Long, Hot Summer - Ch. 5 free porn video

Eleanor Kaminski lay completely naked atop her bed, starfish-like. Her head was thrown back, stuck between a couple pillows and jammed against the oak headboard—some cheap, ugly French Provincial thing they probably got at Sheely’s after a long layaway. Her throat glistened. She kept saying “Oh my God... Oh my God.” The room—at my particular coordinates, anyway—smelled like cunt and dirty ashtray and a chemicaled pine from an old cone-shaped air freshener on her bedside table that had hardened into a shriveled plug.

I lapped at her pussy much like I did the prior afternoon, though with less trepidation and much more focus, having asked, and been enthusiastically permitted, to repeat the performance. I was correct that the poor woman had never been properly eaten out before. I slid two fingers gently in and out of her wet cunt. Once again, her bush was a mess of my spit and her juices. I stopped licking and picked a stiff curl of hair from my tongue, wiped my mouth the back of my hand.

“Does this feel good?” I said, still pumping her with my fingers.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Do you want me to keep licking it?”

“Yes… please.”

“Say ‘lick my wet pussy'.”

She just kept breathing hard, and thrust her hips up, almost like a plea.

“Say it,” I murmured.

“I… I can’t…”

“You need to tell me. I want to hear it,” I said gently. “Say ‘lick'.”

“Lick.”

“‘My’”

“My.”

“‘Wet.’”

“Wet.”

“‘Pussy.’” I put my lips to her clit and sucked.

“Pussy…uuuhh,” her big ass rose from the bed as she arched her back, coming, and her hips pumped up and down. The mattress and box springs were squeaking like a seven-year-old violinist. I kept her clit between my lips and thrust my fingers rapidly in and out of her.

“Uuuunnhhh… Uuunnnhhh…” she was loud, much louder than the day before, not screaming, but almost, sounding like a woman in labor but lustier, thrusting her hips up high off the bed with each cry. It was a long orgasm. It turned me on, seeing and hearing her come like that. As if all the orgasms she’d not properly had over the years had lain dormant but still growing inside her, and now found egress through this slick, narrow, and dangerous passage opened by adultery.

.:.

I had no idea what to expect, and was not at all certain that Eleanor Kaminski invited me back that morning because she wanted to have sex with me again. Maybe she just wanted a chance to slap me properly across the face. Or worse.

I’d had to put off Suzie Bowen that morning, and she was not happy about it. I told her that if I finished quickly with whatever chore I’d been summoned for, I’d swing by before I had to go to my next job. If Eleanor Kaminski’s only intention was to give me a dressing down, I’d still have time for a hot, meaty Suzie Bowen fuck.

But when Eleanor Kaminski answered my knock at her back door wearing a long cotton bathrobe of pink and purple flowers, my nervous fear turned to nervous anticipation. She didn’t say anything, just let me into her kitchen. We stood there facing each other. I had my hands in my back pockets, and she folded her arms beneath her large, unharnessed tits. The silence was awkward. We were going to have sex again this morning, I knew it. That’s why she asked me to come there; that’s why she received me in dishabille. But the fact that she didn’t, say, grab me and start making out with me like a wild woman as soon as I walked in the door told me that she still hadn’t quite gotten up the nerve. I broke the ice.

Me: I’m sorry about yesterday.

Her: It was my fault.

Me: It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who passed out on your floor.

Her: Oh, that.

Me: Yeah. What did you… think I meant?

Her: No, I… That’s what I thought.

Me: Okay. I thought you meant, maybe, the other stuff.

Her: Did you mean what you said?

Me: What did I say?

Her: About that being the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to you?

Me: Yeah, I did. It was.

Her: But you must be having a lot of… you know.

Me: What?

Her: You know. Sex.

Me: Not a lot.

Her: How did you learn to, you know, do that? Like that?

Me: I read about it. You know, books, magazines. Then I, um, got to do it a couple times.

Her: I’ve read about it, too.

Me: Yeah? Where?

Her: Cosmo.

Me: Oh, yeah. Anyway. Girls like it. They seem to like it.

Her: No one has ever… I’ve never…

Me: No one has ever done that for you before?

Her: No, he’s… No, they have. I’ve just never…

Me: No one’s ever made you come that way before?

She put her hand over mouth, then made the slightest shake of her head.

“You’re just a teenager,” she whispered.

“I’m eighteen,” I said. “Old enough to vote. Go to war. Have sex with someone my age or older.”

I stepped toward her and she backed up until she was leaning against the kitchen counter. She uncrossed her arms and braced herself against the counter’s edge with the heels of her hands. Her look was almost fretful, an excitement edged with something like fear. I parted the folds of her robe and put my hand between her legs to her warm, unshod pussy. I found her slit underneath all that hair and traced the tip of my index finger the length of her emphatically wet lips. The forwardness of this set my heart to hammering; it was like the first time all over again. She closed her eyes.

“I shouldn’t have teased you like that,” she said.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I liked it.”

“I liked it too,” she said. “It made me feel… good.”

“Me too,” I said. “It made me feel so good that I had to go into your shed and jack off. I couldn’t even wait until I got home. I was afraid I might just come in my pants, or have to walk down the street with a big boner sticking out. So I had to take it out right there and rub it until it shot out all my cum.”

“Oh my,” she breathed. “Were you thinking about my boobies?”

I really didn’t like that she called them “boobies". It sounded childish to me.

“At first,” I said. “I imagined I was feeling and kissing them while you were rubbing me. It made me come fast.” I’d switched to using my middle finger on her, slipping it up and down her labia, pausing to penetrate her slightly, then more stroking.

“I know you like my boobies,” she said.

“I don’t think of them as boobies,” I said, undoing the sash of her robe. “I think of them as breasts. I think of them as big, beautiful, grown-up tits that need to be sucked. The best I’ve ever seen. So soft.” I took one in my free hand and caressed it with genuine admiration before bending to it, running the tip of my tongue around her pebbly nipple, then sucking at it. Her breathing changed. The unruly tropic between her legs was growing sloppy with lust. I brought a second finger into play and began pressing both deeper.

“Last week,” I stopped sucking so I could continue talking to her, “I fantasized that you came into the shed and caught me while I was doing it. I was really hard. And you knelt down and kissed it. And licked it all over. And took it between your lips and sucked at it like a lollipop.”

“Oh,” she moaned. “But I never…”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m just telling you what I was thinking about. Fantasizing. You licked it and sucked it. And stroked it. You said how much you wanted all my thick, hot, teenage semen. That you didn’t want me to waste it by shooting it all over the wall again. That you wanted it. All my hot cum.”

“It was hot,” she whispered. “It was so hot on me.”

“That’s why there was so much cum in the shed. Thinking of that made me cum so much. You saw it. You saw how much cum you made me shoot. Like yesterday.”

“So much,” she said. “You squirted so much on me.”

My cock was bending up painfully inside my pants. I needed her to touch it, get her hand on it, anything, but she didn’t bite, either because she was afraid to or, more likely, she was lost in what was happening to her. I thought about wrestling it out on my own and jerking it while I fingered her, rubbing it against her bare thigh, hoping that she might take over for me. Instead I said, “I want to lick you down there again, like yesterday. Can I do that?”

“Yes,” she said, “yes.”

“Do you want me to do it right here? Or is there someplace more comfortable?”

As her orgasm dwindled, she cupped both hands over her pussy, her legs still spread and her eyes closed, and continued taking deep, sighing breaths. I’d removed my shirt and pried off my shoes before going down on her, but I was still wearing my pants, which strained at the front from my implacable hardon. I could, like the day before, open them up, take out my cock, and fuck her. I figured she would move her hands if I asked her nicely, or when she had wound down enough and was ready for me. But I wanted to see what she would do. I wanted her to invite me to bang her. Or see what she might do to reciprocate for the eating out I’d just given her. This was all still enough of a mystery to me that I was wary of things turning sour. I climbed up and laid next to her on the bed.

“You do that like you really like to do it,” she said softly. Her eyes were still closed.

“I’m really liking doing it to you,” I said.

“I guess that’s why you’re so good at it.”

“Do you think I’m good?”

“Oh my god,” she brought her legs together and squeezed her thighs around her cupped hands.

“How about the other thing? Was that good, too?”

“The other thing?”

“Yesterday,” I said. “When I fucked you.” She gasped a little.

“You have such a potty mouth.”

“Sorry.”

After a pause, she said, “We used to say ‘ball'.”

“Yeah, people still say that. I still hear that sometimes. ‘She let me ball her'.”

“Is that the way everyone talks now?” she said.

“Sort of. When you’re doing it. Using dirty words, you know, when you’re doing it. Makes it seem… you know, naughtier. Exciting, like you’re being really bad.”

“It is exciting,” she whispered after a long pause. “What you made me say when you were… you know, doing that.”

“Eating you out?”

“Yes,” she said.

“And then you came.”

“Yes,” she hissed.

“You can say it,” I said. “Say ‘You made me come when you were eating me out'.”

“You made me come when you were eating me out,” she said.

I carefully undid the button of my pants.

“That’s so exciting,” I said, slowly lowering my zipper while I spoke. “To hear you say that. How about when I balled you yesterday? You came then, too, I think.”

“Yes,” she said. The hands between her legs were moving gently. She was kneading her pussy. “You made me come when you… when you fucked me.”

I sighed. I pulled down the waistband of my Jockeys with one hand and started stroking my cock with the other. The oddity of the situation struck me. I was with a naked, 33-year-old housewife, lying next to her on her bed, coaxing her into talking dirty, both of us masturbating. It was bizarre. It was terrific.

“You let me fuck you with my hard cock,” I said. “You let me fuck you and fuck you until you came.”

“So big inside me… So big.” It wasn’t, isn’t. Just average. But I wasn’t going to disabuse her of her impression.

“You made me come so much,” I said. “Made me shoot my hot cum all over your beautiful body.”

“So hot,” she said. The hand working on her pussy was moving fast. “So hot on my skin. So thick…Never had that…”

I was breathing hard. I’d wanted to fuck her, or cajole her into sucking me, but now I just needed to come. Watching and listening to her masturbate was thrilling. I scrambled up to my knees and starting stroking fast.

“I’m going to come on your big tits,” I said. I wasn’t weighing my words at this point. I just needed to get off, saying whatever I was thinking. “I want to suck your tits when they’re covered with my hot, thick cum.”

Finally, she opened her eyes, wide, and saw me kneeling over her. I couldn’t tell if she was surprised, or afraid, or if she was about to come herself. Too late to care. Then she looked to my cock that I was steadily pumping and bit her lower lip. Her right hand was moving quickly between her legs and she was thrusting her hips.

“Ahhh, fu-u-u-ck,” I moaned, and shot a white ribbon of jizz on her left tit, some of it glancing off and landing on her arm, but the rest of it, so thick, clinging to her plump flesh. I leaned over and directed the next spurts onto her right breast. She watched intently as my seed spilled over her. My dick sprayed a final, smaller couple of parting shots onto the bedspread after I let go of it and used both hands to smear my cum over her breasts until they were slippery and shiny, with little white clots of my load here and there. The small space between us was close with dense, semen-scented air. I cupped a cum-coated breast in my sticky hand and bent to it, began licking around her nipple and sucking it.

That did it for Eleanor Kaminski. She bounced her ass up and down on the bed, making the headboard hammer a steady tattoo against the wall, and let out three of those loud half-moan, half-shouts that seemed to split the air of our stuffy trysting place. I fought the urge to clap my hand over her mouth. The windows were open. If any of the Kaminski’s neighbors happened to be outside at that moment, they’d have heard it. They might have even heard it indoors if their windows were open. They probably didn’t know what the hell it was, but they heard it.

“I’m sorry,” said Eleanor Kaminski.

“For what?” We had resumed our earlier position, supine, side by side on her bed. She was holding her breasts, which were still glazed with my drying cum, in both her hands.

“I know you probably wanted to… thought you would get another chance to… fuck me.”

“I still got to come,” I said. “It was pretty hot.”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“Which thing?”

“Lick your sperm off my boobs.”

“I didn’t lick up all of it. Just a taste. I got really turned on by the idea while I was watching you. I thought it might turn you on, too.”

“I don’t taste much,” she said. “Just salty.”

I turned to see her craning her neck and lifting one of her breasts toward her mouth, licking at the nipple, trying to taste whatever cum was left. I must have groaned.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I said. “That’s just sexy, you doing that.”

“Do girls give you blow jobs?” she asked.

“One girl.”

“Does she let you…?”

“She doesn’t let me,” I said. “She wants me to. That’s why she sucks me, to make me come in her mouth. She wants to swallow my cum.”

“Does it taste that good?”

“It’s not about what it tastes like,” I said. “It turns her on to do it. It excites her. It’s like she’s in control when she’s doing that. Sometimes she plays with herself while she’s doing it, makes herself come too.”

“She must really love you.”

I laughed. “No. I don’t even think she likes me very much. We probably wouldn’t even be seeing each other if it wasn’t for sex. That’s like the only thing we have in common.”

“When I was young, good girls didn’t do that sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing? Have sex?”

“Give blow jobs.”

“Well, it happens a lot now,” I lied. Of course, it might not have been a lie, but I certainly had no idea. “Good girls, bad girls, smart girls.”

“I guess they didn’t really have sex much either,” she said.

“You grew up in the sixties, right?” I said. “I thought it was even wilder then.”

“Not in Youngstown,” said Eleanor Kaminski. “Why did you want to do this with me if you have a girlfriend who does all those things to you?”

“Because you’re the sexiest women I’ve ever seen in person. And I thought you were trying to seduce me. I think every guy fantasizes about being with an experienced older woman.”

“Except I’m not experienced,” she said, sounding more than a little plaintive. “I don’t know how to do anything. I hardly ever have an orgasm unless I do it myself, and even then I feel terrible after, like I did something really wrong. I’d never even seen one shooting sperm until yesterday.”

“Really?” I said. “Never?”

“Uh-uh,” she said. “It’s always been inside me.”

“Not even a handjob?”

“Yeah, I used to do it with my hand back in high school. But I still never saw it. It was always in the dark, like in a car or the woods, and I never watched it when I was doing it. Just pulling on it, you know, while necking, and then I would feel it all over my hand. But it never felt like… like when you did it on me.”

I turned onto my side and put my hand on her big, soft thigh.

“I was afraid that I upset you,” I said, stroking her leg.

“I wasn’t upset,” she said. “It was just… a lot of things happening.”

“So you didn’t mind it then?” I moved my hand up between her legs and ran my middle finger lightly up her slit. She sighed.

“I liked it,” she whispered. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I never thought about it much before. I like how… I don’t know, how real it was. It made me think about how it must have felt for you. I don’t know if that makes any sense. Ohhh…”

If I hadn’t already come to like Eleanor Kaminski over the course the morning, she would have won me over at that point.

I slipped a finger inside her. “It makes sense to me,” I said.

She put a hand on my bare hip and let it rest there for a moment before tentatively trailing her fingers down to my semi-erect cock.

“You’re getting hard again,” she drew a fingernail lightly along my length.

I added a second finger and glided both slowly in and out of her. “You’re so wet,” I said.

After a long pause, as if she was working up the nerve, she finally whispered, “Wet enough for your cock?”

I leaned in close and put my lips to her ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?” I said.

She turned her head and looked at me, bit her bottom lip and nodded.

I pulled my fingers from her to fish out the condom from the pocket of my pants, which were still bunched down around my shins.

“You don’t need that,” she said. “Unless you have VD.”

“I don’t have VD,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

“The only person I’ve had sex with, besides you yesterday, never had sex before.”

I kicked off my pants and lay back down next to her.

“How about you be on top,” I said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

“I never get to be on top,” she said.

“See if you like it,” I said. “If you don’t, we can switch.”

She swung her leg over me, straddled my thighs, and looked down at my erection, which was thumping against my abdomen in anticipation. I wrapped my fingers around its base and pointed it toward her. Her large breasts shook and then, as she leaned forward to put her hands on my chest, dangled, swaying luxuriously. They never seemed to stop moving. She inched forward slightly until she’d centered her sex above me and then lowered herself onto my cock. I felt her slick, wet folds spread open around my cockhead but couldn’t see them for the great thatch of pubic hair.

I took her great, white tits in my upturned palms and just held them. She began to move up and down, her back arched, but her head up, looking at me, her eyes focused on mine. She began moving faster, grunting on each downward thrust. The wavy mass of her dark brown hair tumbled around her shoulders. When she leaned all the way forward and pressed her mouth to mine, her hair encased us in a feathery shroud hot with our urgent breathing.

Eleanor Kaminski liked being on top. She rode my cock with studied intensity, moving herself forward and back, testing the different angles, until she found one that brought her to her third orgasm of the morning, her hands planted stiffly in the bed on either side of me. I ran my hands down her sweat-glazed back and gripped her generous ass. She stopped moving when she finally finished, sat bottomed out on my hard cock, and snapped her head back to toss her hair from her face. She pursed her lips and exhaled loudly, like she was blowing out candles on a birthday cake.

“You still need to finish?” She was panting.

“Yeah,” I said. “Can you go a little more. I’m close.”

Without hesitation, she put her hands on my chest again and began pumping up and down on my dick vigorously, looking straight at me, watching my face.

“Tell me when it’s coming,” she said.

I held her ass cheeks while she sustained a steady and determined pace solely intended to make me come, her beautiful tits keeping time. That welcome massing of blissful sensation began to rise.

“I’m gonna come,” I said tightly.

She immediately removed herself from me, sat back on my thighs, took my reddened, cunt-slick cock in her hand, and jerked it quickly.

“I want to see it,” she said.

My body was jerking. Three strong streams of milky white roped over my stomach. The diminished last spasms spilled over my cockhead and down Eleanor Kaminski’s knuckles as she slowed her hand. When she finally stopped stroking, she gently squeezed my cock, and a half-pearl of spunk bloomed at the tip.

I knew what would happen next. Just like Suzie Bowen at the drive-in during that transformative night, Eleanor Kaminski bent to the cock in her hand and licked the small bead of cum from the tip. Hardly an edifying amount, I know, but a gal (and I guy, too, I guess) has to start somewhere. Then she sampled a slightly larger portion from her coated fingers. She licked small bits until it all seemed to be gone. Then, to my astonishment, she bent over and began to lick the streaks on my stomach, which were cool and already feeling a little bit gluey. The touch of her tongue gave me goosebumps.

“It’s better warm,” she said matter-of-factly.

Eleanor Kaminski asked me if I could come back the next morning or afternoon. I told her that I had to work. I did have a shift at the A&P, though it was later in the day. But I couldn’t put Suzie Bowen off two mornings in a row. Not at that point, anyway. She knew my work schedule well enough. Claiming a second morning of doing odd jobs for a neighbor would sound suspicious to her.

“What about this weekend?” She had her robe about her again and was propped up against the headboard, smoking a cigarette, while I sat on the end of the bed, pulling on socks and stepping into my underwear.

“What about this weekend?” I said. Gray snakes of smoke coiled and uncoiled in a panel of sunlight from between the bedroom curtains.

“Ed is going on a fishing trip tomorrow night. He won’t be home until Sunday.”

“Oh. Okay. Well…”

“You probably have plans with your girlfriend all weekend.”

“Not necessarily,” I said.

.:.

I returned to Suzie Bowen’s the next day. Muscular, bulging clouds with undersides purple as a day-old bruise were marching across the morning sky. By the time I was vigorously pounding her a tergo on her narrow, messy bed while she fingered her clit, a thunderclap broke like the crack of doom, concussing the air, and caused the startled Suzie Bowen to come, slamming her ass against my hips so powerfully she might have sent me tumbling backwards off her bed if not for the death grip I had on her waist.

When she finished, she flipped over and I moved up to straddle her chest, slick red cock in hand. She took the head between her lips while I braced my hands against the wall above her bed and stroked in and out of her mouth briefly before making a loud grunt of sweet relief and feeding her my load.

“Eat that cum,” I grunted.

She sledded back and sat up against the headboard and stretched her t-shirt over her knees, while I flopped crosswise on the bed. Suzie Bowen had closed her window against the rain coming through the screen, and the bedroom was close and a little funky from sweat and sex.

She asked me if I minded getting her blood on me the other day in the kitchen.

“Not really,” I said. “I’m not going to get spazzed out by a little period blood.”

“Because I don’t know if we really need to close the pool for the entire time. Besides, my period makes me hornier than anything.”

“We’ll just keep a towel or something handy,” I said. “I don’t mind it on me, but you don’t want to get it on anything else.”

“So you won’t mind getting my blood all over your big, hard cock?” She stretched a leg and tried to stroke my soft-off with her toes. The sole of her foot was almost black with grime.

“Don’t put your dirty feet on me,” I pushed her away.

She didn’t say anything for a minute, then turned around and laid down with her head on my thigh and her feet propped on her headboard.

“Sherry said that we can ride with her and Steve tomorrow if you don’t want to ride with my mom,” she said.

I sighed. “Suze, I’m not going to Cindy’s wedding with you. I have to work tomorrow night. I already told you.”

Cindy was Suzie Bowen’s next door neighbor, a whippet of a girl two or three years older than us. They’d been friends forever. I’d only met her through Suzie Bowen not all that long before. Some nights when I came by, Cindy would be there, on the porch with Suzie, smoking and drinking beer. She was rail-thin, like I said—her forearms looked like twigs you could snap with little effort—but despite her skinniness, she had a generous pair of round, slightly sloping breasts that were always swaying full and loose inside tank tops and little t-shirts.

Cindy was a bit of a slutty mess, and that wasn’t just my independent assessment; Suzie Bowen thought as much as well, though she didn’t hold it against her. According to Suze, Cindy’d had at least one abortion. Suzie Bowen suspected that she had a second because she’d gotten pregnant again but told Suzie she had a miscarriage before she could decide what to do.

One of those pregnancies (I couldn’t remember which) was the result of a long affair she had with her older sister’s husband. She seemed to have a hard time finding a guy of her own, and always seemed to be involved with men who were otherwise spoken for. The truth is always much more than someone is willing to tell you, and I was sure the skanky, fucked-up entanglements that Cindy actually confessed to Suzie Bowen were only a tip of it.

A year or so ago, however, Cindy did meet someone unattached, a dim but sweet, decent enough guy named Danny. He’d proposed to her over Christmas. We’d gone on one double-date with them early in the summer, and I just couldn’t figure the whole thing. I was sure Danny hadn’t any idea what he was getting himself into. Or, I suspected, maybe he did, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

In any event, I really didn’t know these people; they weren’t friends of mine and would never be, and the last thing I felt like doing on a Saturday night was sitting around with Suzie Bowen and her mother at the Polish Falcons or the American Legion or wherever they were having their wedding reception, watching people do the Chicken Dance and getting vastly wasted. I liked to drink beer as much as the next guy, but this was going to be another one of those low-rent, slapdash, epic debauches full of random drunken fucking, parking lot vomiting, fist fights, and God knew what other kind of mayhem among these yokels. Their friends were all the local greasers and dopers, as far as I could tell: troublemakers and dumbasses.

“I thought you were going to call off,” she said, feigning surprise. We’d already talked about this. But she wouldn’t let it go.

“No,” I said. “I never said I was going to call off. You told me that I should call off, but I’ve already told you that I can’t.”

“You could,” she said tightly. “You just won’t. Because why should you do one thing I ask you to do?”

“I won’t do it because I’ll get fired,” I said. “Look, I told you, I already asked the Hillbilly to change the schedule so I could have that night off, and he said it was too late, no one else could take that spot. It’s a Saturday, the busiest day of the week there. He already knows I tried to get the night off. If I call and say I’m sick, he’ll know it’s a lie and he’ll fire me.”

“So what?” she said. “You’re going to be quitting in a couple weeks anyway. Big deal.”

“It is a big deal.” I was angry. She was an idiot, and I didn’t like explaining myself to her. “I need the money. I need as much as I can possibly make between now and when I leave for school.”

“So just get another job, then. How hard is it to get another job in another grocery store?”

“No one’s going to hire someone who’s only able to work for a week or two. Use your head,” I said.

“Screw you,” said Suzie Bowen. She popped up off the bed and sat at her vanity, began brushing her hair.

“I don’t understand why it’s so important that I go to this wedding anyway. It’s not like a relative of yours or anything. She’s just your neighbor.”

“It would be nice to have a date,” she said.

“Yeah, with your mother along to chaperone.”

“Oh, so that’s it,” she said. “So the real reason you don’t want to go is because there won’t be any chance for you to fuck me. You really don’t want to do anything with me that doesn’t end with you shooting your load.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said. “We’ve been going out for almost a year. We’ve spent more time together doing things that haven’t involved sex.”

“Yeah, but still that’s all you were hanging around for. To have someone to jack you off. Waiting for me to finally put out.”

“Is that what you think?” I said.

“That’s what I know.”

“Fine, then let’s stop.” I sat up on the edge of the bed, found my underwear, and started putting my clothes back on.

“Stop what?” I heard the hair brushing cease abruptly.

“Let’s stop having sex. Go back to the way it was. We’ll just date like we did before. Go to a movie, go out for something to eat, sit around your house watching television. And I won’t try to get you to jack me off. Or anything else. Is that what you want?”

“No, I— ”

“Then what, Suze? What do you want?”

“I want you to go to this wedding with me!”

“Yeah, I get it. I understand. But I can’t. I have to work. That’s all this is about. Don’t try to turn this into some big relationship flaw or something. I’m not refusing to go because I feel like being mean or some shit.”

As with most things, the entire truth wasn’t completely known. Yes, I did have to work. But my shift ended at six, the time the reception was supposed to start. I’d kept that little detail in my hip pocket in case I was faced with some real need to capitulate, or just wanted to make myself look good in the end. But I truly didn’t want to attend this wedding, Stella Bowen in tow or not. I’d have been more than happy to spend that Saturday night alone, reading a book, and sitting on the front porch listening to a ballgame on the radio. Which is what I would have planned to do if I hadn’t learned from Eleanor Kaminski that she would be home all alone on Saturday.

I stood up and pulled on my t-shirt.

“Wait, are you leaving already?” she looked at me in her mirror.

“Well, I’m not going to hang around here if we’re just going to argue.”

“Don’t go yet,” Suzie Bowen dropped to her knees in front of me and began undoing the jeans I’d just finished buttoning.

“Suze…”

“I need more cum,” she said as she pulled my cock out of my shorts and took it in her mouth.

I watched our reflection in her vanity mirror, Suzie Bowen on her knees, cupping my balls and running her lips up and down my hardening shaft. She paused only long enough to let me pull her t-shirt up over her head. I returned to watching the reflection of the naked girl sucking me. She saw what I was doing and turned her head a bit to watch as well.

“You like watching your cock getting sucked?” she said, stroking me and looking at me in the mirror.

“Play with yourself,” I said.

She began running her fingers up and down her slit while continuing to suck, stealing looks at herself in the mirror. This wasn’t a leisurely blowjob or a just-to-get-it-hard-again bit of sucking. She worked her hand and mouth together along my length, gaining that perfect degree of wet, gripping pressure, drawing me quickly down the path. She knew me more than well enough now to read the signals of my impending orgasm. My legs started to tremble, and I gripped one of her shoulders to steady myself against the approaching climax.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “I’m going to fill your cocksucking mouth.”

She gave a soft moan at that, a sound like helpless surrender, and stopped moving, reached around with the hand that had been stroking me and grabbed my ass to hold on as she made herself come. I pumped my hips, fucking her warm mouth with a few shallow thrusts before coming in it. Her little moans continued in time with my spasms.

My spent prick slipped from between her lips. She stood and put her two cunt-slick fingers in my mouth. I sucked at them. Then she grabbed me by the back of the neck, pressed her lips to mine, and passed a warm, slippery glob into my mouth. I was so surprised that, even as I pulled away from her, I instinctively swallowed it.

“Eat that cum,” she said.