Aced

"40 – 30."

Even before she announced the score I knew I was down match point. I also knew she was going to hit her wicked lefty slice serve out wide again. I'd swung at it for two sets now, and even after seeing it so many times I still seemed to catch the ball on the end of my racket as it arced away from me. Every time. Though my backhand return had been going in it had little pace and put Kristine in a winning position. I took an extra step into the alley as she made her toss, knowing she couldn't see me do it as her eyes were on the ball. This time would be different. I'd drive it back deep, and...

When I heard "whack" instead of the "swish" of the slice I knew it was over. As I leapt to my right I saw the ball from her flat serve kiss both lines of the tee and rocket past my flailing racket.

Aced.

Her "Nice match, Mark," as we shook hands was less smug than I'd expected. I had won four games in the second set – twice as many as I'd managed in the first – and, as Kristine had played division one college tennis at Pepperdine, I knew my efforts had actually been quite decent. But still she'd beaten me. Twice today. I hoped for a better result when we negotiated over dinner.

In the shower I reviewed all that had happened, and went over my new, revised plan. I'd been sandbagged at the meeting. The sizeable sale I'd been led to expect – with just a few minor details to work out, hence the meeting – evaporated in the first minute when Kristine Danson, Assistant CEO of AmmaCorp, began to propose terms – very favorable to her side – for the lease of the water purification devices I'd expected to sell. I struggled to catch up, to comprehend and then react to what Kristine was saying. It became clear that John Franklin, CEO of WaterPure and my boss, who was probably too drunk to come to the meeting – it was after lunch, so he'd had his usual five martinis – had OK'd the change to leasing the machines but somehow neglected to tell me. His email conveying his assent was in the ream of papers Kristine had handed me and our lawyer upon entering the room.

"Page seven, Mark. You can see it's all settled." Kristine's voice betrayed amusement at my consternation.

Not knowing what the hell else John might have agreed to, I dug in my heels, taking time to dissect and question each and every aspect of Kristine's proposals, and finally succeeded in running out the clock. When the meeting had to end and we weren't done, Kristine suggested that we continue, just the two of us, over dinner that night. We'd work out the few remaining details before the signing meeting tomorrow at 10 AM. And maybe play some tennis – John had told her I played – beforehand. 6:00 PM at her club. Bring a coat and tie as the dining room was formal. It was settled.

In truth I hadn't minded. Not a bit. Kristine was hot. Maybe sporting five years more than my thirty-two, she was gorgeous in the way some women are who seem to get more arresting and sensual with every year. Five-nine, slim, athletic, streaked blonde hair, beguiling blue eyes, concave cheeks, and full lips that became sultry whenever she wanted. Svelte and shapely were apt descriptors, and she moved with the grace of a professional dancer.

The Ahi tuna – I let her order for me, as it was her club and she wanted to – was delicious, and though I tried to fight for the check I lost again. I'd done better in the surprisingly brief negotiations, at least getting an acceptable lease rate, and after we reached agreement Kristine had become very friendly, seductive even, her voice low and sensuous when she shared little nothings and laughed at my bon mots. By the end she was looking deeply into my eyes and touching me offhandedly and frequently, making clear her intentions.

I was entranced and aroused by this assertive, alluring cougar. It had been a month since Lucy had announced she'd fallen in love and moved out, pending our signing her lawyer's no-fault divorce paperwork. Even before she'd left our sex life had been nil, probably because Lucy was already in love with Mary, and had been for some time. Though stunned by her gender preference transformation, I had been reasonable about the separation – Lucy was a good mother and our children loved and needed her – and we were going to share time with the kids, details to be determined later. But I missed sex, a lot, and was intrigued by where this might lead. Where Kristine was leading me.

* * *

"Oh please, dear God, not again," I thought desperately as her hand slid between the mattress and my stomach and her fingers wrapped round my limp, still oozing, pummeled penis.

The dam that had barely managed to hold back the torrent – first of simmering, then seething sexual tension, which boiled over when Kristine announced in the elevator that she was on the pill and certified disease free; was I? (I was) – that dam burst as soon as the door to her suite closed. We were at each other like Greco-Roman wrestlers, except there was abundant grabbing below the waist. On one such foray, her fingers deftly downed my zipper and captured my cock. I'd been hard and dripping since those same fingers had first brushed the back of my hand at dinner, and her thumb spread my clear fluid over the head as she whispered, "Come," and tugged me into her bedroom. Our clothes were jettisoned willy nilly and once we were both nude her blue eyes twinkled in the darkness as she shoved me onto the bed, mounted me and slid down, adroitly scooping my erection into her using only her vulva.

Then she fucked me. Relentlessly. Her vagina, tantalizingly wet and hot, felt like a tight silk glove, caressing every cell of my penis as she expertly slid up and down its length. Her soft, succulent breasts perfectly filled my hands and her hard nipples pushed back against my thrumming thumbs. As she rode me hard I tried assiduously to hold back the boiling fluid being inexorably drawn out of my balls, pooling for its final surge. I struggled mightily and, despite the wild eroticism of being fucked by this gorgeous, wanton woman, I managed to stem the tide until she trembled and shook, crying, "Oh, oh, oh, OH!" as she came. Kristine collapsed down on me, shaking and moaning, and her gasps and whimpers in my ear, her shapely breasts poking their hard nipples into my chest, and the rhythmic contractions of her orgasming pudendum yanked me over the edge. I arched, thrusting and heaving, each time her tight, hot vagina squeezed and slid on my cock, milking it, over and over, dragging out every last drop of my semen.

As I lay panting, stunned by the magnitude of my orgasm, she rolled off me and whispered, "God, Mark, that was so good." When Kristine just lay still on her back beside me, motionless except for the heaving of her chest as she caught her breath, I felt a pang. Was that it? Is she done?

So wrong.

As I turned to her, determined to keep making love, to work us up to round two, she took my hand, placed it on her quim, and purred, "Oh, yesss," as she pushed my fingers into her. Her pussy was awash with our cum and she stretched and sprawled, cat-like, humming and cooing as my fingers swam in the ooze.

Kristine abruptly rolled away, sat up and turned on a bedside lamp. "Let me see this nice cock of yours. Oh, yes, I like it," she said lasciviously as she drew close. She captured the head of my flaccid penis between her fingers and thumb and stretched it, turning, twisting, and tugging, as she gently blew on it. Though very arousing, after being so thoroughly drained I knew I needed time. I began kissing her, fondling her beautiful breasts, intent on making slow, passionate love to her. This night was far more sensual and exciting than any I'd ever experienced and I wanted it to go on and on. I was determined to give her as much pleasure as she had given me.

Kristine, however, had other ideas. She rose up, pushed me on my back again – she evidently liked to be in charge – and began stroking, pinching, licking, and sucking my nipples. All the while still fondling my penis. Never having had a woman pay such devoted attention to my breasts, I found it very stimulating. However, when my cock twitched repeatedly but did not become hard she whispered, "That's fine, Mark. You just need a break." She purred and the sultry came back into her voice. "But I don't."

She threw her leg over me, slithered up my body and planted her pussy directly on my mouth. I eagerly slurped our juices as they poured out of her and she began moaning and writhing above me. Kristine moved her vulva subtly, precisely controlling exactly where and how firmly my tongue licked her, all the while coaching me. "Oh yes, there, that's good, Mark. Play with my tits, tweak my nipples. Pull them. Harder. Pinch them. Keep licking. No, just stay right there, don't move. I'll put my clit where it's best. Yes, that's better. Circles now. Good, Mark. The other way. Yes, keep going... Oh, oh, oh, Oh!"

As I felt my cock begin tingling, twitching, starting to swell, I thought, "God, this is wonderful," as she shuddered and moaned, her labia majora rhythmically contracting astride my mouth. I loved that Kristine helped me do what felt best for her.

I also loved that she was an orgasm machine. After her second she leaned back and found my penis, now semi-erect. As she stroked and fondled it she said, "Yes, Mark. Get hard for me. I want you inside me again... Oh yes, flutter your tongue, right there. Faster... Oh, oh, oh Yes!"

The fresh flood of nectar from her third climax was magical, an irresistible aphrodisiac, and, releasing my now hard, throbbing, eager cock, Kristine hummed in anticipation like the engine of a finely tuned Maserati as she slid back down my torso. She again scooped my erection into her, moaning lustfully as the head of my cock plowed into her lubricous vagina. Once I was captured she sat upright, leaned back and took my balls in her hand, hefting them, squeezing them, rolling them about in my scrotum. When I grasped her hips and began to thrust up into her she squeezed harder.

Too hard.

I froze.

The timbre of her voice sailed past sultry, all the way to wicked. "No, Mark, stay still. Let's be clear. I'm fucking you. I'm going to drain every drop of cum out of these balls again. We'll both love it. And after I do I'll play with them some more, tease them, make them produce yet another load for me. I'll suck your cock erect, titillate your testicles, and fuck with your mind – that's what I'm doing right now, isn't it? – all so I can drain you yet once more. Then, when you're unable to get it up – oh yes, Mark, that WILL happen – I'll laugh, have you use your talented tongue to get me off one last time, kiss you thanks for a nice evening, and send you on your way. But I'm in charge. Got it?"

I thought, "We'll see about that, Kristine," but my cessation of thrusting must have conveyed assent, as her death grip on my testicles relaxed.

She'd been rhythmically squeezing my cock with her vaginal muscles as she taunted me, and though peeved and challenged by her aggressive assertion that she was going to fuck me limp and then laugh at my impotence, I now wanted to come again. Badly. Having been so thoroughly drained I knew it would take time, but there was something gloriously salacious, prurient, and incredibly arousing about being teased, controlled, used, so I went along. I'm not one of those brazenly macho, but really pathetically fragile men who always need to be dominant. When the time came I'd throw Kristine on her back and pound into her at my pace, but I'd let her do all the work in the meantime.

Still fondling my testes, she began sliding her clit up and down my length. As her moans got louder, her back and neck arched back, and her trembling became spasmodic. When I heard her "Oh, oh, ohs," I stopped kneading her perfect breasts, thumbing their hard points, and pulled her French derriere firmly to me lest her thrashing and lurching buck her off. When she collapsed forward onto me, her engorged nipples scraped my chest and her hair and hot breath teased my neck as she started to screw me again. I held her ass to me hard to keep us joined as I flipped us over.

Kristine grunted her displeasure – she wanted to be fucking me, not vice versa – and a faux wrestling match ensued. Though we were nearly the same height I had 25 pounds on her and was now on top. I thwarted all her attempts to slide away, to buck me off and escape. As I pumped my penis into her I kept my arms wrapped round her tight, pulling her torso close to keep her flailing arms – she was ineffectually hitting and slapping as she feigned railing against being fucked – from doing any damage.

When I sensed that she was tiring, her thrashes and twists waning, carrying less conviction, I risked holding her with just one hand on her tailbone while I worked the other between us. Into her pussy. Kristine reared back and renewed her lurching and wriggling, but being doubly impaled, by my stiff cock in her vagina and my middle finger in her anus, she could not escape my other digit diddling her clit.

As I fingered and fucked her, Kristine's grunts and miffed protestations gave way to the "Oh, oh, ohs" that signaled her orgasm. I stopped thrusting, quickly removed my finger from her too sensitive clitoris, held her tenderly, and kissed her forehead, cheeks, and eyes as she recovered. When she finally quit thrashing and trembling, her legs quit jerking, and her ohs became oohs, I began ever so slowly screwing her again.

Her pique at being fucked faded faster this time – we both knew she secretly liked it – and soon Kristine was pushing her pussy up to ensheathe my cock, meeting every thrust. Having come so massively not long before, I was able to stay in control even as she gasped, thrashed, and trembled through yet another orgasm. I kept pumping her, extending it, drawing it out.

I stopped immediately when her hands on my hips urgently held them still – I'm a considerate lover and knew she was too sensitive – and took her head in my hands, watched her eyes smile once they again became able to focus, and kissed her. She kissed me back. Sweetly. I told the truth. "My God, Kristine, that was amazing. You are amazing." I may have won our wrestling match, but she'd won me.

Her answer was to roll me over and sit up on me, a vulpine smile on those lusty lips. "That was naughty, Mark," Kristine whispered, "but nice." The sultry was back.

My turning the tables on her, interrupting her plan to just drain me and claim me, making her come twice dancing to the tune of my finger and cock, was immensely gratifying.

And exceedingly hot, as was her starting to screw me again. To have taken the siren who had vowed to fuck me dry and then laugh at my inability was very arousing, and soon the semen began oozing out of my balls and prostate, gathering, seething, beginning to creep up my shaft. Kristine sensed it. She sat up, put one hand on my chest, pinning me to the bed, as the other found my testicles. When my sac clamped them tight to my body she thrummed her fingers over them and coaxed, "Yes, Mark, empty your balls. I want it all."

I felt my toes curl, my back arch, and heard my strangled inhalation right before all perception was obliterated by the raging burn as my cum surged up my pole. Just as the first rope of fluid jetted out, her finger pierced deep into my rectum. My ejaculatory system was immediately supercharged, and I cried out, every muscle clenching and spasming as I spewed into her, over and over. As I gasped and jerked, Kristine kept squeezing my penis and fingering my ass, maintaining the exact rhythm of my ejaculations. She continued milking me long after my cock just distended and throbbed, obeying her commands, but no more semen was available to be ejected. Her vagina wringing my hypersensitive penis, extracting every last drop of cum, became so intense that I finally couldn't take any more and cried uncle. "Kristine! Please stop. No more." She did stop, but only after making me suffer through three more wonderfully excruciating dry ejaculations.

Even through my gasping I heard her low laugh, smug and lubricious. She'd drained me a second time. Completely. And made me beg her to stop. As I came back to consciousness I saw she was smiling, watching me. Kristine sweetly stroked my cheek, kissed me and cooed, "That seemed like a good one, Mark. But the night is yet young. It's a good thing you are, too." She rolled onto her back, took my face in her hands, kissed me wetly, and pushed my head down.

Kristine wasn't done.

Still reeling from what had to be the most powerful orgasm of my life, I fought the chemicals just released into my system that tried to convince me sex was now uninteresting and it was time to sleep. I made love to Kristine. As her hands directed my head to her breasts I fondled, kissed and licked their slopes – perfectly rounded and wonderfully soft – spiraling inward ever so slowly to her darker, swollen areolae, and finally to her pink, jutting, erect nipples. She pulled my head to her and brushed my cheeks, sighing and moaning, as I suckled and licked. "Yes, suck them, hard. Harder. Nip them, yes, even harder. That's a good boy."

When she again pushed on my head, I eagerly – I was back into it now – kissed down her belly, through her curly, blonde bush, to her vulva.

I love pussies. Everything about them. I loved how Kristine's swollen, pink inner lips blossomed out between the dusky outer labia when I spread her thighs wide. And I loved eating Kristine. Almost literally. I sucked first one, then the other labia majora into my mouth and, covering my teeth with my lips, delicately chewed them, gently, lovingly, but thoroughly. Kristine ground her pudendum to and fro on my mouth and moaned and groaned as I ate her.

When I heard her take a breath and knew she was going to coach me, to tell me how to do it again, I thought, "No, Kristine, sometimes being surprised is hotter than getting exactly what you want," and quickly curled my tongue and drove it deep into her vagina. Her breath hissed out, preempting any instructions, and I replaced my tongue with two fingers as I drew her labia minora into my mouth and ran my tongue rapidly up and down their silky length. When I pursed my lips and pulled her clitoris in between them I was rewarded by Kristine's "Oh God!" followed by shuddering sighs. As I began circling her button I had to remove my fingers from her vagina to use both hands to still her hips so that her thrashing wouldn't jerk her clit away from my tongue.

After her second orgasm she urgently pulled me away from her oversensitive clit, heaved a shivering sigh, and rolled me on my back. When her panting abated, she said, "Mark, that was marvelous. I do love your tongue. But now it's time for me to drain you again. I want you to get hard. Try for me, won't you? I know you can do it."

Having come so massively twice already I had serious doubts about my ability, but her lips on my limp tool felt nice, warm and soothing. She sucked it in, pulled back and her lips smacked as it popped out. "Concentrate completely on what I'm doing to your lovely cock," she commanded lecherously as she began to work her magic.

Lucy and past girlfriends had given me head, but they were neophytes, rank amateurs compared to Kristine. She sucked my limp noodle hard, but not constantly. The strong vacuum created in her mouth pulled more blood into my penis, and once she felt it swell her first finger and thumb clasped tightly around the base of my shaft, trapping the blood within. Holding my cock by its stem she licked the head like an ice cream cone, savoring a tasty treat. I was mesmerized. She relaxed her finger as she sucked again, then squeezed hard, holding the new blood captive. More licks and kisses followed. She did it all once more. Then again. Over and over. Kristine inflated my cock like a balloon and I'm sure it would have been enough to make me come all by itself, but she did more. Much more.