Theology Teacher PT1
- 3 years ago
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The Teacher Part 1 free porn video
She was just a teacher. Well, not just a teacher. She was a hot teacher and she happened to live on my block. She was the teacher you wished you had when you were a boy, unless you were exclusively into blondes. I was not, so she worked for me, big time.
She had semi-curly dark hair, cropped close in a bob cut and usually tied back from her face. It gave her that hot librarian look ‒ naughty and nice, sweet as spice. She had a full bosom, not Pamela, but an ample ‘C’ cup, which presented awfully well in a slightly stretched teacher’s white button-down. You could easily picture her wearing nothing but your dress shirts parading around the bedroom with her perfectly round, tight ass peaking out from the shirt-tail begging to be fucked.
I should stick to the facts, however, and not my fantasies of what could have happened or what I wish had happened.
It began innocently enough, as it were. As neighbors we shared the occasional street side chat and the friendly wave. Sometimes the conversation lingered longer, making me wonder if there was more there than just a good neighbor. The problem was, is, she is married. Her husband was a nice guy too, and someone that I was happy to share a beer with. I felt a little guilty that I sometime ogled his wife, swishing her tail in those shorts on a hot summer night ‒ but sometimes a guy has to expect that kind of violation. Maybe it wasn’t even so much of a violation as an affirmation of what he had, a compliment even that his wife was desirable. I know that I am rationalizing, but certainly these small transgressions of the eyes and the mind didn’t equal the betrayal that was about to happen.
I will just tell the story and the rest of you can engage in the ethical debate. I can’t change what happened and at this point, I don’t want to.
On most mornings, I took a walk in the park before work. The dog was my excuse, but I really did try to get out every day because doing something for myself first ‒ even if I tried to pass it off as a chore ‒ “I have to walk the dog” - made it so much easer to start the work day. My timing was such that many mornings, I happened to pass the teacher’s house when she was on her way to school. Most of the time there was not much more than a quick wave, a hello, maybe some small talk about the weather.
For a time I began to sense that an intensifying pattern was occurring. That she was getting closer to me, the occasional hand on my arm when she said hello, or a slight squeeze she offered, “We should all get together soon.” The way she smiled and the look in her eyes made me think that she meant without her ball and chain. For a long time I passed it off as wishful thinking. After all, my grandmother, god rest her blessed soul, used to advise me in her own grandmotherly way, “Don’t shit where you eat.” Which in this case I took to mean, “Don’t fuck your neighbor’s wife.” But even dear old grandma could not have imagined the temptation of this sweet teacher’s ass.
I began to suspect that the flirtation was not purely imaginary when she broached the topic of our culture’s sexual repression. That particular morning she was not going to work and her husband had already left. She came out to the street to greet me. She was wearing only a thin shirt and tiny shorts that were small enough and translucent enough to tell me that she had no underwear under there.
After a brief exchange, I learned that she had an in-service day, which in teacher parlance is basically a day without the kids to catch up on grading and like. So she was taking some extra time for herself at home, enjoying her coffee and the paper. When I came by, she offered to walk with me. I couldn’t refuse, but I almost needed to. She wasn’t the only one who was not wearing underwear. I didn’t really care if she saw me get hard, but a 7-inch boner might be kind of hard to hide from the rest of the neighbors.
I didn’t really have a say in the matter anyway as she quickly slipped on a pair of Crocs and said, “Let’s go!”
She slipped her arm through my elbow and started off on a jaunty pace that was just enough to give a seductive bounce to her barely concealed boobs. I could feel myself stirring instantly. Right away she started into the conversation with topics that did not distract my desire.
“The school environment is so stifling. I have to dress like a school marm, or else the boys in my class won’t be able to think straight. On my days off I just want to be free.”
I had a great opening for a compliment. “For most women, that wouldn’t be a problem, but you have to realize that you’re a fantasy for these kids.”
“Thank you for saying that, but I think I am a little old for them,” she admonished.
“You really don’t know boys or men, do you? Especially at this age, if you have T and A they are interested and you have the T and the A.” I couldn’t put it any straighter than that.
“That’s very flattering, but not as flattering as what’s happening down there.” She pointed with her eyes at my shorts, which were tented by the rising pole inside.
“Exactly my point, your sexuality can’t be constrained by arbitrary age limits,” I said with mock authority.
“Oooh! That is a mighty big mouthful for someone whose blood is flowing to their shorts!” At this point, the directness of her teasing was hard to misinterpret.
“All I’m saying is that…” I stopped her and looked in her eyes; she met mine hungrily and with more than a twinkle of mischief. I was about to make some grand argument built on flattery and the insecurity of men and all kinds of flowery semi-erotic poetry to woo this fair prize. However, my words, or more properly, my brain failed me because too much blood had engorged the lower head for me to piece together my puzzle of seductive innuendo. What came out instead of some erotic, yet noncommittal discourse was simply, “All I’m saying is that… I can give you a mouthful.”
Nooo! That wasn’t what I wanted to say. It was too crass. I should be more intellectual with this attention starved teacher. Yet, to my eternal gratitude, the brain short-circuit caused by throbbing manhood proved to be the exact medicine.
“I bet it is,” was her urgent response as she dropped to her knees right in the middle of the trail. I have not described the trail to you yet and if truth be told it is a quite pleasant woodsy path that I could describe in great detail. But in the events that happened, in my recollection of this encounter, the trail and its surroundings are mostly incidental (mostly) to my tale. What I remember is that she dropped immediately to her knees and pulled my shorts down enough to free my rigid cock. It wasn’t exactly hidden by my loose shorts anyway, but now the full cool breeze of the morning was on me. I might have shrunk if not for the company of her warm hands and the proximity of her lips and well, just her.
She wrapped one hand and then other around my shaft and took a studied look at the bulging crown of my cock peeking from her grip. She eased her mouth over the tip and as she slid me inside her lips and flickering tongue she moved one hand down to my balls until she had me backed into her throat with the other hand still encircling my shaft. “Yes, I would have to say more than a mouthful and more than two hands-full, depending on how you want to measure.”
I was in too much of a swoon to answer and anyway the sound of approaching voices broke the spell of our privacy. I have always fantasized about truly public displays of affection, but when it came down to it, I previously found the reality less thrilling than I had thought. As a result, I have never truly had sex in public and I quickly wondered if this would be it. It was not, as she quickly tucked my pole back into the tent of my shorts, which did a poor job of hiding it and then straightened herself up as if her nipple weren’t on high beam and there was no stain of wetness on her shorts.
It was in this state of consciousness that we passed by two other walkers in the next minute. They were both women, slightly older than us, maybe ten years senior, but due to their walks or maybe private lessons with their trainer, they maintained a certain tight MILF sensuality. What I like about sexy older women is that they are trading on their assets. If they still look good after a few kids or after 40, there might have been some good genes, but mostly, they earned it. Which means it really meant something to them.
Well, there was no mistaking what their appreciative smiles meant to me as we walked past. As we approached they offered the usual noncommittal neighborly smiles that say, “We’re just passing by.” But as they came close enough, their eyes locked on my swaying cock, which was noticeably erect beneath my shorts. If it had softened a little it might have merely slapped gently against my thighs and caught their notice as they passed, but it was front and center, helped in no small measure by the fact that there was an audience for my erection. If I wasn’t at my full seven, then I was damn close and the swaying and bouncing as I walked might have been a blinking arrow signing “Look at me, look at me.”
So look they did. And smile. It was a smile of appreciation of that I swear took me beyond my usual size, swelling my member to a record length. They also noticed the arousal of my teacher friend, whose nipples were straining against the tight, thin tank top she wore and whose shorts bore the faint trace of seeping excitement.
We passed them by and I made up my mind to seize the initiative. It wasn’t that I didn’t know where this was going. It was a question of whether to consummate in the woods, or take her back to my house or hers to finish the job in style. I opted for the latter, because she was, after all, a married woman and fucking in a public park might be more exposure than either of us really wanted.
So after the women were well down the path, I grabbed the elbow of my hot teacher companion and spun her into me. I briefly paused to look her in the eyes and then planted a kiss on her full red lips. I grabbed her bottom lip lightly with my teeth and tugged a little as I pulled away, saying, “I don’t want you to mistake my intentions.”
“And what would those intentions be?”
“I intend to fuck you.”
“Good,” was all she said, and grabbing both my shorts and my cock in her hand she turned to take the shortest path out of the woods.
When we came out of the woods, she let go of my steering rod and suggested I hide that somehow while we passed by the houses in our neighborhood. My only option was to put one hand in my pocket to press my cock against my leg. It worked to hide the erection, but it certainly didn’t diminish it. We got to my place in a few minutes, walking so quickly that we were winded when we got there.
Breathlessly I pulled off her shirt to reveal breasts much larger than I thought and nipples that were leaking ever so slightly. I’ve never had a lactater so I was anxious to lap it up. As I teased her nipple with my lips and tongue, I could barely taste the faint traces that had seeped from her swollen motherhood. But when I closed my lips and nibbled with my teeth, I was greeted with the warm flow of watery milk. It wasn’t the taste of it, but the psychology of it that I found ultimately erotic. The only thing was that I had to avoid overthinking the issue because skirting the oedipal ice was for me, decidedly un-erotic. After battling these competing tensions for a while I decided to turn to other matters of pleasure.
She stopped me from going down. “We need to even things up a bit.” She slipped my shirt over my head and began to torture my nipples as I had with hers. In this case, I had no conflicting tensions in my mind or body. When she moved to take it to the lower level, it was my turn to stop her.
“How do we keep this fair? Which one of us goes down first?” I inquired playfully.
“Hmmm, there really is only one solution. We go down together.” She slipped off her shorts to reveal a shaven pussy. I removed my shorts, causing my boner to spring around like a Jack-in-the-Box.
Naked we moved to my bed where she pushed me down on my back. She climbed on top of me and then reversed herself so we were in the 69 position. I really love 69. I don’t exactly know why. I have always loved to have a woman take me in her mouth ‒ it is such an erotic act because it has nothing to do with procreation and everything to do with pleasure. It is also a supreme act of submission ‒ on both parts. She is submitting to my cock, accepting it into her mouth while I am placing my full manhood into a completely vulnerable position. It is extraordinarily erotic. I have also always loved to lick and suck pussy. With a few exceptions who have an unpleasant taste or odor, I find the smell and taste to send shivers down my cock and I enjoy seeing the pleasure I can generate from just my tongue or the caressing of my fingers.
But 69 combines both of those sensations and pleasures. It is a symphony of sexual stimulation; a Feng Shui circuit of sensation that feeds upon itself. In normal genital intercourse the cock and pussy form a sparking connection ‒ and don’t get me wrong, it is fantastic ‒but the sexual energy generated from that contact flows out through the rest of the body. In 69, his mouth passes the energy to her pussy which flows up to her mouth and sends it to his cock and back again. Erotically efficient.
So I was pleased to see our encounter turn in this direction. It usually takes some time before most women, even those who are into cock-sucking and pussy licking as separate activities, will feel comfortable with the oral octopus.
She grabbed my cock firmly around the base with one hand and slid her hand the length of it a few times. Don’t ask me how many times because I was too busy on my end. She used her hands to lengthen and swell my cock to bursting. Then she swirled her tongue around my helmet until she sucked the tip fully inside her lips. With strong pressure from her mouth, she twisted her hands like she was wringing a towel.
I felt a jolt of pain that rode in with the pleasure and I can’t say it was at all bad. Her motion left a burning along my shaft which she soothed as she eased me fully inside her mouth. Now that was extraordinary, like having a bad itch that finally gets scratched ‒ except that she created the itch and then took it away. She alternated that technique with some straight sucking, and then moved entirely to full-shaft sucking. She stopped only to suck on my balls. She kept going until my own work on her pussy forced her to stop to catch her own breath. Even still, she pumped my piston with her hands until the combination of her pussy juice streaming into my mouth and attention to my cock got me ready to come. She sensed my warning spasms and rather than stop to let me gain control, she plunged my cock deep into her mouth to take my full load in a few swallows.
I wasn’t just lying there while this was going on. I was hard at work myself. With her pussy hanging above my head, I was in the perfect spot to work her clit. I tired not to rush it, but in that position the tongue is almost always working from her clit to her pussy galore. My hands couldn’t very well reach her tits, but they were free to squeeze her tight ass and finger fuck her open pussy.
When I had my finger well lubricated with her dripping honey I began to explore her ass. I’ve never been big into anal, but I wanted to know if she was. The ease with which she opened to my probing and the not so soft moaning told me that my finger was most welcome and that perhaps more of me as well. Now I played her ass and her pussy off against each other, moving from one to the other when I needed to change fingers or catch a break. My tongue on the other hand needed no break. I don’t know if its true for other guys, if these two things go together, but I can talk for hours and I can lick a pussy almost as long. Maybe all that talking keeps my tongue in shape or maybe I’m full of crap, or just energizer batteries.
Maybe I shouldn’t say this but I finished long before she did. We were too far into it to change positions and I don’t think she wanted to me stop anything I was doing. Her clit had gotten so swollen that I couldn’t resist sucking it inside my mouth and when I did, she began to buck and shudder as the orgasms wracked her body and her hot juice ran down my face. I had a face full of her glistening honey dripping along my jaw and down my neck, so much so that I had to wipe it off.
After she rolled off me and we were again face to face we took a little time to catch our breath. “I can’t wait to fuck you,” I said earnestly.
“You’re going to have to wait. I never fuck on a first date.”
She had semi-curly dark hair, cropped close in a bob cut and usually tied back from her face. It gave her that hot librarian look ‒ naughty and nice, sweet as spice. She had a full bosom, not Pamela, but an ample ‘C’ cup, which presented awfully well in a slightly stretched teacher’s white button-down. You could easily picture her wearing nothing but your dress shirts parading around the bedroom with her perfectly round, tight ass peaking out from the shirt-tail begging to be fucked.
I should stick to the facts, however, and not my fantasies of what could have happened or what I wish had happened.
It began innocently enough, as it were. As neighbors we shared the occasional street side chat and the friendly wave. Sometimes the conversation lingered longer, making me wonder if there was more there than just a good neighbor. The problem was, is, she is married. Her husband was a nice guy too, and someone that I was happy to share a beer with. I felt a little guilty that I sometime ogled his wife, swishing her tail in those shorts on a hot summer night ‒ but sometimes a guy has to expect that kind of violation. Maybe it wasn’t even so much of a violation as an affirmation of what he had, a compliment even that his wife was desirable. I know that I am rationalizing, but certainly these small transgressions of the eyes and the mind didn’t equal the betrayal that was about to happen.
I will just tell the story and the rest of you can engage in the ethical debate. I can’t change what happened and at this point, I don’t want to.
On most mornings, I took a walk in the park before work. The dog was my excuse, but I really did try to get out every day because doing something for myself first ‒ even if I tried to pass it off as a chore ‒ “I have to walk the dog” - made it so much easer to start the work day. My timing was such that many mornings, I happened to pass the teacher’s house when she was on her way to school. Most of the time there was not much more than a quick wave, a hello, maybe some small talk about the weather.
For a time I began to sense that an intensifying pattern was occurring. That she was getting closer to me, the occasional hand on my arm when she said hello, or a slight squeeze she offered, “We should all get together soon.” The way she smiled and the look in her eyes made me think that she meant without her ball and chain. For a long time I passed it off as wishful thinking. After all, my grandmother, god rest her blessed soul, used to advise me in her own grandmotherly way, “Don’t shit where you eat.” Which in this case I took to mean, “Don’t fuck your neighbor’s wife.” But even dear old grandma could not have imagined the temptation of this sweet teacher’s ass.
I began to suspect that the flirtation was not purely imaginary when she broached the topic of our culture’s sexual repression. That particular morning she was not going to work and her husband had already left. She came out to the street to greet me. She was wearing only a thin shirt and tiny shorts that were small enough and translucent enough to tell me that she had no underwear under there.
After a brief exchange, I learned that she had an in-service day, which in teacher parlance is basically a day without the kids to catch up on grading and like. So she was taking some extra time for herself at home, enjoying her coffee and the paper. When I came by, she offered to walk with me. I couldn’t refuse, but I almost needed to. She wasn’t the only one who was not wearing underwear. I didn’t really care if she saw me get hard, but a 7-inch boner might be kind of hard to hide from the rest of the neighbors.
I didn’t really have a say in the matter anyway as she quickly slipped on a pair of Crocs and said, “Let’s go!”
She slipped her arm through my elbow and started off on a jaunty pace that was just enough to give a seductive bounce to her barely concealed boobs. I could feel myself stirring instantly. Right away she started into the conversation with topics that did not distract my desire.
“The school environment is so stifling. I have to dress like a school marm, or else the boys in my class won’t be able to think straight. On my days off I just want to be free.”
I had a great opening for a compliment. “For most women, that wouldn’t be a problem, but you have to realize that you’re a fantasy for these kids.”
“Thank you for saying that, but I think I am a little old for them,” she admonished.
“You really don’t know boys or men, do you? Especially at this age, if you have T and A they are interested and you have the T and the A.” I couldn’t put it any straighter than that.
“That’s very flattering, but not as flattering as what’s happening down there.” She pointed with her eyes at my shorts, which were tented by the rising pole inside.
“Exactly my point, your sexuality can’t be constrained by arbitrary age limits,” I said with mock authority.
“Oooh! That is a mighty big mouthful for someone whose blood is flowing to their shorts!” At this point, the directness of her teasing was hard to misinterpret.
“All I’m saying is that…” I stopped her and looked in her eyes; she met mine hungrily and with more than a twinkle of mischief. I was about to make some grand argument built on flattery and the insecurity of men and all kinds of flowery semi-erotic poetry to woo this fair prize. However, my words, or more properly, my brain failed me because too much blood had engorged the lower head for me to piece together my puzzle of seductive innuendo. What came out instead of some erotic, yet noncommittal discourse was simply, “All I’m saying is that… I can give you a mouthful.”
Nooo! That wasn’t what I wanted to say. It was too crass. I should be more intellectual with this attention starved teacher. Yet, to my eternal gratitude, the brain short-circuit caused by throbbing manhood proved to be the exact medicine.
“I bet it is,” was her urgent response as she dropped to her knees right in the middle of the trail. I have not described the trail to you yet and if truth be told it is a quite pleasant woodsy path that I could describe in great detail. But in the events that happened, in my recollection of this encounter, the trail and its surroundings are mostly incidental (mostly) to my tale. What I remember is that she dropped immediately to her knees and pulled my shorts down enough to free my rigid cock. It wasn’t exactly hidden by my loose shorts anyway, but now the full cool breeze of the morning was on me. I might have shrunk if not for the company of her warm hands and the proximity of her lips and well, just her.
She wrapped one hand and then other around my shaft and took a studied look at the bulging crown of my cock peeking from her grip. She eased her mouth over the tip and as she slid me inside her lips and flickering tongue she moved one hand down to my balls until she had me backed into her throat with the other hand still encircling my shaft. “Yes, I would have to say more than a mouthful and more than two hands-full, depending on how you want to measure.”
I was in too much of a swoon to answer and anyway the sound of approaching voices broke the spell of our privacy. I have always fantasized about truly public displays of affection, but when it came down to it, I previously found the reality less thrilling than I had thought. As a result, I have never truly had sex in public and I quickly wondered if this would be it. It was not, as she quickly tucked my pole back into the tent of my shorts, which did a poor job of hiding it and then straightened herself up as if her nipple weren’t on high beam and there was no stain of wetness on her shorts.
It was in this state of consciousness that we passed by two other walkers in the next minute. They were both women, slightly older than us, maybe ten years senior, but due to their walks or maybe private lessons with their trainer, they maintained a certain tight MILF sensuality. What I like about sexy older women is that they are trading on their assets. If they still look good after a few kids or after 40, there might have been some good genes, but mostly, they earned it. Which means it really meant something to them.
Well, there was no mistaking what their appreciative smiles meant to me as we walked past. As we approached they offered the usual noncommittal neighborly smiles that say, “We’re just passing by.” But as they came close enough, their eyes locked on my swaying cock, which was noticeably erect beneath my shorts. If it had softened a little it might have merely slapped gently against my thighs and caught their notice as they passed, but it was front and center, helped in no small measure by the fact that there was an audience for my erection. If I wasn’t at my full seven, then I was damn close and the swaying and bouncing as I walked might have been a blinking arrow signing “Look at me, look at me.”
So look they did. And smile. It was a smile of appreciation of that I swear took me beyond my usual size, swelling my member to a record length. They also noticed the arousal of my teacher friend, whose nipples were straining against the tight, thin tank top she wore and whose shorts bore the faint trace of seeping excitement.
We passed them by and I made up my mind to seize the initiative. It wasn’t that I didn’t know where this was going. It was a question of whether to consummate in the woods, or take her back to my house or hers to finish the job in style. I opted for the latter, because she was, after all, a married woman and fucking in a public park might be more exposure than either of us really wanted.
So after the women were well down the path, I grabbed the elbow of my hot teacher companion and spun her into me. I briefly paused to look her in the eyes and then planted a kiss on her full red lips. I grabbed her bottom lip lightly with my teeth and tugged a little as I pulled away, saying, “I don’t want you to mistake my intentions.”
“And what would those intentions be?”
“I intend to fuck you.”
“Good,” was all she said, and grabbing both my shorts and my cock in her hand she turned to take the shortest path out of the woods.
When we came out of the woods, she let go of my steering rod and suggested I hide that somehow while we passed by the houses in our neighborhood. My only option was to put one hand in my pocket to press my cock against my leg. It worked to hide the erection, but it certainly didn’t diminish it. We got to my place in a few minutes, walking so quickly that we were winded when we got there.
Breathlessly I pulled off her shirt to reveal breasts much larger than I thought and nipples that were leaking ever so slightly. I’ve never had a lactater so I was anxious to lap it up. As I teased her nipple with my lips and tongue, I could barely taste the faint traces that had seeped from her swollen motherhood. But when I closed my lips and nibbled with my teeth, I was greeted with the warm flow of watery milk. It wasn’t the taste of it, but the psychology of it that I found ultimately erotic. The only thing was that I had to avoid overthinking the issue because skirting the oedipal ice was for me, decidedly un-erotic. After battling these competing tensions for a while I decided to turn to other matters of pleasure.
She stopped me from going down. “We need to even things up a bit.” She slipped my shirt over my head and began to torture my nipples as I had with hers. In this case, I had no conflicting tensions in my mind or body. When she moved to take it to the lower level, it was my turn to stop her.
“How do we keep this fair? Which one of us goes down first?” I inquired playfully.
“Hmmm, there really is only one solution. We go down together.” She slipped off her shorts to reveal a shaven pussy. I removed my shorts, causing my boner to spring around like a Jack-in-the-Box.
Naked we moved to my bed where she pushed me down on my back. She climbed on top of me and then reversed herself so we were in the 69 position. I really love 69. I don’t exactly know why. I have always loved to have a woman take me in her mouth ‒ it is such an erotic act because it has nothing to do with procreation and everything to do with pleasure. It is also a supreme act of submission ‒ on both parts. She is submitting to my cock, accepting it into her mouth while I am placing my full manhood into a completely vulnerable position. It is extraordinarily erotic. I have also always loved to lick and suck pussy. With a few exceptions who have an unpleasant taste or odor, I find the smell and taste to send shivers down my cock and I enjoy seeing the pleasure I can generate from just my tongue or the caressing of my fingers.
But 69 combines both of those sensations and pleasures. It is a symphony of sexual stimulation; a Feng Shui circuit of sensation that feeds upon itself. In normal genital intercourse the cock and pussy form a sparking connection ‒ and don’t get me wrong, it is fantastic ‒but the sexual energy generated from that contact flows out through the rest of the body. In 69, his mouth passes the energy to her pussy which flows up to her mouth and sends it to his cock and back again. Erotically efficient.
So I was pleased to see our encounter turn in this direction. It usually takes some time before most women, even those who are into cock-sucking and pussy licking as separate activities, will feel comfortable with the oral octopus.
She grabbed my cock firmly around the base with one hand and slid her hand the length of it a few times. Don’t ask me how many times because I was too busy on my end. She used her hands to lengthen and swell my cock to bursting. Then she swirled her tongue around my helmet until she sucked the tip fully inside her lips. With strong pressure from her mouth, she twisted her hands like she was wringing a towel.
I felt a jolt of pain that rode in with the pleasure and I can’t say it was at all bad. Her motion left a burning along my shaft which she soothed as she eased me fully inside her mouth. Now that was extraordinary, like having a bad itch that finally gets scratched ‒ except that she created the itch and then took it away. She alternated that technique with some straight sucking, and then moved entirely to full-shaft sucking. She stopped only to suck on my balls. She kept going until my own work on her pussy forced her to stop to catch her own breath. Even still, she pumped my piston with her hands until the combination of her pussy juice streaming into my mouth and attention to my cock got me ready to come. She sensed my warning spasms and rather than stop to let me gain control, she plunged my cock deep into her mouth to take my full load in a few swallows.
I wasn’t just lying there while this was going on. I was hard at work myself. With her pussy hanging above my head, I was in the perfect spot to work her clit. I tired not to rush it, but in that position the tongue is almost always working from her clit to her pussy galore. My hands couldn’t very well reach her tits, but they were free to squeeze her tight ass and finger fuck her open pussy.
When I had my finger well lubricated with her dripping honey I began to explore her ass. I’ve never been big into anal, but I wanted to know if she was. The ease with which she opened to my probing and the not so soft moaning told me that my finger was most welcome and that perhaps more of me as well. Now I played her ass and her pussy off against each other, moving from one to the other when I needed to change fingers or catch a break. My tongue on the other hand needed no break. I don’t know if its true for other guys, if these two things go together, but I can talk for hours and I can lick a pussy almost as long. Maybe all that talking keeps my tongue in shape or maybe I’m full of crap, or just energizer batteries.
Maybe I shouldn’t say this but I finished long before she did. We were too far into it to change positions and I don’t think she wanted to me stop anything I was doing. Her clit had gotten so swollen that I couldn’t resist sucking it inside my mouth and when I did, she began to buck and shudder as the orgasms wracked her body and her hot juice ran down my face. I had a face full of her glistening honey dripping along my jaw and down my neck, so much so that I had to wipe it off.
After she rolled off me and we were again face to face we took a little time to catch our breath. “I can’t wait to fuck you,” I said earnestly.
“You’re going to have to wait. I never fuck on a first date.”
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