She knows what I like now
"Did you cut your hair again?"
"No, would you like me to?"
"You're perfect. How much for a second service?"
"$50?"—an anxious look.
She crawls up and lies between between my legs, and starts sucking my nipples. She knows I like that.
"I don't remember who taught me that."
My dick's weeping precome against her warm belly; I put my hands either side of her pelvis, lift her up to take off the pressure.
On all fours now she plants wet kisses on my chest as she moves from one nipple to the other. Her tongue trills at my nipple. She stings me with her little teeth. She knows I like that. I push her head gently back.
Putting a pillow under my ass, I lift and spread my knees. She sinks her head and as I close my eyes I feel the tip of her tongue at my sack, jostling my balls, warming and wetting my hair. A brief ache when she tongues me too hard.
With a pillow already under my head, I can lean back watch her at work. Between my legs: her forehead, the calm arch of her brow, but her eyes are cast down. I wish I could feel her nose in my hair. I can hear dainty lappings, and feel my balls balance on the flat of her tongue. So much more gentle than fingers. She knows I like that.
She runs a slick finger down my perineum, pauses:
"Some guys like that."
The condom, an Xtra Large Sheik, fell off as I got on my knees to get off the bed:
Pearlish seed shiny in the latex round.
"Look, your duvet."
"That's why God gave them two sides."
I go to the sink and soap, splash, towel dry my dick and my balls.
"We don't have much time left." We've been talking about which city she's going to next, where she'll rent a motel room for a week with her "boyfriend."
The sough of her breath in my ear, her tongue licking the whorls. The street noise dims briefly and my whole self is there.
Doing missionary, with a small girl, when I'm a head taller than she is: I feel the harshness of the pillow's fill as I huff.
What can you do that doesn't require latex?
About to come; slow.
About to come; slow.
The feeling of of of of of a sky on the other side of her flying coming—
I grind my pelvis at her motte and hit bone. I can feel my dick fully up her slung under her pubis. She's secreting: Her cunt flares to my nostrils. Her tiny hard round heels gripping my ass. She knows I like that.
She dresses. Her just-too-tight silky blouse pushes her small tits up and together. She takes some "Fifth Avenue" out of her purse and gives herself a good schpritz.
See also Remorseful things.
All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."