Rochelle and Me Ch. 01

"These are more comfortable. They keep everything all gathered together in one place. Jockey shorts let me dangle down one leg or down the other, which can be uncomfortable in certain positions."

"Well," she smiled, "right now I'd rather release that 'everything' of yours to roam free where it will." And so saying, she pulled my briefs off, which let my erection snap upward against my belly with a "Smeck!" sound which made her giggle.

"Ooh, look what we have here!" she sighed, caressing my still painfully swollen cock.

"And it's ready and willing to roam free where it will," I replied. She gave it a couple of gentle strokes with her fingers and then bent to lick a circle around the head, which she then took into her mouth. Gasping, I endured a few seconds and then grabbed her head crying, "Wait! Wait!"

She stopped moving but kept me in her mouth, her lips closed around the head. For the second time, she gave me that funny questioning look, her eyes asking, "What's wrong now?"

"Rochelle, please understand. I haven't been with anyone since Delia, and sex with her stopped shortly after she got sick. It's been over two years."

Her face took on an expression of understanding. She let go of me, raised her head and spoke quietly, gently, "It's been that long for me too, Richie."

"Yeah, but what I'm saying is, if you put me back in your mouth, in a matter of seconds I'm going to blast two years' worth of semen into it."

"That actually sounds kind of exciting."

"Uh... okay, it does to me, too, but I was thinking that if we're focused on getting you pregnant, maybe this big first blast ought to go where it has a chance of finding an egg."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "So you just want to enter me, give a couple of humps and shoot off?"

"No, that's not how I want it to be. It's a matter of my physical limitations. So, if you don't mind, just follow my lead," and at that point, I rolled her over so that she was once again lying on her back with me above her.

"Ooh, a take-charge kind of lover," she smiled. I took her face in my hands, working my fingers into her hair and kissing all over her cheeks, her forehead, her neck. I sucked on her earlobe and her chin, kissed her closed eyes, and finally indulged in another of those mind-blowing kisses that she does so well.

Using my fingers I began to slowly massage her scalp, neck, and shoulders; then arms, and finally her breasts while taking first one and then the other of her blackberry nipples into my mouth, drawing circles with my tongue and nibbling as she gasped and raised up on her shoulders, putting a hand beside each breast and pushing those wonderful globes of flesh at me, whispering, "Oh, yeah... oh, yeah... god, yeah." I lifted her heavy right breast and drew a long lick underneath with my wet tongue, savoring the faintest taste of sweat; then moved to the other and did the same. "Mm, yummy," I murmured, and then continued around her side to lick and kiss her armpit. This caused her to jerk and giggle as though I'd found a ticklish spot, which I undoubtedly had. There was a hint of acrid deodorant taste, and I thought, "I need to remember to politely ask her not to wear deodorant when we're going to have sex." I'd much rather taste her natural womanliness.

Gradually I worked my way down her belly, kissing and licking, and gave her belly-button a swirl.

I rose and pushed gently against her side, saying, "Roll over and get up on your knees. Not hands, just knees." There was a moment as she maneuvered herself into the position I'd described, with her face on the bed and her arms folded above her head, ass raised on high. And damn if it wasn't every bit the glorious equal of Delia's. Golden Ratio, eat your heart out. I put one hand on each cheek and began to kiss all over it, making loud smacking noises, occasionally licking.

Her asshole was clean with no unpleasant odor, so I rimmed it. She gave a startled jerk and cried, "Ah!" Then I bit her left cheek, not painfully hard but enough to make tooth-marks. Again she jerked and cried, "Ah!" Then she rolled over sideways and glared at me in mock disapproval: "You bit me."

"And I'm liable to do it again. But on the plus side, you can tell everybody I kiss your ass." As I said this I gently pushed to keep her rolling until she was on her back again.

"Oh, right, I'll just bring that up at my next bridge club meeting."

"You're not the bridge club type."

"Oh, yeah? What type am I?"

"You're the type I want to devour," and so saying I dove back between her legs. I put a hand underneath each of her knees and lifted her legs, pushing them back toward her so that her lovely pussy was laid out before me in all its glory, surrounded by her tightly curled pubic hair and oozing the juices of her need, begging for attention.

So that's what I gave it. I licked across her outer labia, tasting the lubricating juices her arousal had generated, and gently eased down between them, stroking up with my tongue to spread them apart. I licked gradually deeper and heard her breathing change from normal to ragged, uneven breaths.

Her clitoris had emerged from its hiding place now and was asking for attention. When I dragged my tongue over it the first time, Rochelle began a low, barely audible moan which grew louder as I licked again, and again. I circled it a few times and then began a rapid fluttering with the tip of my tongue. As I did so I could feel her clitoris growing bigger, reveling in the stimulation. Occasionally I paused to put my mouth over it and suck before returning to the fluttering action.

As I kept on licking and fluttering and circling and sucking, her breathing turned to shallow gasps, and she began to murmur little sounds: "Oh... ah... ngh... sss... oh, yes... oh, y... oh, y..."

Suddenly she cried out with a wail of ecstasy, clamped my head between her thighs, and hunched her hips up off the bed, gasping and exclaiming, "Ooh! Ooh! Ohh!" She grabbed my head and held onto it. I wasn't sure if she was trying to keep me going or make me stop, but the way my head was clamped between her thighs, I didn't have much choice, so I kept going. After a very long minute, I felt her body relax and she said, "Okay. Okay. Okay. Stop, don't. So sensitive now. Please stop." Reluctantly, I stopped licking, raised my head, and then climbed away from between her legs to lie beside her, where I put my arm around her and kissed her with my face covered in her juices. She wore a look of rapture. "You're wonderful," she breathed dreamily.

Whispering, "That's how I feel about you," I hugged her close and kissed her cheek.

"Are you ready to give two strokes and shoot that two years of built-up come into me?"

"Well, hopefully, it'll be more than two strokes, but no promises. You're a powerfully sexy mama." Then I winced at my choice of the word "mama", which conjured thoughts of her dead daughter Delia. But she took it in stride.

"I'm a powerfully sexy mama-to-be. Let's make that happen, big boy." She put her hand on my shoulder, shoved me onto my back, rose over me and straddled me. "Time for me to return the favor, 'take-charge lover'." She lowered her belly onto mine, her chocolate-colored breasts dangling and nipples dragging against my chest, and slid her slick pussy back and forth on my engorged cock a few times. Then she maneuvered to catch the head of it with her pussy, rather expertly, I thought, and began to ease her way onto it. She rose and slowly sank until she had me fully up in her, round buttocks resting on my thighs, hands pressing lightly on my chest.

Warm, wet, enveloping, welcoming comfort. Ensheathing delight. Oh, coming home again, home to where I belong, inside, warm, welcome, home, home from a long, bleak, cold, lonely journey.

Here he lies where he longed to be.

Home is the sailor, home from sea,

And the hunter home from the hill.

It may not be the situation Robert Louis Stevenson had in mind, but the words worked for me.

Slowly Rochelle began to move forward and backward--not up and down, but in such a way as to stimulate her clitoris. She looked me in the eye as she did this, and I felt something deep, maybe even spiritual, in the connection we had. It seemed that her keeping me all the way up inside her was allowing me respite from my desperate need to ejaculate, so I relaxed and let her work her magic. As she moved slowly back and forth, her eyes spoke wordlessly to me. "Yes, I know," my eyes replied. "Me, too."

At length she shifted gears, moving faster and raising a bit to fall back down again. She began grunting, "Uh..." each time her clit rubbed against the base of my cock. I grasped her breasts and began tweaking her nipples between finger and thumb. "Goh," she gasped. She began moving even faster, back and forth and up and down, and she exclaimed, "Oh, Richie, I'm going to come again. Do it with me, come with me."

She didn't have to ask me twice.

Her movements became jerky and haphazard, as she cried, "Oh... oh... oh, here it... ohh!" She twitched spasmodically and froze in a rigid posture, a look on her face which could have been pain or rapture. For my part, I felt the first few priming pumps, felt the flow begin from down inside me, felt the fluid rushing into my cock, felt the first jet leave me and splurt into her expectant cervix. And then came another, a whooshing, rushing stream out of me. Again, even more powerfully, a surging jet of my creamy semen gushed into her. "Ooh!" she exclaimed. Immediately came another, just as strong, just as full of the white liquid of life, blasting out of me and into her with every intention of making this woman a mother. And another shot, another gushing stream of pale wigglies bound and determined to find that egg and become one with it. And again, and again, and again, pumping and squirting with less and less intensity until finally my orgasm subsided and I lay there beneath her, sated, warm, content, at peace with the universe.

Rochelle lay down on top of me, breasts resting on my chest, eyes still on mine. Frank Sinatra was just finishing up:

Like the tide

At its ebb

I'm at peace

In the web

Of your arms.

Rochelle held my head with her hands and kissed me--not a passionate tonguing kiss like before, but a gentle, appreciative touch of her lips to mine, as if to say, "Thank you." I put my arms around her and hugged her tenderly, and responded just as gently, lovingly kissing my reply: "My pleasure."