The List Pt. 04: The Silver Fox Interlude

"My beautiful girl..."

Is it his hand holding you up now? The blossoming pleasure is quaking your knees and the high heels are not helping. He's got at least two fingers —-

DING!

When the door opens at the 16th floor, it reveals a handsome, well-dressed man casually brushing his jacket smooth and a woman tottering slightly and flushing furiously. Also straightening her rumpled dress.

"What a prelude" , you say, laughing and letting him pull you out of the quickly closing doors into his arms.

What is it they say: When one door closes.... Another opens.

How familiar the third button of his shirt is! It's where your nose lands - where you get teh first whiff of his bay rum cologne.

It's also where your fingers tangle with the buttonholes and your own eager clumsiness.

"Damn it, Ger..."

He's chuckling at your impatience as he sits down on the obscenely large bed.

"Easy, CeCe —"

Oh yes, this is going to be easy, you think. So very easy. Especially since he's begun undoing his own buttons and then his shoe laces. You kneel in front of him and pull off his brooks brothers socks.

His eyes twinkle down at you.

"Hope that's not all you're going to do down there..."

Oh no. Not all.

Definitely not all, you think as you reach up to unbuckle his belt. He shifts up a bit so you can pull down his pants.

"Commando!? I'm impressed!" You practically purr it. "Now who's in a hurry?"

He laughs and it makes his cock bounce up against your face. Maybe you will have to use your hands...

Every time you hold his dick your can't help but weigh it. It's worth its weight in gold to you but it is also the gold standard of cocks - 8" and almost as wide as your wrist. His balls have the solidity of those pine cones that anchor cuckoo clocks.

Here's the birdie...

You have to stretch your mouth considerably to take it in and you can hear him sigh with satisfaction as you do.

"That's my girl."

Oh yes - that you are! You hum.- yum yum yum - as you adjust your tongue and your breath around it. He likes it messy and - in no time - you're drooling down your chin and his balls. You break the seal your lips have made on him as your rock back to take one long look before spitting into your hand. You slide your mouth around his balls, rolling them on your tongue, sucking the sack in slightly - just enough so he feels it.

His cock jumps in approval. You could do this forever.

As you take him deeper, he thrusts instinctively. Just for a minute, it makes you gag so he shifts back but you won't let him. You need him to stay put - keep filling your mouth. It's like that carnival game where you blow up a balloon with a water pistol - he has to stay on target so your soft palette will relax.

Like you know it can. Like you want it to.

"Oh, CeCe, baby..."

The sound of your name makes you pause and you look up at him as you lick from base to tip with an extra swirl at the top, before doing that thing.

That thing where the bottom drops out of your mouth. His cock is like an animal questing down a burrow - insistent on chasing its own pleasure to its bitter end.

But it's not bitter. It's sweet - and a little salty. It takes considerable concentration - this thing you do.

"Oh CeCe!"

The voice is urgent this time. You've been swallowing spit and his cock and every time your throat closes around him, he groans. The head of his dick is just past your uvula; he must feel it flutter as you breath, feel it vibrate around him when you hum...

MMMmmmmmMMMMMm ger ger

Which should be in quotation marks, except the sound you're making is not so much speech as it is a mating call his body hears as

Deep. Deeper. Don't. Stop.

It makes you giddy - this interplay between cock and tongue and throat and hand. Maybe it's because you're not getting enough air but maybe it's not that at all. You're drunk on the power your mouth has - it's exuding from your core. You know that - even though you're the one in the posture of worship - right now, he's in thrall to you. You could consume his soul and he'd happily let you.

But you must not work your magic just yet.

Otherwise that lovely erection will disappear in a puff of smoke.

And so, slowly, slowly, so very slowly you let him go - use your tongue to move him forward out of your mouth, spit dripping down your chin into your cleavage.

"Fuck, CeCe - you almost made — I was close..."

"Close only counts in horseshoes," you say and laugh as you tip him backwards onto the bed. It's a terrible angle but you straddle his belly anyway as you wiggle out of your slip dress.

"Those panties were expensive."

"Want me to go back and get them?" he grins as he says it, lifting you easily to the side so he can get on the bed properly. He lies back on the pillows enjoying the sight of you, naked, crawling towards him.

"It's sights like that that keep a man young!"

"You're immortal," you reply, pointedly eyeing his cock - still solidly erect. And yet, there it is - the scar on his chest, where they cracked open the heart you only dented a bit

He holds out his hands to you, willing you to settle on him - your breasts in his face, just where he likes them. Part of you wants him to go down on you first, but it really doesn't matter what order your lovemaking takes. He's never once left you hanging.

You spy the condoms on the side table and open one. The first time you two fucked - a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away - you saw they were 'magnums' and you burst out laughing.

"Doesn't every man think he needs these?"

"I don't know. Do they?" he said, nonchalantly, as he unbuckled his pants.

Then you found out why.

Rolling the rubber over his dick is a ritual now. You take your time, all the while looking him in the eye.

You could practically sing "Anticipation".

He is about to make you feel like a natural woman.

You love this moment - when you hover above him. Your cunt is open and wet. Right now, it's a bull's eye he can't miss.

Especially as - post Boy Wonder - you splurged on a full Brazilian.

You ease yourself down on him - not too fast. You want to feel it - inch by inch. You can accommodate him but it takes a little doing till you can fully settle, a feat that always reminds you of a great, exotic bird landing in its nest, ruffling its feather in one great shiver.

"Come here, Beautiful."

You never tire of hearing it. Even if it's the easiest thing to say right now - when he takes your breasts into his hands and then - one by one - into his mouth - you know he's sincere. At that moment, you are beautiful.

Beautiful as he tongues one nipple to attention, then the other - until your breasts are vying with each other to be what's in his mouth. His suckling shoots sparks into your cunt.

Beautiful as he adjusts your hips, holding them like a priceless bowl - rocking you slightly forward, then back - a languid rhythm that presses your clit the base of his cock just so - the way a guitar player fingers the fret, holding the note until...

It sears, it sheers off into space, setting off a cascade that thrums up into your torso, a liquid cyclone that shakes your knees.

You think you hear him call your name - CeCe! But it could just be the echo of your clenching cunt. Your orgasm feels like surf pounding a beach. A tide that...

slows for a moment, between waves. You have some time to set up again, get in place...

And then it happens. You breathe in and he moves upward - a motion so fluid you hear nothing though it's like gears shifting and falling into place.

Even though he's already there - all eight inches of him pressed up against your cervix, suddenly - he isn't. You feel yourself opening like parachute -

she is as a silken tent

and his cock pulls that ripcord. Somehow, he goes there - past. Further. You both feel it. You know this because you lock eyes with him; you sense he wants to say something but what? Instead, you press your mouth onto his with a passion that resembles fury.

The sensation is exquisite, indescribable - a vague pain overlaid with a thick gilding of pleasure. Your sex is intarsia now - he's fitted into the very groove of you,

Neither of you move; you can't though you don't really know why. You're rooted in this bed. But rooted things have been known to flower.

When you breathe again, it's with immense relief. You haven't forgotten how. Neither has he and you lean down to lick the top of his long scar.

Normally, he'd say something - something witty, a flippant compliment. But tonight he just folds you in his arms and pulls you to his chest. It feels different somehow so you don't say anything either for what seems like a very long time.