The Secrets in Arthur s Basement
- 3 years ago
- 47
- 0
Deep Secret Ch. 19 – Basement free porn video
‘That was just what I needed,’ Simone told me, licking her lips as the receding sound of Consuela’s van had remade the street into a quiet, dark, and lonely space.
‘You know,’ I replied, ‘at first I was freaked out when you took our cocks and were licking them both. I’ve never touched another guy’s cock, especially with my own!’ I laughed a little uncomfortably as I said it, almost surprised at myself for thinking or at least saying it.
‘Consider it as being liberated,’ she responded. Then added, ‘And don’t worry about it. This shouldn’t turn you ‘gay.” She said that in such a faux-mocking way, it made me laugh at myself.
‘Your cum was even thicker and even more delicious than usual. You didn’t jerk off while I was away, did you?’ I nodded sheepishly. ‘Well, it proves you have self-control. Good for you.’ After mulling it over for a while she said, ‘I hope it wasn’t disappointing not to be able to see it well in the van. It totally turned me on, but I know how guys are so visual.’
‘It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I was glad to see you have such a nice orgasm — all ten minutes of it.’
Raising one hand in an attempt at a courtroom confession, she said, ‘Guilty as charged.’
A little bit concerned that I still had no clue about what she had planned for us next, I asked her about it.
‘I can’t tell you too much just yet, but we have an ‘appointment’ in a few minutes and most of what you need to know will be revealed then, I promise.’ She was suddenly serious. ‘I just need you to take my lead and really think about what you’re doing. Also, you’ll have a chance to ask questions at the end. Be honest and don’t make any decisions based on me.’
What the hell did that mean? Suddenly, I was awfully confused. It began to dawn on me that the relationship I thought we had was probably a sham. I had already imagined what my life would be like with Simone. It was to be a wonderful future. I was ready to settle down in the next year. I’d be an MBA and a CPA. I’d get promoted. All I needed was a partner. Simone, in my fantasy was to be that partner.
But now it was muddled at best. My confusion was the realization that there probably had never been a future, that I was a pawn in some kind of an operation, and that Simone was simply an agent doing her job.
We walked another cold city block in silence. My thoughts ran from disappointment, always one to expect the worst, to an uneasy hopefulness that our relationship was sincere and that we had grown close enough to be able to move past this.
As I pondered my own position, I was surprised at how her demeanor had shifted to ‘all business.’ It caused me to consider more about the ramifications of whatever clandestine activity she was involved in and how it might affect me. Except for the experience with the thugs a few nights ago I’d never thought much about being in personal danger. And, the way she’d handled things I felt like she knew what she was doing and wouldn’t do anything to actually put me in harm’s way.
Would she?
A block from her apartment, I followed her into a Burt’s Yogurt Yurt (or as it was called, a B2Y), a regional chain of desert shops with half a dozen tables and cheery décor. We went in and ordered some frozen yogurt deserts from a pimply-faced counter kid. We were the only people in the place — frozen yogurt not being the desert of choice for a chilly, late October weeknight.
We got small portions of some very tasty real fruit-sweetened frozen yogurt, sat and ate in peace, and exchanged some small talk. After a few minutes, the server got a brief phone call. When he hung up, he told us that he was closing for the night because there was no business and he needed to get home to help his sister with homework. He shut off the outside lights and dimmed the ones inside. He began to balance the till when Simone got up and said, ‘While he’s finishing I’m going to the washroom,’ she told me.
‘You should too,’ she added emphatically.
Not a very subtle hint, but if she wanted me to follow her to the washrooms, well, I guess I got the message.
As we walked to the back of the shop the kid told us to just make sure the door was locked on our way out. When we got to an alcove in back there was a door marked Restrooms. Beyond the door in a small hallway were three more doors, labeled ‘Men,’ ‘Women,’ and ‘Employees Only.’ She opened the last and the door slammed firmly behind us, the sound followed by an electronic click or two. It was clear to me that this was not simply a room for the employees of a frozen yogurt shop.
The room was a brightly lit, off-white color with a grey floor, uniformly pitted with tiny holes spaced about an inch apart. I briefly considered that this was the entrance to a secret lair and that the floor was loaded with fast-acting knockout gas just waiting for the wrong person to attempt to get beyond it.
I followed Simone across the empty room to a door on the opposite wall. I happened to look up and noticed that there were three small black hemispheres protruding from and evenly spaced around the ceiling. This new door had some security devices built into the wall next to it.
Simone swiped an ID from her wallet, appeared to have a retinal scan performed, and then punched in a code. The door opened mechanically with an ominous metallic swoosh and we walked into another small room where two guards in uniforms sat behind a sealed glass wall, monitoring at least a dozen displays. This room, too, had a door on its far wall.
They smiled and quickly waved to Simone who professionally reciprocated. After efficiently taking my photograph, in seconds they pushed two ID badges through a sealed hole in the glass. Simone’s had her photo on it and mine had the newly taken one on it.
Except for the lack of windows, the next room looked like an open office almost anywhere. A score of low-walled cubicles — most of which had people seemingly hard at work as though it were nine in the morning and not nine at night — were illuminated by fluorescent ceiling fixtures.
An uneasy feeling began to creep into my gut as I doubted I was going to get much studying done this evening. I tried to console myself with the fact that I had high marks in class this semester and if I blew one exam it would still be possible to redeem my grade.
We walked through the room and to a small medical workstation on the far side. Simone took off her coat and I followed suit, still marveling at this busy office securely hidden behind a B2Y.
‘Open your mouth,’ I heard Simone say to me. Turning, I noticed that she’d put on a pair of surgical gloves and was holding a long cotton swab. From what I’d seen on TV it looked like one used for DNA testing.
‘I realize the irony in this, given the amount of your DNA I’ve sampled, but please don’t make me laugh,’ she whispered to me with a smile. ‘I need to get a blood sample too, Ed. Please roll up your sleeve.’
In a very business-like manner she took my blood like any phlebotomist I’d ever encountered. She labeled it and left it in a pale pink plastic tray along with the tube containing my mouth swab.
I followed Simone through another door, down a short hallway to a fire door, and down two flights of stairs, passing a landing to a sub-basement. This door too was solid and was opened electronically from the inside.
The mood in this new hallway was dramatically different. The color was a light grey with indirect lighting that gave it a futuristic appeal. We walked down a very long ‘corporate’ carpeted hallway to the door at the end. It too clicked open as we approached.
Now my curiosity had gone beyond simply being piqued: I was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in addition to the sense of foreboding in my gut. (Maybe I shouldn’t have finished my yogurt, I thought.)
Then, of course, there was your basic feeling of What the hell am I doing here?
I also realized that
I was so turned around by our five or ten minute negotiation of this hypogean maze, the only directions of which I could be sure were ‘up’ and ‘down.’ Even if I wanted to, I knew it wouldn’t be possible to make a run for the exit.
We entered a rather non-descript small conference room that looked like it would be in a Marriott or Hyatt hotel: one rectangular conference table with a dozen chairs and two speakerphones evenly spaced along an imaginary line running down the middle, a water glass and a large manila envelope were at each seat. There were two coffee urns, some fresh-looking fruit, cheese, crackers, and sandwiches on a couple of trays on a side table, a mirror on one side, and a generic piece of abstract art on the opposite wall. At the far end was a display built into the wall and on our end of the room was another side table with some reports in three stacks on it, each having the words ‘US Government’ and ‘Top Secret’ on its cover.
Even under fairly normal circumstances this might have freaked anyone out, but with the small pieces of information I’d picked up over the past few days, my heart was racing and I began to think about my freedom — and if I would ever see that again.
‘How are you feeling?’ Simone asked me.
‘Just fine, fine,’ I answered with utter dread, my voice cracking.
‘Hey, while we’re waiting, how about a quickie?’ Simone asked me.
I was so surprised that in the harsh blue tint of the fluorescent ceiling lighting of this businesslike and almost antiseptic environment she wanted a quickie, I grabbed a chair for support. Then I pulled it out and sat.
‘Are you crazy?’ I asked her. ‘Aren’t we about to meet some of your colleagues for some sort of briefing, one that is so important that I can’t be home right now studying and for which I had to provide you with saliva and blood samples? And you want a quickie?’
‘Aw, come on, Ed. It’ll relax you. I know it’ll relax me. Wouldn’t you like to give me a mouthful? We haven’t seen each other for a few days and I know we just had that one in the van. But, that’s got to be at least three-quarters of an hour ago. You must be ready to come again by now.
‘I know I can make you come…’
It was all too much. I felt overwhelmed by the whole ‘covert operations’ stuff. I’m just a regular person, I thought to myself. I have a job. I take care of my health: I eat well (most of the time, anyway) and I work out regularly. I call my parents at least two or three times a month. I’m even thinking about buying a house after I get out of grad school.
What am I doing considering a blowjob from this incredibly sexy, busty, and beautiful woman in a subbasement of a clandestine government building in the middle of my hometown?
On the other hand, she wouldn’t be offering to give me a blowjob in such proximity of her coworkers if she thought they’d come in, would she? She was clearly too smart and professional for that.
So, back to that question: What am I doing not considering a blowjob from this incredibly sexy, busty, and beautiful woman in a subbasement of a clandestine government building in the middle of my hometown?
‘Please, Ed, I just need a little more,’ she said to me in a pleading way that made me realize that I was hard and quite uncomfortable in my pants. ‘Don’t you want to give a girl some cum? You can just jerk off in my mouth if you want. Or, I can deep throat you and massage your cock with my throat while I lick your balls. I know you like that. Please?’
It’s moments like this that makes me realize just how much a guy’s brain is wired directly to his cock. And, when you get an offer of a blowjob, how can anyone let his little head be governed by his big one? In fact, even if my third grade teacher had been there at that moment and said those same things to me I would have caved.
Interesting that I thought about Mrs. Shelby, my third grade teacher, who was pretty hot, from what I remember of some two decades ago. Nowadays, well, who knows? But, I digress…
‘OK, let’s do this thing. In fact, you pressed all the buttons that needed pressing with that offer of yours. I think my cock might react like the hydrogen in the Hindenburg and just shoot off when it’s exposed to air.’
‘I can’t wait to see that cock of yours explode — just as long as I get to taste it.’
She picked up a phone, dialed what seemed to be an inside extension, made some obligatory small talk for a little while, and finally asked when the meeting was to get started. Then she hung up, took my hand, and walked me to a side door of the conference room.
We entered a vestibule that was from a different world. There was no overhead lighting. The smallish room had a cozy feel. On one wall was a sofa between two end tables, both with homey lamps. The opposite wall had two big armchairs with a good-sized round table in between them, the table also had a lamp. On the far wall were two evenly spaced doors between a modern water sculpture, one that made a pleasant refreshing sound reminiscent of a murmuring brook.
It was such a stark contrast to the rest of the place that the ambience in here literally had the effect of entering an alternative dimension.
Simone walked me over to the sofa, sat herself on it, and opened the fly on my jeans, only inches in front of her face. While she worked intently to get my cock out without hurting me, I put my hands on either side of her head and began to stroke her short blonde hair. Just as she unwrapped my dick from inside my shorts, I could feel her gasp at the excitement of seeing it again.
She drew it out and it began to point straight at her. Gently she licked the slit in its head and I could feel a silent, small tremor occur in her body, a reaction to the post- orgasm fluids that had accumulated there. I smelled mostly her shampoo and perfume mixed with a tad of the smell of sex from my now fully engaged prick. Moving one hand down to her neck, she automatically lifted her shoulder in response, pressing my hand more firmly against her. Though I’ve never felt it myself, her skin felt as smooth as the Jean-Antoine Houdon statue of Diana the Huntress that I saw in the Frick Collection many years ago. Of course, Diana would surely not have an acceptable BMI had she been human. But that same silky flesh was the epitome of youthful femininity yet, cool and solid when pressed. It was exciting and sensual, but also formidable and compelling.
As these complex thoughts bounced around my addled skull, I hadn’t noticed — other than the feeling of completely unbridled pleasure — that her superb competence had once again completely engulfed my eight or nine inches so far down her throat that I could feel her nose jabbing me in my lower abdomen.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, she began to pull back and then slowly push back down onto my dick — as though she were fucking me with her head, but in slow motion. I could still feel that thing she did around the head of my cock. It almost felt like she was rubbing it with her lubricated fist, but of course, that was not the case. Maybe she had some other appendage in her throat that she could control, some muscle that would rub your cock while it was there.
She had maintained this in-and-out, slo-mo movement for enough time now to be pulling me almost completely out of her mouth and then shoving me all the way back down her throat. On each outward movement it seemed to permit her to moan in pleasure and that sound, that slight wail, had caught my attention. It was so vivid and intense that it aroused me even more than just the physical aspect of this extradimensional deep throat blowjob.
After another minute or two she took her hands, which had been planted on my butt cheeks, off of me and put them primly in her lap. I decided that two can play at that game and stopped caressing her head and neck (to tell the truth, I don’t think she even felt it any longer because of her one-track focus on my cock and m
y eventual and inexorable orgasm).
She’d built up a head of steam by now (Pun? Nah.) and was moving her head forward and backward on my cock as though her life depended on it. It surprised me at first that she could be so strong to keep it up with such focus. It always looked like such a strange thing — but a sexy thing, too — to do: taking a cock deep into her throat rapidly while the cock pretty much stayed still. She really was fucking me with her head in the same way that a guy might lie still while a woman sits on top of him, completely controlling the movement for her own pleasure.
It almost became a blur: both the movement of her head as well as the past few days’ events. How I came to be in the cave. How I came to be seeing this incredible woman. And, for the nonce, how I was about to come.
I don’t think we’d ever had sex this way. Let me rephrase that: I don’t think she’d ever quite sucked me so hard, long, and deep in such an aggressive fashion. I was afraid she’d hurt herself. I worried that she could bruise her throat or her nose each time she slammed her face into me.
Just as it seemed like she would not be able to keep up the movements any more, I could feel my climax approaching. Knowing how she would never give up on anything, it was clear I didn’t have to say a word. However, I suddenly heard myself moaning with such a cry, I was afraid I’d set off some kind of sensor in this high-tech labyrinth.
As my orgasm was now going to happen, Simone sensed it as strongly as I did. She knew only a little more was necessary. Suddenly, she pulled back until only my head was in her mouth, just beyond her lips. She proceeded to do some new trick: using her tongue, teeth, and lips, she bathed my head and the sensitive part just behind it, and especially beneath it, with everything she had. It felt like she was washing me with a thousand tongues while simultaneously putting pressure on everything at once.
That was all I needed: I pulled back for a split second just as my first shot of cum went flying out, landing flat with a sound on her outstretched tongue. She began to climax and thrust her head down on my dick farther than she’d done since she began the slo-mo fucking several minutes ago.
Her upper teeth were putting pressure on her upper lip at the very base of the top of my cock and it seemed that her lower jaw had all but engulfed as much as possible of my balls. At the same time, her tongue was languorously licking at the underside of the base of my cock and swabbing away at every inch of ball sack it could. It seemed like she was putting pressure on my prostate, forcing me to feel such intensity that my orgasm was actually uncontrollable. I could have passed out at that moment and the cum would have nevertheless continued shooting.
My cock was in heaven. I was in heaven. Simone was having a huge climax.
Spurt after spurt of my semen seemed to shoot down her throat. I knew she would be disappointed not to have any to play with, but I could tell she was having such intense pleasure that there was nothing to worry about. As I said, she was completely in control of everything now. My dick was in automatic fire mode.
And it felt like no other climax in my life.
Maybe each one is like that, but this was one I still remember to this day. Perhaps it was the odd situation, the room, the fact that we’d not had sex (well, except with Manny and Consuela an hour ago!) for several days, or maybe it was some kind of logical progression or climax in our relationship. I didn’t know at the time.
In fact, I still don’t know why it felt the way it did. It just felt amazing and unique.
The way that nature tells us to slow down is to make us tired. (Or to have a heart attack, but I was way too young for that at the time.) At that moment I felt as though all of my semen had been shot directly down her esophagus and was now resting in her belly.
Between the two of us we’d both had a very intense experience and I needed to sit, if not immediately, at least very soon. The last thing I wanted, though, was to take away from her hard earned orgasm. I just stood there, still in awe of the ecstatic feelings my body was sending my brain and letting Simone continue to work on my cock, milking as much juice as her throat could out of it.
Geraldine
- 21.06.2021
- 24
- 0
