbuttoning my shirt without delay. The feel of her cool fingers on my chest sent a thrill through me and I found myself breathing a little more rapidly. The shirt was pulled open and she ran her hands over my smooth skin. She purred like a cat and lowered her head to place her lips over one of my nipples. A deep moan escaped from someone's lips, and it may have been mine but I can't be sure. As things progressed there were a lot of animal noises, some quite bewildering, but to pinpoint from exactly whom they came would be futile, and perhaps a touch embarrassing.

Her fingers found the buckle of my belt and deftly undid it. The sound of the leather slipping through the belt loops was suddenly incredibly erotic. She undid the button of my pants and slid the zipper down with a soft growl I am almost positive that the growl emanated from the zipper, but in my mind it came from her. I felt the material slide over my thighs and the pants were a puddle around my ankles. In a few subtle movements, my pants, shoes and socks were off. She knelt between my knees, the hot skin of her waist against the insides of my thighs. I was painfully erect, and my boxer briefs looked like the design for some revolutionary new camping device. Her hands roamed freely over my body causing my underwear to appear as if there was actually someone inside the camping device and were stretching after a good long nap.

She pressed her slick lips against mine and my hands rested on her shoulders. They slid down the ivory skin and ran lightly over her forearms and brushed over her fingers. I then swept my hands up over the silken fabric of her bra and let the swell of her breasts fill my palms. She leaned forward, pressing her body against my hands and she moaned softly into my mouth. I let my fingers slip beneath the straps of her bra and pulled them gently over her shoulders and let them fall down. The image of this woman, with the only thing holding up her bra being friction, a bit of elastic and the sheer electricity of the moment, was causing my mind to reel. I reached around behind her and unclasped the bra. I could still do it with one hand, which gave me a renewed sense of bravado: at least there was something else I could do with one hand.

Janet stepped back and climbed onto my lap, lowering herself delectably onto my groin, her legs around my waist. She shrugged her shoulders slightly, a move I found endearing, and her bra slipped off her breasts. A slightly awkward moment passed as she untangled herself from the bra, and I found my lips level with her perfect, candy pink nipples. I took one in my mouth and sucked at it gently, loving the feel of it harden against my tongue. I caressed the warm flesh of her breasts with my hands, enjoying the pleasing weight of them on my palms. She wiggled and twitched as I sucked. I let my teeth rasp against the hard nub, eliciting a gasp. Reluctantly my hands slid from her breasts and ran along her lovely skin to cup her ass. I let my hands explore the silky fabric, running over the smoothness of it, feeling the warmth of the skin beneath. Finally I slid my hands beneath the waistband and ran down the naked flesh of her ass. She rose up a bit so I could cup my hands beneath her and I felt the mouth watering curve and fullness of her cheeks against my fingers.

I let my hands slip along the underside a bit and my fingertips rubbed against the hot wet lips of her. I slipped a finger into her, and she ground down against it with a frantic motion. She pulled her lips off mine and closed her eyes as she moaned. I inserted a second finger and twisted my hand to get a bit more depth. My thumb then pressed up against her clit and she threw her head back.

My wrist was at an awkward angle, the waistband of her panties was cutting into my forearm, and not that I wasn't having a wonderful time, and let's make no mistake, as times go, this was clearly a top ten, but there was room for improvement. She sensed this as well and rose off me to slip her panties off. Her pussy was either sparsely haired or neatly trimmed and the swollen lips glistened in a manner that was intensely inviting. She reached down and began to pull my briefs off as well. I lifted my butt so the garment could be removed and my cock sprung free, as if it was a caged animal finally released, bobbing around looking for lunch, preferably surprised and running. She made appreciative noises as her hand grasped me firmly. As I said, I'm not overly-endowed but I am well-equipped and enthusiastic.

Janet lowered her head and I felt her hot lips encircle the sensitive head of my cock. The initial sensation was almost enough to put me over the edge. I balled my hands into fists and tried to concentrate on maintaining control. I had heard tricks others used, thinking of baseball stats, stock market rates, Bea Arthur, and so forth. But I have found that embracing the sensations completely, allowing them to wash over me but not let myself be swept away by them, often created an experience that heightened the moment and still allowed me to contain myself. I admit that these sensations washed over me, not so much as a wave on the ocean would wash over me, but more as if the Earth itself was tipped up and the entire ocean washed over me. Not letting myself be swept away took a Herculean effort, an effort that reluctantly turned to baseball stats and stock market rates (I avoid images of other women during sex, even if they are only alleged women such as Bea Arthur).

Janet bobbed her head up and down on me, increasing the tempo and suction and causing little gagging noises to escape from her lips. I found this terribly exciting and redoubled my efforts to hold off. I moved to football stats.

Finally, Janet rose up, a lovely smile on her face. I lay there gasping and twitching while she climbed up on my lap again. I gripped her ass with firm hands as she positioned herself precariously above me. With a look of determination, she grasped my cock and lowered herself onto me. The heat of her was shocking, as was the silky sensation. She sat all the way down and I felt the head of my cock bump up against her deep within. She gasped and jolted as if shocked. I raised my hips up and bumped against that spot again and she cried out how deep I was. She leaned forward and I began to piston in and out of her. I let my one hand slip between us and pressed a finger against her clit as she bucked and writhed atop me. My other hand caressed her ass lovingly and I then popped a finger just within the tight ring of her asshole. She cried out loudly, causing my ears to ring. Her motions began to become more frantic and less rhythmic, her cries and gasps louder and less inhibited.

Finally she called out that she was going to cum. She stiffened and I watched her nipples harden, and suddenly I felt a deluge of heat flow from her and soak my thighs. My eyes widened at the sensation as she cried out a guttural moan and tightened her fingers painfully into my shoulders. I smiled at the feeling of pleasure and pain.

Watching Janet climax was like watching an avalanche, a pristine force of beauty and exertion, trembling and quaking, with an almost perfect balance of violence and ecstasy. And just like an avalanche, when it was over, there was a mess to clean up.

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