Boyfriends
- 1 year ago
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My Boyfriend's Back free porn video
I was pissed off. Pissed off to the max. Or, to put it another way, I was maximum pissed off. Here it was another wonderful weekend in the great big city, and I had to be alone. A city this size has so many incredible virtues that all my friends back home just drool. They drool at the opportunities, but don't much care to listen to the whines. Weekends in my hometown might start about mid-day Thursday, and carry on until Monday night was threatening to turn into Tuesday morning. But here, you have to work your ass off the full five days if you hope to pay the astronomical rent on a tiny little one-bedroom apartment. The monthly sum which would pay off the mortgage on a big house back there in about five years.
So the weekends here are nearly sacrosanct. Nearly, that is. This weekend my boyfriend Stephen was suddenly impressed into service by his company to fly off for some stupid conference deep in the heart of the grain states.
As I've said, I was pissed. It really wasn't Stephen's fault, but nevertheless I kicked his ass into the taxi, after refusing to tuck a pair of my panties into his pocket. "You can have them when you peel them away from my hot neglected pussy, you bastard," were my parting words. I wasn't exactly being fair, but where in the universe resided fairness in the face of my weekend's plans suddenly having to get on a fucking airplane to Iowa? I stormed around the apartment fuming, kicking open the doors that dared to get in my way. I finally understood why those little cushions you leave scattered in the corners of your couch are called throw pillows. At length I calmed down and began idly contemplating the spoiled evening. Treat myself out for a sumptuous meal, a really, really expensive one--while cleaning up earlier in the week I'd found one of Stephen's credit cards lodged between the sofa cushions. Maybe I could go out and take in a movie. There was always the possibility of going out bar-hopping, pick up the original blind date. But besides being distasteful, the only person that would punish would be myself. Get a guy that blind drunk, and not much else works either. I guessed I could always stay home alone and pretend to be all comfy cozy and woozy.
I was weighing none of my attractive options when Kimbra called. "Oh Kimbra," I answered, "I'm so glad you called. Uh huh. No, Stephen had to go fly over the Mississippi River for some reason. I don't know. To report back that it still flows, and corn still grows in Iowa. Sure, come on over. I'll get some dinner in."
I ordered up some delivery from a great Vietnamese place around the corner, then lay back vaguely fantasizing about a cute young boat boy who might be persuaded by an extra tip to forget about his official duties for a little while. Not that I'd ever. The food arrived before Kimbra, and I opened the door to some transplanted skag from Alabama who apparently expected the same treatment. He even came out and said so, after the money and food had exchanged hands. He was no John Voight, and that Midnight Cowboy could just ride on back for a wild night in the barn as far as I was concerned. "No thank you," I closed the door, "maybe in your next life, though certainly not in mine."
Almost immediately there followed a knock on my door. Without the preliminary buzz on the intercom from the front door. I came so close to ignoring it, but then quietly slid up for a glance out the peephole. It was Kimbra, her face, in that weird wide squishy way.
She swept into the apartment in her usual fashion, with a freshly applied scent and her wild flowing hair both billowing as though she was propelled by a wind machine. She came bearing a pair of bottles of wine.
"How did you get in downstairs?" I asked.
"You wouldn't believe it. Just as I was needing to come in this absolutely gorgeous hunk was coming out. I figured he was your secret lover, but just in case I got all his credentials and scribbled down every pertinent detail I could think of regarding you."
This was too uncanny. "You fucking lying slut whore cunt bitch you!"
"He reeked," she rolled her eyes, "of a Vietnamese kitchen. The lone GI so busy getting gonorrhea even the helicopters left him behind. He too had to escape communism on a raft. Lucky you! Glad it's not me."
"If I'd known you were this steeped in evil tonight, I would never have answered the phone."
"Oh, girlfriend, chill out. So should we eat some French Indochina cuisine before we indulge in the fine fruit of the California vines?"
The food was really excellent but we were both finished well before the supplies of it ran out. Kimbra pushed back first. "Enough! And not more than enough. I eat a full meal, I always want to go to sleep. It's too early for that and too late for a nap. I want to save room for more of this fruity liquid dessert. Besides, we might want a little snack later during the movies."
"Movies?" I questioned.
"Yes movies," she made big round googly eyes at me. "Marvelous 20th century invention that the marvelous 20th century has shrunken to fit into a small black plastic box. You know, Denise, you pop it in and it plays. Movies. Surely you have some around here."
"You don't want to run wild and free and paint the town, dance all the dances and tease all the guys?" I didn't pose the question with much enthusiasm.
"Not really. Doesn't sound like you do either."
"So, that's what you feel like doing?" I asked.
"Oh, to be honest, this is a perfect night to cocoon and spoon."
"So why do you want to waste the time hanging around with a widow like me? I mean, what about that guy you were seeing?"
Kimbra blew air out between her closed lips. "Oh, him. I apparently snagged him on the way to a masquerade. He's invisible as far as my eyes care to see."
"What happened?" I asked with genuine concern, because, of course, these matters are of the gravest concern. "He seemed like such a sweet guy."
"Oh, he was. But turns out his primary ingredient wasn't sugar. It was saccharine or some such artificial chemical. You know, I discovered the little tag at the base of his neck: Warning! Use of this product has been known to cause cancer in laboratory rats. And he was apparently popping in and out of the holes of quite a few rats."
"Ooh, yuck."
"Exactly. I'm not that desperate to have a latex membrane shoved up inside me, no matter how good it feels at the moment. So I wrote myself a little letter. 'Still having fun? P.S.: Dump boyfriend!'"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Kimbra. I mean, you know. I'm not sorry. I mean, I am, but I'm not. You know?"
She rolled her eyes and gave her hair a flick, and then burst out laughing. "Relax, Denise. You really are getting it right. The sentiments are a little bit confusing. At any rate, it's a big ocean and there's plenty of nice big plump fish, but I just don't feel like going out trawling tonight. Staying here and having some wine and chatting and maybe watching a movie, that sounds like a heaven of a night to me right now."
She picked up her glass and had a sip, then wandered over to the shelf and started scanning the tapes. I went around the room lighting candles and turning off the lamps, all of them except for a row of low- wattage track lights leading down the hall.
"Huh?" Kimbra said looking at one.
"What? Which one."
"Riding the Night. I've heard that's decent. For that sort of thing. I mean, save your money and wait for it to come out on video. Better still wait for your girlfriend's boyfriend to pirate a copy. Have you seen it yet? Is it any good?"
"We-e-ll," I started. "Yea, sort of, I mean, you see, I've only seen about the first half, which was pretty good, I mean, you see, Stephen brought it over last weekend, and, uh, well, we wound up not watching the whole thing but not because it wasn't good, I mean... "
"What you mean is it needs to be rewound because you two guys suddenly didn't have the time to do anything else but hit the off button, is that right?" she asked in a sultry tone, casting a teasing look my way. I didn't really need to answer. "Okay," she popped it in, "as good a recommendation as any." She was right on all counts. The tape did need to be rewound.
"Okay now. One promise from you. I'm leaving if you don't cheer up. This is supposed to be quality girlfriend time. If you're going to put on your dreary uniform and salute Major Mope all evening... well, so long, it's been good to know you."
"Well, gee, thanks for the commiseration," I snapped back.
"Oh, please, Denise. If you'd just gotten dumped or something I'd lend you my shoulder until there wasn't a tear left in your body, I'd rail against every bastard that ever did you wrong. But face it. You're pissed off because your boyfriend was forced out of town for the weekend. How do we address that? I don't want to spend an evening sitting around bitching about jobs. Jobs are like men: can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em! I mean, was Stephen wearing a smiley face when he got the news? Doubter! Sure, he's one of the most totally awesome babes I've ever met. But he's a guy. You know what was going through that guy brain of his."
I gave a little shrug and took a sip of wine.
"Oh like right you don't." Kimbra cast her voice down low, "Well, goddamn, no pussy this weekend, and next weekend she'll probably be on the rag."
I exploded in laughter. The wine nearly shot out my nose!
Kimbra joined in chorus, "Now am I right, or am I right?"
"You're right, and you're right. I probably will be on the rag! Welcome to Blow Job City! I'll be climbing the walls with horniness, and he'll be all," I pitched low, "Oh no, that's okay honey, I can wait, no, really, I don't want to wind up ruining your sheets or anything."
It was Kimbra's turn at scalding the nasal membranes. Finally she recovered. "Okay, okay, so you're pissed off and horny. Why don't you make like the yellow pages, let your fingers do the walking."
"That's what I do all week long, Kimbra. Weekends are supposed to be special."
"What?" she shot me a wicked look, "you don't have a bedside companion."
"Huh?"
"Ah-hem! Mr. Reliable. Pull out your Dirty Weekend Dildo. Flip the switch on that old vibramagic orgasmatron!"
"Oh, no," I shook my head, "that's not for me. Plastic, latex, rubber, I just don't like it. Okay, once upon a time, with this huge king kong thing. It was the color of the flesh crayon. Sort of like a loaf of puffy white bread. Okay to ingest and it sure filled me up, but it got me nowhere. I mean, I need a little visual stimulation, but everytime I opened my eyes it was to the sight of the evil alien monster trying to impregnate me. I couldn't get beyond good god girl, you're messin' around with a dong!
"Well, I knew this gal who swore by cucumbers, baked in the oven at a very low heat. Not too mushy. And of course let it cool down a bit."
"Kimbra! I'm flesh and blood. I don't want to have sex with a vegetable. Grr-rr. I want meat."
"Okay, a nice thick salami, whatever."
"I don't do pork."
"I understand they are doing wonderful things with turkey these days."
"Kimbra, you just don't understand."
"Sure I do, Denise. You're a very picky eater."
"You're missing the whole point."
"I admit sometimes I do. But right now I'd say you're the one missing the whole point."
There was that burning sensation spreading from my lips up my cheeks. I was hoping the lighting was low enough my blush would go unnoticed. Kimbra can get on a roll where any sense of mercy is a scrap of trash out blowing along the gutter. It exists, but not in the room where she sits. I leaned over to the side table and lit a couple of scented candles, hoping, I suppose, to hide the primary evidence of my other blush, rising up from my other lips to my other cheeks. Damn I was horny. My poor blood was so confused it didn't know where to go. Rushing this way and that. There definitely wasn't enough left to keep my brain at full function. I had to calm down. I tried to pay attention to the movie, but it was nothing but a screen full of flickering lights, shouting loud noises. I vaguely recognized the pair of protagonists. Then it segued into a flashback, a tedious courtroom scene that was apparently injected at the last minute in an attempt to make the whole premise of the movie plausible. It was long and stilted and so very dull that I'd decided to rip off Stephen's clothes and molest him instead.
"So Denise, when exactly did you last get some? With Stephen or not you don't have to say."
"Kimbra!" I protested, "it's always with Stephen. Last weekend," I admitted.
"Oh you poor thing. Saturday? Sunday?"
"We-e-ll, gee, um, both."
"We-e-ll indeed. What are you complaining about? Twice within a week."
"Actually... "
"Actually what?"
"O-o-h..." I rushed through it, "three times Saturday, and twice on Sunday and another time I'm not technically sure of because I wasn't paying attention to the clock."
"Girl! Oh you poor deprived thing. Jollies, yes or no?"
"With Stephen, always. Almost always. Usually, you know, multiple."
In the low light Kimbra's eyes were full moons shining at me. "Shit. No wonder you're aching. You've gotten too used to the too good stuff."
"I know," I fairly groaned.
By then there was a grand swell of music and a fade-out shot of a man and a woman, looking a bit battered and dirty, staring at each other with unconcealed if stylized lust. The credits started rolling.
"Is this the end? that's the end? how did it end?" Kimbra burst in staccato.
"One guess! Ms. Good and Mr. Good defeated all evil and have themselves for rewards. But before they can drive off in the sunset for a quick shower before you-know-what they have to find a taxi because all the other cars got blown up along the way."
"So that's the sequel then? Ooh, scary! Two hours of standing around all ready for the real action, but no way to get there. Hailing a Cab. I think I'll skip that one. Just thinking about it is going to give me nightmares."
I was looking all around us for the remote, when right as the film finished I saw that I'd left it on top of the television.
There was a sound like a cross between radio static and a turntable in need of a new belt--sort of voices, sort of music, sort of under water. The picture was either a scrambled cable channel or a video that was previously rented by some jerks who hadn't demagnetized their VCR once in the twelve years they'd owned it. "Your Stephen," Kimbra chortled, "the Copy/Edit King. Tell him not to quit the day job."
The tape reassembled to show a cock pounding into a pussy. Kimbra gave me a big glance and cleared her throat, "So is this how the story really ends, or is this the sequel to the sequel?"
We both stared at the screen for awhile. "Well," I eventually answered, "Stephen did once mention how his apartment came furnished with a closetful of recordable tapes."
The camera pulled back enough to show that the couple were fucking in a position designed solely for the benefit of the camera's pleasure. It didn't even look like Kama Sutra kind of fun. It was a tedious grinding sort of thing.
As the camera switched to a pan, Kimbra was quick to note, "Oh look, how sweet, they're having company over."
The bed was pretty big but it was getting crowded. There was another woman, and two or three more men.
"Can you believe this?" I grunted. "The girls aren't exactly pretty, but at least they have the bloom of youth still upon them. Who are these guys? The Local Society of Losers? God, they're all middle- aged and paunchy and pasty. Look, that one has zits all over his butt. How attractive."
"Don't squeeze those titties too hard," Kimbra shrieked, "they might burst!"
"God," I remarked, "so much effort and it doesn't look like anyone is really having a very good time at all. None of the guys are near hard."
"Methinks I detect the sheen of vaseline. And look, you can see their correspondence diplomas on the wall. These girls are definitely graduates of the Oh Baby Oh Baby Oh Baby School of Orgasm."
"This is unpleasant."
"That's an understatement. Oh look, it's time for the come shot! Dribble, dribble. Whatever happened to Spu-u-urt, spu-urt? That's not even the real thing! Look! look! That pointy orange tip! The guy's palming a little bottle of Elmer's glue!"
"Had enough?" I asked shifting to get up.
"Yes, I've definitely had my fill. God, if sex was really like this, I'd become a lesbian just like this!" snapping her fingers for emphasis.
And just like that, at the sound of the snap, without a word or segue, the scene shifted completely. We were watching a different room, a different decor, a different bed, all to great improvement. We were watching two different women, much nicer in appearance, and there didn't seem to be a man for miles around. That fact didn't seem to faze the gals. They seemed to be having a good old time. They ran through the preliminaries pretty quickly--you could almost hear someone off- camera urging them on: Hurry it up girls, tape's a- wasting. I became aware that I was sitting there watching with glazed over eyes, my mouth slack and hanging open. I started with a self- conscious feeling, looking over at Kimbra and being reassured that her face matched my own. She too had turned to look at me. We both sort of gulped.
"My goodness," she finally said, "this is certainly hot."
"Yea," I managed to reply.
They had rolled around until one was on her back. The one on top quickly slid down, her mouth moving from her friend's breasts down between her thighs. A close-up shot showed us exactly what she was doing with her tongue. My pussy was screaming for that sort of attention. I really wanted to start fingering myself but couldn't summon the nerve. Over the course of the evening I'd sunk down in the couch a bit, and by now my skirt had ridden pretty far up my thighs. I really wanted to tug it back down but I didn't dare touch a nerve anywhere around there.
When the woman being pleasured hit her peak, she went screaming like a steam locomotive plunging off a trestle bridge.
"Well," I found the gumption to remark, "that seemed rather real."
"If not, she definitely deserves the Oscar for Best Actress. And," Kimbra gave a shuddery sigh, "her friend gets the award for Best Supporting Actress."
"No doubt!"
The two women were just squirming around for more activity when the tape ended.
"What?" Kimbra cried. "Fuck that, where's the rest of the tape?"
"Either in Stephen's closet, or more likely on his shelf already turned into some Hollywood piece of shit. God," I ventured, "I'd sure love to see the sequel to that. The encore!" I got up slowly and swayed over to the set, then picked up the remote and aimed it down at the VCR. I didn't bother to rewind, just ejecting and shutting it all down, bending down low to pluck the cassette out of the machine. I returned to the sofa and plopped down, not caring that my skirt rode up higher than ever.
We sat there in the quiet, the low flickering light of the guttering candles, not talking. I half expected Kimbra to get up and gather her stuff to go home. I was eager to be alone. My fingers were itching to dance all across my body. The second she was out the door I was going to leave a trail of clothing down the hallway to my bedroom.
The other half of me was not at all surprised when she leaned over towards me a little, her voice hesitant and small. "Maybe, Denise, maybe we should make the sequel. Maybe we could provide the encore."
There was no reason for me to answer in words. I moved well out from my corner of the couch, and then Kimbra shifted even closer. She reached out a hand and lay it lightly on my forearm, then immediately recoiled with a slight gasp. The surge of electricity had singed us both. We weren't two women missing men. We were two women sharing an intensity of desire neither of us had ever felt so directly before. We were subject and object, object and subject, seated on the same sofa and subtly moving closer and closer.
Kimbra's face slowly loomed in front of mine. When she was but a tongue thrust away her lovely full lips spoke, "This is so different, but right now I want you so badly."
I answered with my tongue, closing the gap. Her mouth opened for me, her lips were on mine, and her tongue joined in for a gentle luscious dance. We started with slow deep kisses, the wonderful sweetness of call and response. But our passions, once unleashed, made us ever more urgent, frantic, straddling the line towards desperate. I had never been kissed like that in my life. I had never kissed like that in my life.
Our hands moved from the backs of each other's heads down the slopes to shoulders. Our fingers lingered and trembled, not knowing where to go. There were so many new soft curves to explore. I traced the tender underside of Kimbra's chin, down the tiny down of her throat, her hand caressing mine in its motions. When her fingertips brushed around my wrist a shiver rose from my groin all the way up my spine. Never had I known an erotic feeling so lush. We gazed steadily deep into each other's eyes, each of us swirling into the reflected depths, our tongues twirling, the wetness of our mouths merely hinting at the rush of moisture gathering between our legs. I could feel the flush swell my breasts, and then Kimbra felt it too, at the exact moment my hands reached to feel hers. I unbuttoned her sweater as she unbuttoned my blouse, whimpering at the mutual discovery that nothing else barred the way to flesh fondling flesh, my hands massaging Kimbra's breasts while her hands massaged mine. My nipples tightening under the touch of her fingertips as hers were under mine. Our hands slid down our tummies, resting on our hips before going off to play in each other's laps. We renewed our kiss, shyly at first, then growing ever aggressive as we ground our breasts together.
"I want you... " I whispered as I grasped her hand, giving it a playful tug, "in my bed... all night long."
"That's good," she let herself be led up, "because that's exactly where I intend to be. With you," she nibbled at my ear, "in your bed," reaching a hand up to cup my breast, "all... night... long," her hand dropping to squeeze my ass before giving a tug at the zipper of my skirt.
I stopped our procession long enough to undo the top of her pants, and reach over to unplug the phone from the jack. Kimbra gave a lusty smile of approval at that action. Then we danced down the hallway to my bedroom, leaving twice the trail of clothes I had envisioned.
We arrived in the bedroom still wearing out panties and I was in a rush to correct that until I caught a glimpse of the full length mirror on the wall. What I saw was such a sexy sight I had to turn Kimbra so she could see. Our smiles in reflection grew wide and lusty as we locked our refracted gazes, our eyes growing half-lidded. I watched in the mirror as Kimbra's hand slipped down to cup and caress the fabric hiding my mons. Her voice was a throaty warm moan right by my ear, "Oh Denise, you're as soaking wet as I am." We both watched as my hand slid so slowly between her legs for confirmation.
We turned away from our images for a long kiss, fondling each other silently. Then Kimbra removed her hand, both her hands going to my sides, and she slowly sunk to her knees as she slid my panties down my legs. As I stepped out of them Kimbra leaned in planting a tender kiss on my hair, then gave my swollen lips the lightest lick, inhaling deeply and declaring, "I can't wait another minute."
I caught her arms and pulled her up. "You'll have to. But just another minute. It's my turn now." I lowered myself along with her panties, imitating every gesture she'd used, though when I bent in for my first brief taste of Kimbra, I reached around to give her full ass a quick squeeze. I felt a shudder rise up from deep inside her. I looked down and found both pairs of panties. Standing back up I presented them in my hand like a bouquet. We nuzzled our noses against them, breathing in the mixed scents of our flowering cunts.
"The smell of both of us... " I intoned.
"... together," Kimbra finished.
I waltzed the few steps over and turned down the covers. I slid in then sat back on my heels. "Come into my bed," I beckoned.
"In your bed. On your bed. I'll come all over your bed."
Kimbra joined me, mimicking my posture. The position granted our fingers wonderful access to each other's dewy bud. A free hand each left to roam the other territories as our lips sank into another electrifying kiss. "Luscious, luscious cunt," she kept whispering as we stroked one another into ever higher frenzy. We were greedy and impatient, fingering and being fingered, but so aware of the other that when we peaked we crashed together, tectonic plates colliding and pushing up against each other, creating a vast new mountain range in testimony to our orgasms. We collapsed in a tangle. Within a few minutes I felt consumed by a terrible urge to kiss Kimbra, but the closest part of her was a breast. With a slight movement I had both of them at my disposal, while mine hung swaying above her hungry mouth.
We drew new life feasting on our life-giving glands. Hands pressing, pumping, palpitating, while our mouths worked like sucking starving babies, suckling and nibbling, kissing and nipping, licking and tickling. I was mesmerized by the differences between our breasts. While we were about the same size, mine were more compact, firmer, ice cream mounds topped with chocolate kisses, my nipples always prominent, mauve thimbles that turned to metal tips under Kimbra's attentions, a conductive metal that shot the charges from her mouth, conveying them throughout my body. Her breasts were fuller and flatter, more inclined to the effects of gravity. I loved scooping them up to my eager mouth, rolling the mesas into mountains, her aureoles the pink saucers of a doll's tea set, the wide nipples rising in a fleshy pout. I reached down to her slit, my fingers returning to smear them with her sauce. Spreading butter, spreading honey on soft white rolls warm from the oven.
"Oh go-od! Oh, Denise," Kimbra nearly whined, "isn't that minute over yet?" Her hands gripped my ribs under my arms. She wasn't coaxing, she was urging me on. "Denise!" she pleaded. "Please! Now! Oh- hh, I want a taste of your hot little pussy."
The sensations were insane! My tongue trailed down her sternum and across her soft little tummy, stopping to dart in and out and swirl around her belly button before continuing over her abdomen to the first little twists at the edge of her jungle. My tongue was doing that to her, while I felt exactly that on my skin.
I heard Kimbra mumble, "Oh-h, what an adorable twat. Pretty thing! You look like you're just aching for some attention." Then she was lost to words, her tongue slithering up inside me. It felt like a small penis, but it was doing tricks a cock can only dream of. I looked down at her tender flower. My tongue wouldn't need to plow to find her furrow. She was already in full bloom. Her ripe, fertile smell, the coral pink and blood red colors of her inflamed yearning. Her lips were plump and protruding, glistening with her juices. I could feel her abdominal muscles tensing, flexing and flickering in anticipation and need. I leaned forward to lose myself in the plush wonders of her cunt, doing to her what her tongue was doing to me.
I had wondered if it wouldn't have been better for us to take turns, the better for us to concentrate on the giving and receiving of pleasure. But the line between the two was utterly blurred. In giving her pleasure I was receiving pleasure. The pleasure I was receiving from her I was giving back in kind. Smelling her, tasting her, touching her, all these sensations were enough to propel me to my own ecstasy. What she was doing to me simply sent me to even greater heights. Tongues in and out, lapping all about, the gentle play of fingers poking, stroking, prodding and massaging. I could barely stand it! Continual waves rippled within me. Jolts of electricity charging between my cunt and the pleasure center in my brain. Every inch of my flesh was aflame. Kimbra removed a finger from my cunt and slick with my nectar started toying with my anus. I gasped! Then she nudged it inside. I stopped to scream, "Suck my clit you sweet little slut!" As she complied, I bent back and savaged her with relish and abandon. We came together like a shrieking menagerie, muscles exploding, flooding each other's face with our juices.
The spasms were still rushing through me as I managed to turn around and snuggle into Kimbra's waiting embrace. I felt like a giant shot cock--sticky, spent and completely limp. We kissed, a long slow and sharing kiss.
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