The Last Time I Saw Doug

I squealed as I felt Doug's cock slamming into me, letting out high pitched tones that were met with husky groans from down below.

Doug stopped, grabbed my hand, and pulled it to my clit. He was panting, and slightly out of breath.

"Touch yourself while you ride me, Jess," he said. A request I'd never received before, I slowly waved my hips back and forth as I reluctantly showed Doug how I touch myself, in gentle circles using the pads of my fingers. I moaned softly as he watched my dancing fingertips. When his eyes weren't fixed on my pussy or my tits, our eye contact felt more intimate than ever.

"Oh, god, Jess, you have no idea how much this turns me on," he said, "nothing is more beautiful to me than a woman pleasuring herself."

Encouraged by Doug's words, I gyrated my hips and rubbed my clit even faster, as if I was giving myself full license to enjoy having him watch me touch. I found myself absorbed in the moment, almost performing for him. I pressed my shoulder blades together as I rubbed, my whole body so wrapped up in the pleasure that was coming from feeling his gaze fixed on my body. His cock was wedged in the depths of my pussy, and was now beginning to clench around his cock, tightening slowly as I rubbed my clit.

Enraptured by every changing sensation of our fuck, each of us let out little "oohs" and "ahs" that blended and echoed so musically.

I leaned back down for a kiss, and to pump Doug with my pussy. I nearly used his cock as I moved myself up and down it with a faster rhythm, humping. He clutched my ass as I fucked him faster.

"How's this, Doug?" I said, in reference to my new humping style.

Still holding my hips, Doug said, "Oh, fuuuck Jess, that feels amaaaazing."

I loved being on top of Doug, fucking him hard, and fast, and with a vigour that caught me by surprise. I felt so erotically-charged, guided by instinct and lust in an unprecedented way. Trying to thrust harder every time. Full body pleasure. Had I known I would have ended up in Doug's bed that night, I would have probably shaved my bush a little, but what pleased me about Doug was his lack of inhibition around such things. He seemed to enjoy every sensation so fully, without judgement, and with a sense of gratitude and presence that I found arousing. From the look on his face, to the sound of his groans, well, I suppose I have yet to experience a fuck quite like the one we shared.

My legs began to tire as I slowed my pace. I dismounted Doug's cock and decided that it was my turn to suck. I wondered if he was looking in the mirror behind me now, eyeing the way we looked together, as I began to envelope his cock with my mouth.

I tried my very best to give Doug an oral experience that was even remotely comparable to the one he gave me. I started by taking just the tip of his cock in my mouth, with my hand wrapped around the base. I squeezed gently as I slid more of my mouth onto him. I could taste my own wetness on him.

I stopped sucking briefly to jerk his cock with a tighter grip, and to give my mouth a small break. All I could hear was the sound of a man who was so appreciative of my effort, and it made me even thirstier for his cum.

I swirled my tongue around Doug's cock head as I stroked, then continued sucking and jerking in a steady motion. Stroking and sucking and swirling around his penis like a cyclone. A frantic spiral of tongue and saliva. Before I knew it, I could feel his cock pulsing in my hand. Doug was grunting and running his fingers through my hair.

Something told me I couldn't let him cum without playing with his balls at least a little bit. I continued stroking Doug's cock and took his balls in my mouth.

"Ohh fuuuuuck, Jess!" he cried. "Yeah, suck my balls, yes!"

I knew I was doing something right. I jerked him faster, sucked his balls harder, and watched him tense up while his cock spurted streams of cum all over his belly, my bangs, and my hand.

"FUCK! I'm going to come, Jess! You're going to make me come, baby," he shouted.

As Doug reached the peak of his pleasure, I lost all sense of time and place. I still revisit mental images of that moment from time to time, trying to make sense of how erotic and astounding the experience was, or trying to recreate it mentally, but nothing I can conjure up in fantasies can compare to the way Doug looked that evening, a man, so totally uninhibited, enjoying an orgasm. God, I was transfixed, admiring the way his body convulsed, the way he groaned in response to my efforts, and the way he savoured pleasure, not unlike the way he had done with our wine just hours prior.

"Oh, Jess," he said, as his orgasm subsided, "that was so satisfying. Thank you, baby," he said.

We kissed and embraced, my hair and hands still sticky with his semen, neither of us paying any mind to the mess we just made. I glanced over at the clock on his night table. 11:00pm. I made some noise about getting to bed soon and packing up my place for the summer.

"Well, luckily the streetcar won't turn into a pumpkin, Jess," he said, tickling my shoulder as he held me.

We cleaned up and got dressed, finished our now-cold tea, and promised to stay in touch and catch up in the fall. Doug sent me off with the warmest kiss and embrace, exchanging another round of thanks for the evening. I wandered back down the green velvet staircase, though quieter this time, and alone.

A week or so later, Doug emailed me the photos from that night. My mother adored them so much that she even framed one of them. If only she knew what happened the last time I saw Doug.