The Morning of the Night Before

Blowjob

The Morning of the Night Before
Or
A Fair Woman Throws Me a Lifeline

He sits in the funky, homey café, surrounded by young families with fussy children, Mexican lovers, an overweight white couple. The food is hearty and plentiful, conducive to the large framed clientele. His ravenous appetite is sated and the sexual yearning so rampant a few hours before lies content and somnambulant, like a great, well-fed tabby cat, sunning itself in the garden. He sits, silently smiling to himself, remembering her.

He drank her down, like the tall glass of orange juice (now empty) before him. With his hands, he sculpted her smooth white body. White like alabaster. Smooth like stone, but soft. Yielding, yet firm. They took turns pleasuring each other, each touch a healing salve, a prayer, a blessing on his weary, troubled soul. She gave him the gift of relief, of renewal. Renewal of passion, of spark, of confidence, of laughter. He cried on her proud breasts; she held him close until laughter again drove away the pain, until lust banished it entirely.

They floated together in a contained and plastic bounded ocean of hypertropical seas. Their entwining bodies sent forth mini-tsunamis in the hot tub. Their mouths sought canlı bahis each other’s, then sought hot, moist, electric flesh. Her lips engulfed the pinnacle of his desire. Her long silken red gold hair spilled from the futile bun atop her head. His hands caressed her brow, her cheeks, her lips, feeling them swell with his shaft.

Flowing like the hot water around them, they reciprocated positions. His bearded lips brushed her smooth white thighs. His teeth nipped playfully at the tender skin closest to her perfumed vulva. She moaned, panting, feeling the waves of pleasure flowing between them. A touch from him to her arced back to him. It was like he was licking his own center, like she sucked on her own spiritual phallus.

Release, though, wouldn’t come to him in the overheated waters of the hot tub. Retiring to his living room, they kindled a fire in the hearth, then rekindled their love making in front of it. Half a dozen times, she brought him to the brink, but he couldn’t come yet. It had been too long; he wanted it to last forever. Gently, he entered her, his strokes sending long waves of warm pleasure into her. He grew more forceful, his cock hardening even more (how could it get harder than it was?!). She bahis siteleri cried out with joy. His hips smacked against her marvelous ass as he took her from behind. But still, his orgasm shyly retreated. His lust was too intense, the fire too hot.

She flowed with the mood, laying him on the floor, massaging his pumped muscles with long, strong strokes of her warm hands. Scented oil glistened on his skin, reflecting the warm glow of the fire. The tickle of her bush on his ass sent little shivers of desire through him. Finally, relaxed and glowing, the room a cozy orange tinted oasis of pleasure, he slipped from under her. He caressed her sensitive rosy tipped breasts and thrilled to hear her purr with delight. He rolled her gently on to her stomach on the floor, then slowly, tenderly thrust his rock hard cock into her moist pussy. She trilled her approval, making sounds like some magical creature, all passion, all wanting, all merging in the warm moment. Relaxed yet charged with energy, he felt the stirring of the coming blast deep in his groin. Finally his orgasm exploded; hot cum leapt from his cock, ripping through him like a liquid tiger pouncing on it’s prey. They cried out together, then collapsed, drifting, drifting bahis şirketleri until sleep claimed them.

Kisses and caresses were theirs in the bright October morning. He wanted her to stay. He wanted her again. But she had to leave. The memory of her was burning in his brain, the scent of her in his nostrils, the taste of her on his lips. His greedy cock awoke, half-blind and hungry. He took matters into his own hands. Ginger scented massage oil glistened on his smooth hard shaft as visions of her played before him, his private kama sutra show. He made it last as long as he could, then roared in the empty house as his come erupted, mingling sloppily with his oiled phallus, smeared his fingers, dripped into his pubes. He wished she was there to clean him.

Heart and breath back under control, he realized he was starving. He washed himself, then dressed in jeans, jacket and boots. The keys hung in the ignition of his bike. He took the time to wipe any traces of dust from the crimson and silver tank, polished the bright chrome of the pipes until the sparkled, reflecting the luminous October sky like tubular mirrors. The bike rumbled, then roared, then purred as he started it. He rode from the warmth of his hilltop home down into the chill canyon. Fall leaves lay damp on the roadside. Finally, he glided into the warm white light of the town.

His hungers sated for the moment, he sits smiling in the down home café and remembers her.

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