Tag Archives: lovemaking

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.

Kaboom!

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.

And…Kaboom!

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.)

Teacher Gal, the cats and bumping uglies

I phone Teacher Gal during the week and we have a polite conversation, at the end of which, in an attempt to get clarity, I ask if we are getting together again. “How about this Saturday?” she responds, which surprises me, but I naturally agree to. I guess the heavy petting incident didn’t put her off me. The next night I get a text message from Delicate Flower that reads, “Are you free on Sunday?” I feel a little uneasy about this situation, but tell myself that thus far I’m just exploring possibilities with both these women. One might be a romantic prospect – the thing I want most – and the other is just a potential fuckbuddy for me. Nothing is certain with either of these women, so I agree to meet Delicate Flower on Sunday.

It’s Saturday morning and I drive my red sports car to Teacher Gal’s town to collect her. We both have an interest in history and I take her to Milton Keynes where there is a new museum dedicated to how Britain deciphered Nazi Germany’s secret communications using the first computers. It’s a vast complex of huts, bunkers and buildings that all have fascinating displays in them, but involve a lot of walking around. It becomes a drizzly day and we huddle under my umbrella.

Teacher Gal seems quite affectionate today, occasionally put her head against my shoulder and coming to hold hands with me when I’m looking at a display. Her behaviour is much more tactile and she’s smiling at me a lot . It’s almost as if she’s made some kind of decision about me.

We could have spent the entire day at Bletchley Park, but Teacher Gal tells me that we need to get back to her place by 6pm because she needs to feed her cats. She has cats? I didn’t know. It’s no big deal because I wasn’t really expecting to even spend as much time together as we have so far. I’ll take her home and say my goodbyes; I really am not counting on much more than that.

“Would you like to come in for a coffee?” she asks as we near the gates of her complex.

“I’d love a coffee,” I say, seizing the opportunity to progress our relationship.

I meet her cats and they are disinterested in me. I guess that’s cats for you. I grew up with dogs as a kid and even today don’t know anyone with cats. I don’t know much about them, don’t have anything against them and see this as a new experience – knowing someone with cats. Then I remember: Krazy Girl had a cat. Hmmm.

Teacher Gal feeds her cats as I look around. Her place is spacious, light and airy, just the way I like it. Her furnishings are basic and her decorative touches are colourful African ornaments and paintings. The place feels calm, but slightly cold, lacking that soulful feeling that a home should have. Nevertheless, I feel comfortable.

It isn’t long before we’re sitting kissing on a sofa while the cats take up position on other seats and stare at us. The kisses are turning Teacher Gal on and she starts making primal sounds and liberally using her tongue. Suddenly she gets up and disappears into the depths of her apartment. I hear her closing windows and curtains. Well, it is getting dark, maybe this is her sign that it’s time for me to go?

As I contemplate leaving she returns to the lounge and closes the windows and curtains. Then she comes over to me and before I can say a word, she straddles me. She recommences kissing me passionately and I go along with it, not really sure where this is leading. She’s a ‘Good Girl’, right?

Teacher Gal straightens her back, takes her jumper and blouse off, tossing them carelessly onto a seat that startles a watching cat. She unclasps her bra and throws that over her shoulder without looking. It lands near the other cat who gives it a dirty look, but he doesn’t move and returns his gaze to us.

Teacher Gal leans forward and positions a breast at my mouth. Like a good little starving baby I take the breast in my mouth, swallowing it all, which leads to her letting off a sigh of satisfaction. I gently suckle on it, slowly twirling my tongue around her giant areola. Just how far are we going to go this time? This is no time for discussion, the time for talking is over.

I release her breast and take the other other one in my mouth. She lets off an “Ughh” sound. I wonder just how wet her pussy is getting. Is her pussy big and flappy or small and tight? Is it neatly trimmed and odour-free or is it a smelly, hippy-bush with crabs doing bungy jumps with leftover tampon cords?

Releasing that breast, “Do you like this” I ask sarcastically.

“I love having my breasts sucked like that,” she says, keeping her eyes closed.

“More than having your clit licked?”

“No, I like that just as much,” she replies with a little laugh.

“Would you like me to lick your clit?”

Teacher Gal instantly pushes off me and stands up. Have I really gone too far this time? The twinkle in her eye and naughty smile tell me otherwise. Without a word she walks off to her bedroom. I guess I have to follow. Quite happy to actually, to get away from these voyeuristic, pervy cats. I’m not used to being watched while getting amorous, there’s something just not right about it. Who needs an audience while sucking boobies?

In the gloom of her bedroom I undress Teacher Gal, pretty sure that we’re going all the way tonight. This surprises me, but if I were to back out now, it would only cause problems. As unexpected as this is, I’ll make love to her and then figure it all out tomorrow. An awkward morning is infinitely better than a night of lonesome wanking.

“Lie down on the bed and spread your legs,” I say to her.

She looks at little surprised at my directness but does as she’s told. I undress myself in front of the bed so that she can watch me doing so. I climb onto the bed, knees first but keep strong eye contact with her. She’s biting her bottom lip, with one arm behind her head, the other on the duvet. Teacher Gal looks so sexy. The uncertainty and anticipation in her eyes is a turn-on for me.

I break eye-contact and kiss the inside of one knee and she sucks in air through her teeth. Slowly I kiss up the inside of her thigh, arriving at her groin. Her pussy is small and tight, no flapping labia lips and it’s neatly trimmed into almost a Brazilian. I ignore it for now, knowing that she’s expecting me to kiss or lick her pussy, wanting it even, but I’m going to make her wait.

Moving down to the other knee I notice her stomach muscles release; she was expecting me to go down on her. I kiss the inside of the knee and slowly kiss and lick my way back up to her crotch. She’s breathing faster now.

I lick inside her groin and do the same on the other side; her breathing picks up speed. Positioning the top of my tongue on her slit leads to her making a “Hnnn,” sound. Then I slowly push down with my tongue and pull my head slowly up, gently parting her pussy lips, letting the rough of my tongue make as much contact with her wet fleshy bits. As my tongue slides over her clit, I can sense her butt-cheeks clenching and she makes that approving “Hnnn” sound again. Reaching the top of her hairline, I pull my tongue down, this time letting the smooth underside slide over her clit and down between her lips.

“Oh my god!” Teacher Gal exclaims.

“Has it been a while?” I ask. Yes, it’s none of my business, but I’m curious to know.

“It’s been over two years. Please don’t stop what you’re doing,” she implores.

I resume sliding the top and bottom of my tongue over her lady garden. The mixed sensation of rough and smooth is doing things for her and she’s becoming increasingly wet. I try to push my tongue into her vagina, but it’s just too small and tight. No matter, she’s not totally turned on yet, I tell myself. I can change that.

Teacher Gal’s got quite a big clit for such a small tight pussy. I slowly run my tongue around it a few times before sucking it into my mouth. I feel her legs shift next to my biceps as this happens and she makes that sound gain. I think it’s very easy to be a good lover – all you need to do is pay attention to your partner’s reactions. I’m learning that every woman is slightly different, but they all love having their clit licked and sucked.

To be continued…

I couldn’t help it

My emotions and feelings conspired against me on a rainy Sunday night and they made me phone Baltic Babe. She answered her land-line and “Hello Trouble” is all I said and she instantly knew it was me. Her tone of voice indicated that she was pleased to hear from me, which surprised me as I was expecting a cold, indifferent response initially.

We made the polite small-talk necessary to re-establish communication, but it was merely minutes before it felt like we had never stopped talking to each other. That warm, fuzzy feeling that I only felt with her returned.

“Are you seeing anybody?” She asked suddenly. An innocent question that came with so many potential agendas behind it; she’ll never change. Was she sounding me out because she was still interested in me? That was my strongest reaction. The question made me momentarily take stock of why I was speaking to her; what did I want to achieve with this call. In the split second that it took me to come up with my answer, I realised that what I wanted from the call was to see if she was as great as I remembered.

“Not at the moment, no. How about you?” Two could play this game.

“Yes, actually,” she said, deliberately leaving it at that to create a sense of intrigue and drama, her perpetual dark companions. I wasn’t too surprised or disappointed to hear this; Project Baby had a strict deadline.

“Do you want to tell me about him?” I countered in a sarcastic tone, knowing that she wanted to, but teasing her about it. I could hear her smile on the other end of the line. She loved this kind of banter, the cut and thrust of witty repartee. I wondered if it turned her on, made her nipples harden or pussy moist; I wouldn’t be surprised if it did. It’s foreplay to her.

“He’s French and an investment banker,” she said proudly. How that must have satisfied her Russian cultural craving for status that I could never have lived up to.

“Does he make you laugh like I can?” I went for the jugular.

“No. He’s a bit boring actually.” Her brutal honesty surprised me.

“Well hopefully he’s good in bed?”

“It’s okay. Nothing fantastic.”

I was stunned. She’s with a guy who doesn’t make her laugh, she finds boring and is mediocre in bed? This cannot be. Had I dialled the right number? Who was this person? One of the key words in her dating profile that stood out for me was her describing herself as “passionate”. We established on our trip to Bulgaria that I was more passionate than her, but nevertheless, she was with a guy who didn’t meet the three things I knew to be very important to her.

Than it hit me. Money. Baltic Babe was with him because he had filthy, smelly money. That was more important than anything else. The realization saddened me. How did she bring herself to lie back and spread her legs for him? Was she really so like her stereotypical Eastern European counterparts? Obviously.

A scene from “Frasier” sprang to mind in which Frasier says to Daphne, “How can we (men) use sex to get what we want. Sex is what we want!” I think there’s a lot of truth to that. Baltic Babe, like so many women before her, was using sex to get what she wanted.

It occurred to me that if Baltic Babe, the worst lay of my life, considered him an average lover, then he must be a really bad lay; boring when erect and horizontal. I wondered if the Frenchman’s cock reeked of garlic. If so, did her pussy now smell and taste of garlic? It’s amazing how quickly the brain can process information and come up with new stuff, isn’t it? My little brain was buzzing.

“Can you see yourself having a kid with this guy?” I asked. Fuck it, I had nothing to lose.

“You never know. We’ll see,” was her non-committal answer.

I had heard enough to have lost a lot of respect for her. I decided that it would be best to turn the conversation negative before ending it. I asked her about her work situation and that triggered off a single-vagina monologue involving swear words about her bosses that went on for far too long for my liking. After enough of her prattling and whining I told her that I had to go. I could hear the disappointment in her “oh” response to my saying goodbye.

I held the phone in my hand as the whirlpool that was my feelings and memories of her spun around, the various shades of colour melting into a bland grey. A grey that congealed and told me that she all along was out to use men and I had nearly become ensnared in her trap.

Some unwitting French fool was day by day having a cunning little spider weaving an invisible web around him, tying him to her so that one day he cannot move and the eventual weight of his bonds will become too heavy and he will fall, unable to defend himself as the little spider eats him alive. She will feast on everything that he has to offer, even after his blood has run dry – by even living off of his pension fund.

It was evident that the strange concept of ‘love’ was never mentioned in our conversation. It obviously had no value or place in her world. The French Fool might have an opinion about it, but it would be irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. The perception of ‘love’ was a narcotic occasionally administered so as to ensure his compliance, his unthinking obedience, his perpetual slavery.

As to my objective with the phonecall: was Baltic Babe as great as I remembered? No, Baltic Babe was no longer my paragon of feminine virtue; that illusion had evaporated over the course of our brief chat. It was a disappointing feeling. She was fearsome though; a combatant not to be taken lightly. In that call I got to see her true motivations, her truest colours and I didn’t like what I saw. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, not because of her machinations, but because I was naïve enough not to realize this about her earlier. I felt foolish, but nowhere near as foolish as the Frenchman would once the drug of love had worn off, but by then it would be too late for him.

The poor bastard.

It could have been me…

I guess Billy Joel is right.

Billy Joel – Honesty

That unforgettable Sunday morning with Krazy Girl – Final part

With an almost callous indifference I slipped that finger up her arse. It slid in easily; her butt-hole was already moist by itself.

“Naughty,” is all she wheezed, before closing her eyes and resuming biting her bottom lip.

Still playing with her clit which miraculously remained wet from her seemingly endless supply of pussy juices, I gently fingered her arse, pushing deeper in it with each metronomic thrust. I had never done this before, well, not like this, I didn’t know what I was doing. Yes, thumb-in-bum during doggy-style I had done, but nothing as blatant as this. I won’t lie to you; I liked it. I liked the audacity of it, the rawness, the intimacy, the honesty and, yes, the naughtiness of it.

Krazy Girl’s back arched up and she cupped her mouth with both her hands, her eyes wide, her breasts bouncing as she finally came. She suppressed her scream and it must have hurt her throat. It was that kind of orgasm.

Thank God for that, I thought, slowly pulling my finger out of her arse and relaxing my aching left hand. I looked at my right hand’s index finger, expecting it to be covered in a runny chocolate substance, but it was clean with just a hint of an odour.

From the room next door we heard a commotion, followed by two sets of footsteps in the passageway and a deliberately loud slamming of the front door. Good riddance.

Now I had a chance to go to the bathroom to wash my hands, so I stood up and for the first time became aware of my erection. It was about the size of Scotland. Krazy Girl noticed it too and she grabbed it and started enthusiastically sucking on it.

I stood by the side of that bed, with my hands help up in the air the way surgeons do after having scrubbed up, except that my hands were covered in pussy juices and anal bacteria, as the most physically perfect women I had ever seen naked sucked my cock like her life depended on it.

“Stay there, don’t you move,” she said as she quickly swung around and presented her backside to me, then reached back with a hand and grabbed hold of my cock.

What the hell is she going to do now, I thought to myself. Oh jeez, she’s not going to…oh fuck…not while she’s on her period…I really don’t like that…I’d done that once with my ex-girlfriend and really didn’t like it.

I was wrong.

Krazy Girl reversed onto my cock with her arsehole.

My cock slipped so easily and smoothly into her arse that it surprised me. That little hole was able to stretch that much and so easily?

Then it dawned on me…

Oh my God, had I just joined the AIDS club?!

You see, I grew up in South Africa, a fascist police-state when I was a kid. Pornography was illegal and sex was a taboo subject. I hadn’t heard of anal sex until my late teens and it came with a terrible stigma. It was considered totally immoral, for deviants and homosexuals only (in those days being homosexual was a crime that came with a lengthy jail sentence). Anal sex was not something that “normal” heterosexual couples ever did. It was considered unhealthy and highly dangerous. The acronym A.I.D.S was jokingly referred to as “Arsehole Injected Death Sentence”. It wasn’t something that I had a burning desire to do with a woman, but I’ll confess that I had wondered a few times over the years what it might be like.

I looked down at my cock, watching it disappearing and re-appearing as Krazy Girl bounced off it with her arse. Her beautiful golden-blonde hair was swaying in time with her breasts as she silently fucked her own arse with my cock. I think most other men would be very pleased with all this, but I wasn’t. My feet were frozen to the spot they stood on. I was terrified that my death sentence had just been carried out. I went a little cold inside (fear) and my cock must have softened a little bit because Krazy Girl said, “If it comes out it isn’t coming back in again,” without breaking her repetitive motion.

Was she a disease-ridden little slut? Had I just made the biggest mistake of my life, my now short life? Was anal sex a regular thing for her? Just how much trouble was I in? I wanted to know, so I asked, “How many other guys have fucked you in the arse?”

“Two others,” she answered, pushing her arse as far back on my cock as she could go, giving off a little grunting sound.

“Who?”

“My husband used to do it to me all the time. The first was another guy, but I was drunk and apparently there was a lot of screaming.” She kept bouncing off my cock with her butt-hole.

“Do you like being fucked in the arse?”

“Yes, when I’m really turned on.”

“Do you like feeling a cock cum in your arse?” I was curious.

“Yes.”

“Do you like the feeling of hot, sticky cum in your arse?”

“I love it.”

In that instant I decided that the damage was done and I might as well go with the flow. With my foul hands I gripped her butt-cheeks and started thrusting my hips towards her, burying my cock even deeper in her arse. She stopped moving and let out little gasps that indicated a little discomfort. I couldn’t care less if she was uncomfortable; if she had just infected me with something, I was going to punish her…punish her with my cock. I noticed the sight of us in a full-length mirror that was clinging to the wall opposite the bed.

“Look to your right,” I said, which she instantly did. “Can you see yourself in the mirror?”

“No.”

“Never mind. Keep looking that way.”

I kept looking into the mirror, committing to memory the sight of her on all fours on the bed, her pretty face with lips slightly apart, her expression neutral, eyes blinking with my every thrust, her perfect breasts dangling and swaying as I fucked her in the arse. I’d never fucked like that before, let alone with someone as physically perfect as Krazy Girl. If this was to be the end of me then I wanted to get as much out of it as I could.

I fucked her in the arse for what seemed like an eternity before I realised that I wasn’t going to cum. The way she had sucked me off eight hours previously had drained my balls, or so it felt. I knew at the time that a little bit of performance anxiety was creeping in too; I had never done this before and I was uncomfortable. I was a good guy and good guys don’t do things like this, right?

Wanting her to see herself, I picked her up off the bed and somehow managed to keep my cock in her arse as I positioned her in front of the mirror, dropping her legs to the ground.

“Put your hands either side of the mirror,” I commanded, which she instantly complied with, quicker than a scared felon about to be frisked by an angry policeman wielding a threatening night-stick.

“Look at yourself in the mirror. Watch your tits bounce as I fuck you in the arse,” I said. I was starting to enjoy this. Was she?

Her hair was getting in the way of my view, so I bunched it up and pulled back, just enough to lift her chin so that she could see everything in the mirror. She liked it because her tell-tale “naughty” escaped from her lips.

“Is this what you like?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Is this what you need?” I said, pushing my cock in as deep as it could go, lifting her onto the tips of her toes, causing her to catch her breath just before she answered.

“Oh, yes.”

“Is this what you’re good for?”

“Yes.”

“Say, yes sir,” I ordered.

“Yes sir!”

Like that we stood for an indeterminate time, my cock thrusting in and out of her arse, me tugging her hair, all the while I had a view front and back of what was happening. It was great; my heart is racing now, as I describe this to you. I so wish I had videoed that encounter; I’d never share it, it would have been just for me. I wouldn’t share something like that, doing so would diminish its value.

“I’m starting to get sore now,” is what she said to bring the experience to an end. I pulled my cock out and it came with a little popping sound. My cock was starting to go soft anyway, there was only so much ass-fucking it could take too.

Her arse was tighter then her pussy and I must confess, after a while it felt good. It took a little bit of mental relaxation (okay, my accepting my possible fate) for me to enjoy this new experience. I had heard that anal sex usually involved some lubricant, but this obviously wasn’t the case. Another urban myth that Stupid Boy believed.

“Why did you do that?” I asked, still in a mild state of shock at what had just happened.

“You’ve been so nice to me so I thought you deserved that.”

This girl was crazy, but I liked her.

Krazy Girl showered first and left me to my conflicted thoughts and feelings…and inspecting my dick. When I showered I used every chemical product in that bathroom (with the exception of the toilet bleach) to clean my cock. I was determined to get off it anything that didn’t belong there. It wasn’t a pretty sight – various shades of red – when I decided it couldn’t take any more punishment for the day.

A couple of hours later we were sitting in an Italian coffee shop next to the Thames, looking out over small sheets of ice that were bobbing on the shoreline, laughing at people slipping on frozen pavements. Krazy Girl returned from the ladies and sat down with a naughty smile on her face. I waited for it.

“The ladies toilets are very spacious. If I wasn’t on my period I’d say let’s go in there,” she said.

This little woman was insatiable! I liked that. Finally I had met a woman who matched and possibly exceeded my sex-drive. What made matters even better was I knew that I was falling in love with her.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happens next…

Love walked in

Krazy Girl and I enjoyed each other’s bodies for several hours more. I made her cum by simultaneously fingering her g-spot and licking her clit which, by the way, was tiny. I know my way around a woman’s body and never before had I struggled to find that little guy. Hers was definitely under-developed.

In a moment of tactless honesty I said to her, “Jeez, you really have a small clit,” not expecting much of a response. Hardly were my words cold when I realized that they might cause offence, but instead she came back with, “Yeah, I know. It’s because I’ve done so much cycling.”

We eventually got around to the dinner I had prepared as part of my redundant ‘plan’ for the night. We were both still frisky and got to watching ‘Basic Instinct’, but we didn’t even get halfway through it before we were fucking on my sofa again. We just couldn’t get enough of each other. She certainly was a very enthusiastic lover, very eager to please and had my pleasure as her highest priority. I was in heaven on earth.

Eventually she fell asleep in my arms in the small hours of the morning after I had carried her to my bed and made her cum again. As long as I live I shall never find the words to describe how good I felt that night. I was on such a natural high and life felt perfect. I couldn’t believe my luck in having this amazing little woman appear in my life out of nowhere. Thank you OKCupid.

On the Sunday morning I woke up first and just lay next to Krazy Girl, taking in the spectacle that was her. I had never seen such a physically perfect woman before. I was still dizzy from this new reality when her eyes opened and met mine. Words weren’t necessary.

Within about a minute we were at it, doggy-style without having said a word to each other. She starting bunching her hair up and then said, “Pull my hair.” As first words to hear in the morning, this was novel, but I’m always eager to please, so I did as she asked. I grabbed the bushel of hair and gently pulled back, raising her chin.

Then Krazy Girl did something most unexpected. I watched her put a middle finger in her mouth, suck on it and then reach back to her arse and started rubbing this finger around her little arsehole before slowly forcing the finger in, as deep as it could go.

I couldn’t believe that this girl was fingering her own arsehole. I’d never seen a woman do this before, not even in a porn movie.

My body ran on auto-pilot for several seconds as I took in the scene before me. Here was the most physically perfect woman I’d ever had the privilege of being intimate with, on her knees and one hand on my headboard, her e-cup breasts swaying all over the place, my cock buried deep in her pussy, me pulling her hair because she asked me to…and she was fingering her own arse?!

As I sit here typing this, with my eyes wide open, I can still see that scene today…and I’m getting a chubby.

A team of wild horses yearning to break free of their bonds tied to me could never have pulled my cock out of that vagina. The novelty and naughtiness of this became too much and my balls tweaked tight as my man milk sprinted for the exit. I came so hard that I got a headache; it must have been from my brain rattling against my skull.

Recovering, I looked down and saw that her pussy had clamped tight around my slippery cock…and she was still pulling and pushing her finger in her arse.

Pulling my cock out her was accompanied by a little ‘pop’ sound that I found cute, but what was truly hot was seeing her pull her finger out of her arse and lying on her side, smiling at me. I felt a mixture of surprise, disgust, curiosity and flattery (because she felt comfortable enough to do this with me) but said nothing, choosing instead to pretend like this was dead normal for me.

There’s no other way to say this…we spent most of that Sunday in my bed fucking…and it was great. We’d take a breather, make some small talk, perhaps have something to eat or drink, talk ourselves into a frenzy and make the beast with two backs…wait, that’s not correct…we re-enacted pretty much every position in the karma sutra.

By that Sunday night my cock was getting sore and I suspect so was her pussy. We agreed on one more fuck and went for it one last time for the weekend. Krazy Girl liked having her hair pulled when doing it doggy-style for a while, but this time I surprised her. With her hair firmly in my grasp, I put my thumb in my mouth, made it as wet as can be, then put it down between her butt-cheeks, all the while fucking her with my now hurting cock.

My thumb found her little arsehole and started to rub in circles around it. She liked it, giving off an approving little grunt. I pulled her bunch of hair as far back as I could and then slowly forced my thumb into her arse, all the time watching for any grimace or facial expression that showed pain or discomfort. There was none as I slowly pushed my thumb ever deeper up her arse, but I did notice that her breathing quickened. Then she huskily said, “naughty,” but didn’t do or say anything else, so I carried on.

Like that I fucked her; her hair pulled hard, my cock deep in her pussy and my thumb as far up her arse as it could go…and she loved it. I felt her body starting to twitch just before she came with what was her biggest orgasm of the weekend. Her body shook but couldn’t move much under the grip I had her in; it probably heightened the experience for her, feeling constrained, being violated and manhandled like that. All she could let out was a deep, throaty “Hnnnn…” as she came.

I let go of her hair and she let her head drop down, gasping for breath and I think I saw a drop of saliva fall from her mouth onto the cushion beneath her. I wasn’t done with her though; well, my cock wasn’t. As I took my time to reach my own orgasm, Krazy Girl remained perfectly still, my thumb still buried in her arse, submissively letting me do as I pleased. Somehow I managed to cum again; I had lost count of how many times I did that weekend, but I’m sure it was a record.

I pulled my digit and penis out of her holes and Krazy Girl collapsed into a heap on the bedsheets covered in and reeking of our body fluids. I fell down next to her and cuddled her, smelly thumb be damned. She was still breathing heavily, almost panting as we lay there speechless, but satisfied. Like that we fell asleep.

My alarm woke us the next morning; it was another Monday, but unlike any I had ever known. I opened my eyes first and took another good look at this fabulously sexual, stunningly attractive woman who was lying next to me. Finally I was experiencing what I had been craving.

“Good morning,” I said with an automatic smile. It was automatic because I just couldn’t help smiling, such was my elation.

“Hello,” she said softly, smiling with her eyes as she clutched the duvet to her chest.

“I’m sorry, gorgeous, but I have to shower and go to work. Would you like me to make you breakfast?”

“No, but thank you. Can I lie-in for a while then leave later after you?”

“Yeah, sure I’ll leave you my door key, but can you please leave it under my doormat when you leave?”

“Okay,” is all she said.

I left my home that morning walking on several feet of invisible cloud; I was on an incredible high. I smiled all day and people at work made their caustic comments, but I couldn’t care less. I felt that I had finally found the perfect woman for me.

I sat in a daze for most of the day, recalling details of the previous two days. During a break from our sex Olympics, I had asked Krazy Girl, “What’s your favourite song?”

“It’s ‘Love Walked In’ by Thunder. It popped into my mind the moment I saw you for the first time last Saturday night.”

“Can’t say I know it, but I’ll check it out.”

Here it is. These words were written for how I felt on that Monday…and it had meaning to her too…

Thunder – Love Walked In

Krazy Girl gets…crazy?!

Krazy Girl arrived complaining of a stiff back and legs from the long drive. We went for a walk so that she could loosen up. I was all in favour of this, thinking she’d be needing it for later. After a stroll of 30 minutes around my town, making polite small-talk, we ended up back at mine. Before I knew it we were kissing. Within seconds she pushed me on to the sofa, kneeled before me and started rubbing my crotch. I was stunned; I’d never been in such a situation before. I had always taken the lead when getting intimate with a woman. How far was she willing to go? Surely not all the way? I never said a word as she looked deep into my eyes, her face stern with intent and eyes smiling mischievously.

My manhood reacted as it would at the hands of such attention. She never looked down as she unzipped and unbuckled my jeans, her gaze fixed on me. I kept a straight face, trying to match her intensity, a look of daring in my eyes I hoped. We said nothing. She pulled my swollen cock out of my clothing, briefly looking down at it as she worked it up and down with both her hands. I slouched in my sofa as this vixen before me maintained eye contact, licked her lips, blinked a few times…pulled my foreskin back…and then eagerly swooped down on my cock with her mouth.

She sucked on it eagerly and ferociously…a mixture of up down head movement at various speeds, then twisting and turning her head…never once letting my cock out of her mouth.

It was swelling and growing all the time. She knew exactly what she was doing and she did it well.

I never said a word as she expertly varied her technique….

Licking up and down my shaft…stopping to kiss my aching balls that were still partially squashed in my underwear…then slowly licking them…all the while maintaining eye contact.

She stopped and pulled my jeans and undies off with incredible ease…she’d done this many times before.

She kept her clothes on, but it didn’t matter. I was thinking that this was just foreplay and she’d stop at any second. I spread my legs, in my mind daring her to continue…to her there was no dare involved.

She made sure to lick all over my balls, occasionally kissing them…before stopping for a few seconds to look me in the eye…

…and slowly suck one of my balls in to her wet, warm mouth…

There was a little discomfort in my testicle that she swallowed…she knew this…gave me a sly smile with her eyes…and slowly released it…

Krazy Girl moved over to my other one, sucked that one in more quickly…I gasped from the sudden mixture of pleasure and pain…

I could feel her roll her tongue around my ball while she held it in her mouth…

She released it by almost spitting it out…and then vigorously deep-throated my shaft and head to the back of her mouth…and rocked her head back and forth many times as quickly as she could…which made for a mesmerising sight.

She was an expert cock-sucker…and she loved it! She made approving sounds as she did her thing…or my thing.

She jerked her head back; my rock-hard cock flopped out of her mouth, dangling like a crane in the wind, not knowing what to do with itself…

But she did…she knew exactly what she wanted to do…she had been fantasizing about this on her maniacal high-speed drive over to me…

She stood up and in one quick movement fiddled wit her skirt and straddled me…it was so quick that I didn’t have time to react.

This wasn’t part of my plan! I’m very much an alpha male, being in charge at all times. This was a very new and unusual situation for me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying it.

She put her hands on my shoulders and started rubbing and grinding her crotch against my fully erect cock…she kept eye contact at all times…we never spoke.

I had my hands on her hips and I could smell the sweet scent of her perfume through her floral blouse and frumpy beige cardigan.

She bit the corner of her mouth, reached down behind herself, fussed with her black skirt and pulled her g-string sideways.

Was she going to do what I…

Yes, she did…

She had pulled her stringy knickers aside and slid herself on to my cock.

I was aghast as I had planned to use a condom, but this little tigress was too quick for me.

Oh…MY…GAWD…She felt exquisitely perfect as she covered the tip of my throbbing cock with her pussy.

Krazy Girl’s pussy was very wet, wonderfully tight and ever so-pleasingly warm. We both held our breath.

She kept looking in to my eyes, unblinking, still biting her lip in a naughty-girl-caught-masturbating kind of way…

She finally made a sound, by gasping and then starting a slow moan, almost against her wishes it seemed, as she forced herself down onto my rock-hard cock.

Her eyes were lighting up as she went further down, obviously enjoying the length of me. She was a little on the small and tight side, but she felt wonderful.

She forced herself down as far as she could go; I was obviously filling her up, given the sounds that she was involuntarily making…

She rolled her head back, her hands gripping my shoulders and started gyrating on me, something that surprised me, but nevertheless pleased me.

Then she put her hands behind my neck and began riding me like her life depended on it.

Suddenly she stopped, half stood up, trying to keep my cock in her waterfall-like pussy, and pulled me up by the neck.

I’m 6 foot 2 inches tall and 220 pounds, but this little woman had no problem manhandling me, such was the adrenaline flowing through her body. In the process we un-copulated.

She pulled me on to the rug next to the sofa and said “Take me on the floor…”

I quickly pulled my top off and frenetically undressed her as she lay before me…clothes flying everywhere…

I spotted a small tattoo above her hip bone. It was of a panther the size of my thumb. I don’t like tattoos, but I wasn’t going to quibble…

Her head was laid back on my floor, golden blonde hair spread out like a peacock’s tail feathers, her eyes ablaze with passion and anticipation…

The moment that I had been waiting for had unexpectedly arrived…I was going to get to see, feel and play with her breasts that I had secretly been stealing glances at in out first few dates.

I pushed her top up and they popped out…and I knew then and there that there is a God after all, because her breasts were absolutely perfect!

They were all-natural, wonderfully round, smooth, fleshy, inviting and large. Her nipples were erect and a rosy pink colour…

I somehow resisted the urge that all men in the same situation would have done – I didn’t suck her breasts.

Instead I parted her legs and slowly slid my already wet cock in to her awaiting pussy…and it felt even better than before.

Missionary position has its detractors, but I’m not one of them. I love the look on a woman’s face when she feels how big I am for the first time…as her mouth falls open and she gasps for breath, a mixed look of pleasure and fear in her eyes.

I know I should have stood up and found a condom…but a steam train was not going to stop what thousands of years of evolution had designed me to do…to fuck!

I felt her wrap her legs around my back. Oh, how I love that feeling. That act of complete desire, lust, acceptance, yearning and submission all rolled in to one.

I started to slowly but forcefully slide my cock in and out of her…I noticed that her breathing was now in time with my every thrust.

Her pussy felt like it was made for me.

Then her body started quivering. I thought she was approaching an orgasm. I looked down.

She was crying.

Sweet little tears were sliding out of her eyes, going in every direction that gravity wanted.

I stopped, mortified that I was hurting her; worried that somehow I had accidentally slipped in to the wrong hole.

“What’s the matter?” I obviously had to ask, breaking the intense silence.

She looked at me, reluctant to answer. Indecision had replaced lust in her eyes.

For a fleeting moment I realised all the danger that I was in. Here I was, balls deep in to a girl I had only met a week earlier. No protection involved.

Shit, what was she about to tell me? Had I now just joined the AIDS club? God, no!

“I was afraid that you’d be small” is what she blurted out.

“What the hell are you talking about” I instantly retorted.

“Everything with you has been perfect so far. Everything. I can’t find anything wrong with you. I had convinced myself that you must have a small dick.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

She continued “Now I feel like such a fool for having told myself that. You’re the biggest I’ve ever had.” She sobbed, foolishly.

“Well, surprise!” I said with a smile to which she smiled too. I didn’t want to stop to think about the insanity of what she had just said; I wanted to finish what we had started, just as Mother Nature had intended.

I slid my cock back into her pussy and we fucked for what felt like a blissful eternity on my lounge floor. We were both getting carpet burns, but we didn’t care, such was the intensity and enjoyment of our first time.

I didn’t want to cum in her, so I somehow controlled my natural instinct and pulled out when I sensed that I was about to cum.

“Push your tits together,” I instructed. She instantly complied as I straddled her ribs.

I gave my cock a few tugs and my baby batter started spurting out, spraying drop by drop across her perfect breasts. She looked down at my cum all the while as it collected on her bosom. Her facial expression was one of strange curiosity.

My last drop plopped into the little puddle that was forming in her cleavage. She let go of her breasts and with an index finger collected a dollop of cum which she looked at intently, then put that finger in her mouth and sucked it clean, closing her eyes as she did so…