We lay there kissing for a while, coming down from our high. I felt incredibly thirsty so I got up and went for a pee and a glass of water. The glasses in hotel bathrooms always taste of chlorine or something, so I went to pick up the whisky glasses. A lone ice-cube, melted down to a transparent triangle, floated in the bottom of one glass and gave me an idea.
Back from the bathroom, I gulped my water and handed my serious man his glass. I sat on the bed next to him and used the tips of my long fingernails to stroke his thick thigh covered in wiry hairs. His limp and still-glistening cock twitched and fell back against his leg.
He drained his glass and said, "I'm not sure I'm ready to rise to the occasion again yet."
I smiled. There's nothing I love more than a good challenge. Climbing up on the bed, I straddled him, grinding my pussy onto his lower belly. Partly it was to stimulate myself. Partly it was for the pleasure of just spreading our mixed juices around. Slippy-slideyness and the scent of cum are part of the fun of shagging. His hands rested on my hips, gently stroking up and down, and I bent over to kiss him, my full breasts dangling on his chest. He was a great kisser. As his lips moved over mine, and his tongue ran across my teeth, I felt myself getting newly wet.
His hands reached up to grab my tits, which had been teasing his chest as we kissed. My nipples were hard and sensitive to the touch of his thumbs circling over the areolae.
I pulled my mouth from his, "Oh no you don't," I told him firmly, "this is my show."
I slid my body backwards and used my knees to push his legs apart so I could lie between them. The nature of our first encounter had meant that I hadn't really investigated his equipment properly. And that was a shame, because there is nothing so fascinating to a woman as a man's genitals. I rested my chin on my hands and looked over his meat and two veg.
His balls were hanging low and I ran my finger over the roundness of them, their smoothness interrupted by the little hairs. I put my finger in my mouth, coating it nicely with my saliva and did it again, then moved it up to stroke the wrinkly skin that held them. I looked up at my man, propped on the pillows and watching me, bemused. As I watched him watching me, I stuck out my tongue and began to lick. I knew this would probably get him going -- I have a very long tongue and he would be able to see clearly what I was doing. Round and round. Under and over. Each in turn. Then under again to flick one into my mouth and suck on it ever so gently, like a sweet, big gobstopper. Not that he would know what that was. On this continent, they call them jawbreakers.
On to the next one. It is truly an amazing feeling to know you have so much power over a man, I thought, as I gently raked my teeth over the skin of his testicle. I felt a contraction and saw his cock had begun to rise -- not so much, just a tad, two thirds still flopping over. Good. I didn't want to overdo it. My aim was to get him hard in my mouth. I cupped his balls in my cool hand (my hands are always cool), and gave them a little squeeze before running my thumb back up those wrinkles I find so intriguing and slipping my thumb and forefinger around the base of his shaft. I shifted my body up to get my head closer, and used both hands to straighten his cock.
My tongue came out again and I rolled it around the head, before closing my lips over it. He was breathing deeply and his eyes seemed to be saying something I couldn't quite make out. Just a little suck, like when you first put that popsicle in your mouth, then open your mouth, roll your tongue around the head again, pull it gently through your teeth, then suck again. Oh my! It was working. I felt him thicken slightly under my hand. I licked down the side, moving my tongue in and out of my mouth to work up saliva, pushing the hardened tip of my tongue into the yielding muscle, feeling the veins underneath start to fill with blood.
Round the base to the underside, dipping my tongue between those folds I like so much and back up, pushing the tip of my tongue in again at intervals. I took the head in my mouth again and, this time, lowered my face so his cock slid completely into my mouth. I moved my tongue over the surface of his skin and sucked gently but firmly. Mmmm. He was still soft, but getting harder and thicker as I moved my mouth up and down, and my tongue round and round.
He was longer now so I started to move my fingers up and down and around the base of his shaft, massaging him, encouraging him to grow inside my mouth. He began to moan and I looked up at him again, still watching me, his lips parted, his chest visibly rising and falling. I sucked harder and stroked my lips more quickly over him, pushing his head up to my palate and back to the softness of my throat, where I swallowed.
He was almost completely erect now. I couldn't close my fingers around his shaft anymore, and I couldn't take him in completely without gagging, but I kept on working him: sucking, licking, breathing hot, humid breath over him, pushing at his veins and the underside of the head with the taut tip of my tongue, forcing it into the slit of his head, raking my teeth over the smooth skin. All the while I was massaging the lower shaft, pressing the base with my fingers. I was loving it!
He was moving his pelvis now and I had to adjust my timing to him: up and down, in and out, now and then a little deeper. Suck and pull. Squeeze and push. Suck and pull. Squeeze and push. I could feel him swelling and I doubled my efforts. Harder, deeper. I was practically gagging but I knew that wasn't a bad thing for him. Harder, deeper. And then he came and I clamped my lips around his shaft, pulling and milking him as his sweet, yes, sweet, only slightly salty semen spurted into my mouth. Once, twice, three, oh yes, four times!
I held his cum in my mouth, pushing my lips down his shaft to pull up a final time and let him drop out. I raised my head and got up on all fours, straddling him again, all the while looking into his eyes as he lay there, spent. I ran my tongue over my lips and a little escaped from my mouth, running down my chin. I swallowed noisily, and smiled like the cat that got the cream. Which after all is exactly what I was.
"You're good," he said breathlessly.
Oh yes, I am. Except when I'm bad. I smiled again and bent to kiss him deep so he could share the taste of himself.
***
I rolled off him and stretched out like that same proverbial cat, arms over my head, toes pointed, separating my vertebrae and popping my shoulders. Smug? Who me?
I felt his finger tracing my body slowly: down from the collarbone, between my breasts and under and round each one in a figure of eight, back over a nipple, pausing to rub around and over, trailing back to the other, around and over. His finger was soft but quite wide. He had a man's hands -- strong and, apparently, capable, if I was to judge from the warmth I was feeling in my crotch.
I opened my eyes to look up at him as he continued his tracing. His touch was assured and his eyes gleamed with what I can only describe as mischief. It was slightly worrying but hugely exciting at the same time. He was lying on his side, his head propped on his hand.
"Pretty satisfied with yourself, eh?" he enquired, starting to concentrate more specifically on my nipples and bringing his thumb into play.
I laughed, "It certainly was a lot of fun. You didn't enjoy it?" He didn't rise to my provocation but carried on calmly looking at me and gently rolling the nubs of my tits. I turned on my side to face him.
"You're a naughty girl," he began again.
