Words

Blowjob

Girl, don’t you know every time I see you smiling
Hurts so bad ’cause when I see you I start crying
Try everything to stop but there’s no denying
Falling in love with you girl is just like dying…

I’m sitting in my favorite bar, drinking a Bloody Mary, and nursing my wounds. Men! I sipped my drink and listened to the jukebox. Someone had put on “Words” by the Monkees. You, too, eh? At the stools, it’s just me and the barman. I’ve decided to spare him–just drink and tip, drink and tip.

The bell on the front door tinkled. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tall figure. I paid it no heed, continuing to listen to the music.

Ohhh, don’t walk away
How, How can I make you stay, don’t turn away…

Out of all the stools open, why does he have to plunk down next to me? His jacket brushed my arm. Leather. Ummm…but I’m in no mood to…wait a minute. I looked at him out the corner of my eye. He had gorgeous dark hair that swept back from his forehead to the collar of his black T-shirt. His jeans, faded, yet fit well in all the right places. Nice ass. Very nice. He noticed my looking down, caught my eye and smiled. I suddenly felt very nervous. There’s something in that smile, a hint of mystery. I’m beguiled.

No, I’m drunk. I’m not getting involved with another man until I’m at least over my hangover.

I nearly managed to get up and stumble away, but then he offered to buy me another. His voice: velvet, smooth, deep…I’m getting wet just listening. How could I say no? I didn’t try.

…Girl don’t you know we can work it out with talkin’
You won’t turn around or slow down your walking
I’ve given you everything with kiss to seal it
You had to get your kicks with tryin’ to steal it…

I spent the next two hours talking to this beautiful stranger. He’d been going through the same thing. Ex-girlfriend was a bitch. She always nagged. Always demanded. Very selfish. Hated everything about him (How could she? I wondered). Criticized everything…including his technique (I wouldn’t, I thought). I told him about my breakup, my bastard ex-boyfriend. Bastard. BASTARD. He heard me.

Once he’d paid his tab, he offered to pay mine. I graciously declined. He offered again. I attempted to decline. He insisted. Fine.

He walked, I stumbled, outside. I could feel the heat of his body against mine, smell his scent. God, my head isn’t clear…I shook it.

“You don’t want to come back to my place?” Oh, shit. I hadn’t even heard him. I looked into those hazel eyes and nodded. “Which? Yes or no?” That voice again. That smile. Again. My insides melted.

“Yes,” I whispered. He lifted my chin and kissed me, his tongue gently prodding past my lips. My arms wound around his neck, but just as it was getting deep, he stopped. I groaned.

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you unsatisfied.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yes.” He looked me up and down. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He hailed a taxi. Inside the cab, he pulled me to him and kissed me again. His hands moved over my front. My sensitive nipples responded to his touch. I moaned into his mouth. Good. Very good. His hands moved to my thighs. I opened to welcome his fingers. He touched the crotch of my panties. “Wet are we, my little minx?” I shifted to allow him more cebeci escort access. His middle finger moved against my rising clit through the material. I wanted him to press harder, but he just rubbed, up and down, teasing me as his tongue ravaged my mouth. He tasted of alcohol and cigarettes. We were interrupted by the cabbie.

“That’ll be eight-seventy-five.” My stranger paid, then led me upstairs to his apartment. Once the door was shut, we came together again (we would be doing quite a bit of that later on). His hands tangled in my hair, holding my head to him while his tongue deftly and unhurriedly explored my mouth. He definitely likes the French kiss.

Now, I’m standing here
Strange, strange voices in my ears…

I only barely heard what he’d said as his kiss left me reeling. He took my hand and led me into his bedroom. I looked around. Tasteful. Nice. Clean. Bed looks soft. He removed my coat and asked me to sit. I plopped onto the bed. Nice and soft. He came back and sat next to me. Those eyes again. I pulled him to me before he could say anything else. He pulled away. I frowned.

“Eager, I like eager.” I took his hands and raised them to my chest.

“Please?” I whispered. “I need you.” He began to unbutton my blouse slowly. The swell of my cleavage gradually appeared. My nipples were erect and pointing through my somewhat flimsy bra. I wanted him to touch them. I so wanted him to touch me.

He smiled, then lowered his head. He placed a kiss on the tops of my breasts. Yes! Then he whispered in my ear, “I sense that you like for your men to talk.” I nodded. He gently nipped my ear. I shuddered. “Good, but this is for you. I want you to tell me what you want. How you want me to make love to you.” Did I really pick this guy up in a bar? He nipped my ear again. “Understand?” I nodded slowly, as if in a trance. He pushed me down on to the bedspread and settled next to me, propped on one elbow. His voice caressed my ear again. “What do you want me to do?” I swallowed. His left hand moved over my forehead, traced the line of my nose, over my lips–pausing to move back-and-forth across my lower lip–down to my throat. I closed my eyes.

“Do you want me to caress your tits?” The same hand moved to the tops of my bosom, gently tracing circles over it. I strained towards his hand. He withdrew it. I opened my eyes and looked into his.

“Yes, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please caress my–” I swallowed hard. “Tits.” I’ve never been able to use words like that–part of the reason my ex left me. His hand moved to my left breast, lazily tracing smaller and smaller circles until his index finger reached my peaking nipple. He gently pinched it between thumb and forefinger. I gasped. He repeated this motion on my other breast.

I grabbed his hands and held them. “At the same time. Please.” He sat up, then took me into his hands. I closed my eyes again as he pleasured my chest. My moans became louder and I could feel myself become wetter. I felt my breasts being lifted from the cups of my bra. My dusky nipples begged for his attention. I looked up at him. His eyes stared back, dark with need. He licked his lips. I pulled his head down. His lips captured my nipple, sucking gently while his tongue çukurambar escort wound around, and around, and around…my head was moving from side to side as I cried out softly. He lifted his head.

“Do you like what I’m doing?”

“Yes,” I panted.

“Then tell me.”

“I like what you’re doing.”

“I see you’re going to have to learn.” He sat up, then pulled me up with him. I felt a little nervous. “I like detail. When I ask you whether or not you like what I’m doing, I want you to tell me, and I want you to tell me how.” His voice was still deep, quiet, and even.

“Yes. I will.” I lowered my head.

“You don’t need to be ashamed. Just tell me. I’ll make it worth your while. Very worth your while.” He reached behind me and unclasped my bra. “There.” His hands moved down my back and to the waistline of my skirt. I began to unbutton it, but he stopped me. “I’ll get it. Stand up.” I stood; his fingers moved very swiftly. Soon all I had on was my sopping panties. “Beautiful,” he said, planting a kiss on each nipple. I suddenly felt bold.

“I want you out of your clothes, too.”

“All in good time. I’ve got all night.” His voice is so sexy! “But now, I want you to lie down.” I did as he said. His mouth attacked me again: eyes, chin, throat, nipples, and blazed a trail down to the band of my panties. I spread my legs a little, encouraging him. He sat up. I closed my eyes and rolled them. “I saw that.” He stood. “Just for that, I’m going to go extra slow.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head. Nice, well-toned chest. Large, dark nipples…and he’s as excited as I am. Of course, I can see that in the jeans. Slightly rounded tummy, not too fat yet not too thin. I felt the urge to kiss it. I beckoned with a pleading look on my face. He shook his head. “Haste makes waste.” Whatever, Captain Cliche. I wonder how he can afford to be so excruciating. He unbuttoned his fly, but left his jeans on. I could see his whities poking out. “I take it you like what you see.”

“Yes, now get over here!” He walked back over to me, grinning. I pulled him down and attempted to devour him with my mouth. My hands roamed over his firm chest, tweaking his nipples (which made him gasp for a change, I’m proud to say); moving over his tummy, to his open fly. My hand caressed the bulge within, grazing it softly with my nails. He moaned. I broke off our kiss. “I want to suck you.” He raised an eyebrow. I’m not sure whether I told him back at the bar, but I love oral sex. I can’t get enough of it–giving and receiving. His look indicated that I hadn’t. He’ll just have to find out.

“What do we say?”

“Please.” He stood up in front of me. I pushed his jeans further down and he stepped out of them. I pulled him towards me. I lowered his underwear. His penis appeared, erect, red, and throbbing. I licked my lips. I reached under and took his balls into my right hand. With a glance at him, I took him into my mouth. My left hand wound round his warm shaft, squeezing just a little. I ran my tongue around his head, cleaning away the precum that was dribbling out. He gasped loudly, bucking forward. Suddenly, he moved to sit, pulling me with him. He turned my body so that my mound was right over his face. His index finger ankara escort moved over my clit. I moaned, sucking on his head. I moved him into my mouth, trying to take as much of him in as I could. I felt his tongue probing the entrance to my vagina. I grinned mentally, thinking of my juices on his face. I licked him up, down, and over his cock. He bucked his hips, fucking my mouth.

“So, you do like sucking cock, don’t you?” His breath was warm on my sensitive skin.

“Yes,” I said breathlessly.

“Say it.”

“I like sucking you.”

“No.” He quickly and deftly pressed two fingers into me. I was dripping at this point, so it was not difficult for him. I nearly came with the suddenness of the movement. He expanded the space between his fingers. I hunched back. He moved his fingers back. “Tell me what you like.” His thumb lazily wound around my clit, making my legs shudder. If he keeps doing that…but he stopped, awaiting my correction.

“I like sucking…” Oh, God. I can’t say this! But I want him to keep fingering me, so…”I like sucking your…I like sucking your cock.” I whispered urgently.

“Very good. I want to taste your pussy.” I felt his lips surround my clit, and he sucked in. I threw my head back, then down to his cock. Wrapping my lips around his sensitized head, I sucked in as well. My body was hit with a shattering orgasm, my cries drowned by the meat in my mouth. With my other hand, I could feel his balls swelling, and he began his orgasm, spurting warm cum into my mouth. “God, woman! Yes, yes! So GOOD!” We collapsed to the bed. I raised up, straddling his face. He smiled up at me.
“So you liked my sucking your cock.”

“I liked licking your pussy. But I’m not done with you yet, my vixen.” Hmmm, never had a man call me that before. “Just reach into that drawer.” He pointed toward the nightstand. I opened the drawer and saw an assortment of condoms. I looked back at him. “Safety first.” He winked. I nodded. Having selected an “ultra-thin second skin”…and made him hard again in the process, I moved to the head of the bed, legs spread.

And all I can hear are those words…

“Come and get me,” I said in my most seductive voice. He moved towards me, cock protruding. His hands moved to my hips, my arms wound around his back. His cock moved up against my clitoris. I gasped, then looked up at him. “Fuck me.” He reached down and kissed me. I bucked my hips upward, pulling him inside me. His mouth went to my throat, nipping at my sensitive flesh as I wrapped my legs around him. “Yes…” He drew back, readying for the next assault. I pulled him to me again. “I want you to fuck me.” He understood. He chuckled, then entered me again. I flexed my PC muscles, trying to make him come; I needed it so bad. I wanted him to come.

He filled me, I could feel him—all of him, his blood vessels even. I thrust up to meet him, urging him on, faster…faster…deeper…he grunted with his effort, his face masked in concentration. “Come on,” I encouraged him. “Come on, baby, make me come. Make me come!” He silenced me with his mouth, tongue mimicking the motion of his penis. I was adrift on a sea of sensation. Oh, yes…baby…yes…yes! I came first, the walls of my vagina pulsing rhythmically. He cried out his orgasm, and with one final, hard thrust he was spent. We held on to each other, riding out our pleasure.

Once our breathing had become normal enough to talk, I looked at him.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure…and yours.” He smiled and kissed me again. After that night, I would be doing a lot of talking.

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