Goldicocks Ch. 02

"You called him what?!?" my girl's best friend shrieked into the phone.

Lesley giggled. "Goldicocks."

Sandra, her friend on the other end of the phone, just mumbled, "Oh my..."

Okay, I shouldn't have been listening in. I didn't really mean to, but the way it happened, well... okay, let me start from the beginning.

I came into the house from work just as I heard the phone ring. Lesley picked it up before she knew I was home.

I heard her start talking as I went into the other room to drop off my work materials. Her sultry voice, reminiscent of 1940s starlets you'd see opposite Humphrey Bogart, resonated through the house though I couldn't hear exactly what she was saying.

I dropped off my laptop onto the office desk, shrugged off my coat, and went into the bedroom. Lesley had been working on her photography again, as her lights and tripod were set up and I had to be careful not to knock anything over as I started to get changed out of my work clothes.

I had taken a couple of steps when I noticed the lingerie on the bed. A smile crept across my face as I chided myself for being a bit slow on the uptake. Lesley had been shooting photos of herself wearing her lingerie.

"Mmm-mmm!" I hummed to myself. This girl is something else in lingerie, and she's a phenomenal photographer, so the combination is guaranteed to be erotic and she has a body that could arouse a eunuch.

I changed quickly and started my way down the hallway to surprise Lesley, who still didn't even know I was home. A wicked smile danced across my face as I imagined coming up behind her while she was on the phone, wrapping my arms around her, caressing her breasts while the person on the other end of the phone was clueless –

"Oh god, yeah, I love that cock of his!" I heard her say. I froze in my tracks.

Huh? What? Who the hell is she talking to?

I went back into the bedroom and lay on the bed, and picked up the extension and immediately hit the "mute" button. Their conversation had moved onwards, but was definitely firmly rooted in the gutter.

"Sandra," Lesley was saying, "I've gotta tell you, if I had it in me to share, I would."

Sandra giggled. "I might have taken you up on that offer, the way you talk about it. Tell me more!"

Lesley took a deep breath. "Where to begin?" she said. "There's just something about him, and about that wonderful cock of his." Hearing her say the word "cock" to someone other than me, and not in the heat of the moment, took me by surprise. Normally Lesley was quite proper and rarely swore, except when we were alone in private when she felt comfortable to let her guard down.

"Like what?" Sandra was prodding.

"Okay," Lesley said, sounding like she had just convinced herself of spilling the beans. "Do you remember when we went to that adult store, and we saw those vibrators that are supposed to hit your G-spot?"

"Yeah?" Sandra sounded excited. "His cock's shaped like a letter J?"

Lesley laughed. "No, of course not!" she said. "But that's my point. He can hit my G-spot even without having that weird shape. It's truly perfect, almost a work of art."

"Wow."

"It's like," Lesley said, on a roll, "it doesn't matter what position we're in. His cock enters me and he's got this amazing flare around the crown. He likes me to be on all fours, you know, doing it doggie style? And just enters me a little and teases me with that wonderful cockhead."

Hearing Lesley talk about me like this was nervewracking, but I didn't remember being more turned on in my life. It was as if it were an erotic knifeblade, at any moment it could turn against me and cut me, but I couldn't put down the phone.

"That sounds wonderful," Sandra said, her voice somewhat distant and unfocused.

"Yeah," Lesley said, and paused. "I told him he's my Goldicocks."

"You called him what?!?"

And this is where we came in. Sandra was laughing hard now, and so was Leslie. I wasn't really sure how I felt. I mean, this was something that was between the two of us, right? On the other hand, what guy wouldn't want his girl to be boasting about his abilities in bed? It's a hell of a lot better than the other way around, right?

I couldn't have put the phone down if I wanted to. Grateful for the mute button, my own breathing had become considerably deeper and aroused. My cock was rock hard and straining against my jeans. I stroked the outline that pushed the zipper upwards as I lay upon my back on the bed.

"Goldicocks," Lesley giggled. "You know, not too big, not too small, but just-

"- right," Sandra finished the sentence with Lesley. They both howled with laughter.

They calmed a little, and seemed to be searching for something else to say.

"Wow," Sandra said. "You sure you don't want to share?" She said it jokingly, but something said that if Lesley were up for it, she would be too.

Lesley probably sensed the same thing, but brushed it off. "Nope," she said. "Sorry, Sandy, but he's all mine."

"Bitch," Sandra said, but didn't mean it. They both laughed again. "So, you've been taking more pictures for him, then?"

"Yeah," Lesley said, apparently adjusting her seat to make herself more comfortable. "He loves those pictures of me in my lingerie, though god knows why."

"Oh come on," Sandra said, not buying it for a moment. "You've got model-good looks, and he just knows what he's got. He's damn lucky, and he knows it. Which," she added, "scores him big-time brownie points. Most women don't have men who appreciate them."

I could almost hear Lesley beam through the phone. "True," she said, "which is why I'm taking the pictures. I think I'll surprise him with them a little later. I like to send them every once in a while to his email when he's at work so he gets a little taste of what's to come."

Sandra snickered at the double-entendre. "I see," she said. "Give some to get some?"

Lesley laughed. "Yup, and dammit, I wanna get me some!"

Oh, honey, I thought. You're going to get you some, believe me!

"You know that feeling you get when you just want to suck some dick?" Leslie added.

"Uh huh."

Uh huh? What kind of conversations do women have anyway??

"I just get that all the time with him. It's like, every time I put him in my mouth I get something more out of it." Leslie sounded almost philosophical now. "I've never actually craved someone so much like this."

"When does he come home?" Sandra asked.

Leslie must have looked at the clock. "Hmm, that's strange," she said, "Any time now. I'm actually surprised he's not back yet."

Oh shit! I thought, looking around. I'd already changed my clothes, and of course I had seen the photography equipment. I had to get the hell out of there or her surprise for me would be ruined!

"Come to think of it," Lesley continued, "I better get back upstairs and clean up my camera and lingerie so that he doesn't suspect anything when he gets home."

I hung up the phone, and jumped up. O shit o shit o shit o shit.

I grabbed up my clothes that I wore to work, and scrambled around the bed, nearly killing myself on the power cord for the lights. I grabbed everything I remembered wearing, my work shoes dangling from two fingertips, and skidded around the door frame to go downstairs before she came upstairs.

Shit! I thought. My laptop! If I didn't have the laptop with me when I came through the door she'd know something was wrong. I never come home without my laptop! At the same moment, I heard Lesley shuffle around downstairs, and knew she was on her way.

I scrambled back towards the office and managed to round the corner just as I heard her foot hit the stairs. I grabbed my laptop and coat and clutched them to my chest, pinning my clothes against my face. Across the room I saw myself in a mirror, work trousers dangling off to one side, my laptop briefcase clutched to my chest, a wrinkled sock bunched underneath my chin. I looked ridiculous.

Pressing myself against the inside of the door, I heard Lesley walk by to go into the bedroom. I was completely stunned that she couldn't hear my heart pounding from out in the hallway.

I heard her start to pack up her equipment in the bedroom, and tried to ease my way down the stairs without dropping anything or tumbling to the bottom. Miraculously, I managed to make it, but just as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I turned and saw her come out of the bedroom and into the hallway, turn right towards me, and go into the office. My heart stopped completely, but she never once looked at me.

I hustled out the door and desperately looked for a place to change. It wasn't as if we were completely isolated, so I ran to the side of the house and immediately started unzipping my jeans. I had them halfway down my thighs when I saw my neighbor, a 65 year-old pensioner, stop her gardening to look at what I was doing.

I paused, cracked a half smile, and then resumed what I was doing. I quickly donned my work trousers, changed my shirt back into what I was wearing during the day, put on the right socks and put the shoes on. I could feel the sweat break on my forehead.

Okay, where to put my other clothes? Oh, that's right, the car. I'll just toss them in the car, and then I could close the car door and she could hear that I was home –

The car! My pulse quickened as I realized that the bedroom window looked straight down onto the driveway where she could see my car. All she had to do was look out the window and see that it was there, and I wasn't home!

I ran to the car, doing a side-step crabwalk looking up at the bedroom window to see if she was looking out. Even at the time, I had no idea why I was doing this. It made no sense, but something prevented me from not looking. The pensioner stayed poised in mid-clipping just watching me.

I got to the car, opened up the door, and threw my clothes in the back seat. Holding my laptop briefcase, I tried to calm myself down and collect myself. I glanced over at my neighbor, who cocked her head and just stared at me. I smiled that goofy half-smile again, and walked as calmly as I could into the house.

"Honey," I called. "I'm home!" Instantly I regretted my Leave It To Beaver cliché.

She didn't seem to mind. "Hi!" she called down, sounding excited to see me. Doh! Of course! "I'll be down in a second. Would you mind getting me something to drink?"

A drink. Very good idea.

I went into the kitchen and took out two glasses. What should I get, a beer? No, that'd fuck up my breath. A vodka drink? Tempting, but no. I settled on two glasses of fruit juice. With ice.

She came up behind me as I poured the juice into the glasses and wrapped her arms around me.

"Mmmm, hi," she purred. I could feel her breasts press into my back, and her hands reached around my waist and rested on my belt buckle. I was instantly hard again.

She noticed my racing heartbeat from behind me, though. "Wow," she said. "You're heart's going a mile a minute! Are you okay?"

"It's what you do to me," I said, turning in her arms and presenting her with the juice.Well, it's true, I thought to myself.

She took a sip as I took mine, then took my drink out of my hand and placed them both on the counter. "Baby," she purred. her hands sliding under my shirt onto my bare skin. "I need you inside me. I've been thinking about you all afternoon."

I know, I thought. I heard you on the phone!

"I'm so glad you're home," she said to me, her piercing blue eyes never wavering from mine. She took my hand in hers and slid it underneath her elastic waistband. "I need you to help me with this – "

Oh yeah. That's right. You know where she put my fingers. Her soaking pussy lips slid in between my fingers, her erect clit feeling both hard and soft at the same time.

"- with this." Her hands left mine inside her pussy and she palmed my hard cock on top of my zipper. She started undoing my belt with one hand while rubbing my cock over my pants with the other.

Her eyes never left mine, though. She started nodding her head, as if to get me to agree with her. "Yeah, baby?" she asked, continuing that sultry purring. "Is that okay?"

Is that okay?!?

She leaned up to kiss me, and I could smell her intoxicating scent of English Lavender and the somewhat peach-y taste of her glossy lipstick on mine. She started to play with my tongue with hers, occasionally pulling on my lower lip.

Her cool hands reached into my underwear and touched the tip of my cock. Hard and pulsing, her fingers ran over the head with the slightest amount of pressure, making it jump in response. I could feel her smile as she kissed me whenever it pulsed to her ministrations.

By the time she pulled away from my lips, she had me completely out and pointing at her belly. My fingers were still playing with her pussy lips, though I could only just touch her entrance to her sweet depths with my fingertips from the angle I was at.

She looked down and saw my cock in her hand. "Oh, I just love the way your cock looks in my hand," she said. She looked back up at me and smiled. "I think I'm addicted to your cock, you know."

"That's okay with me," I said. "I'll give you a fix anytime you like." Corny, I know.

She didn't seem to mind the maize-factor of my sense of humor, though. A crooked half-smile appeared and she said, "You know, I'd like a fix now."

She went down to her knees, my fingers sliding out of her pussy and up across her breasts and finally to her head as she engulfed her mouth around me. I looked down and watched those beautiful bee-stung lips caress the head of my cock, then slide over the head and move back and forth across the ridge. She seemed to love playing some private little game like that, feeling the edge of my cockhead just slip in and out of her lips. Her tongue flicked out to bathe the underside of the crown, just before she opened her mouth a little wider and stuffed half of my cock into her mouth.

Lesley had an amazing technique that few women understand. She knew that the best results of sucking came on the upstroke and she lavished as much attention as she could, and took as much time as possible, as she pulled back off my cock.

Watching her make love to my cock was something that I wish everyone could see. It's so magnificent, so beautiful to watch, it's as if I want to tell people Hey, you just have got to see this!

Her technique is masterful, an artform. Women who love what they do are in a league all their own. There's something about the way they enjoy it for themselves that far surpasses women who simply do it because they think it's what their man wants. Looking down at her, there was no question in my mind that she was fulfilling a need that had been building up all day.

She pulled back from my cock again and then swooped down again, even farther this time. She pulled off my cock slowly, running her tongue underneath while at the same time coating it with her saliva. Wet and hard, I could see it glisten as it slowly revealed itself from between her lips.

Once more, she attacked my hard cock, this time deep throating me all the way. There's no other way to put it: I felt consumed. One of her hands came up from underneath to hold my balls, rubbing her fingers and palm against them. The other went to the base of my shaft and applied just a bit of pressure against the top of the root, a feeling I absolutely love. It had the added bonus of keeping me in place for her to do with me as she wished.

When she came off, she stared at the head of my cock which bobbed enthusiastically in front of her face. It was completely soaked.

"Mmmm... perfect," she said, but not to me. She was talking to herself (either that or to my cock, I'm not sure which).

She stood up, and I reached for her waistband again, but she ignored me. "C'mon," she said, and grabbed ahold of my cock and led me towards the stairs. She practically ran upstairs as I tried to follow, my trousers falling down and causing me to awkwardly penguin-walk up the stairs.

I followed her into the bedroom, which she had completely straightened. There was no sign of her camera equipment or lingerie anywhere. She was hiking up her skirt to reveal her bare pussy.

"I need you to fuck me now!" she said. I tried to take off the rest of my trousers, but she would have none of it. "No, fuck that. Just get inside me now!"

I was completely okay with that. I ambled over to the bed and she took my cock in her free hand and moved her skirt out of the way with the other. She leaned back, pulling me off balance and onto her, but she knew what she was doing. I fell forward, her hand never leaving my cock, and guided me towards her pussy at the same time. I fell into her with just the cockhead entering her, but I was amazed at her precise aim.

Being inside her was like turning off the normal colors of the world, though, and on came the psychedelic swirly patterns of some Pink Floyd laser light show. I didn't so much push inside of her as she drew me in. She was soaked.

As my balls rested at the entrance of her pussy I could feel her wetness coat them.

"Ohh," she moaned, her eyes closed now. "Yesss." I could hear the hiss of the word escape her lips almost like a whisper.

She opened her eyes. "Baby, you have no idea how badly I've needed this. I've been thinking about your cock inside me for hours." I believed her.

"I love how you fit inside me," she said. "I love how you fill me up and I can take all of you in. I don't know whether I want you to fuck me like this or fuck my mouth."

There's no way around it. I loved how she talked to me like this, the things that came out of her mouth never ceased to catch me off guard. My little blonde cutie got raw with the words, and I responded. My cock twitched inside of her.

"Yeah, baby, I felt that," she grinned.

"I love it when you talk like that," I said, moving inside her.

"I know you do," she said, smiling broadly. She knew she had a profound effect on me and loved having that kind of influence – or was it control? I didn't know, and I really didn't care.

She was so tight, it felt as if she were a second skin. She wrapped her legs around me and lifted her ass a bit so that I could slide even deeper. The angle changed just slightly, but it was enough. I knew what this position was – she wanted me to rub her G-spot with my cockhead.

This position may not look like much, if you were to be an outside observer. It looks like the missionary position, although with her back curled just a bit more than usual. But the feeling is intense, for both of us. My cock angles upwards towards the "ceiling" of her pussy but presses against the underside of my cock at the entrance.

Ah, the physics of sex. The resulting pressure is exquisite in its completeness. She squeezed her muscles and gripped my cock and milked it, causing slight movements but almost torturous in its finesse. Her pussy motions caused the head to rub back and forth against her G-spot, the ridge stroking that sensitive flesh inside her and bringing her closer to one of her more powerful orgasms.

I had to be careful, because I could easily come this way too. I didn't want it to be over yet, though. I wanted to fuck her long and deep as well, and I knew that the more powerful my own orgasm, the less likely I would be able to continue – and I wasn't even close to being ready to stop.

She was close, however, and I could hear her breathing start to become staccato.

"Oh, I love your cock," she said. "Iloveitiloveitiloveit..." she trailed off.

"Baby, you drive me crazy when you say things like that," I said. She knew it already, of course, but the smooth resonance of my voice seemed to help push her over the edge. "I get hard just thinking about you talking this way."