Foreign Tongues Pt. 03

My legs shook as I came. My thighs pulsated. It is easy to cum on someone's stomach, face, back, etc. But to aim your shot into a coffee cup is quite tricky.

"Yes, more!" Celine exclaimed, milking me. She was holding the cup just under the tip of my cock and running her tongue underneath my dick. It throbbed.

"Yes, baby, fill it!" She said again.

I released a moan and held her hair back as she continued to milk me.

She stood up led me by the dick to the stable.

"Stay hard!" She demanded.

How could I not with a demand like that?

She put the mug on the counter, propped herself up on the table, and spread her legs wide open.

"Now fuck me!"

I walked over and eased myself into her. Then, I positioned her ass a little to get a better angle, which allowed me to enter her deeply. Finally, I wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around her neck.

The thrusts were hard. I pulled myself out to the tip and then rammed myself back into her, each time feeling that I was going deeper. The sound of my upper thighs pounding hers was loud and satisfying.

"Oh baby, baby, Jocelyn... I'm cumming!" She yelled.

I repositioned both my arms under her thighs. Lifting her from the tabletop, I hoisted her into the air. She was straddling me; our legs were intertwined. Then, pressing her entire body snuggly to mine and biting her lower lips, I continued to assail her pussy with epic blows - my only desire now was to make her scream.

The moan she released was primal. With my last outward thrust, my cock popped out, followed by a gush of liquid as she squirted - her beautiful, warm juices flowed down my legs. I pulled her even closer. Then, freeing one of my hands, I stroked my saturated penis just a few times and let my semen join her fluids, my kitchen floor an exquisite puddle.

Our breathing came in ragged breaths. Still holding her closely, I walked over to the sofa and sat down. My legs quivered.

"Mon Dieu!" I said.

"My God!" she echoed.

We stayed like that for some time--both of us allowing our breathing to return to normal. Then, standing up slowly, she stretched her long, toned body. Without a word, she turned around and went to the kitchen. I could hear the sound of the french press as it poured its liquid, then the sound of a spoon moving gently on ceramic. She walked in and sauntered towards me. It was a slow, deliberate walk. A walk that said, 'I'm on a mission. I have intention.' I laid back on the couch, reached my hands behind my head, and interlocked my fingers. I sat there, gazing at her. She resumed her position atop me, straddling me. Shifting her weight gently, she looked at me and, with a pouting expression, and said,

"You had no milk. So I had to substitute."

She began sipping it slowly, never breaking her gaze once.

I shook myself from this fantasy. I had a massive erection, which I gently rubbed under the table. Aware I was doing this, I brought my hands back to the table and fiddled once again with the cutlery. This wasn't nostalgia anymore; this was pure melancholia fueled by alcohol.

I called the server and asked for a coffee--no more wine. Three glasses were plenty. I had work to do tonight for a show. I turned slightly to look at the woman who had been working feverishly just a short while ago. I could easily pretend I was looking out the window if she happened to look up. But she was no longer hunched over her work. She had fewer books stacked up, her laptop was closed, and she too was drinking what I assumed was coffee or tea. She had removed her oversized sweater, and her form-fitting, casual shirt accentuated her body. She had her back turned and was looking out the window, lost in thoughts of her own.

'Maybe I should go over. We're both alone. Just chat over a cup of coffee. No harm in that, right?' I was talking wildly to myself when my coffee arrived. I also asked for the bill.

I tilted the small container of cream and added just a splash to the ink, black liquid. Thick white fluid curled up and around as it mixed in. I slowly dipped the spoon in and rotated it before pausing abruptly.

'She drank my cum with coffee.' I said, reaching under the table to resume rubbing my erection.