Good Walls Make Good Neighbors, Part 3 free porn video

Over the next few days Angela and I made love constantly during the night and became the best of friends during the day. We more often slept together at my apartment than hers because of the added privacy; she was quite vocal during sex, which disturbed her roommate far more than the occasional groaning, moaning, and bed squeaks did.

At lunch one day about two weeks into our love affair, I asked her, “How did you get the way you are?”

“Hmmm, right living, proper thinking, and good nutrition for three generations?”

I chuckled, “I don’t mean how’d you get smart and beautiful, but how’d you get so sexually open?”

“You know already. I told you.”

“No, that doesn’t explain it, you’re not a lesbian.”

She chuckled, “True. Tell ya what, lemme think about it and I’ll tell ya tonight,” the last with a wink that made my throat go dry.

“So it’s a long story then,” I finally managed to say.

“Oh, we’ll see how long it lasts,” she smiled. Soon she had to leave for class (it was Monday), and as we had arranged when she left, that evening she came to my apartment and I cooked her dinner. After I served us and sat down across from her, she said, “So, ready for some conversation? I know how much you men hate that, so I won’t insist,” she grinned wickedly.

I nodded and said, "Tell me a story."

She replied, “Last time really turned me on. What about you?”

“You know,” I said. I had made love to her twice more after she had finished talking.

She giggled, “Right. I want that again.” She ate a bite and continued, "I'll tell you the more backgroundy stuff during dinner."

I said, "I want to hear it. I'm sure it's a lot more interesting than my background."

She laughed, stuck out her tongue, and said, “True."

After we finished laughing, she said, "Anyway, let’s see...When I went home after high school gradation, I didn’t get a chance to see Connie again for years. For a week I was heartbroken, but I got better pretty quickly. I guess I wasn’t that much in love with her. I loved her body, of course, and she was a really close friend by the time we ended things, but I realized she was not the great love of my life. Still, I rubbed off often enough remembering her and me together, but I also fantasized again about dicks.”

We laughed and she said, “Yeah, the dicks were back. My head was full of dicks. I started looking at handsome guys I passed on the street and wondered what their laps looked like. I really thought of it that way too, ‘Show me your lap, guy.’”

We laughed again and she said, “So, after a couple of weeks I learned my old lover was around. I was torn. We had been with each other five times altogether, and they weren’t very good. He was completely inexperienced and pretty shy, but he got up the courage to pursue me when I was at home, I guess the middle of July before my senior year, and he was cute and I was curious so I let him seduce me. If you can call it that; it was more like the squeezy-squeezy breast assault of the suckface monster. Worst B movie ever.”

After we finished laughing she continued, “Anyway, yeah, back seat of his dad’s car the first time. It wasn’t too pleasurable, but it wasn’t bad. Not painful; my first time didn't hurt at least. He lasted about three minutes and fell asleep! Like a bad movie, you know? I was a bit excited, so I rubbed off next to him and figured the next time would be better. It was, but not by much. He was a friendly enough fellow and fun to be with―and I was his first, of course, so he worshipped me, at least when he was buttering me up to get inside me.

"But he was squeamish about it. My smell bothered him a lot, and he was crass enough to comment about it. More than once. He was a bit icked out by my juices too; he was happy to have them there for his dick but he didn’t seem comfortable with putting his hand there for very long, but then again he didn’t like my hair down there that much either--and of course no way in hell was he going to put his face there, I could tell. And his idea of soul kissing was pretty much like his idea of fucking: Jam something long and pointed back and forth inside a soft wet space for three minutes. I felt sorry for him, though sorrier for me―he had a clean, scent-free image of what women are like and my body was just too much physical reality for him.

“But I figured, ‘Hey, we’ve been together. We know each other. I have enough experience to make it work.’ And when he gets good, I figured, we’d have great sex, we’d both be happy with each other, he’d be grateful. That last bit...that was stupid. Stupidest motivation in the world.

“So I called him up and of course he asked me out and of course I said yes, and I dressed to the nines for our date. He took me to a decent restaurant and treated me well, so I figured, ‘Yes! This will work!’ Afterwards he drove us to a lake and I started kissing him. This surprised him a lot. Too much. He started pulling away, so I pushed harder, started rubbing his cock through his pants, and he came before I could even unzip him! And God, what a frustration! No matter what I did, he would not get hard again. I said, ‘Well, at least rub me off now,’ and pulled his hand between my thighs, and he stared at me like I’d cursed his mother.

“Dumb-Ass drove me home then, and as we drove I asked him what was wrong. All he’d say was that I was different now, and I asked in what way and he said I was too pushy. Well. Good to know, I figured. No more clam served up on the half-shell for you, buddy boy. I mean, I was pissed. Royally pissed. Never saw him again after he dropped me off, except a couple of times I saw him on the street before he saw me, so I guess it’s better to say he’s never seen me again.

“So, I was so upset I didn’t even rub off that night despite being really worked up from all the anticipation. I was humiliated and angry and wanted to cry, but what bothered me about it also confused me. What had he wanted? What kind of girl did he like? Probably he thought he had to be the active partner and I had to give it up bit by bit like a good little girl going to the bad...but not so bad she takes the lead. Well, I wasn’t interested in trying that. I’d seduced my roommate, you know? I guess it’s the same for a girl as a guy, once you’ve seduced a woman you’ve grown up in a certain way, and there’s no going back. I’d had a deep sexual relationship with another person and I was used to giving and getting what I wanted, tit for tat, or rather tit for twat.”

I groaned, “You’ve just been saving up that pun for years, haven’t you? That was painful.”

She grinned, “That’s a rumor I can neither confirm nor deny. But yeah, it made Connie groan too.”

We laughed and she continued, “Now, I suppose it’s not hard for a young woman to get sex reasonably easily from any man she chooses, even if she’s not a supermodel with the best tits in the world. And since I am a supermodel with the best tits in the world, I should have been set.”

“Ha ha. And I’m a millionaire.”

“In disguise, yeah, and you don’t even know how much money you have, because your accountant’s robbing you blind and buying his own private island in international waters, and when his mansion’s built, it’s buh-bye him, hello welfare office for you.”

I said, "I'm sorry I told you that story."

We laughed a full minute and she continued, “All joking aside, I’m easy on the eyes. Guys liked looking at me, but they were either too afraid to talk to me or too nervous to talk to me like I was an actual human being.

“Now, there had been another young man that previous summer, after Dumb-Ass’s fifth lame entry into heaven. He’d had a crush on me for a while and I let him take me out, and when he had started kissing me I kissed back and let him suck on my breasts, and finally I’d decided I didn’t want to fuck him, so I jerked him off. That happened three times, and I never could see him as a proper partner. He did rub me off in return the last two times, but it felt like it was out of a sense of duty. So no, I didn’t bother calling him up.

“So, yeah. I was wet as hell yet high and dry, and I was surrounded by a bunch of hairy little boys, it felt like. I was not a happy young thing, I assure you. No need to go into that any more, you get the picture.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what finally ended my state of disgust and loathing?, I hear you ask.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes you did, I distinctly saw it in your eyes.” We laughed and she continued, “The short answer is dill tie.”

“Dill tie.”

“Dill tie.”

“What the hell is a dill tie? Is it like a dill pickle? Did you get funky with your food?”

She giggled and waved me aside, “Not what, who. German historian, Wilhelm Dilthey. He’s famous in history; no one else has ever heard of him. One of those long-winded 19th century guys who wrote endlessly about the philosophy of history. I already knew I wanted to be an historian, and my teacher in school gave me lots of extra reading assignments of historians writing about how you do history."

She finished her first serving. I asked if she wanted more; she said to give her a little, so when I returned and put the plates down, she continued:

"That’s what a lot of training to become an historian is all about, you know. It’s not just facts and figures, but how to think about facts and figures, how to make sense of them and build convincing arguments to get closer to the truth. And to recognize all the political and philosophical ideas historians have when they write, so you can take them into account when you read what they say. So she got me started early and had me read as a sophomore and junior the books you usually read in senior seminars in college. It was all fascinating, believe it or not, but Dilthey? He was a tough nut to crack. Subtle. Too subtle, but interesting.”

“So...”

She wagged her finger at me. “Don’t say it. No, I did not fuck a long-dead Kraut. I’m pretty perverted, but that’s just sick. Now enough with the lame jokes.”

We chuckled and she stood up and looked over and down, “You’re hard after that? Have you ever considered becoming an historian yourself?”

“I’m more interested in the present moment right now.”

She smiled and said, "More likely the immediate future."

I laughed and said, "Yeah, that too, but really, I love listening to you talk about things."

She blushed a little and smiled and finally said, “So anyway, as you know, Dad’s a lawyer, Mom’s an accountant, and they have lots of connections they have to keep...up to date. Parties to attend and parties to throw. The week following my little debacle with Dumb-Ass, they had a big to-do at the same time as my sister’s birthday. Little sis, two years younger. Too young for you.”

“You’re woman enough for me.”

“Yes, I am. ―Anyway, it was a weird situation. Normally Sis would serve as waitress and hostess, in return of course for extra allowance, but because it was her birthday she was going out with her friends after saying hi to some of the guests. Probably angling for birthday tips without doing any work."

We laughed and she continued, "I wasn't too interested in the party, but I was singularly uninterested in going out with a quartet of 16-year-old girls. So, in return for a nice crisp clean $50 bill, I agreed to help out Mom and Dad. I had to dress up, but not too much, so I was in low heels and a below-the-knees gray skirt and blue sweater over a white silk blouse. Very conservative, nothing to give anyone ideas, you'd think. But of course, for many guys, if you have tits like mine, that sort of outfit is still hot. Guys were staring at my chest, men in their 50s, even when it was locked down under half an inch of wires and half an inch of wool. The poor girls were very upset with me, and I had to massage them for an hour after the party ended to make it up to them.”

“Hmm, let me act that out for you later.”

She giggled, “Please do!” and continued, “I served the hors d’oeuvres. One old guy grabbed my ass the first ten minutes, which pissed me off. Before I could tell Dad, I got drawn into a conversation with some old friends of Dad’s. Four of them, I think. The oldest one was in his 50s and always treated me like his granddaughter, which I hadn’t liked for five years. As I let them get stuff on a stick, he put his head on my hand and twitched it around, drumming his fingertips on my scalp, and said, ‘Dancing squirrel!’

“’Remove the squirrel now or it dies,’ I said to him, real quiet-like, and everyone just looked at me, and you can be sure that hand was gone right away.

“’So, Angie,’ another one of them asked, ‘what are you gonna do now?’

“‘College.’

“‘What in?’

“‘History.’

“He was famous in our circles as a know-it-all know-nothing smart ass, so he immediately asked, ‘Ooh, smart little girl! Will you be a Marxist historian or just a Marxist pseudo-historian? That’s all the history departments produce, you know.’

“Yeah, I was pissed off by that, so I immediately said, just like writing a paper, ‘No, German idealistic philosophy has been dead in academic history for the last century. Marx and Hegel? They’re not historians, just philosophers making it up as they went along. The major debate’s between the views of Dilthey and Ranke, the Neo-Kantians versus the empiricists. The Americans and English go for Ranke, the Continental Europeans go for Dilthey. To oversimplify, of course, but closer to the truth than anything you’ve said tonight.’ It felt good for about two seconds, then I felt sick and immediately apologized, which he took graciously enough and apologized himself, and treated me with a decent amount of respect after that. Or fear. Apologized to Grandpa Squirrel-Keeper too."

Here we had finished eating, and she said, "Okay, it starts getting hotter after this."

"Good point to take a break and clear the table," I said, which we did quickly. After we put the dishes in the sink to rinse, I just nodded, beckoned her with my finger, and started marching upstairs. She joined me and we quickly undressed; she kissed me deeply and rubbed against my half-erect cock for a moment. She then said, “Let’s lie down and make ourselves comfortable. This might take a while.”

We lay down side by side, me on my back and her on her left side with her head in the crook of my arm. “Last time was really incredible, so just like then, don’t touch yourself. At all. Touch me if you want.”

I did so, reaching over to play with her breasts, and she continued, “Anyway. One of the other men there was a lawyer a bit younger than Dad, mid-30s...oh, no need to be coy, he was 34; a few weeks later I could have given you his age to the day. Let’s just call him Phil. I always knew him as...oh, let’s say Mr. Prescott...when I was younger. He and Dad were pretty tight friends, and Mom liked him a lot too, which wasn’t true of all of Dad’s buddies.

“Anyway, after I left and talked with Dad and he went to have a quiet word with Old-Fogey Groper Scum, Phil sat down next to me at the kitchen table and started talking to me like an adult. That cheered me right up, being taken seriously. And he was a looker as well. Fairly athletic, impeccably dressed, and he took care of himself. Not a fop. Not a smooth jerk wearing a suit too expensive to know how to wear it. And after my little disaster with Dumb-Ass, I was easy pickings. I started falling for him. Not in love, but sexually. And he did know how to talk to a woman! Just being friendly, you know, not hitting on me at all, but definitely noticing me as a real woman. He of course had no idea what was going on inside my head and lap; he was just being friendly to a young woman.

“He asked me about history and asked about some of the things he’d seen at a couple of history museums he usually went to. He was unmarried, you see, and pretty curious about things, so he read a lot. Pretty well read, all things considered, and pretty smart, so he spent a lot of time in museums and libraries. Now this was great! He was definitely someone I could talk to.

"After a while, I noticed Dad had come into the kitchen and was watching us, and he must have been relieved someone was there to put me in a good mood so I wouldn’t decapitate any more of his colleagues and business associates. And Dad suggested Phil should take me to the museum later that week, since Phil had a couple of afternoons free during the week that time of year. Phil was happy to agree, and of course I was ecstatic. Now I just had to figure out how best to seduce him.

“The age difference was...tricky. I knew that as well as anyone. I was of age and he was as good a lawyer as Dad, so there was no real risk of legal consequences,” and here we laughed loudly, “but man, I was sure my parents would still have killed me if they’d found out anything had happened, and poor Phil too, and even if I could convince them it was my idea, they’d no doubt make his professional life a graveyard. So, the first and most basic rule was absolute secrecy. Well, after a year of hot lesbian sex at a boarding school, secrecy was baked in my bones.”

We laughed again and she rubbed my belly above my hard cock. “But what did he like? Now that was...not quite so tricky. I knew a lot about his relationships from Mom’s gossip. She used to chuckle on the phone after Dad’s latest report on Phil’s latest conquest about how Phil liked busty women in their 20s. Well, I was close to the second half of that and definitely had the first half. He liked women who were forthright―that was his word to Dad once, and Mom loved it. He flirted sometimes with Mom, and I’d seen how he acted then. Pretty smooth, like I said.

“I decided the best thing was to plant the idea in his head of me as a grown, sexual woman and let it bloom over time. This was my first real attempt at turning the head of a male of the species,” and we chuckled, “and I was afraid of being too obvious or too ambiguous. So, when he picked me up, I was dressed very well and not too revealingly. Not obviously revealing, rather. I of course had the loose button right at nipple level that left a nice big gap for him to stare into, and underneath a shear lacy bra, and over it all, at least at first, was a light sweater, but I soon took that off and tied it around my shoulders.

"And apart from that, I let my intellectual charms carry the day. He said later I nearly knocked him out. He was smitten. He was also scared as hell and was sure he was misunderstanding my attitude. And the whole time in the museum I stared him in the eye as I told him about what we were looking at, except of course when his eyes were exactly where I intended them to be. And of course my nipples were erect a lot that day, so he didn’t look me in the eye as much as a good little boy should.”

We laughed again and she said, “Hope I’m not boring you.”

“No, no, please continue. It’s a fascinating slice of life.”

She laughed brightly and said, “Yes, it has some nice touches. ―And of course several times I took his arm, which had the...desired effect. He motioned a lot with that hand whenever his elbow was buried in my breast, and blushed a bit too. After the museum he took me to a nice coffee shop, and I started asking him about his life, which soon led into his romantic life. Nothing too direct, but it seemed like a good idea to associate me in his mind with his previous lovers. He then took the bait when I said something slightly intriguing and answered him a little about my...status. Not a virgin, not inexperienced, and when he asked for more details, I looked him right in the eye, smiled winningly, and said I never talked about my past lovers to anyone. I got the point across that I was as discreet as any lawyer, and then turned the conversation to...let’s see, I think Russian novels.

“The plan, it turns out, worked well enough. He knew I was interested and suspected I’d promised complete secrecy, and now he was battling his scruples and qualms. It was time to let him stew, maybe turn up the heat now and again, and let him try to win me. I wanted to be romanced and won fair and square, and had hinted along those lines earlier about how the men around me were just boys. We went back to his car, which was on the side of the coffee shop out of public view, and when he moved to open my car door, I hugged him and said, “Thank you for a wonderful day!” And I of course hugged him full-on and felt a wonderful erection against my belly, so I looked him in the eye and smiled and said, “Oh, Phil!” I then kissed his cheek and got in the car.

“He was...well, pretty damn quiet after that. I didn’t mind; I sat there thinking over everything that had happened and wondered how much further to push things. Finally he said something like, ‘Angie, you’ve certainly grown up beautifully.’

“I smiled and just said thanks, and a little later I said I had loved our outing and asked if he’d like to go somewhere else during his next afternoon off later in the week.

“’I’d like that,’ he said, ‘very much.’

“We made arrangements for lunch and an art museum, and I added, ‘I won’t tell Mom and Dad if you won’t.’

“After a long time he said, ‘That might be best.’ And then I knew he was mine if I played my cards right."

She looked down and said, “Well, you’re not about to burst, but you’re still kind of hard. Don’t worry, it gets really good soon. ―So, we met at the restaurant as planned. It was a Thursday at 12:30 and it was a restaurant none of our acquaintances frequented, and even so we chose a secluded table in a back room with no one around. Yeah, it was also a failing restaurant, so we had a lot of empty space to ourselves. And when he held out his hand, I stepped inside it and kissed him lightly on the lips and sat down. He was surprised, a bit anyway, and sat down facing me, and we talked of this and that until we’d ordered. He then said, ‘Angie, we need to talk.’

“‘Yes, we do,’ I said.

“‘You’re very young.’

“I smiled, ‘I’m of age.’

“‘But you’re too young to marry. I’m flattered that you’re in love with me...’ and he stopped because I started laughing. I really did.

"I finally got my courage together and said quietly, ‘I’m not in love with you. I want you for my lover. I want you to show me a great summer and then end things. No one will find out about us from me, and you’ll be free to go whenever it’s not good for you, and I’ll break it off immediately if it’s not good for me, no ties, no regrets.’ Yes, I somehow managed to say all that as if I were the most experienced woman in the world, even though my stomach felt like...well, you can imagine.

“He stared at me like he’d opened a door where he expected a monster and found a garden. Really, it was amazing watching his face change. He just smiled and nodded and over lunch asked me general questions about my experience, what I expected, what I liked. We finished quickly, very very quickly, and drove quickly to his house; just to be safe, I ducked down in the seat, head in his lap, until he parked in the garage.

"Hee hee, that was fun. Very...suggestive for me. We had driven for three blocks with my head down, and I introduced myself to his cock. I unzipped him shortly after I was down there and played with it as I examined it up close, which I was never able to do with Dumb-Ass or the other boy in the dark."

She paused and said, “So, I guess that answered your question.” she smiled.

“Like hell it did. Just when you’re getting to the good part too.”

“You really want to hear about another man?”

“Of course.”

“You really are a voyeur...or auditor...or whatever. Well, just like me. I’m not sure there is a word for it. Ecouteur, maybe, but I’m an historian. I like oyeur.”

Despite my fascination with her story, I said, “Oyeur, just cut off the v? Why?”

“That’s what the French used to say a thousand years ago, you know. That’s why the Supreme Court is always opened by someone chanting ‘Oyez, oyez.’ You know, ‘Hear ye, hear ye.’ So we’re oyeurs.”

I shook my head in amazement and laughed, “And do you know that because your dad’s a lawyer or because you’re an historian?”

She smiled and continued, “I plead the Fifth. ―So, anyway, once the garage door closed, he pulled me up and kissed me, and as he uncovered my breasts I reached down and stroked him. I was in a fever to see him cum. Watch the first man I'd picked out and seduced tense up and ejaculate in my hand, and watch his face as I gave him pleasure. So I whispered in his ear, 'Cum for me, babe,' and he said no, not there. I didn't bother catching my breath; I got out of the car and waited for him to invite me into his house, and when we got in his kitchen and closed the door, I immediately took him into my arms. He kissed very well. He knew how to take his time, and I relaxed pretty quickly and just fell into it. He pulled me into the living room and I shook my head and smiled and pointed to another door. He laughed and ushered me onward with his hand, and I found his bedroom and sat on the bed as he came in. He was all over me pretty soon, but only because I pulled him over me. I love foreplay, but I wanted something more than slow kissing and gentle caresses. The next few minutes are a bit of a blur, but he had us undressed soon enough and I was finally able to satisfy my curiosity about cocks. Oh yes, I certainly did. I told him I’d only held a couple and they didn’t last long, and besides it had been dark, so I was intensely curious. I then said it was a beautiful cock.”

At this point she reached down and started lightly stroking me. “So I did this, just getting a feel for him. I had spent a lot of time fantasizing without enough real experience, and now I was determined to get it. I loved the feel of the skin and ran my fingers all over it, like this, for several minutes, and finally started stroking it. I hadn’t paid much attention to it before, but this time I was very impressed with the design, the soft outside sliding smoothly on the steel core. Nice. He was a little longer than you, but you’re thicker than he was. Thicker’s more important, at least for fucking, but as a visual treat he was all I wished for. Long and slender and curving upwards, and just a delight.”

I moaned as she began stroking me and she said, “Yes, he was really into it too, of course. Not often you get to have sex with a woman who is so fascinated by your cock, I know. And you should be very happy. Most cocks are just boring, you know? But when I like a man, his cock fascinates me. Like how you treat my cunt so wonderfully. I can see how much you love playing with her, just seeing and tasting her, and not just fucking her. I feel like that with some men. Him, you, a few others.

“So anyway, I asked him to show me how he jerked off. He gripped it for me, and I reached around his cock to provide as much of the same sensation as he gave himself and started stroking him. I focused on his cock, nothing else, and felt it twitching in my hand. The head was so beautiful, and it got bigger and purple, and I felt his body settling into a rhythm and I sped up. I stared at his cock and he asked, ‘Is it what you wanted?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘Tell me what you want.’

“‘I want to see you cum,’ I said. ‘I want to feel you cum. I want to give you pleasure, and then I want you to wear me out with my own pleasure.’

“‘Say you want my cum.’

“And because I did, I said so. I told him everything I wanted his orgasm to show me, and he showed me. I pushed him over the edge with my words and I watched the beauty of his cock draining in my hand. His cum shot everywhere and dribbled onto my hand. He moaned and groaned and gasped and collapsed. I hadn’t cum, so I was still fascinated with his cock, and I put my finger in his cum and tasted it. It wasn’t as bad as I’d heard, so I lay down between his thighs and started stroking him again. He stared down into my eyes and just lay there. I kissed his head and felt it sticky on my lips, so I opened my mouth and took the head in despite the taste, and I got used to that soon enough. I started licking around the tip and used my lips to play with the top of the shaft under the head. I pulled up and said, ‘Now tell me what you want.’

“‘I want you to keep doing that. Suck me until I cum, and I want you to swallow every drop.’

“‘And what will you do for me?’

“‘Whatever you want.’

“‘I want you to go down on me until I can’t cum any more, and then I want you to fuck me until I pass out.’

“And he nodded and I returned to sucking him. I took him in my mouth and worked him like I like to work you. Shall I continue?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, a man who’s in it for the long haul. Excellent. ―So I was able to take half his shaft into my mouth the first time. When he got close he put his hands on my head and grabbed my hair, and I knew what he wanted and just nodded as I stared into his eyes. When he came, he thrust up into me so that I nearly gagged and his cum flooded my mouth, thick and sticky, and I closed my eyes as I felt his cock draining. It was as intimate an experience as you can ever feel. I started swallowing. And besides the sensations in my mouth, I was proud of myself for having given such a beautiful man the ultimate pleasure.

"And as he recovered I lay next to him and asked him about his sexual education and experiences, and when he had recovered enough and had been playing with my pussy, very skillfully I might add, until I was near the edge, I lay back, spread my thighs, and said, ‘Suck me.’ That was one of the greatest moments of my life, just telling him like that, demanding my own pleasure, and I love saying it now. And he did and I came almost immediately and then came again two minutes later, and after my fourth orgasm I pulled him onto me and asked about protection. He put on a condom and I welcomed him inside and gloried in his thrusts deep inside me. He lasted about fifteen minutes and finally roared out as he fucked me into oblivion.

“It lasted all summer with him, but the first month was the busiest by far, but that's another story. And no, no one else ever did learn about us, no one in a position to tell my parents anyway, or to ruin his life. I saw him two afternoons a week and managed to meet him two other evenings during the week that first month; told my parents I was doing research, which I guess I was at first. ―Ah, hard again. Good, I’m wet again. I need to ride you; is that okay?”

I sputtered and said, “Well, yes.”

She settled on top of me and took me inside. She lay on top of me, snugly squeezing me with her pussy, and said, “TGFP. Thank God for the Pill,” and we laughed. As she built her rhythm, she said, “And that’s how I got this way. The first steps, anyway. I guess you’ve now heard the first thirty steps on my road to ruin,” and we laughed.

She continued, “But yes, besides the experiences and the affection and the happiness, he was the man who taught me how to talk right during sex. Say what you want, what you like, what you need, and ask for it outright. Nothing mealy-mouthed. So, for instance, what do you want?”

“You. This.”

“What else?”

“Talking with you all day long.”

She nodded, “Yes, I like having a man who can actually keep up with my talk.”

“I like having a woman who can talk like you do.”

“But what else do you want me to do to you with my mouth?” she asked with a grin.

“To go down on you every day and feel my cum shooting off inside your mouth every night. Feel your cunt around me.”

“Yes, good. I love hearing you say how much you want me. I want all that too. I want to hold you inside my body and cover us with my hair. I want to wrap you up and use your body with mine until it hurts. I want to make you so sore the next day you can’t walk. I want to drain you and then fuck your face with my cunt until she’s exhausted.” At the end of this rhythmic incantation, I thrust upwards and spewed into her as she ground down on my hips in orgasm.

As she lay on top of me, she moved her head slightly from side to side. I chuckled and reached up to run my fingers through her hair as she waved them from side to side. She pushed my hand away, gathered two long strands of hair, and caressed my face with them. She then wrapped them around my face and kissed me, then pulled back. When I raised my head to kiss her again, she slipped the strands of hair under my neck and said, “I told you about us mermaids. You’re mine now, you know, and I’m not letting you go.”

I nodded in exaltation and said, “I’m yours.”

She chuckled. “And now I guess I’ve finally met my ruin.”