Tag Archives: intercourse

Delicate Flower and the not again – Final part

Delicate Flower goes down on my cock, taking the head in her mouth…and stops there.

Incredibly she starts doing the same goldfish-sucking-on-a-cigar routine that Teacher Gal does!

I don’t fucking believe this!

Looking closer I see that she’s struggling to deal with my cock. Her mouth can’t stretch more than it is and I guess it can’t be comfortable for her. I see also that she has bigger teeth than I had previously noticed. She stops trying to take my whole cockhead in her mouth and withdraws a little to a size which is more comfortable for her. Sadly, she continues with the ineffectual blowjob routine.

I make a mental note that Teacher Gal also has a small mouth and biggish teeth. Hmmm. Krazy Girl was also petite, but she could suck the chrome off the knob of a towbar. Teacher Gal and now Delicate Flower can’t even get their mouths around the knob.

After about a minute of this fake blowie I realize that this is a pointless exercise and is likely to result in me going soft and her feeling all defensive and shit. I need to move this show along.

“Would you like to feel my cock in your pussy?” I ask.

“I’d love to,” she says, perhaps relieved at being taken off blowjob duty.

Earlier I had put a condom next to my bed, an act of confidence in my nascent kills of seduction. Turning my back to her as I put it on is a trick I’ve stumbled across as it takes the pressure off me when fiddling with that glorified sheep’s intestine. It’s not fun having a woman watch you put a rubber on; it’s something of a passion-killer.

I turn around and see Delicate Flower is lying on her back on my bed. Her hands are raised alongside her head, her wrists displaying subconscious surrender; it’s a pose I love. She’s looking at my cock as she slowly opens her legs, showing me her pussy. Her nipples are rock hard and her breastbone is glowing. She wants me to fuck her.

We hardly know each other, she’s never even asked my surname. We’ve spent less than a day together if you count the hours. Yet she’s naked on my bed and has just spread her legs for me, inviting me to slide my cock into her cunt and to fuck her. This isn’t love, it’s lust, plain and simple. She is a good-time girl. My initial assessment of her on our first date was correct.

Getting on top of her missionary position is a good way to deal with getting my cock into her pussy. I can watch her reaction and make adjustments as necessary. I do a quick safety check by feeling her pussy with a finger and she’s still gushing wet – she badly wants to be fucked.

Like Nosferatu the Vampire overpowering a helpless female victim, like a werewolf humping a bleating sheep, that’s what I feel like as I loom over her…and fail to penetrate her.

No amount of huffing and puffing is going to make this wolf’s cock go in that pussy. After several attempts, only the tip of my cock can barely go in, her pussy is so tight. I try one last time and she winces and wriggles; that”s enough to make me recoil. We don’t say a word.

Fucking frustrating and frustrated fucking!

I dispense with the wrapper and, without speaking, I straddle Delicate Flower’s chest. I feed her my cock and she instantly starts sucking on the front half of the head. I reach back and slide a middle finger into her pussy, finding her g-spot. I look down at her and she’s in rapture. Her eyes are closed again, she’s making sounds and her wrists are either side of her head.

Sensing her getting closer to cumming I do something naughty, I push my index finger in her arse…and she barely flinches. Instead she spreads her legs further apart so that my fingers can go deeper into her holes and she keeps sucking away at the tip of my cock; she likes this. Her butthole is surprisingly moist, but that might be from her pussy juices running down. My middle finger in her pussy, my index finger in her arse is apparently called ‘The Shocker’: one in the pink, another in the stink.

I move my hand backwards and forwards, which is easier to do with two fingers in her. Her arsehole and pussy are equally tight. Given the lack of reaction it seems she’s used to having things inserted in her arse. She might even like it.

She takes hold of my cock with both her hands; I think her doing this does something for her. It doesn’t take long before she cums, again with a high-pitched squeal. Her head shoots further forward and her mouth accidentally swallows the entire head of my cock. The sound she lets off travels through the chambers of my cock and it feels good. Her orgasm subsides and she wants to drop back, but I cup her head with my other hand to keep my cockhead in her mouth. She doesn’t resist and keeps sucking, albeit badly. I keep moving my fingers backwards and forwards in her pussy and arse.

Is this what she lets total strangers do to her after they pick her up in a pub? Does she like letting them put their fingers and cocks in any of her holes? As long as their dicks are small enough? Does she like having a total stranger on top of her, ramming his cock into her little pussy? Does she like having a cock in her arse? Where does she like to feel a stranger’s hot, sticky cum?

I look down at her pretty face, her mouth area contorted by the head of my cock in it. Her eyes are still closed and she seems almost angelic. She lets go of my cock with her hands, they fall down next to her head to rest on crumpled white pillows. She seems quite at ease with having my fingers in her pussy and arse, my swollen cock in her mouth.

Will I have much cum? I came in Teacher Gal’s mouth less than twelve hours ago. It doesn’t matter, I want to see what it looks like to cum in Delicate Flower’s face. How will she react? Should I warn her that I’m about to cum? Is she expecting me to pull out and give her a facial, spraying my sperm all over her milky-white face? Is she expecting me to drop my ammonia-enriched spunk over her little tits? Fuck that, I want to cum in her mouth. Hopefully she keeps sucking as few things are worse than suckus interruptus.

My brain latches onto the sight of her doing my sexual foible and strangely it turns me on, taking me over the edge. I watch her face as my cock pumps and squirts my cum into her mouth. She takes it all without flinching, easily drinks it, swallows it without making a sound or breaking the rhythm of her almost ineffectual attempt at a blowjob. She’s quite the little cocksucker, happily swallowing my load, of which there is a surprising amount. It probably tastes of the risotto we ate earlier; I hope she liked both.

Only when I pull my fingers out of her holes does she open her eyes. I think we’re both in a mild state of shock. That was intense.

We cuddle for a while until she says that it’s getting late. It is a Sunday night after all and we both have to work in the morning. An hour later I see her off on her train back to London. The atmosphere between us is subdued. She’s smiling meekly and I’ve been very polite and civil to her, but I think we both know that we won’t be seeing each other again.

I now know for certain that Delicate Flower and I have almost no future together in any capacity. She is very pretty and has a good heart, but we are sexually incompatible. I’m not too disappointed because I didn’t have high hopes about her.

The One – when I find her – and a fuckbuddy should both do it for me sexually.

Passion is important to me.

LESSONS LEARNED: 1) Petite girls with small mouths seem to have small pussies 2) I must stipulate a taller minimum height requirement on my dating profiles 3) Girls with small mouths and big teeth give bad blowjobs 4) When I first kiss a girl I need to use my tongue better to gauge the size of her mouth to avoid bad blowjobs.

Rod Stewart – Passion

Delicate Flower and the not again – Part 2

She’s now naked before me while I am still fully dressed. That does something for me, but I’m not going to analyse it for fear of destroying it. I’m right, her little pink nipples are like rockets ready for launch. Her bush is a neatly trimmed little minge that I’m looking forward to tasting. She has a belly-button ring that looks like a Christmas tree decoration. What sound will that make when I take her doggy style?

I lean forward and kiss the shin of a leg, still our eyes are locked. Lifting myself slowly so as not to scare her, I kiss up her leg, over the kneecap which makes her giggle and then up the middle of her thigh. Pushing myself up her body without making contact isn’t easy. All I want her to feel is the sensation of my lips on her skin. I take my time.

My slow kisses make their way up her body and I don’t go near her nipples; I wanted to build the anticipation. I kiss around the base of her breast (which was an a-cup) and move higher, up to her shoulders and back around her neck. She moves her head away, making it easier for me to get to her neck and throat and closes her eyes. She likes being kissed around the neck; her low moans tell me so.

There’s no stopping now. She wants this. Needs this. The easy little slut that I assessed her to be on our first date is on show now.

I kiss back down the other side of her body, resisting the urge to take her nipple in my mouth. If I did this properly I could whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. My focus is on giving her as much pleasure as I can. My reward will come later.

My lips come back down to the other shin, my hands gently push her legs apart and I start kissing up the inside of a leg. I notice that she’s breathing through her mouth now, occasionally swallowing hard.

Then I wonder if my cock could fit in her mouth? She is a tiny, little thing. Oh shit, can my cock fit in her pussy?

A sense of urgency mixed with concern takes hold and I speed up what I’m doing. I’ve now pushed her legs apart and her pussy is in front of my face. It’s small and perfectly formed, no loose lips flapping about. It reminds me of Baltic Babe’s tight little pussy.

I lick slowly either side of her vagina and she lets off, “Oh my god!” as I do so, but she still manages to keep her eyes closed. Thankfully her pussy doesn’t have a strong smell of urine. I didn’t exactly give her fair warning so that she could go ‘freshen up’. The overriding smell is that of sweet pussy juice.

Placing my tongue squarely on her pussy and resting it there makes her inhale and I see her stomach muscles contract. Still she keeps her eyes closed. I always keep my eyes open because I want to see what my lover likes. I also have an unusually developed photographic memory, so I can recall what I see many months or years later. Don’t ask me to do trigonometry though.

I run the rough top of my tongue up the centre of her pussy which is gushing wet. She lets out a deep-throated “Oh!” while I congratulate myself on having done such a good job of turning her on. Her clit is a small nubby one but I hope that I can flesh it out some more. I look either side of her hips and see that she is clenching the seat cushions on the edge of the sofa.

Running the rough top and then the smooth underside of my tongue up and down her slit takes her into a blissnotic state. Delicate Flower’s body relaxes and after a few minutes of this I move onto focussing on her clit, which remains small and doesn’t change much. I notice that her body is starting to tense up again; her hands tighten their grip on the sofa.

Sucking onto her clit yields little noticeable response. Only Krazy Girl has a smaller clit, I remark to myself. I deem it time to take this home for her, so I slide an index ginger into her pussy. Well, I try. My index finger goes only slightly more than halfway in before she wriggles and says , “Ow!”

Her pussy is tiny! Oh fuck, not again!

If my finger can barely squeeze in there then there’s no hope of my cock getting in there!

Hers is the smallest vagina I have ever encountered. I don’t believe this. It’s ri-dick-ulous!

I feel deflated.

What do I have to do to get a good fuck? Krazy Girl come back…please.

I can’t stop now, she’ll be insulted and perhaps slightly angry. I just have to make the best of this situation. Hopefully she gives the best blowjob I’ve ever experienced. I wonder if she’s into anal?

Licking and sucking her clit keeps her pussy juices flowing, so I turn my finger in her pussy upwards and find her g-spot, which is surprisingly large, but I guess it’s because I’ve turned her on well enough for it to have swollen on its own accord. I run the tip of my finger back and forth over her g-spot and she arches her back and let’s out a guttural sound before relaxing and looking at me with big eyes.

“What the hell is that you’re doing?” she says, speaking with a sore throat.

“That’s your g-spot. Has anybody ever played with it before?” I ask.

“No,” she says, her eyes still wide.

“Lie back and relax then. You’re going to enjoy this,” I say, confident in my ability that is based on her ignorance.

Delicate Flower does as she is told, resuming her position with eyes closed. So here I am, fully clothed, a petite little woman is naked on my sofa, her legs spread wide open for me and I’m fingering her g-spot and licking her clit. I’m enjoying the novelty of my successful seduction, but I’m uneasy at the prospect of trying to have full-blown sex with her. My cock is just too thick and long for her pussy; it’s never going to fit and if some of it does, it’ll be painful for her. I don’t want to hurt her.

Yes, I know that women pop babies out of their pussies, but it’s only during childbirth that a woman’s body secretes all sorts of chemicals that allows that to happen. The rest of the time the average vagina is four inches long and can stretch up to double that. I can live with that, but I don’t think that Delicate Flower comes anywhere near that statistic. I don’t know any stats to do with thickness, but that’s the real problem with my cock – it’s apparently on the thick side. The urban slang term for a cock like mine is “a coke can”. I’m not bragging and it’s not a blessing, it’s starting to feel like a curse.

It doesn’t take long for Delicate Flower to cum. She lets off a muffled high-pitched squeal and sits halfway upright, her hands clenching the sofa like never before, still keeping her eyes closed. I keep fingering her g-spot as she cums and that makes it last longer. After almost ten seconds she relaxes and slumps back into the sofa, breathing heavily. Her throat is going to be even more sore after that.

I want to cuddle her, but the sofa doesn’t seem appropriate, so I stand up and pick her up. She’s lifeless but weighs nothing to me as I hold her like a doll in my arms. She opens her eyes and puts her arms around my neck as I lift her off the sofa and carry her down the passageway to my bedroom. She rests her head on my shoulder and that feels good. It’s so primordial, a caveman carrying his woman off to his cave, a prize to be ravished, but it feels so damn satisfying.

Approaching the edge of my bed, I slowly lower her onto my duvet and she closes her eyes. I get undressed and lie down next to her, kind of spooning her, putting a leg over her thighs and an arm over her midriff, all of which is easy to do given how small she is. I hope I’m not too heavy. Her breathing slowly subsides to normality while I keep her warm with my bodyheat. After a few minutes of lying there like that she finally speaks.

“Wow! I’ve never experienced anything like that before,” she says with a rasping voice.

I say nothing and just smile. Where have I heard those words before? I revel in the afterglow, not sure where I want to take things, fearing a repeat of coital failure like I had with Teacher Gal. It’s embarrassing and I know that it’s the likeliest scenario with Delicate Flower.

“Is there something you would like me to do for you?” she asks.

I think about and decide that there’s no going back and only one way to find out if my fears are groundless.

“I would love it if you were to kiss me all over,” I say as positively as I can.

We uncouple and Delicate Flower sets about kissing my face, neck, chest and belly. Her perfect golden blonde hair caresses my skin and it turns me on, that and the sensation of her lips kissing my skin. My cock starts to grow as she kisses around my groin area and she notices this. She stops, positions herself between my legs and takes my cock in her little hand. The look on her face tells me that she’s thinking as she looks at it, inspecting it, but I can’t be sure what her thoughts and feelings are. What is she going to do?

To be continued…

Delicate Flower and the not again

How am I going to seduce her? That’s what’s going through my mind as I rush around my apartment. Nobody cleans a home quicker than a man expecting a woman, especially when the previous woman only left an hour earlier! I do the best I can before showering, the latter being equally important because apparently women can smell another woman on a man. I call it ‘that just shagged aroma’ and I like it, but today it might cause trouble.

As I walk passed the same four taxi drivers at my train station who had seen me an hour earlier with Teacher Gal, they give me a quizzical look. Delicate Flower’s train arrives and she spots me as she gets off. God, she’s small; I might break her. I stoop down and kiss her hello on her cheeks which makes her smile. She’s wearing a white dress with floral motifs and she’s showing off her perfectly sculpted, smoothly-shaven legs. She’s very attractive; I wonder what her pussy tastes like.

One of the taxi drivers gives me an approving nod plus smile while the three others stare with big eyes as we walk passed them. I smile to myself. Is this really my life? Two hours earlier another woman was gratefully swallowing my load and now I have this little beauty by my side? Maybe there is a god after all.

Back at my place all that Delicate Flower says of it is, “It’s such a bachelor’s pad,” to which we both laugh. Good, she’s not taken aback or horrified, but not that I really care because I don’t have any long-term hopes with her, just some fun and see how long it lasts or what it leads to.

I get to work making a risotto with her leaning against the kitchen door, her hands behind her back, her pert little breasts pointing out at me. We talk and I pour wine. That’s step one of my seduction plan; get some alcohol in her to lower her inhibitions.

After a little more cooking, at an opportune moment I step over to her and give her one of my slow, soft kisses that seem to befuddle women. She closes her eyes as we kiss and I pull away first, teasing her, making her want more. Only our lips touched. She bats her eyelids furiously, trying to regain her composure, almost slouching against the door. That’s step two; introduce a physical idea in her head, get her wanting something more from me.

Risotto takes time to simmer so I suggest that I introduce her to Californication. We sit side by side on my sofa and I coax her to sit against me, claiming that the picture is better from that angle. Our shoulders and thighs touch as we sit watching the first two episodes. That’s step three; getting her used to touching me.

She laughs at the right times and especially at the naughty bits. Good, this is helping to introduce a subtle sexual dynamic to what she’s experiencing. At the end of the second episode I lean over and kiss her. She turns to face me, putting a hand on my chest and we kiss for several minutes. I can sense that she’s getting turned on; her sounds are becoming more audible and her kisses more urgent. That’s step four; get her turned on a little, leave her wanting more.

The timer in the kitchen goes off and I say, “I guess I was saved by the bell,” to which she gives a naughty smile. My research on the internet tells me that reversing the age-old man chasing woman idea has the effect on a woman of arousing her. As we eat lunch we chat happily and she starts telling me more about her childhood.

“My parents are Mormons and so are all my sisters and brothers, even today. It was a suffocating upbringing in that I wasn’t allowed all the things other children had. It was so hard to go off to school with normal children and then go home to my parent’s way of life. We didn’t have television or a telephone. I hated my childhood so I rebelled the first chance I got,” she says.

I understand her so much better now, but it still didn’t change the fact that I can’t have a loving relationship with her. One of her rebellious acts is unacceptable to me so I can never love her because I don’t respect her. I’m intent on seeing through my plan of finding out if we could be friends with benefits.

We end up back on my sofa watching more Californication which she absolutely loves. Periodically I kiss her, keeping the sexual engine in her running, slowly working her up into a lustful state. She complains of back pain so seeing my opportunity I say, “Is now a good time to tell you that I’ve done a course in massage? Would you like a massage?”

The critical moment has arrived. Have I done enough to make her comfortable being partly undressed around me? Is she turned on enough to want to fuck?

“I’d love that,” she says without hesitation.

Game on!

“Okay, turn facing away from me,” I say to which she complies. I unzip the back of her dress and push the bit around her shoulders forward and down, exposing her back. Delicate Flower turns her head to one side, one blue eye looking at me. I’m not sure if she’s surprised because she was expecting me to massage her through her clothes or if she is wanting to say something.

Then I see it.

The biggest tattoo I’ve ever seen covering the lower half of her back. It’s a massive sunflower in blue ink, very ornately done. I don’t like tattoos, I wasn’t expecting this and it shocks me. I think tattoos are a desecration of the human body. (I didn’t know about the high correlation between tattoos and mental illness.) Putting my palms together and fanning my fingers out would just about meet the width of her tattoo and I have big hands and she is petite. If I fuck her doggy style I’ll have to keep my eyes closed.

It dawns on me that Delicate Flower has her own flower imprinted on her skin.

“Wow! What a surprise. It’s very well done,” is the best that I can blurt out. She smiles.

I unclasp her bra and push the straps down her shoulders, my fingers caressing her skin as I do so. In response she tilts her head upwards. She enjoyed that. Is her pussy getting wet?

I take my time in giving her a back massage. There’s no rush and I’m treating it as part of our foreplay. I can’t see them, but I can just imagine her nipples being very hard and erect.

Running my hands over the tattoo was not pleasant for me. It felt unnatural and slightly disgusting to me. I didn’t spend much time on her lower back, so a disproportionate effort went into her neck and shoulders because I know that that will relax her.

It’s time to make my move. If there is resistance then we wouldn’t be going any further. If she likes it, then we’re going all the way.

I lean forward and kiss the back of her neck. She lets off a sound of profound satisfaction as she exhales. My cock is as good as in her pussy; just a matter of time now.

Kissing her neck and shoulders yields more sounds of pleasure that she can’t hold back. She’s keeping her eyes closed and I can see that she is in the throes of bliss. I move her head from one side to the other as I slowly land soft kisses all over her neck and shoulders. I can do whatever I want to now.

I stand up, kneel in front of the footstool, take her by her ankles and point them towards me. Delicate Flower opens her eyes, no doubt startled by my man-handling her, but says nothing. I pull her dress and knickers off, casually tossing them to one side while maintaining eye-contact with her. Neither of us say a word.

To be continued…

Nobody isfaster

Teacher Gal and twice awkward

I’ve screwed myself. I’m seeing Teacher Gal on Saturday followed by Delicate Flower on Sunday, but I’ve just realised that Teacher Gal is likely to sleep over at my place on the Saturday night. Sunday is going to be awkward. I meet Teacher Gal at King’s Cross on Saturday at noon and she’s wearing an over-sized hideous flower again. Now I’m no snappy dresser, but I don’t go around looking like a clown. I think every man needs to find his woman suitably attired. Struggling to find tactful words I say nothing and lead her to our destination, Stables Market at Camden Town. Yes, the same place I had been with Delicate Flower the previous weekend; it’s familiar and I didn’t see that much because my focus was more on my date.

We spend the afternoon walking around and Teacher Gal loves the place for its artistic flair above all else. I love it for the variety of food; you name it and that cuisine is there. We snack on small dishes that we buy from stalls and I notice that Teacher Gal doesn’t like her food as spicy as me. (In the fullness of time I will learn the significance of this.)

It was also time for the ‘best friend test’.

Teacher Gal had arranged for us to meet her best friend and husband at a concert by a South African pop group called ‘Freshly Ground’. We meet the friends at a pavement café and I’m immediately struck by how attractive her best friend is; very pretty, golden blonde hair and just enough cushion for the pushin’ – just my type. In truth I find the friend more attractive than Teacher Gal. Something in my psyche stirs and tells me that Teacher Gal is not as attractive as I would like, that I’m selling myself short and I feel conflicted and guilty about all this.

The husband is ten years younger than the best friend and he almost immediately becomes defensive. Because of my size and looks men generally tend to be defensive around me, so I think nothing of it. (Men are like dogs: there’s an implicit pecking order in the pack with the biggest dog being the top dog.) We sit and make small talk over coffee and pastries before joining the queue at the venue across the street. The two women chatter away, but the husband and I barely make eye contact. Then I realize that he is the shortest of the four of us and the youngest.

Inside the venue we share a private booth with a table on a balcony overlooking the lively masses below. Teacher Gal is by my side and the married couple sit opposite us. The music starts and conversation becomes difficult, but the best friend makes a determined effort to talk to me throughout the concert. I notice that the husband has become a deaf mute. At one point Teacher Gal makes a disapproving face when her friend talks to me an umpteenth time.

This is getting awkward. The husband is unimpressed by his wife’s interest in me and now Teacher Gal is getting irritated too. I think the friend is just being friendly, but a younger, immature man’s insecurities have been riled. I’m not sure if Teacher Gal is jealous, protective or feeling bad for the husband. It’s none of my making. I try to defuse the situation by making small talk with the now-grumpy hubby, but he’s not interested. What can I do? I buy us a round of drinks; it makes no difference.

The lead singer of Freshly Ground is a five foot tall Xhosa woman who has the voice of an angel. One of their songs, “I’d like”, has words that I find topical. The words are how I want to feel about somebody, but sadly neither of the women I’m seeing this weekend invoke this kind of feeling in me. Deep down I know that this is the case, but ever the foolish optimist I’m hoping, hoping that somehow, somewhere something would happen to make it so.

After the concert we need to catch the same train home, but while waiting for it, the two ladies go to the toilets. I look at grumpy hubby and smile, to which he wanders off to go stand further down the platform. If he wants to play games with me, he’ll lose. I remain on my spot until the ladies return. Teacher Gal immediately comes up to me and holds my hand. The friend spots her husband and seems unsure about what to do. I can see the confusion in her eyes about what to do. She decides to go stand with her husband.

Teacher Gal leans against me and I wrap my arms around her. The train arrives and we end up sitting in a booth with four seats. We are all tired and conversation is minimal. I whisper into Teacher Gal’s ear, “Would you like to spend the night with me?” to which she makes an approving sound. Now my brain starts racing, calculating the likelihood of us successfully making the beast with two backs.

We cuddle up in my bed and we agree that we’re both too tired for whoopee. We lie facing each other, our legs and arms entwined with me trying to keep her warm. We talk softly about the events of the day and evening.

“Your best friend is very friendly,” I say.

“Perhaps too much so. I’d forgotten that she has a thing for tall, dark, South African men. Her previous relationship lasted ten years with a guy who looks similar to you. He was even from the same city as you. She thought he was The One,” Teacher Gal says.

It all made sense now. Grumpy hubby must have been going through hell all night. Poor little ginger boy.

The next morning I wake up and Teacher Gal is already awake and staring at me with her beautiful sky-blue eyes. Without much talking we proceed to make love. Well, we tried.

No amount of orgasms and simultaneous g-spot clit-licking was going to make her pussy big enough for my cock. I had made her cum twice when I begin to realize that we are woefully sexually incompatible. Sure she was having fun, but I wasn’t. My cock couldn’t get into her pussy, she gives a rubbish blowjob and even though anal isn’t my thing, I won’t even ask her about that. Out of desperation I did try stinky-pinky on her earlier but she baulked, so I know what the answer will be. This is getting awkward.

It’s getting late and I must get Teacher Gal out of my place. I need to clean it to remove all traces of another woman before Delicate Flower arrives. I get up to get dressed and look back at Teacher Gal in my bed. She looks so sweet and alluring lying there, the duvet covering her lower half, her nipples still erect, showing me that she’s still turned on.

I’m frustrated again, but want some satisfaction off her. I stride to her side of the bed, my shins against the mattress, my cock dangling down over her. Will she take my hint and suck it?

Teacher Gal gathers the pillows under her head, then in a bizarre fashion, curls herself up into the foetus position, knees raised, arms over her breasts, closes her eyes and takes my cock in her mouth. The foetal position thing puzzles me but I focus on the sight of her doing her goldfish sucking a cigar routine. That’s never going to do anything for me, so I let my mind wander and I latch onto the idea, the wonderful notion of what it might be like to have sex with her best-friend.

I start fantasizing about what I would like to do with her friend, what I would like to have her friend do to me…and all the while have her husband watch us. Hell, in my fantasy he’s videoing it all, occasionally suggesting things for us to do. They can watch the video together whenever one of them is frisky for however long their doomed marriage will last.

After a couple of minutes of this fantasy I sense that I’m close to cumming. Teacher Gal has never said whether she likes to feel a cock cumming in her mouth nor whether she swallows. I think it’s only fair and decent to give her a warning.

“I’m getting closer to cumming. Do you want me to cum in your mouth?” I ask, expecting a negative reaction.

Instead she says nothing but continues her repetitive motion without breaking rhythm. I take that as a ‘yes’.

“Do you like to swallow cum? I want you to swallow mine,” I say, expecting some kind of reaction but instead get nothing. Again I take that as a ‘yes’. The surprise of this turns me on more, driving me to the edge. I close my eyes and imagine it’s her friend sucking me off while her husband watches.

Seconds later several days worth of cum explodes out of my cock into Teacher Gal’s mouth. Momentarily she chokes as she swallows my load but dutifully returns to sucking the rest of my man milk out of me. It feels good despite her looking odd in the foetus position.

Teacher Gal stops her version of a blowie and drops her knees, straightens her body out and gives me a yearning look that I don’t understand. Right now all I want is to get her on the road because I need to get my place ready for my next visitor who might be ending up in my bed too.

“Sorry, sweetie, but I have plans to meet some friends today in a couple of hours. Can I make you a coffee and toast before you go?” I ask, lying through my teeth, hoping that she isn’t offended nor suspects anything. It works.

Less than an hour later I’m walking her to my train station. The only other people around are four chatting taxi drivers who give us an accusative look. I wait with her for her train, making small-talk and give her a kiss goodbye just before she boards it.

I turn on my heels and start running back to my place, passing the bemused taxi drivers.

What am I going to do about you? That’s what I ask myself as I run but realize that I have to think about that another time.

In less than an hour Delicate Flower is arriving…

Freshly Ground – I’d like

I’d like to call you sometime
I’d like you to need me one time.

What would you do if you knew the truth?
What would you do if I told you the story of my life?
Would you find me overly familiar towards you?
Would you call me crude, fling me aside to the birds?

What do I do with all these feelings warming me up inside?
What do I do with all these precious hours dreaming of you at night?
Would you recognise it’s a need I’ve been fighting for so long?
Would you recognise it’s a hunger only you can fill?

Because I’d like to call you sometime.
Oh, I would like to call you.

I’d like to call you sometime
I’d like you to need me one time.

Teacher Gal, the cats and bumping uglies – Final part

I gently slide an index finger into her pussy; it’s a tight fit. Shit, if my finger is struggling to get in there, my cock certainly won’t. Oh no, not another Baltic Babe situation?! I don’t want to hurt her. I’m going to have to really take my time turning her on so badly that she wants my cock and any pain won’t matter.

Still sucking her clit, I slowly move my finger around inside her tight pussy. Teacher Gal’s very wet, but her pussy is so neglected that it might be haunted.

Doesn’t she have a vibrator like any other woman? I have to know. We might be needing it.

“Do you have a vibrator?” I ask as casually as I know how.

“No, I don’t like those things. Please don’t stop,” she replies.

With her clit protruding into my mouth, I turn my finger around and find her g-spot, which is big and round. This might be what’s taking up all the space in there! I start sliding my finger around this bulbous, uncharacteristically smooth g-spot (all others have felt like the rough spot behind your teeth in your upper palette) which makes her body tense up.

“What the hell is that you’re doing?” she asks, raising her head.

“That? Oh, that’s your g-spot. Do you like how that feels?” I say haughtily.

“Dunno, it feels strange. Nobody’s ever done that before,” she says.

“Well, if you relax, you’ll enjoy it. I won’t hurt you” I reply.

Teacher Gal drops her head back onto her pillow and I resume sucking on her clit and fingering her g-spot while she makes strange sounds. You think you’ve got problems, lady? I don’t think that my cock is going to fit into your tiny little pussy!

I’m mindlessly doing my thing, pondering anatomy and physics when I realize that she’s about to to cum. Her hips are twitching, she’s noisier and her breathing is fast.


I look up to see her head shoot up and shudder as she climaxes, letting out a strangled scream, an anguished look on her face. Her clit pops out of my mouth and I notice that my hand is covered in her glucose-rich pussy juices that have seeped out.

Teacher Gal is panting like a dog with heat-stroke and I lie next to her, half covering her, almost cuddling her. I say almost because of my soaked hand; I didn’t know what to do with it. I rested it on her impressively flat stomach; I don’t think she noticed or if she did, she didn’t care. Hell, it’s her juices.

After a few minutes she swallows hard and speaks.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” she says, catching her breath again.

I say nothing and just smile to myself. I’m still focussed on how tight her pussy is. More foreplay will be required before she can accommodate me, I decide.

We lie entwined, engaging in pillow talk. I love the afterglow. I don’t have to cum to enjoy the cuddling and feeling after making my lover cum. Most people either enjoy the foreplay, or the sex or the afterglow. I enjoy it all.

After about half an hour or letting her rest and recharge, I do it again. This time I start off by kissing her all over, starting with her face, nuzzling her neck which makes her squeal like a little girl, then spend a little time kissing, licking and sucking her breasts. Teacher Gal loves to have her breasts sucked. I work my way down to her pussy and repeat what I had done previously, as if I had never done it before and she reacted as if she had never felt it all before. I don’t think she’ll tire of my sucking her clit while rubbing her giant g-spot.


It was de ja cum all over again. I had seen this orgasm somewhere before.

After more afterglow cuddling, she says to me, “What would you like me to do to you?”

Her reciprocal nature and willingness to please warms my heart…and my cock a little bit.

“I would absolutely love it if you were to kiss me all over,” I respond, curious to see what she does.

Teacher Gal starts kissing my forehead, then my face and working her way down. She takes her time, is unhurried, which pleases me because someone going through the motions is a passion-killer. Eventually she arrives at the main event: my cock.

She kisses around it, takes it in her hand and looks at it for a second. Then she pulls the foreskin back, holds it erect, lower her mouth down on it, covers the head with her mouth…and sucks on it like a goldfish blowing bubbles.

That’s it. That’s all she did.

No going down on it as deep as possible, no twisting and turning her head and/or moving her head up and down on it while doing so. No head movement whatsoever. No, none of that. Just latches onto a spot and makes like she is smoking a giant cigar.

Maybe if I was patient the rest of her technique would kick in. After several minutes of the worst blowie I’ve ever experienced, I had less of a clue about what to say than she knew how to give head.

How do you say to a woman, “Er, is that it? That’s your idea of a blowjob?” or “Please stop, my cock’s getting bored,” or “Looks like somebody needs loads more practise”.

I could get all sarcastic with “Gee, where did you learn to do that?” or “I don’t know how much more of this I can take”, but it would be wasted humour.

Then the thought crossed my mind: If I gave her an orgasm, would she spit it back at me?

I realize that I am in danger of going soft, such was the effect of her efforts. Now or never, I have to see if her little pussy can handle my cock. This is relationship-breaker stuff.

Without a word I pull away, stand up and find my jeans where my wallet is. I find the condom that I have learned to carry and turn my back towards her as having someone watch me fiddle with a condom is unhelpful. Surely by now humanity would have invented a better condom and wrapper?

I turn around and Teacher Gal is lying on her back, legs scissored open wide and wrists next to her head. She is a stunning sexual sight. I position myself on top of her and do a quick safety check: I feel her pussy with my fingers. She is still dripping wet, so no lack of lubrication there. I edge forward and position my cock at the entrance to her pussy and slowly push my cock forward…where it meets a ring of steel.

My cock is not going into that pussy, no matter what. We are badly mismatched in terms of size, worse than I suspected. We both try to make light-hearted fun of it, in an attempt to spare each other’s blushes and maybe even to help her relax. Several attempts only yields the top half of my cock going into her, then getting stuck there, unable to go any deeper. A couple of times she flinches and wriggles; I’m hurting her. I’m getting frustrated and she’s getting embarrassed.

Then I get the feeling that we’re not alone and that we’re being watched.

I look up and on the pillow next to us is her two cats, sitting shoulder to shoulder, looking down at us, staring intently, serious looks on their faces. They seem like judges at the finals of the gymnastics at the Olympic Games. All that is missing is little white score cards at their paws that say: Composition 0, Technique 0, Originality 0 and Overall 0.

I roll off Teacher Gal in utter frustration, the cats scatter as I rest my head on their pillow.

“I can’t believe the cats were watching us,” I say, not wanting to mention the obvious problem.

“I can’t believe you’re letting two cats throw you like that,” she retorts.

“Do you normally let them on the bed?” I ask, thinking about the health issues involved.

“Yes. That’s where they sleep next to me every night,” she replies.

Great. Now my hair is full of cat hair and who knows what else.

As first times go, this was memorable stuff, but sadly for all the wrong reasons though.

I’m now no longer in the mood and she’s a little deflated too. We lie together, my arm around her, cradling her to me and we talk for ages. As usual, conversation is driven by me; she’s not really one to initiate anything. Obvious sexual incompatibility aside, I do wonder if she’s too timid for me. It feels like I’m all the energy in the relationship.

We fall asleep and I’m woken a few times during the night by a cat trying to press its bum against my face. In the morning I wake first and a cat is sleeping on my pillow. Teacher Gal is still asleep next to me, her bare shoulder exposed to me, so I lean over to kiss it, which wakes her and startles the cat which runs away.

Teacher Gal and I engage in mild pillow talk about cats, but all I have on my mind is our unfruitful sexual efforts of the previous night. I have a raging erection and a desire to complete unfinished business. I take her hand and put it on my cock, to which she smiles and strokes it for a minute or so.

She pushes the duvet off us and positions herself between my legs, crouching on her knees in an upright foetal position before taking my cock in her mouth. She doesn’t pull my foreskin back, just latches onto it and starts her goldfish smoking a cigar routine.

This sight and sensation puzzles me. Not only can I not feel much, but it looks odd, unnatural even. I realize that she probably doesn’t enjoy doing this and is probably just humouring me, which, if it is the case, I find sweet. However, the fact remains, this is the worst blowjob ever.

It might have served as a bit of foreplay to get her wet, but when I reach between her legs, causing her to topple over, I feel just how small her pussy is with a finger. Nope, my cock is not going in that hole any time soon. Teacher Gal is lying on her side and my hips are facing her. She’s still in that foetus position which is a sign of something, but I don’t know what. She’s still puffing away on my cock. That’s never going to do anything for me.

I remember that I have to get my arse into London to meet Delicate Flower and I have no idea what time it is. This encounter has to end soon, so I decide that cum I must, but pussy fucking and a blowie weren’t going to get it done. All that was left was a handjob. A handy is the lowest form of orgasm in my book, but if that’s the best on offer…

“Why don’t you take my cock in your hand and tug it?” I ask, hoping that she won’t be offended.

Teacher Gal sits upright and I roll flat onto my back. She takes hold of my cock at the shaft and starts moving her hand up and down, not realizing that I was never going to cum like this either. I let her do this for a while, hoping that she will vary her technique, hoping that she’s the queen of handies, but no, this was it. If I started giving her instructions then this could get embarrassing for both of us. I decide to cut my losses.

“Sweetie, it’s just not going to happen for me today,” I say as sheepishly as I can muster.

She lets go and lies down next to me, giving me a fake smile. We make some small talk and I try to make her laugh, with mixed results. Teacher Gal goes off to shower while I lie in bed pondering the situation and trying to figure out the best way forward.

This was all so very disappointing to me. Sexual compatibility is a must-have in a relationship for me; sorry no exceptions. I’m not willing to sign up to years of sub-standard, mediocre sex. I know that I can take the time to teach her, but how long would that take and the results are uncertain.

Houston, we are a problem.

Garfunkel & Oates – Handjob, Bland Job, I Don’t Understand Job (You might need to click on the YouTube logo on the bottom right of the video.)

Date #18 – Delicate Flower – Final part

I’ve never bedded a woman on the day of meeting her, nor have I had a one-night stand. I’ve been all moral and conservative. Fuck that shit! It was time for a change. What would it be like to go home with someone I’ve just met and indulge in passionate, intense sex, only to never see her again? How would it all feel? I want to know. I’m learning my lessons and know that I’m packing rubber.

“Do you like Thai food?” I ask.

“Yes, it’s one of my favourites,” Delicate Flower says with a smile.

“Good. Let’s go get some,” I say, intent on drawing out our time together, not giving her an excuse to flit off somewhere else, like a pub where she could be picked up. I wanted to have a one-night stand with her and knew it would take more time for this to happen.

I walk as slowly as I can, knowing that Delicate Flower’s little legs and those stilts would struggle to match my strides. When we get to cobbled bits of pavement I offer her my arm which she graciously clings onto until she feels steadier.

Through Covent Garden and the theatre district I lead her and not once does she ask where we were going. She is happy to just be with me it seems, what we are doing doesn’t really seem to matter to her. Past bustling Chinatown we make our way into Soho, to the Thai restaurant where I had taken The Model. The food was good, the service non-intrusive and it was quiet, the perfect place for sophisticated dining, romantic even, especially as I was hoping to see her pretty face sucking away at my cock in a few hours time.

Delicate Flower is suitably impressed by my choice of venue and barely notices my ordering another bottle of Chenin Blanc. One for the talking, two for the fucking; such is my thinking. The laid-back atmosphere and unhurried service allows us to savour our food and wine, making for just the right mellow, sensual mood.

Naturally we get around to talking about our past relationships and she is taken aback at my only having had two. She, however, has had many more than me. The elixir of wine continues to work its magic for me when she innocently tells me of her having committed my sexual foible – the one thing that I can’t accept a woman doing.

Somewhere deep in the cauldron of my psyche, my trust demon stirs in a dark corner of his cold, rusted cage. He steps forward into the gloom, his slitted eyes straining, searching for his prey, the being that he can store no faith in. His sooty hands latch onto the flimsy bars of his prison, causing flakes of rust to fall into the silent abyss below. Gnarled, hairy fingers slowly pull at the metal. His intent is to break free and rage at her seated before him…then defile her.

I swallow hard and fight off the desire to make a judgemental comment. Why say anything? Her latest revelation confirms that she isn’t ‘The One’. She might dress, smell and talk like a lady, but she isn’t one. She truly is becoming just a piece of fuckmeat to me. I wonder what sound she’ll make when my cock slides into her pussy?

Dinner over and I hatch a plan to string the date out more. The vibe between us just isn’t right for her to take me home with her. I need more time to get her in the mood for sex. I need to work her up a bit more, tease her more. Hell, I haven’t even kissed her yet.

I pay for the over-priced meal and note that Delicate Flower makes no offer to contribute, although as we are leaving she does thank me and say how much she enjoyed that. So, she’s used to being wined and dined…and then fucked. Does she prefer being on top or does she prefer being dominated?

I used the excuse of there being no dessert on the menu to my liking to suggest that we go to a nearby Italian coffee and confectionery outlet that the Fitness Freak introduced me to. Once there I watch Delicate Flower struggle onto her high chair. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I had to resist the urge to pick her up and seat her.

I get her a glass of pinot grigio and myself a coffee – I might be needing the caffeine for later. After a mouthful of tiramisu (my favourite dessert) I realize that my mouth is now sweeter than when it had Thai curry flavouring it. Perfect time for our first kiss.

She was in mid-sentence when I lean over to her face, but stop short of her lips. She doesn’t move, blinks once, looks at my mouth and then leans forward to kiss me. Our lips meeting is like fireworks going off, but in miniature.

Her lips are soft and small, even smaller than I was expecting. She keeps her eyes closed as we kiss, while I always keep my eyes open because I want to take everything in, for storage in my personal video bank of images – all part of my ‘Fucket List’.

I pull away, deliberately, wanting her to be breathless and keen for more. I sit upright while she remains frozen in space and time with her eyes now closed and still leaning slightly forward. She opens her eyes again, bats her eyelids a few times, focusses and looks at me and says, “Wow! I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

She regains her composure and sips her wine. My plan is working. She’s becoming more inebriated, her defences must be weakening, her lust must be aching and my kiss has just floored her. First base secured.

We make some more light-hearted small-talk and, again while she’s saying something, I kiss her. Surprise is her initial reaction, but she didn’t pull away. Instead she started using her little tongue and breathing heavily. She was getting turned on. Once again I pull away before she decides to.

I calmly return to my tiramisu and coffee as if nothing has happened. I notice that her body is turned squarely towards me – I have her total attention. My inexperience in this makes me a little nervous, but fuck it, I’ve got nothing to lose, so I go for it.

“Would you like me to go home with you tonight?” I ask with as naughty a smile as I can muster.

Delicate Flower’s eyes bore into mine; she’s thinking hard. She looks away, takes a sip of her wine, I say nothing. She looks back at me and I make a concerted effort not to flinch. I’m aware that this is a critical moment and my saying another word is likely to be counter-productive. The silence seems to last an eternity before Delicate Flower finally speaks.

“Maybe not tonight,” she says with a facial expression that gives nothing away.

“No problem,” I counter, trying to sound as suave as possible. In the art of English understatement, her words meant “not tonight, but another time”, which is fine by me.

We chat for about an hour more and kiss a few times again. It’s now after 10pm on a Monday night. The fact that she hasn’t made an excuse to leave immediately after my proposition I take as a positive sign. We agree that it’s getting late and decide to call it a night. I escort her to a nearby bus stop and wait with her until her bus arrives. We constantly engage in polite, mindless small-talk. I really can’t tell what she’s thinking and feeling.

As her bus approaches, she turns to me and presents her face, obviously wanting a goodnight kiss. It might also be a goodbye kiss. In a Clarke Gable moment from Gone With The Wind, I stoop down and kiss her the softest, gentlest kiss that I have learned to give from all the other dates I’ve been practising on. I let this one linger until she starts using her tongue. I let her play until I decide the moment is right to pull away, leaving her gasping for more.

Delicate Flower has a stunned look on her face and we don’t say another word as she boards her bus. She gives me a meaningless look from her seat as I give her a smile and a brief wave. The bus pulls off.

I don’t expect to ever see her again.

Just propositioning a woman on the day I meet her is a massive step outside of my comfort zone. The fortress that was my morals is crumbling down around me, brick by mossy brick…and it doesn’t feel so bad.

LESSON LEARNED: If a woman is the first to make a sexual remark, it means she is interested in sex with me.

John Mellencamp – Crumblin’ Down

Krazy Girl cum back

Tech Titan and I fucked until midnight, ending in me cumming in her pussy, sans condom. I only made her cum twice in this session before the strains of the working week dictated that we sleep. As I drifted off my thoughts were of Krazy Girl arriving within hours.

It felt like a brief nap before I awoke to find Tech Titan staring and smiling at me.

“You’re so cute when you sleep,” she said.

Ignoring the creepy factor, my brain latched onto the very real prospect of her wanting early morning whoopee. I didn’t want to, I wanted to save my energy for Krazy Girl because I knew I’d be needing it. I said nothing to Tech Titan and just smiled, mawkishly.

“Sorry baby, but I need to jump in the shower and hit the road. I’ve got to get to the other side of London before lunchtime for a big family and friends get-together,” she said, to my great relief. She mistook my smile for the lustful kind, the facial version of prodding a woman in the back with my cock first thing in the morning hoping that it gets her frisky.

I got to work in the kitchen making breakfast ensuring that it was all ready by the time Tech Titan was out of the shower, thereby squashing any chances of her wanting spontaneous sex. The smell of food, especially bacon, would make a big girl like her forget all about sex – that was my reasoning.

It worked and an hour later I said goodbye to her, then I spun around on my heels and rushed back into my apartment to start removing all traces of Tech Titan’s presence. I started in the bathroom, wiping down the walls to remove any long golden-blonde hair; emptying the waste bin of stuff she had thrown away; hiding at the bottom of the laundry basket the towel she had used.

Meticulously I worked my way through the apartment, looking for and removing any signs of there having been a woman in my home. I even washed all the dishes and dried them by hand, putting them away in the cupboards. I was thorough. Why? I did so just in case Krazy Girl was considering a reconciliation.

Would I “take her back” if she asked?

In a heartbeat.

I was impressed with my level of chicanery; I didn’t know that I was capable of being like this. I guess being with my Exgf had taught me more than I had realised. My conscience had barely started to plague me and the air freshener had just settled when Krazy Girl rang my door bell. I opened the door, not really sure how to play the first few minutes of this encounter.

“Oh, hello,” she said before confidently taking a stride forward, barely giving me chance to say a word or open the door properly. I gave her a peck on a cheek and watched her glide imperiously past me carrying a few bags of what looked like groceries. Did she bring her toys?

“I thought we could make a stir-fry tonight, so I went and bought everything we need,” she said as she handed the bags to me, then took her jacket off and opened the hallway cupboard for Winter gear where she hung it up.

It was as if nothing had ever gone wrong between us. It was as if we were naturally resuming from where and when things were at their best between us. I was stunned, confused and pleased, all at the same time. Krazy Girl was fucking crazy…and a crazy fuck.

I decided to play along, open to see where this would lead as it seemed as if Krazy Girl might be working to a plan. For several hours we played happy couple, quaffing good South African wine that I had chilled earlier during my sanitizing rampage, watching episodes of Californication while sitting side by side, but without touching.

The latter point didn’t bother me, because I sensed that it was building the sexual tension between us. I caught her making sideways glances at me and we both just smiled. I caught her glances because I was checking her out too. Oh lordy, Krazy Girl was a perfect female specimen in my world. Even from under her thick sweater I could hear her perfect e-cup breasts calling my name.

We made dinner and once again I was struck by how well we worked together in the kitchen. I told her that I needed the loo and went to the bedroom to down my solitary Viagra before going to flush the toilet. Returning to the lounge I dimmed the lights and we took our time eating dinner, smiling coyly at each other, making polite small talk. The tension was building

Sitting comfortably again on my sofa – this time I made our thigh touch – we watched ‘9 ½ Weeks’, a movie she had heard of but never seen. (Indicative of our 10-year age-gap.) I deliberately chose this knowing that it would put her “in the mood”. I spent most of the movie wondering what she was feeling about me, planning on what to do next when we got physical…and wondering if the Viagra was going kick in. My cock was a little sore from pounding Tech Titan less than 24 hours earlier.

“I need to go freshen up,” she said with a telling smile as the movie ended. I knew what that meant.

Krazy Girl returned, immediately straddled me and began kissing me. This felt just like our first time and I knew where it was leading. Any unease I felt was not driven by the thought of predictable sex, or having to wash and dry my sofa covers again; no, I was afraid that she might smell Tech Titan somewhere on the sofa.

I wrapped my arms around her body and stood up, then in a quick movement scooped her up into my arms with her throwing her wrists around my neck and smiling at me. I think some women like feeling like a little girl in their man’s arms. I carried her off to my bedroom where freshly changed bedding awaited her nostrils.

Some passionate kissing on my bed was the catalyst for the Viagra kicking in. A rock hard erection that just wasn’t going to disappear led to Krazy Girl bouncing off it with her mouth and pussy in creative, energetic ways that pleased and entertained me. She wasn’t smart enough to have memorised the Kama Sutra, but she was enough of a natural fucker to try out most of the positions as a matter of course.

The thing about using a little purple pill is that I don’t feel like I’ll be anywhere near cumming for hours. When it started getting late and she started getting sore, I went on the offensive. I manhandled her into doggy-style position and rammed my cock into her. She was totally turned on by this stage and liked it rough. Krazy Girl got wetter again as I did what I wanted with her; she liked being dominated.

I wanted to fuck her in the arse, to punish her for how she had made me feel a month ago, to show her who was the boss. As I pulled my cock out of her pussy, carefully positioning it in the centre of her butthole, just before pushing it in, she said, “Please no, your cock is too big.”

As much as she had hurt my feelings, it didn’t give me the right to hurt her body. I took a deep breath and slid my cock that half an inch lower and it slipped so easily back into her pussy.

I resumed pulling her hair back, fucking her cunt as hard and as fast as I could and then sucked my thumb before pushing it into her arse, as deep as it could go. She was ‘on the hook’.

“Oh God, yes, fuck me. Fuck me!” she seethed through clenched teeth.

Deep down inside me I knew that I was unlikely to be seeing her again, so I made this last for as long as I could. Sadly there was eventually only so much my body could take of this repetitive motion, as much as she and I wanted it to last forever, I just had to cum.

This time I had the self-control to pull out just before my juices exploded into her pussy. I didn’t want to get her pregnant. I stood behind her and gave my dick a few tugs with my non-anal hand before that hot, smelly, sticky, white stuff shot out of my bell-end and sprayed all over her back. She remained motionless as my cum fanned over a large part of her back. I took this sight in, knowing I might never see it again.

This physically perfect creature was on her knees with her hands flat on my bed. Her magnificent breasts hung and moved ever so slightly as she breathed, still somewhat heavily from the fucking she had just enjoyed. Her natural golden blonde hair now fell forward, revealing the nape of her neck, that area I love to kiss, lick and then gently bite. I ran the fingernails of my clean hand down one side of her spine, which made her shiver and arch her back; I noticed her mouth open. My hand got to her buttocks and I pulled a cheek sideways. I looked down at her holes; both were still open and gaping, ready for more penetration.

I was all fucked out and I let go of her. She slumped onto her side, as she did so I watched her breasts move; how I loved them. I was going to miss them. I watched as my baby batter started submitting to gravity and slide down her back. If I hadn’t fucked Tech Titan less than 24 hours earlier my cum would have been thicker. I would have preferred to watch my cum dripping out of this pussy or arse; that would have been naughtier and far more satisfying.

Krazy Girl was still breathing through her mouth, her eyes closed. She seemed exhausted; we had finally worn each other out. This had been one of the best fucks of my life because I knew I had to make the most of it. The Viagra helped.

A satisfied smile crept across her pretty face. It was such a shame that she was so messed up inside. She could have been ‘The One’. So close, yet so far.

After the past day, this Grey Knight was starting to learn and enjoy the principles of lust…

Enigma – Principles of Lust