She drove to work with the sharp, distinct taste of semen in her mouth. She could smell it on her breath and in her mind was still lying across the side of the bed with his cock in her mouth.
She could still feel the soft brush of his pubic hair against her nose, the musk of his crotch at her face. Her mouth still rolled around the thickness of the penis in her mouth.
It made her wet, of course, as sucking men always did. He knew this, and tried to get her off. She had to work, and was doing his best, but he was not able to do so. He had been softly frigging her and working on her nipples with his mouth, but she felt flustered, and then could not orgasm.
She craved the attention, his beautiful, dark hands against her white, creamy skin. His soft, loving doe-eyed gaze made her feel weak in the knees. His shaggy mop of black, unruly hair was oh-so-sexy, and he had such a kind soul.
Yet, for the past couple of weeks or so, she hadn't been able to enjoy sex to the point of climax. Not once. No fault of his, and she had hoped, no fault of hers.
It was just a dry spell, she told herself. Just something weird. No big deal.
The more she tried to calm herself, though, the more worked up she became.
It irritated her that she could not do this simple thing.
She looked at herself in the rear-view mirror.
At nearing forty, she was no prize. The sags of her breasts complimented her dark bags around the eyes. She wasn't thin, and did not view herself as attractive by any stretch of the imagination.
She drove an old beat up pick up truck, and worked long hours.
What was she doing with a man barely over half her age? She was old enough to be his mother for crying aloud.
Yet, he pushed his way into his life. Oh, she remembered their first discussions, the disagreements, but no arguments. Neither was the arguing type. They had only had a couple of serious fights in the four or so years they had known each other. They chalked those up to not listening to one another.
She pulled into the Family Creek Medical Plaza and dropped the antiquated Ranger into the, 'employee of the month' parking. She got out and stretched, her long, flowing brown skirt complimented her chestnut hair. The wind was soft, as it usually was in the early summer morning. This was her favorite time of the day, and she always felt it was a waste to work in the early morning. On her days off, she would just quietly relax in the early morning until he would hold her hand to let her know he was awake.
Neither one of them understood it, but ever since they had started sleeping together, when they awoke, one would wake right after the other. It was a weird, odd thing. Then again, they were weird, odd people, at least in their minds.
He was a highly successful graphic artist, and she was an office manager who wrote science-fiction novels. She was just breaking into the professional realm, and had published many short stories and had been part of several zines. She liked writing, liked what it did with her. She found that she could do a lot more with writing than she could with drawing, although she always wanted to draw, even as a small child.
As she stepped into her office, the lead customer service representative, a tall, lanky woman named Hannah, greeted her.
"Hi Elaine," She said.
"Hey Hannah," Elaine replied.
"You look tired; can I get you some coffee?" Hannah offered.
"Please," Elaine replied. She put her coat on the rack and Hannah brought in a steaming mug of coffee.
"Just like your man, dark and sweet," Hannah said, sitting it on her desk.
Elaine chuckled and took a hit off the rich Arabica roast.
"So what havoc is on today's menu?" Elaine asked.
"We have that lunch, today, remember? The in-service? It's at the Applebee's down the street in the back room."
Hannah nodded. As long as the drug reps paid, she didn't give a shit.
They talked about some of the normal office things that would go on, and then Elaine got to work. Hannah left her alone, and closed her door, as she preferred.
Elaine listened to the radio intently as she worked, getting all of what she called the, 'corporate crap' out of the way quickly. She was working on the last quarter of her latest novel when her door was knocked upon.
"Come in," she called out.
Hannah came in, with her purse in hand, and keys jingling.
"Ready to go?"
Elaine looked at her, and then at the clock. It was quarter to noon. Quickly she grabbed for her bag and they headed out the door.
The luncheon was a very informal affair, all female, and the presentation was brief, and to the point. They talked lightly over salads and the discussion quickly devolved into two favorite subjects, food, and men.
They teased Elaine just a little bit for her young man, and she just smiled her big catty smile, yet, she was still stressed.
When she drove home, she had to admit to herself that she was really, really tense. She was wrapped tightly, and frankly could not bring herself to relax enough. Once at home, she slipped into something comfortable. Her husband rubbed at her shoulders, and he had supper waiting for her.
Later that night, she told him that she was tired, and not well.
Softly he rubbed at her tummy and asked her if it was her time.
"No," she said. "I think I'm just in a slump. Maybe it's some sort of minor depression or something.
Softly his lips ran from her earlobe to her shoulder in tiny, soft, delicate kisses. She felt her nipples harden under the pure white camisole, and a smile involuntarily crept across her face. She turned to him, not really actually wanting to have sex, but also not wanting to not have sex. She just didn't want to become frustrated again.
His kisses became only mildly insistive, trailing across the base of her throat, back up her chin, and softly puttering at her lips. Her tongue licked his, she let it be sucked into his mouth, and tenderly his face moved up in down, as if he were giving her head.
Gently he raised himself on her, and peppered her face with his feathery, tender kisses, and she became aroused, but was afraid of her body, afraid of being disappointed.
She felt his hand softly come up her camisole, and then tenderly rolled a nipple in his hand, and she decided to try again. Her nipples were a powerful erogenous zone for her, and then felt the camisole in her face as his scratchy beard sucked hungrily at her breasts.
From the beard, to her navel, to her thick mat of dusky-brown pubic hair his face traveled. The scent of her womanhood was light, delicate, and always aroused him. His tongue was hungry, inquisitive, and insisting. Softly it rolled past the small piece of flesh that was her clit.
She panted softly, and felt the tremor in her legs, and felt, just maybe she'd be able to do it. Softly his tongue played her nether regions and pleasured her in a teasing manner, just how she liked. She growled, she grunted, and just about at the point of climax, she turned away from him, pulling her pelvis away from his mouth, making a face.
"Fuck," she said softly, growling.
"What?" He asked.
"So close, but missed it," she said. She was nearly crying.
"Aw, sweetie," he said, and came up to cuddle her.
She burst into tears, and quivered in his arms. She was upset, ashamed, and felt utterly unattractive.
He softly stroked her hair, his hard penis quickly deflating, which, in her mind, added to her shame.
As the tears dried up, he put his forefinger and thumb to her chin and pointed her face to hers.
"I love you." He said.
She could only barely look at him, and replied, "I love you too."
Exhausted, more from the emotions of the event than for any physical activity, she fell asleep with her head nestled into the crook of his arm.
The next morning saw another blowjob for him. She figured he deserved it for putting up with his hysterical self, but when he tried to pleasure her, she declined him flatly.
"I need a day or two of rest," she said.
He looked at her oddly, but replied, "I'll have dinner waiting. We'll have a nice quiet evening. Hang out, watch some movies, or play some games or something."
