Good Things Come in Threes

byGlobal Carol©

It's always a pleasure to be with such a man. Actually, it's more than a pleasure. It provides well more than a mouthful of semen, giving the opportunity for lots of cum play – if you're into that sort of thing, of course.

Anyway, though Murphy had shot only three or four jolts into my mouth and one had gone straight down my esophagus, my mouth was completely full. I pulled back to accommodate the abundance of cum and just kept my tongue on the underside of his cockhead as I released most of his cock to retain the mouthful of semen. It was fruitless, I quickly realized, and if I wanted to enjoy all this wonderful white liquid I needed to take some action.

I told my breasts that all good things must come to an end as I brought one hand up to hold onto his still spurting pole and maintain its aim. Then I brought my other hand, palm up, under my chin and let the semen spill onto it. All of this logistical activity required me to dwell less on my own orgasm, but I figured I'd enjoy playing with his semen after he was done. I knew that would compensate for any lack of momentary concurrency.

So there we were during this wonderfully invigorating encounter: Murphy still shooting his luscious semen (Was it shot number nine or ten now?) into my overflowing mouth and my orgasm was in maintenance mode keeping me quite satisfied. I was loving the delicious taste on my tongue, the thick syrupy feel of it splashing into my mouth and then running down my chin to increase the size of the pond forming in the palm of my hand.

At that moment Murphy reached down and firmly grabbed hold of his cock for the last few tasty shots and it was just in time: My left hand was so full that some of his cum was beginning to drip over the sides. I quickly placed my now-free right hand under the left and a second lake quickly began to form.

When he stopped shooting, I closed my lips around his head, sucking the last few delightful drops into my mouth and swallowing all that was there.

Looking down at my two handfuls of Murphy's cum the reality of the situation hit me: There's been a void in my life for the past several months and I have hit such a wonderful bit of luck to be joyfully sitting here enjoying giving what appeared to be a well-received blowjob to a supershooter. This reminded me that I still had a small series of thrills warming me from my pussy. Gazing at the two sparkling pools of semen in my hands I leaned forward and licked at one. The taste thrilled my pallet as a few drops fell down my lips and onto my chin, sliding in the sliminess of the cum in my hand.

I closed my eyes to focus on the liquid enchantment in my mouth, oblivious to anything else other than a new wave of climaxes taking hold of my body – and Murphy's cock pressing against my forehead. I continued to lick and slurp at my hand until finally it had all been sucked dry.

After another moment purely enjoying the abundance and the taste of his cum I refocused to see what Murphy was up to, glad in the knowledge that I had yet one more palmful of semen to drink. Looking up to his face, I was surprised to find it mouth agape, staring, not at me, but off to the mirror. He seemed intently drawn to watching my semen savoring, and, as I returned to the second handful of sperm, clearly enjoying what he was seeing. The guy had just had a more than substantial orgasm, yet here it was not five minutes later and my slurping had caused the beginning of another erection. Ah, youth! I was flattered momentarily, but decided I still had some of my own orgasm business remaining.

Raising my hand and nearly putting my nose in the remaining semen, I inhaled deeply. What a wonderful smell. Then, I was reminded of my thoughts earlier about Murphy possibly having more than one orgasm this afternoon. Since he was clearly adding fuel to my actively heated oralism, why not stoke the fire myself?

I took my hand, with the palm still upturned, raised it above my head, and slowly rolled it over so the sperm began to waterfall into my open mouth with outstretched tongue. As it hit my taste buds my immediate climax target was reached and I began to moan, shake, and just went with the flow – so to speak.

The little show had its effect, I knew, when his formerly soft cock began to press determinedly and inexorably against my cheek. To show my appreciation for his renewed interest, I brought his cockhead over my mouth and let the remaining drizzle of cum fall onto it before licking it off his now re-erect prick. He shuddered, let out a groan, and pressed his cock into my wide-open mouth. (Is this a sweet young man or what?) I continued to suck and lick at his cockhead and my hand, slurping up all of the cum I could find. Eventually, none of the white syrup was present. However, my hands, his cock and my face were all coated in a delicate and delicious clear liquid coating. What a treat for this cum-starved student.

Time, though, I realized to take a break. My legs were starting to cramp and I was literally exhausted from my own seemingly minutes-long orgasm.

Initially, I felt empowered by my clearly successful, hands-free blowjob and my own series of powerful orgasms. Then, it struck me that there was an interesting dynamic in the room as I got to my feet: Murphy, naked from his waist to his shorts and jeans huddled about his ankles, and I, completely dressed save for my shoes. This "older woman" had just taken control of this sexual encounter and she enjoyed that feeling. Murphy was under my spell. If someone had told me before the exam this morning that I'd be enjoying his semen before the afternoon was half-over I would have thought she was crazy. But, to paraphrase a rather overused adage: when life hands you a cock, you make cum.

"Murphy," I said, breaking a silence previously disturbed only by the sounds of sex, "I'd like to freshen up. Will you please excuse me?"

I smiled at him and, looking fondly at his still erect cock upon which I bestowed a light but comically loud kiss, sashayed to the bathroom radiating some sort of post-blowjob bravado usually reserved for men. I closed the door and sat down, surprised at its sparkling cleanliness. (What's not to love about this guy?) But, this was not the only surprise to be found there that afternoon.

Come Two

Across from the toilet was a little stand upon which were a variety of male toiletry items, and below was a drawer under which was a shelf holding a stack of magazines. Being nosy by nature I rifled through them. Under the Playboys, Sports Illustrated, Hustlers and FHMs were more than a dozen magazines devoted to large busted women.

Being naturally blessed (or cursed, depending on my mood of the day and whether I'm shopping for clothes or not) with a pair of breasts too large for my otherwise slender frame I've always been fascinated by breasts, my own as well as those on other women. In fact, I frequently find myself checking out those on other women. That's what made these men's magazines dedicated to extremely large-chested women entertaining and even exciting reading.

Several minutes after I'd completed peeing I was interrupted from my attempt to quickly leaf through every fascinating magazine looking for each extraordinary set of boobs by Murphy's question from the other side of the door, "You OK in there?"

"Oh. Uh, sure. I'm fine. I'll be out in a second," I replied. But as I was closing the ones I had opened to the "best" page in my lap I began to notice that quite a few of the pages had what appeared to be dried spots on them. At once I was aware of Murphy's probable use of these as masturbatory material and it brought a smile to my face. Why not? He's a normal young man; plus, the thought of that amazing equipment of his exploding while jerking himself off to these big-boobed ladies was hot.

I continued, finding that I couldn't stop my little investigation. What, I thought, does he find most appealing? Would it be the largest, silicone-enhanced versions or someone naturally large busted?

The answer was a surprise. It appeared that ultimate size didn't really matter. I found most of these little dried cum drops on pages of women who were wearing bras!

Go figure. This was unexpected. Could it be that Murphy has a bra fetish? Well, that might be an overreaction, but there was a pattern here and I intended to figure it out. Hell, if I can find out more about his fantasies it can only help him to have more intense orgasms. That can only mean one thing for this selfish old broad: more cum for me!

Quickly finishing up my business, I washed off the now-dry seminal fluid coating my face. Looking in the mirror I was temporarily frustrated by the crow's feet in the corners of my eyes, but then I came to my senses.

"Reality, kid: you're an old broad." I said out loud to the mirror. "It's a bitch. Deal with it. But, hey, you're with a remarkable young man who appears to be enjoying himself and who's voiced no complaints. Enjoy! Not every Fif- (You see, I just can't say it. Forty wasn't this hard.) Not every woman your age can excite a man half her age. It's something to celebrate. Get over yourself." In addition, I thought to myself, though they may be a bit lower than they used to be, you've got boobs that are at least in the ball park with Murphy's mammoth maidens.

Using some toothpaste on my finger to freshen my breath I opened the door to find Murphy undressed in his double bed.

(I need to rant here, if you'll pardon me. To continue with the story, please skip this parenthetically rambling tirade, as there's nothing to do with sex or even the story here. In the US, single beds are 39 inches wide. So, it would stand to reason that double beds would be 78 inches wide, right? But someone clearly misunderstood the concept when they developed the nomenclature. In fact, double does not always exist as a size. Instead, the next size up from "single" is called "full" and it's only 54" wide. Above that you move to "queen" which is only 6" wider than full. Does this make any sense? If you want a bed that's truly twice the width of a "single" you need to move to "king" which is 78 inches wide – unless, of course, you find a Western or California king which is only 72" wide, but compensates by being four inches longer than a standard single or queen size. The logic of this defies me. OK. I think I've finished my divagation.)

He had the covers pulled down and he was gently stroking himself while looking at something on his laptop. Still completely dressed, I sat down next to him and was not taken aback a bit to see him leafing through digital photos of large busted women mainly wearing bras.

"So, what I discovered about you from your magazines in the bathroom is not a secret? You like women with large boobs, but find them sexier when they're wearing bras? Is that it?" I asked.

"I thought you'd figured that out from the time you spent in the john. I'm not sure why but I love women with boobs like yours, especially when they're wearing bras. In fact, I usually try to sit in class so that I can see the outline of your bras. It's such a turn-on trying to visualize the ones you're wearing. Some have wide bands in the back and others are smaller. I almost always get a hard-on during class just from watching you from whatever angle I can."

"That's a nice compliment, I guess, but are you saying that you'd rather look at boobs than actually touch or kiss them?" I asked him.

"I don't know. No one's ever asked me that before. You see, Carol, my sister who's a year older than I am has really large breasts, not as large as you, but big. I used to sneak into her room and loved discovering everything I could about her bras. How many eye-hooks, the cup size, what kind of straps, soft-cup or underwire, they all became fascinating to me."

"OK. You are definitely a pervert. Cute, but still a pervert. You do like sex though, right? You are not just a watcher? I mean, you come buckets, tasty buckets, and it would be a shame to have you prefer to just play by yourself."

"Uh-uh," he answered me, "that blowjob was wonderful. In fact it was the best one I've ever had, ever!" He paused for a moment and then added thoughtfully, "I've always wondered about my orgasms. I subscribe to a few on-line porn sites and I don't see many men who come as much as I do."

"What about your other girlfriends?" I asked. "Have you ever talked about it with your other lady friends?"

"Not really. I've only been with a few women and I've been embarrassed to ask 'em about it. Only three have ever given me blowjobs and just a few times. They all coughed and gagged when I came. And none of them ever wanted to swallow it. It wasn't very pleasant – for them or for me. That's one of the reasons I was watching in the mirror, to see if you were enjoying yourself or if my cum was making you sick."

"No, no," I countered, thinking even more: cute, a bit weird, but definitely cute and, boy, could he come. "As you probably observed, I am a cum enthusiast. I've been a cum devotee since I first discovered the stuff. Your orgasm was so, I mean, you shot so much. It just gave me more of what I was anticipating: that wonderful white stuff. I loved every drop of it. Semen actually makes me come. I love sucking a cock, but I think that I truly love cum more."

"Well, to tell you the truth," he said, "I was also watching you because I find it so sexy when it looks like a woman really enjoys cum. All of the porn videos have women sucking cocks and letting the guys come in their mouths and all over their faces, but few of the women really look like they're enjoying it. Some of them may even be smiling, but in general it just looks like an act.

"I actually thought you were coming when I was," he continued. "Is that possible? Can a woman come without actually having her clit rubbed or a cock inside of her?"

"Guilty as charged," I said. "I loved all of your cum and was satisfyingly stunned at the amount. From my experience, I can tell you that you are a member of a pretty select group of men. Where others shoot a sip you really know how to give a girl a drink!"

With that vote of support I leaned over and kissed him, hard. We stayed like that with me on top of his naked chest, continuing this very pleasurable activity. Soon I knew I needed his cock in me and moved down, kissing his neck.

There was some movement I noticed out the corner of my eye. It was the laptop, now playing a video. As I moved lower, kissing Murphy's cute tummy, I continued to keep my eye on the laptop's LCD now showing a rather big-chested woman sucking off what appeared to be dozens of men encircling her.

I looked up at Murphy who was now staring at my mouth closing in on his prodigiously productive prick. As I sucked him deep into my mouth, I decided to check out some of my techniques to see if they'd diminished in the past few months of disuse.

After licking his hard-on with enough saliva to get it wet but not sloppy, I got on all fours between his legs, took one more glance at his face, smiled as much as one can with a cockhead in one's mouth, and slowly pumped him into and out of my mouth, taking more and more of him each time. Reaching his abdomen with the inexorability of an expert, I held him deep in my mouth, just pressuring the underside of his cock with my tongue while tightening and loosening my lips around the base. This had always seemed an effective use of the resources at hand and was a technique of which I was quite proud.

From the sounds emerging from deep in Murphy's throat, deeper in fact than any activity going on in mine at the moment due to his normal size and the ease of its accommodation in the back of my mouth, I knew he was keen on my activity. There was one more thing I wanted to do in this position, but I decided to explore another avenue first.

Keeping my lips tightly pressed around his shaft I pulled my head up from his crotch slowly, enjoying the feel of his hardness matched by the smoothness of his skin. When I reached the head I pulled off, taking one hand to the base and rubbing his head, now rich with pre-seminal liquid, around my lips and cheeks in a circular pattern. From his continued moans I was pretty sure everything was to his liking.

I then moved down his shaft with my tongue, licking firmly down between his balls to the under part of the sac. I'd always enjoyed working in this area as it did usually provide a new series of sounds – almost like changing genres on my iPod.

Focusing on the area between his balls and his anus I began to lick, applying a reasonable amount of pressure, in large ovals. It did have the desired effect of changing Murphy's tune and I was greeted with a fresh array of sound, music to the ears of any cocksucker.

"Oh, god," he said a few times. It was rewarding to hear him speak in English again. I was beginning to think my explorations had made him revert to some atavistic language, like those throat singers of Tuva.

For those of you who've been paying attention, we now arrive at the beginning of my story. If you recall, I began by confirming my philosophy about the sexiness of the brain, explaining how I hadn't had sex in months, how I had returned to school and how I was getting the bridge of my nose tickled by the hairs on a much younger man's ball sac. It's OK if you didn't remember. There won't be a pop quiz today. (I decided to leave the whole double entendre on the "pop quiz" line alone. It was just way to easy.)

Returning to the delicious task at hand, I looked up from my position deeply in Murphy's groin and noticed that he'd closed his eyes, seemingly enjoying just the physical machinations and not, at least for the time being, needing the additional visual stimulation. I, however, was, as they say in Hollywood, "going in a different direction." You see, now showing on the laptop's seventeen inch screen was the same girl, but with her face awash in that luscious white syrup with no sign of any abatement from the provisioning gentlemen.

What a turn-on! She had such a happy smile on her face and was eagerly lapping up any sperm dripping from a cock or in the environs of her tongue. I immediately took a liking to this pretty young woman who seemed to be enjoying her work – not one of those "I'm-just–making–it–look–like–I–like-it.–How–much–longer–do–I–need–to–keep–this–junk–on–my–face?–I–think–I'm–going–to–barf." types.

Her enthusiasm and her broad smile reinvigorated me to move back to Murphy's cock and, after making it wet again, I brought it all into my mouth. I'd accommodated much larger cocks in my enjoyable experience so he was barely approaching the beginning of my throat. And then it hit me: I wanted this wonderful cock inside of my pussy.

Choosing to do the one thing I had planned earlier first, I forced my nose as far as possible into his abdomen and then brought out the big guns: with his cock firmly ensconced deep in my mouth I stuck out my tongue and licked slowly and with a bit of pressure between his balls. Murphy groaned in sync with each upward movement. I felt like I was playing an instrument. It felt so good to have this cock buried deep in my mouth and to feel the immediacy of his reactions. I knew there was going to be another remarkably large load of sperm and it was all mine!

At that moment, if I may digress just briefly, I was feeling pretty confident in my oral competency. The skills analysis I had just performed was a valuable exercise and I was glad to have taken the past several quite pleasant minutes out of my busy afternoon to reassess my technique. It's important not to become complacent with one's assumed proficiency!

It was only after a few minutes of this that Murphy surprised me. With one hand still caressing my shoulder he moved his other hand to the nightstand, and with practiced aplomb pulled me off his cock, opened a condom, and pulled it over his pretty cock. I liked this little turn of events and, taking my cue, I pulled off my jeans, sweater and my panties.

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byGlobal Carol© 12 comments/ 37148 views/ 5 favorites

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