Fixing the Midterm

We established a rhythm, her hips rocked slightly to meet mine, and then she brought her hand down between us. I lifted my torso a little so she could reach herself and then began fucking her vigorously while she stimulated her own clitoris. It was the most grown-up thing, the most womanly thing, the most confident and sexiest thing she could have done. I was pounding her pretty good and her forearm was rocking fast as her fingers flew over her clit and suddenly the orgasm hit and she began fucking me like a hurricane. Her hips were churning, she was making gurgling and shouting sounds, her arm had stopped moving but her fingers were busily working on herself. I fucked her deep and hard while she came and after a minute or so she came back to earth and I slowed down, too. I was beginning to sweat and our bodies were sticking together.

She gave a little laugh and stroked the back of my head with her left hand, looking into my eyes, while her right hand stayed in position between us. I shifted forward on her for a better angle and began pumping my hips again, plowing into her in granny gear, hard and deep and slow, and her fingers came back to life and soon she came again. This time she almost bucked me off, her pelvis was rocking and her legs had flown up behind my back and I stayed with her like a bull-rider going for the eight-second count, pounding my cock into her while she same and then slowing again.

This time she looked at me quizzically. "Are you going to come?" she asked.

I kept a gentle rhythm going and said, "I don't know why I would."

"Well, isn't that what it's all about?" she said.

It was my turn to laugh. "Of course not."

"Well then, what is it about?"

"Are you having a good time?" I asked her,

"Yes, of course."

"Then good, that's what it's about."

"But what about you?" she asked with a worried tone.

"What about me?"

"Don't you want to come too?"

"No, I don't think so," I said. "I am having a great time as it is. If I came what would that mean? It would just mean we were finished."

"Isn't that weird?" she asked, sounding like a girl again.

"I don't know," I said. "I don't know what that would mean. You are having a good time and I am having a great time, it seems to me like anything else would be weird, don't you think?"

She brought her right hand back to her clitoris and closed her eyes. "Good point," she mumbled.

I don't think she knew that she was capable of multiple orgasms. But once she found it out, it was as if she wanted to see just how far this gift would keep on giving, and it gave a lot. She got on top of me and we worked out a rhythm where she would fuck me until she was just about to come, and then I would pound her while she rode out her orgasm, with her fingers busily tickling herself over the brink.

Eventually she fell off me and lay on her side. I burrowed my nose into her pubic hair and began lapping her clitoris quietly and she shifted and took my cock in her mouth. She was not very good at giving head, it turned out, and I was not surprised. That is something an older lady learns to do, after some practice. But it was nice, and her pussy was delicious and she came more times while I ate her. The lovemaking now was not intense, it was comfortable and slow, I would kiss her pussy and suck it and lick it and she would play with me and then after a couple of minutes she would fold up into a powerful orgasm, and then we would go back to playing with one another.

"I never sucked a cock after it had fucked me," she said at one point.

"That's funny," I said. "Why not?"

"I don't know," she said, and she took me into her mouth again. I knew why not. They teach you this whole thing about foreplay and intercourse, it is absurd. One thing does not lead to another; anything leads to anything else. I don't know where they get the idea that sex is about the man ejaculating. When a man comes he is finished. He loses interest in sex and in the woman he is with. That is a terrible thing to wish for. A woman on the other hand, once she comes she wants to come again, and if a man can help her have orgasms she will love him. Oh, she might forget she loves him in a day or two, it's not that simple, but in the moment that's all he has to do to be the king of the world, just make her come.

Ten o'clock came, and eleven o'clock. We were exhausted. Just to prove a point I went down on her one last time, sucking her clit while I fucked her with two fingers and she came like a stick of dynamite, and then she pushed her legs together and pushed me away, laughing. "Oh, no," she said, "That's it. We have to stop."

I rearranged the pillows and lay with my head on them and she lay against me. I stroked her shoulder and she reached over to hold my cock, which was still hard as a piece of pipe. She stroked it gently with her fingers, running them up and down my length, giving me immense pleasure. If she had a purrbox she would have been purring. If I could roar I would have been roaring. In a satisfied way.

"Tonight was not what I expected," she said. I did not want to spoil the statement with a cliche and so I did not speak. She may have hoped for an explanation, I don't know. "I thought I was going to come over here and do you, you know?" She laughed ironically. "That isn't how it worked out."

"It was just what I had hoped," I said.

"You didn't even come," she said. "Look at this. It's ridiculous."

"Sarah, I had an amazing time. I will always have this memory. If I came, you know how I would be right now? I would be in a coma, I would be tired and crabby, I would be wishing you would leave. This is much better, trust me."

"I could finish you off," she said, stroking my raging cock.

"I love what you're doing now," I said.

"Me, too," she whispered, and I felt her head relax against my chest. I never wanted her hand to stop moving against me, it was the best feeling in the world. Her fingers wrapped around my staff and she tugged lightly, listening to the sounds I made and adjusting her stroking to my panting and moaning.

Soon she had taken me beyond the pleasure of orgasm to a fantastic state of pure bliss. I could hear myself as if from a distance, groaning and weeping, muttering "Oh my god" repeatedly. This was a state where there was no chance of shooting my load, I was so far beyond that point that it was just not a possibility. I would describe this as a state of orgasm but better than that, and lasting for minute after minute. My heart was pounding, my throat was dry from the gulps of air I would take periodically.

Her fingers covered the head of my cock and she rubbed it mercilessly. This was excruciating, but in a good way. She fucked me with her hand, pumping my shaft, then torturing the tip of my penis with the palm of her hand, pumping me some more. Now and then she dipped her head down and worked on me with her mouth and her hands at the same time. She seemed to be having fun, treating me like her toy, teasing me and driving me out of my head.

Maybe it was ten minutes, maybe twenty, I don't know. I was in another place, I didn't know time, but eventually I felt my consciousness beginning to settle back down to a somewhat normal state. And as she detected the recovery in the sounds of my breathing, she softened her attack, stroking lightly and allowing me to return to earth gently. I lay with my head propped on the pillows and she cuddled up against me, her little hand working tenderly on me. It was perfect.

She did not spend the night. We got out of bed and I made some quesadillas and we sat on the back porch naked, eating them and listening to the sounds from the creek. The half moon was rising over the forest and we heard rustling that could have been anything, deer, fox, raccoon, bobcat, coyote. The bullfrogs honked and the water gurgled and we sat on a futon, her body leaning against mine as we spilled tortilla crumbs on our skin.

Then we went in for a shower. She got me hard again under the water and used her soapy hand on me until I was moaning with delight, and then we dried off and she dressed. I thought it was appropriate for me to remain naked, our last hour sort of symmetrically reflecting the first.

She stood at the door before I opened it and I said, "Okay, I will adjust your grade."

"And I will go back to my life," she said.

Still, there was some reason she did not open the door and leave. I said, "This has been an amazing night."

"Yes, it has."

I gave her one more kiss and said, "I'll see you in class Monday."

"Okay." I knew she couldn't talk.

Then the door opened and she stepped out. A few seconds later I heard a motor start and then its sound grew faint as she went back to her world of twenty-year-olds.

I went back to the futon and sat naked while nature sang all around me. My hard-on had wilted. The reality of my real life was beginning to close in on me again. It wasn't so bad, I had interesting things to think about during the day and a beautiful home to return to at night.