Tongue-Tied

Renata was amazed at the volume of cum that slung into her mouth. He again had both hands holding her head so there was no escaping. She tasted spears of hot semen, spasm after spasm. She swallowed twice but his slimy seed still coated her tongue and mouth and hung on the back of her throat. He pulled his drippy cock out of her mouth and knelt before her.

He put his mouth against hers, and here it came again, that monstrous tongue, slithering like an electric eel into her slippery, cum-flavored mouth and the top of her throat. She pressured her mouth around it but her jaws wanted to cramp, unaccustomed to such oral callisthenics.

His hands wandered downward and found the open slits in her skirt, and then her drenched panties. He shoved her body back deep in the chair and spread her legs. In the dimness he saw she wore dark panties that contrasted her light skin. He nosed her crotch and sniffed her dewy funk. Nice. He looped her legs over his shoulders and lifted her soaked cunt to his face, pulling her panties aside. He licked her thighs and the softness surrounding her pussy and tasted her pubes. His tongue tickled her labia and he kissed her clit and gave it a long, wet suck. Then he rammed it inside her.

Renata screeched like a car with bad brakes. Jesus, his tongue again, she thought, it's amazing, filling her cunt like a torpedo in its tube. She felt new pressure on her buttocks from his clenched hands, and in reflex her body tightened up and her pussy walls chomped down on his wet, reaching tongue, as it jabbed her in and out. Goddamn, she thought, as she moaned with each cushiony poke. I've had cocks in there that never fucked me this good.

After a couple minutes of relentless tongue-fucking and her hands squeezing the shit out of her own tits, Renata was on the edge of rapture. She didn't want him to stop but her cauldron was about to boil over. She let out a low-pitched wail when she started to come.

"Oh, God..."

Her body shook wildly. Her pussy unleashed hot, buttery cum that immersed the luscious tongue that filled her. He tasted her tang as he withdrew and it continued its flow onto his lips and chin and the seat of the chair. When her shudders were farther and fewer between he lapped up the leakage on her thighs and rose to kiss her. She sucked his tongue like a cock.

As their mouths frolicked he eased his body up, an uneasy task with his pants and skivvies wrapped around his ankles. Using both feet he was able to get one boot out from the bondage which gave him a little more agility for what was next: Fucking this fine woman. Whoever she is.

His dick was like cured concrete, ready for seconds. He wriggled into position and took her ass in his hands and lifted. One more minor torso adjustment and the angles matched up. He put the head of his dick between her split lips.

"Put me in," he croaked.

She'd already had it once, with his tongue, strong but pliable, and now she was going to get it again with his cock, long and stiff.

She guided it into her drenched opening and as it filled her twat, his tongue again filled her mouth. He commenced to fucking her. He didn't hold back.

In a split second she was getting it two ways at once. The slick, leathery tongue sliding into the depths of her mouth, and the thick, hard penis banging in and out of her vagina, worked together. He grunted as he fucked, and Renata moaned with each big push, as her ass was being body-slammed into the chair and the top of her throat was getting plunged.

After a couple minutes of that, The Lone Ranger's gun was about to go off. He grunted even louder and put some extra oomph into his thrusts, and soon came for a second time. Strings of sperm were jettisoned from the head of his cock, into her. He was dripping sweat when he backed out.

"Damn, that's good," he rasped. "Turn around."

He helped turn her body around, rather roughly, so her knees were on the seat of the chair and she was facing away. He opened her skirt slits and yanked her panties down several inches over her thighs. He spread the cheeks of her ass apart and found her asshole with the tip of his tongue and tickled her rim.

"Oh, My God," she screeched thinly, short of air.

This was a first for Renata, nobody had ever licked her asshole before. At first she tensed up and pinched it. For several minutes he rimmed her and she moaned into the back of the chair. She could feel the fabric of his eye mask in her asscrack every now and then. Gradually she relaxed, and her unpuckered hole welcomed it, she pushed back, and floated on its feathery bliss. Then, without warning, she felt that big old tongue jet all the way up inside her ass.

"Oh, shit!" she bellowed.

It filled her up in an instant with a wet, cushioned pressure, and as a reflex she squeezed her asshole around it. It felt weird, but wonderful. It went all the way in, then half back out. Again and again. By the time the shock wore off she realized she was being fucked up the ass. By this guy's big, fucking, magical tongue.

She couldn't believe the feeling. How erotic it was. How much it was arousing her, and what a turn-on it was that this man was doing it to her. His tongue had been everywhere, she'd had it in all three of her holes, back-to-back-to-back, and it was amazing. He kept at it. She swayed her ass in time. It was almost like a dream. Then she felt the rush.

"Oh God, I'm gonna come..." she blurted.

She came in a torrent. Her ass bucked and her upper body buckled. Her cum sprayed out of her, coating the chair. She kept shaking as she released, slowly abating for a while as her body relaxed. It was an orgasm like she'd never before experienced. That tongue coming in through her rear had pushed her most intense climax ever out of her front.

They detached themselves from the chair and each other and stood up. She hadn't said much during their encounter because most of the time she had had his tongue or dick in her mouth.

"That was amazing," she said. "Thank you."

She was suddenly afraid. What had she done? She wiggled her panties back in place and straightened her scanty costume.

"I gotta go," she said, and ran out the door.

The Lone Ranger was left standing there with a red hot boner and his pants on the floor wrapped around one foot. Renata didn't realize until later that she had left her headpiece behind.

--

A couple hours later, Renata lay in bed alone. After running away, calling a cab, getting home and taking a long, hot shower, cleansing her body all over, in and out, she now was spent. She'd been bad, but after getting over the shocking realization of what she'd done, she felt damn good.

Reading a book or watching TV was out of the question. All she could think about was her liaison earlier that evening. It was brazen, scary, dangerous. But God, it was exciting. Now she was sorry she'd run out. Her brain was abuzz thinking about it, reliving it. His tongue, that fierce prowler, in her mouth, her pussy, her asshole, like an electric magnet, pulling orgasms out of her like she'd never had before. No man had ever made her come like that, her body out of her control, quivering, melting like heated jelly. It was almost like she'd watched it from above, out-of-body. She shivered, almost came again thinking about it.

Who was that masked man?

--

Owen came home from the party late to a dark house. He slept on the couch again. In the morning he woke to the sound and aroma of Renata brewing coffee. He went into the kitchen and attempted to make conversation.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully.

"Good morning," she said blandly, her back against the counter. She was barefoot and wore a heavy terry cloth robe, her black hair shiny-wet from a shower.

"I didn't see you at the party."

"Yeah, well I wasn't in much of a mood to be a social butterfly. I didn't stay that long."

"Oh."

The silence was blaring for a long, awkward moment.

"I fucked a guy," she said, and let it hang there.

Owen stared at her, speechless, mouth agape, unsure of what to say because nothing he could say would make things better.

"You fucked a guy," he finally uttered. "Are you serious?"

Renata nodded.

"Who?"

"The Lone Ranger."

"The Lone Ranger? Come on Renata, this is not funny. Who was it?"

"I have no idea."

"You have no idea?" he gabbled, almost spitting. "How can you have no idea?"

"It was dark," she said. "We had masks on."

Owen had to lean on the back of a chair for support. "You had masks on."

"Yeah. I'd never done it with masks on before. It was very erotic. He had a big dick. I swallowed and I came twice."

He sat there light-headed, in a daze. He'd come into the kitchen hoping to start the process of bridging the gap that had opened between them, but instead the gap was widening before his eyes.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I wouldn't want it to slip out accidentally twenty years from now. In case we're still together."

Owen sat there shaking his head. He didn't know what to say, and even if he did he knew this wasn't the time to say it. They didn't talk much longer. Renata asked him to go live someplace else for a while, she needed her space. He didn't fuss about it.

--

Later that morning Leah called. Renata let it go to voicemail and listened to the message. It was 'Hey, Renata, sorry we missed you at the party, it was a blast, hope everything is all right, blah blah blah'. Renata knew Leah well and could tell by the message that she had no clue her twenty-year secret was out. She also knew Leah would call again.

And she did. After their initial hellos, Renata let her have it. She told her no, she didn't want to see her at the party, and she didn't want to see Owen, and if she'd seen either one of you, there would have been a major scene. Because now she knew all about the affair Leah had with Owen and their lies and play-acting and twenty-year cover-up, and she couldn't believe what a cheating sleazeball Owen had been and what a lying, back-stabbing cunt Leah had been to have an affair with him, fucking over her husband and her best friend simultaneously, and if she had seen her and Owen at the party every guest at that party would know about their lurid treachery.

Leah had started crying halfway through the tirade. When she did finally speak there were no denials.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated several times between sobs.

"You're sorry?" Renata sniffed. "Must be easy to be sorry after lying about it for twenty years. "Does Luke know about this?"

"No," Leah said softly. "Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know," Renata said. "I could tell him. Or I could fuck him. Which would you prefer?"

"Oh, Renata please..."

"It's up to you. Let me know what you decide."

Renata ended the call. She had no intention of telling Luke, and she sure as hell had no interest in fucking him. But at least it would give Leah a little well-earned angst.

--

Renata and Owen had never had children. They'd assumed they would someday become parents, but they were young when they married and decided to wait until they were older to have kids.

They had watched from the sidelines as most of their friends had children, including Leah and Luke, who had a son and a daughter. They also witnessed from afar all of the problems and difficulties their friends had with those kids, and how worn out they seemed from dealing with them. Health problems, behavioral problems, troubles at school, drugs and alcohol, the expenses, and the stress that comes with all of it. By the time they were thirty they were pretty sure they didn't want the headaches.

One time they were seated on a bench at a mall waiting to enter the cinema for a matinee, when a young couple walked by. Dad was holding the hand of a toddler as they scuffled along beside Mom, who was pushing a stroller with a wailing baby in it. They didn't look like they were enjoying themselves. Renata and Owen looked at each other, shaking their heads.

"Can you see us doing that?" Renata asked.

"No fucking way," Owen replied.

They never second-guessed themselves after that. Now, years later, Renata had reached what she believed was a crossroad in her life and marriage. She was glad there were no children to complicate the situation, or be hurt by it.

--

Over the next couple days, Renata couldn't get it out of her mind. The Lone Ranger. The sex. The tongue, the taste of it, the feel of it inside her. The orgasms, oh oh oh, the orgasms. Was it possible to be addicted to something after only having it once? She didn't know the answer to that question, but she knew one thing for sure: She wanted more of it. She needed more of it.

Why had she run away scared? What was she afraid of, after the best sex she'd ever had? Afraid of being caught? Afraid of being embarrassed, or ashamed? She'd made it happen, it was no accident. Was it really the best she'd ever had, or was it the danger, the recklessness, her first new man in twenty years, that made it so intense? She thought about it constantly, while eating breakfast, driving the car, working out, while at work, or lying in bed stroking herself. She decided yes, it was the best she'd ever had. It was his goddamn tongue. It's like the guy has two cocks.

But she'd run off. And now, how was she going to find him? And did he want to find her?

Ends up he did.

--

Renata wondered how she could find out who he was and try to contact him. She couldn't call around to people who were at the party. That would be a crapshoot at best and might not look so good. She could run an ad in the local newspaper, but nobody reads the paper anymore. And an ad could attract all kinds of crackpots.

She searched online for ways to find somebody if you didn't know their name or anything else about them. She found the names of some websites where there were postings of people looking for people. Missed Connections, they called it. Maybe that would work.

First, she went out and bought a disposable phone. She didn't want to risk releasing her real number out into cyberspace. Too many wackos out there. Then she composed her message. It read:

CLEOPATRA IN SEARCH OF THE LONE RANGER

WE DANCED TO THE MUSIC AT THE MARDI GRAS PARTY, THEN MADE MUSIC OF OUR OWN

LET'S RIDE AGAIN

CALL OR TEXT

123-555-7890

She posted it on four different popular sites and hoped for the best. She kept her burner phone with her all the time, charged up and powered on.

--

Renata had some responses almost immediately, all texts. They were all fakes, guys having fun or hoping to get lucky. There was Zorro, Billy the Kid, Wyatt Earp, as well as a couple of Lone Rangers trying to bluff their way along. On the fourth night her phone buzzed and they connected.

-HELLO. LONE RANGER HERE IN SEARCH OF CLEOPATRA, the text message read.

Renata stared at it in disbelief for a moment and felt a nervous chill. She responded with:

-HI KEMO SABE. IS IT REALLY YOU?

-YES REALLY ME

-HOW DO I KNOW 4 SURE? I'VE HEARD FROM SOME KOOKS

-YOU KISSED ME RIGHT AFTER 'I'D RATHER GO BLIND'. THEN WE HAD SEX ON A CHAIR IN THE MUSIC ROOM. I HAVE YOUR HEADPIECE TO PROVE IT.

-AH YES. GLAD I FOUND YOU

-ME TOO. WHY DID U RUN OUT?

-SCARED. I NEVER DID ANYTHING LIKE THAT BEFORE

-ME NEITHER

-CAN WE MEET? START OVER

-SURE. OR WE CAN PICK UP WHERE WE LEFT OFF. IT WAS WONDERFUL.

-YES IT WAS.

They'd both been thinking about that night, about each other. They agreed to meet the following Saturday, 3 p.m. at a bench in the back of the old cemetery behind the abandoned stone church next to the Civic Park. It was nearby, quiet and private. They would meet with masks on, keep the intrigue a little longer, and they would unmask together, and depending on how well the meeting went, perhaps they would make a night of it.

--

Renata had difficulty deciding on how to dress for her meeting with the young man. He'd already seen and had all of her, so there was no sense being coy. But she didn't want to look like a tramp, either. She decided on a yellow print sundress because it contrasted her jet black hair and tanned skin, and it was belted with a thin sash that when tightened would hug her slim waist and show off her ass. She wore the same citrus perfume and bangles she'd worn at the party. She debated whether or not to wear her wedding ring too. It hadn't bothered him then, so it shouldn't bother him now, but she took it off. There was a tan line around her finger.

Saturday afternoon was pleasant and partly sunny, cool but comfortable for a date on a bench. She arrived plenty early, she wanted to see him coming. She drove her car all the way to the back of the large cemetery and parked on the lane about fifty feet from the bench. She got out of the car with only her mask. The site was as she remembered: Wooden bench facing the pond, with privacy provided by dogwood trees on three sides. If anybody was approaching, she'd hear them coming. She sat on the bench, carefully put on her mask, and waited.

She reminisced as she gazed out at the pond. Years ago, she would sometimes jog through the cemetery and pass this very spot and appreciate the view and the solitude. Other times she and Owen would bring their dog Chip out here, and Owen would throw a tennis ball as far as he could out into the pond and Chip would dive into the water, swim out and fetch it with his mouth and swim back and drop it at their feet, over and over again.

Right on time, she turned to see a small, black pickup truck approaching. The truck pulled over about ten feet from Renata's car. The driver's door opened and the man got out and stood there a moment with his mask on, before he started walking toward her. She stood up in front of the bench. As he approached she took an admiring look at his broad shoulders and tapered, athletic body, dressed in jeans and a golf shirt.

They said tentative hellos. It was a bit awkward at first. Renata thought, how do we introduce ourselves? We're not at a costume party this time. Where do we begin? It would be kind of stupid to shake hands after I've already fucked the guy. They sat at opposite ends of the bench. Fortunately, he broke the ice.

"You left this behind when you ran out," he said, and handed her the headpiece from her Cleopatra costume. "It was on the chair."

"Thank you," she said. "Sorry I ran away."

"It's okay," he said, and paused. Then: "Can I ask a favor of you?"

"Sure." It was all she could think to say.

"May I kiss you before we take off our masks?"

This caught Renata off guard. Her brain zoomed back to their kissing at the party, and how hot it was, the feel, the potency, the passion of it. She nodded.

He moved closer and put one arm around her back. Her mouth was already open by the time their lips touched. The kiss was soft at first, but then, as much as she anticipated it, she was still surprised by it. By the size of it, the power of it, the taste of it. It was just as she remembered, like an explosion thrusting in, filling her up, entering her throat, a total mouthfuck.

It was like no time had elapsed since their togetherness at the party. She was instantly back in that music room. She was sucking his tongue, his strong arm was around her, pulling her close, she had a hand on his thigh, she was ready to get wet. It was not a short kiss, but it still ended too soon.

"Wow," Renata said.

"Nice way to start off, don't ya think?" he said.

She nodded. "You're a magnificent kisser. Your tongue is...amazing."

He grinned. "My secret weapon."

He stuck out his tongue for her. It was enormous, wide in back and long and tapered. He flicked his chin with its tip.

"Oh My God," Renata exclaimed. "No wonder..."

"No wonder what?"

"No wonder... Uh, let's just say I'm glad you know how to use what you got."