Picnickers FChapter 5 Simmertime
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Picnickers - MChapter 5: Simmertime free porn video
“When are your sisters visiting this year?” Marilyn asked Andy in the back seat Wednesday. Now, he was interested in her as much as he was interested in sex with her. Still this was on odd place, as well as an odd subject, for conversation.
“Late July; early August, just before we go back. Come in the 23rd of July; leave the 6th of August. Why?”
“Think you could get specific days off in early July?”
“I might. Mr. Schmidt likes me, and most of the workers do, too. Many days, on the other hand, would be a problem. We’re there to cover for people on vacation, not to take vacations ourselves.” What did Marilyn want with two specific days? He could hope she’d want to be with him, but what schedule did she have that specific days mattered?
“Oh, Andy, I love you!” Well, that was nice to hear, and it was nice to feel, too. They were kissing mouth-to-mouth when she writhed on his lap for the third time. He breathed in her gasp.
She gave him a slip of paper with the dates, and he went in the next afternoon after his shift was over to see if they were possible.
“There’s Andy, Craig. He could take my shift,” Doug said. Doug had got there first.
“Now, Doug. We shuttle these guys around enough. We’re not going to give Andy more work to make your life easier.”
“But...”
“Just a minute,” Andy said. “I came in to see if I could get some special time off. Maybe we can make us both happy. You don’t want to get off on a Thursday, do you?”
“Nah. This Saturday. My niece is getting married, and my sister will never speak to me again if I’m not there. And it’s in Cincinnati, of all places.”
“I need Thursday the 7th and Thursday the 14th off. If you could take one of those days, I’d be quite happy to trade.”
“Either one.”
“Let me look,” Mr. Schmidt said. “Well, I can get you off the 14th, if you’re willing to take that shift. I was going to give it to Bob since you have seniority. The times really jump around.”
“If you give me that shift off, and Doug takes the other Thursday, I’ll be quite happy. Times jumping around is no problem.”
“It’s a deal for me,” Doug said.
“Fine. Tell me your times. Sorry I can’t be more help on special light fixtures.”
“Well,” said Mr. Schmidt, “I’ll work out those schedules that way.”
The extra Saturday shift was no great fun, but it was no great pain, either. He told Marilyn on their next date that he’d been able to arrange it. He spoke in the front seat before they were parked, which, he felt, was more appropriate. She smiled mysteriously and didn’t tell him what she wanted.
Wednesday night, however, she broke it to him. He showed up at her door with a smile on his face and rubbers in his pocket at 10:00 the next morning. She was alone, dressed nicely, and smelling especially pretty and feminine. After a kiss, she led him upstairs. Her room was neat and feminine. It smelled almost as nice as she did. The sound of the latch closing told him that they had privacy at last.
They kissed while undressing each other. When he had her down to her panties, he kissed her mound through them. When she pulled down his jeans, he reached into the pocket before it was too late. He brought out the rubbers.
“I’m on the Pill.” She shook her head.
“You’re sure?” Wasn’t there an initial period where they weren’t certain?
She went to her dresser and pulled out the 28-day dispenser.
“Oh, darling!” And she was a darling. The sexiest woman alive.
“You weren’t the only one worried after the rainstorm.” Which took care of the initial period. She must have had those for months. Besides, Marilyn was smart; he didn’t have to second guess her every move.
While he was thinking about moves, she made one. She pulled the top covers off the bed. The arena where they were going to meet was bare and conspicuous.
“Bed.” It would be more comfortable, and she, poor Marilyn, was always on the bottom.
“Bed ... and walls.” There was that, too -- privacy. They needed that. He sat on the bed to remove his shoes and socks. The jeans followed. She took off her watch and put it on the bedside table. He put his beside it. That left them in only underwear, his white, hers green.
She came over for a kiss. He stayed sitting down, and her head was higher than his. While she massaged his shoulders, her stroked all over her sweet body. When he got up, he lifted her, turned, and put her on the bed.
When he touched her panties, she raised her hips. He slid the panties off as his gaze traveled down the length of her torso. As the panties left her mound and its treasures, his gaze reached there. Crushed hairs were rising again to hide her secrets, but he wanted them so much he could see them. Her puffy, furred labia majora were parted just enough to allow the smooth, red labia minora to be glimpsed. Her mound rose above them, guarding them but looking welcoming. The sleek thighs framing that beauty looked kissable in themselves. He could remember their taste.
“Sweet, Marilyn.” He got the panties the rest of the way off. Kneeling between her legs, he did kiss the thighs. The taste was all that he’d remembered. He swung his head from side to side, kissing each thigh in its turn. As he came closer to her center, the dark, arousing odor natural to her overcame the light floral scent she’d overlaid it with. The improvement almost made him lose his control. He automatically took a deep breath, his usual first step towards control. In this situation, it was a mistake. He kissed her center, trading aroma for taste.
“Oh, Marilyn.” He used his fingers to part the labia majora and his tongue to part her labia minora. That taste was even better. After he’d licked there a while, she tugged him harder against her by his hair. “Yes, darling,” he tried to say, but it may have been lost in her inner folds. He licked upwards between her lips, both enjoying the journey and promising to reach her clitoris in some future. Her pulls on his hair persuaded him that she’d rather it be now.
When he did taste her clitoris, she tensed her leg muscles but let go of his hair. He slipped his hands under her knees and up to her breasts. He fondled these while he licked her clitoris. When he was in position, he pinched both nipples while sucking on her clitoris. It didn’t send her over, as he’d hoped it would. She stiffened, though, and pressed her legs against the mattress. His arms were under those legs, and he thanked God for the yielding mattress. He continued to lick and tweak while she grew even more stiff.
“Andy,” she said as she began to writhe. She looked sexy and felt tremendously erotic. He pinched her nipples more firmly and sucked her clitoris as hard as he could. He kept licking and sucking while she kept writhing. When she stopped, he raised his head to tell her of her beauty.
“Yeah.” Which was hardly eloquent. “Marilyn, you are so...” And what was she? Beautiful, but he’d felt and tasted more than saw. Sexy, but that sounded like he was using her; and that wasn’t true. He was appreciating her. “ ... wonderful.” That sounded hardly adequate, but much later she responded.
“I feel wonderful.”
“That’s ‘cause you are.” He kissed her lovely thighs again. He couldn’t resist her center for long, however, and he was soon licking her labia on the way to her clitoris. When he felt her respond, he spread her lips and thrust two fingers into her. He’d nearly exploded the first time his cock had felt her sweetness through a thin film of rubber. He was far from sure how long he’d last when he touched it directly. He wanted her to be very close before he tried. And he’d read about the G-spot. Did she have a sensitive one? Could he arouse it?
She had, at least, a bump at the right spot. He rubbed one fingertip against it and then the other while licking her clitoris. When she seemed close, he took his fingers out. He kissed her clitoris one last time and headed up to her face. He stared her in the eyes while positioning himself.
“Oh, Marilyn.” She did feel much sexier without the barrier -- warmer, wetter, he could feel the pores of her skin. And, when he pushed inside, she was even warmer and wetter. He felt every inch, every millimeter, of her vagina as he passed deeper within. When he couldn’t get deeper, he was driven to withdraw and experience that again. He resisted momentarily.
“Love,” he said before he kissed her. Like this, the forehead was all he could reach.
“Love,” she responded. Then he could no longer resist, He began stroking in and out as slowly as he could. He felt every motion as he moved out, felt the extra tightness resist the head of his cock as he paused briefly, felt the slipperiness on his head and the tighter ring go down his shaft as he returned.
He watched her face go from curiosity to love to worry. It showed something approaching agony and he was fighting to keep from exploding again when she called out.
“Andy!” He could feel her writhing beneath him, writhing around him.
“Darling,” he answered as he poured himself into her. He was stiff as a board for one second while he pumped into her pulsing wetness. He stiffened his right arm more as the rest of his muscles collapsed. He fell to his left side before the right arm failed as well. He was mostly beside her, but her leg was under his. As soon as he had energy, he’d move. He should be closer, too.
“I love you,” he said when he had breath. He moved off her leg.
“You, too ... Mattresses are really more comfortable.”
“So they are, but you’re sexy in any situation.” Sexier in some, of course. Her orgasmic writhings were the acme of sensuality.
“Andy, you’re sweet.” Above even that accolade, she kissed him. Their tongues tangled. When hers withdrew, he took over the kiss, rising and pushing her flat on the bed. They kept kissing. When his tongue left her mouth, hers followed. He sucked on it gently. When his tongue next returned to explore her mouth, she sucked on it. He had to restrain himself then from climbing over her and pushing his cock into her -- much too soon. All through this, his hand had complete freedom of her soft, smooth breasts. He stroked them, cupped each, tweaked her nipples.
When he replaced his hands with his lips, the smoothness was even more apparent, the responsiveness of the nipples even more delightful. As he did, he stroked over her slender, firm abdomen to her mound; she spread her legs immediately. But, while her vulva might be even sexier, he didn’t want to ignore the sexiness of her mound and its special hair.
“You know,” he said to her breast, though loudly enough for her ear to hear, “you have the sweetest hair here. Every bit of you is pretty, but this is special.” And he stroked the hair from its highest line down to where it divided and between her thighs and around the bend over the extra softness of her labia. When his hand came back up, one of his fingers parted the labia to feel the smoothness. If the sexiness of her soft, smooth breast was outdone by the sexiness of her firm nipple, the sexiness of the hair on her labia was outdone by the sexiness of the smooth hairlessness between them.
When he went further inward, parting her labia minora, the smoothness turned to moistness. He stroked that moisture upwards towards her clitoris. He relaxed and lay on his side. He loved her and expressed that love by an occasional kiss on her shoulder, but he was delaying the explosive culmination of that love.
“This is sweet, isn’t it?” Marilyn seemed to share his mood.
“Yeah. They talk a lot about foreplay, but they don’t say much about afterplay. Wouldn’t it be great to fall asleep like this?” Although he was too aroused to fall asleep. But, still, this was delightfully restful. He didn’t want it to be to restful for her, though. And, as she responded to every stroke across her clitoris, it apparently wasn’t. Still, he didn’t want those strokes to be predictable. And, since they couldn’t come unpredictably -- she knew when he was close -- they might be predictable and not come. As he began one upward stroke, she looked at him, looked, he thought, lovingly. When he stopped just short of her clitoris, he smiled his love.
“Andy, please!” she said. Well, there was a time for restfulness, and there was a time for action. His cock had long been thinking that this was a time for action. If Marilyn agreed, he’d give her, would soon give both her and himself, more action. He continued bringing more lubrication upward, but he crossed her clitoris on every stroke. He raised himself on his elbow again and went back to kissing her lovely breasts. He tried to coordinate his timing so that he licked or sucked a nipple at the same time he stroked across her clitoris.
She was tensing. He could tell that she was near, and he wanted to see all of her like that. He raised himself to look. Her face had taken on a worried, almost pained, expression. Both her nipples were erect. Her arms were pressed down on the bed, and her hands were clenched. Her abdomen was taut. Her hips were barely on the bed and moving across it in time to his strokes. Her mound was pushing upward toward his hand. Her legs were straight and barely touching the sheet for much of their length, but her heels were pressed into the mattress. She was beautiful. Of course, she was always beautiful, but, like this, perched on the edge of her responsive writhing, she was even more beautiful. And he wanted to see the even greater beauty of that writhing.
“Oh, Marilyn ... Oh, darling,” he begged, “Come for me.” She did. He could see the ripples cross her abdomen. Her mound pressed into his palm and lifted his hand. She gasped, and her expression was one of open-mouthed agony. Her arm and legs moved, and her torso rolled from side to side. She was so erotic, and she was his darling, and -- in that moment -- she was his.
“Oh, love ... Sweet ... sweet ... sweet ... sweet Marilyn.” He cupped her mound where that sweetness centered. He kissed all over her face, avoiding her mouth only because she was panting. “Darling Marilyn. Lovely woman ... loving woman.” He could see that love in her eyes and feasted on it.
When she seemed to not be panting anymore, he kissed her lips. When this didn’t seem to cause her any difficulty, he entered her mouth with his tongue to taste the love he’d seen. When he began to stroke her, however, she shook her head. Fine. They had time, for once they had time and privacy. When his kiss started to interfere with her breathing, he kissed her chin. But he wanted more, those sweet eyes. That, though, would be dangerous.
“Close your eyes.” He could kiss her eyes, then. Afterwards, he kissed all over her sweet face, ending at her mouth. He could still taste love. Lying back down, he sucked her fingers. “You are so sexy,” he told her, “so, so, erotic.”
“Andy,” she said after he’d finished sucking the fingers of that hand, but before he’d figured out how to move on to the fingers of the close r hand. He didn’t want to twist her arm.
“Yes.”
“How come, when you do that to me, when you take me to a delightful, shudderingly ecstatic, climax, does that make me sexy?” Well, it wasn’t something he did to her, although it was nice of her to say so. Her writhing felt even sexier if it was in response to him. But, really, those were something that had always -- maybe always since puberty -- been in her. If he let them out, that was accomplishment enough.
“Well, they’re sexy climaxes -- ‘shudderingly ecstatic’ as somebody said. It’s not all. You have a sexy face and a sexy body, but you definitely have sexy climaxes. And they’re even sexier on a sexy body.”
“As compared to the other climaxes you’ve seen women have?” Well, okay, but he hadn’t made any comparisons. He’d bet on them, not that he wanted her to have any more audience than himself, but he hadn’t made any. She had the sexiest face, and he’d probably said so. He hadn’t said she had the sexiest orgasms.
“Well, yes. I don’t have a great deal of experience, but, even so, I can say that your orgasms are frightfully sexy. Would another woman’s compare? Except in one way, I can only guess. But yours are special because they are Marilyn’s orgasms in response to me. No other woman, no matter how prettily she writhed, would have that. So, you’re sexy and I say so, but you’re my love, and that’s more important yet.”
“Back in a sec,” she said, getting up. He had another sexy view as she walked away towards the bedroom door. She shut the door as she went out. A minute later, he heard the toilet flush and the sink run. Then she was even sexier walking towards him, breasts swaying slightly, thighs hiding and disclosing her ultimate sexuality at the bottom of that triangle of hair.
“Want to take a turn?” Really, he should. He’d need to fairly soon, and they’d already been interrupted. He felt strange, though, walking a hallway in somebody else’s house -- a hallway he’d seen for the first time this morning -- stark naked. Not that her family would come home, not that they’d be much more pleased to see him up there fully clothed. When he pissed, it reminded him that he was sticky. He rinsed it off before washing his hands.
Walking back in her room with her watching him, frankly watching his cock, was a little embarrassing, too -- a little embarrassing and a lot sexy. He lay down, and she reached for his cock. He wasn’t sure he could perform again, and nothing in the limpness of his cock reassured him.
“It’s a little soon.”
“No,” she answered. “I want to see what it’s like like this. I only see it sticking out and weird.” Well, there was nothing weird about his sticking out. What was weird was her bending him and toying with him without his sticking out.
“Well, that’s really your own fault, you know. Most of the time, he doesn’t stick out. Around you, he makes a habit of it.”
“You say ‘he.’ Do you give it a name?” Should he? Should he make one up right now? But he was trying to be honest with Marilyn.
“No. Should I?” He was enjoying the feel of her hand on his cock, but this was really the wrong time.
“Probably not.” Okay. So why had she asked? She bent his cock again in what seemed to him to be an experimental fashion.
“See, I told you it was too soon.” Not to mention that she didn’t seem one little bit aroused. She looked more like Marie Curie than Molly Bloom.
“Yeah, but it’s cute.” Which was not what he, nor it, wanted to hear. “You guys don’t like to be cute, do you? You like it to be stiff, like a club or spear -- threatening.” Her thoughts were projecting, even if his body wasn’t. He didn’t want her to feel threatened by his cock. He just didn’t want her to feel amused or curious about it, either. He wanted her to feel aroused, ready for its entrance. And, in this state, it, much less she, wasn’t ready for any entrance.
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