Delicious Arrangement

She was looking for a job back in her home area, which was nothing new. She told me that at the Laundromat. Frank's presence gave the search a sense of urgency, however.

On the way out, convinced our days of making love were over and I would soon be back to relieving myself on a regular basis, I made one last attempt to salvage something. I offered an arrangement.

I took her hand to give her handshake goodbye when we reached her front walk, as a way to signal that I recognized the time had come for some distance between us.

"Thank you for everything – and I'm sorry," she said.

I put my other hand on hers, cupping her small right hand between my hands.

"I tell you what," I said. "I'll offer you a deal."

"What sort of deal?" she said, puzzled.

"Just an open invitation to stop by any time. I know from how last night ended and what you've told me that you don't want to make love any more. But you allowed something to happen last night," I said.

"So I'm inviting you to stop by any time, and I promise I'll keep all my clothes on. I won't expect to make love to you and won't pressure you or even ask you to do so. If you want to make love or if you want me to undress, you'll have to ask.

"But while you're there I'll be happy to help you relieve a little stress. I always loved to make you cum, and would be glad to again. You needn't worry about me. I'll take care of myself later."

Heather looked down and blushed as if embarrassed for me that I would make such an offer and speak so openly about making her come and relieving myself. That was all right. I was embarrassed to make the offer, but had nothing to lose.

"Just stop over if you're interested," I said. I raised her hand and kissed it, then flicked my tongue between her first two fingers.

"Why would you make that kind of offer?" she said.

"Don't get me wrong. I'd much rather make love like we were doing before. The sex was the hottest I've ever had. Well, that's over, but having a chance to fool around a bit before I'm by myself again is better than nothing at all," I said.

"There are a couple of catches, though," I added.

"What?" she laughed, as if this couldn't get any more ridiculous than it already was.

"I promise to keep all my clothes on, but you have to take all of yours off," I said. "And if you come by knocking on my door I'm going to assume that that's what you're there for. I dislike wondering if you'll let me and seeing how far I can go. I'd rather we were both up front about it and had an understanding."

"Can't I stop by so we can just be friends?" she asked

God, how I hate the "can't we just be friends" line.

"I don't want to say no to that, Heather," I said. "I do like you and I like talking with you. I wish we had been able to go out and do some things together instead of only making love all the time, but I never got the chance. But can't you see what that would be like for me? You stop by and we chat, pretending all of that sex never happened, I guess. Maybe we'd talk about your wedding plans, or how your job search was coming, or whatever and you'd be there as a constant reminder that I lost out."

She looked down, still blushing.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," I said. "I guess I'm just trying to salvage some pleasure out of this, considering there's not much opportunity for such pleasure around here. I know it's perverse. I'm sorry. I'm just sad."

"So, just stop by any time for a free orgasm?" she said making it sound silly. There was a long pause as she gave me a skeptical look. There was nothing further to do but go out with a last bow.

"Well, thanks for everything, Heather," I said.

She kissed me on the cheek. "It's sweet of you to offer. Goodbye."

"It couldn't be," I thought a week and a half later when I heard a knock on that downstairs door only she ever used. I always used the back stairs, and so did other friends and family.

I was quite nervous as I opened it, and even more so when I saw Heather standing there.

"Hi," she said, rather timidly.

"Well, hi," I said with a mild surprise in my voice that wasn't in the least bit faked.

What raced through my mind, of course, was whether she remembered that I said I would assume what she was there for if she chose to stop over. If not, I was likely to have my advances rejected, and I didn't want to deal with that.

I also considered the possibility that she and Frank had had a fight.

"Would you like to come up?" I asked, having chosen those words carefully, hoping she understood what I meant by them.

"Sure, thanks," she said, stepping through the door.

She sat on the end of the couch, one leg on the floor, one tucked up under her, and facing me beside her – just as she sat when she first came into my lair.

"So, how have you been?" I said. I patted her jeans-clad knee and left my hand there to see her reaction. By then I had already noticed that Frank' engagement ring was still on her finger.

"Pretty good," she said. "There's so much planning to do, but in between there's still Smallville"

She paused for a moment.

"I missed seeing you and having something to look forward to at the end of the work day," she added, her eyes cast down.

"I missed you too," I said.

My vanity, if not my common sense, made more out of her comments than was warranted. I wanted to believe, and still believe, that she missed me, and not just the sexual release her time with me brought.

Despite this willing suspension of disbelief, I took what she said as an affirmation that she knew why she was here.

"I missed you, too," I said again, rubbing her knee a little harder.

She accepted my kiss, and returned it, and did not object when I cupped her breasts in my hands through her pull-over sweater. I ran my hands down to the hem at the bottom and pulled it up. She broke the kiss herself and put her arms over her head so I could finish peeling it off.

When I fumbled for the clasp on the bra between the cups, she reached behind. "It's in the back this time," she laughed.

I moved immediately to unsnap her pants, and slid them down, going back for her panties and taking her socks along the way.

She was naked and I was not. There was no way I was going to violate the arrangement I offered her.

I gazed up into her eyes as I scooted back and lowered my head to her mound. I kept my eyes on hers as I began to kiss and lick. She closed her eyes, moaned, and left no doubt about why she was there.

And so I tasted my delicious Heather once again. I licked gently, though I really felt like being aggressive, and listened as her breathing quickened.

When I began to circle her clit with my tongue, moans accompanied her quickened breathing. She reached down as if to grab me by the shoulders and pull me up, and into her. She often did so in our lovemaking before, preferring to feel her own release with me inside her.

But this time she lie back down and put her hands on my head, then down to her sides, clutching the cushions of the couch hard.

I touched her clit with the tip of my tongue and she surrendered herself to the powerful need inside her. I put my tongue as deep inside her as I could, letting her delicious juices flow over my tongue.

I had always used oral sex as a method of foreplay before, ending it either when my desire or my partne'rs led us to the next level. Only with Heather did I approach it – out of necessity – as an end in itself.

With nothing more to move on to – not even my own release – I abandoned all efforts for a delicate approach and tried to use my tongue as a substitute for my cock, working in and out of her.

She came in torrents. I had never drank from a woman in such a way. It was enormously stimulating and enormously frustrating. My release, alone later, would be every bit a match for hers.

When she bade me stop, she pulled me close to her, and kissed me on the cheek. Sweat poured from her naked body and soaked through my own clothes

When her breathing returned nearly to normal, she said with a bit of a whimper of apology in her voice, "I love you, too, Steve."

I had expressed no such affection for her, but I knew what she meant. I didn't know what to say, since to return that level of feeling from me would have required a deeper relationship than the sexual one we dove into.

I longed to go to that next level to see where our feelings would lead us. She seemed to have closed that door.

"Thanks for letting me love you in some way," I finally replied, sounding a little choked up myself.

She slipped away again, but this time I expected her back.

She came back the next night, and that's where I think I overplayed my hand – that is, if my goal was to get her to abandon Frank and give me a chance at a serious relationship with her.

At least that's what I was telling myself at the time my goal was. But perhaps that never would have worked out. At the time, though, I played it for the sexual thrill.

When she reached the top of the stairs, I turned and pulled her close to me. I kissed her neck softly.

"I'm so glad you came back. I've been tasting you on my lips the whole day and couldn't wait to see you again," I said.

I reached to the bottom of her pull-over sweater and pulled it up over her head, without resistance. I hung it neatly over the rail at the top of the stairs.

I stripped her naked there, before she even entered my living room, hanging her clothes over the rail, one item at a time.

Taking her by the hand, I led Heather not to the couch, but to a seldom-used non-reclining easy chair in my living room. I sat her down and had her scoot forward until her butt was on the edge before I knelt to view and taste again the sweetness that I had so carefully positioned for easy access.

Heather wasn't entirely comfortable with it. She blushed a bit as I stripped her by the stairway and led her into the adjacent living room. But she sat submissively and I brought her off with my mouth again.

She left with her orgasm and I remained to find my own. The blue balls I felt all day long thinking about what might happen that night I had almost grown used to. I used to get relief when we got together. Now my relief came after she left, at my own hand.

I stripped her naked at the top of the stairs again the next time she came over, but this time I didn't lean her anywhere. I had her place her hands on the railing where her clothes were draped, and bend over.

On the floor behind her, I spread her legs apart. It wasn't particularly comfortable licking her from this angle, with my head bent back, and squeezed between her legs. Access became easier when she lifted her left leg up and placed it on the rail, as a ballerina would.

I probed her with my tongue and fingers and when she neared her climax spread her cheeks with my hands and lightly touched the tip of my tongue on her anus. I continued to brush around the rim, barely touching her there as she came, moaning loudly. The knee of her right leg started to buckle, but I braced her with my hands while not missing a lick.

Heather pulled away, then eased herself down to the floor next to me, her soaking sex open for me. I drank from her honey pot again.

Some of her clothes had fallen off the rail and down to the front entryway. I watched as she descended the stairs in the nude to retrieve them. She went to the bathroom to dress.

"It's unlocked, Heather," the post-it note on the door read, welcoming Heather to her next visit. After that I no longer heard the knock on the door. She simply came up the stairs.

She stuck her tongue in my mouth immediately, but at the same time grasped my wrists to stop me from beginning her undressing process. She was tall enough to come close to using her height to lean over and make me pull back. I noticed that she had heals on this time.

"Why don't you lie down on your floor. "I'll be on you in a minute," she whispered.

I noticed the verb "on" and not "with," the typical expression when asking for a brief moment of patience.

She walked me backwards and eased me down to the floor. She returned to the rail and started to fold her clothes over it, meticulously, neatly.

I gazed up in amazement, knowing that my upturned face was about to be used. My cock rose within my pants at the prospect.

Heather stripped naked for me and I was as aroused by her lovely body as ever. I love watching a woman strip for me – just for me.

Naked, she slipped those high heels back on. Obviously, there was no need for shoes. It was done for effect, as something about a naked woman in spike heels drives a man crazy. There's also a hint of domination about it. I sensed that I was about to be dominated.

All doubt was removed when she grazed one of those spike heels along the bugle in my crotch, then pressed it down hard when she reached the head.

Then Heather squatted, spread her lower lips and lowered herself onto my mouth.

I knew that I made my reputation with her with the slow oral service, licking the honey off a butterfly's wings, from our early encounters. But there was no need to impress her at this point, and her actions showed she wanted a different attitude anyway.

I immediately plunged my tongue deeply into her then pulled back and worked her inner and outer lips furiously.

This time I wasn't gently licking honey, but licking the excess sauce from my own fingers after a sloppy summer barbecue. She wanted it that fast, grasping the sides of my head and pulling my head up as she thrust her hips down. She didn't actually lift my head, as the force of her sex on my mouth kept me pinned down. But her fingers dug into my scalp and she seemed to be trying to draw me into her, with both downward and upper force.

Her come gushed across by face, over my lips and into my mouth, over my tongue and down my throat. Her palms pressed over my ears, muffling her cries.

I started to find it hard to breathe, but she gave me a chance to quickly catch my breath by standing up and turning around. She plunged herself down on my face again and I went back to work.

The effects of her turning around were twofold. Her anus was right over my nose and she could easily reach my still-pants-enclosed cock.

She ground both her openings down onto my face while she ground the heel of her hand against my bulge. After she came in my mouth again, Heather rolled forward and slid down a little. She spread her ass cheeks for me and presented a new target for me.

"Go ahead," she commanded, the tone of her voice unmistakable. "You licked me there before, and I made sure it was nice and clean for you tonight."

And so my oral sex game with Heather had gone south on me.

I was gentle with this end, out of self-interest. If I were aggressive, I would have shoved my tongue up her ass, and I didn't want to do that.

In fact, by this point I wished she would go home so I could masturbate, my bargain having locked me into that self-satisfying but frustrating form of relief.

My hands replaced hers spreading her open. I licked around her rim and she moaned loudly. The heel of one of her hands was working back and forth on my cock while the fingers of her other hand were massaging her clit.

She pushed her butt harder against my face as a signal she wanted more. I ceased my gentle rimming and pressed the tip of my tongue against the opening.

For the first and only time in my life I had my tongue up a woman's ass. I didn't find the actual act of it pleasant at all, since I am not attracted to that part of a woman. But the idea of it, the naughtiness of it, thrilled me.

This was the end, I was sure. Her aggressiveness was a game-changer. I thought she would only do this if she were figuring she didn't have to deal with the consequences later. Put another way, I guessed she always wondered what it would be like to have a man stick his tongue up her ass, and with me she didn't have anything to lose by trying to get me to do it.

Heather came again, her juices running down my chin.

I came, too, into my pants. Heather knew it. She intended it.

She stood up – then seemed about to present the tip of that spike heel to my lips to kiss, but thought better of it. She kicked off the shoes, quickly put on her clothes, thanked me, and went out. She never returned.

It was the end of the school year. Heather did not return to our town the following season. I heard later that she married Frank.

Older now, I sometimes do Google searches on her name and it appears they are still married, and the construction firm he inherited quite successful.

Perhaps that's a better life than what can be offered by a poor starving writer with a talented tongue.