Southbeach. It is where the beautiful people are. The expensive clubs, the exclusive parties, the celebrities, and the sexual energy of Southbeach are stuff for legends.
We crossed the MaCarthur causeway and headed to the New Year's Eve party. I was sitting in the back seat of the Explorer with Cheryl just trying to enjoy the ride. I looked out and could see that the palm trees that had been whizzing by my window, were now replaced by the dark empty void of space over which was the clear blue water of the ocean inlet. The city lights of Miami reflecting into the water in glorious rippling colors. It looked almost as beautiful as Cheryl did. I sat back and looked at the beautiful scenery around me, the city, the ocean, the lights, but most of all Cheryl, who was at the center of my attention.
She looked fantastic. Her black dress was slunk low in the front and back, suspended by tiny strings tied atop her shoulders. Her long blonde hair was carefully put up and securely fastened to the back of her head, exposing her long slender neck. The bottom of her dress was short and slit up the side. She sat beside me, legs crossed, with a mature elegance that was well beyond her years. Her legs were smooth and long and led to a pair of long-heeled open-toe shoes. Above her foot she wore the tiny golden anklet that I gave to her. Cheryl looked every bit the lady.
But Cheryl had a secret, and I was lucky enough to know it. Her secret was driving me crazy, and every time I looked at her I thought about it. It was all I could do to smile a devilish grin whenever my mind would wander back to the memory of what happened last week.
You see last week Cheryl and I had made love for the first time. After a couple weeks of some heightened dry humping, we decided to finally go all the way.
She came to my house and I greeted her at the door with a kiss. We hardly said a word as we fondled our way up the banister to the upstairs bedroom, a line of outer garments lining our path like bread crumbs in a children's tale.
I placed her on the bed naked and pressed on top of her. I continued to kiss her urgently until my mouth worked down to her neck. I nibbled my way down to her breasts and began working on her nipples with my mouth and tongue. Still further down I dropped until I was right on top of the little patch of mohawk pubic hair she kept; it was golden blonde and trimmed. My tongue came out long and wet, slightly bent around my bottom lip. I pressed it against her hair just scant centimeters above her expectant clit, and rolled my tongue in a distinct circle. I could feel her begin to move in anticipation. Then I passed up her pleasure spot to move all the way down to her legs. I sucked the soft fleshy part of her thigh further up by her inner knee. I began rubbing my face down her warm shapely leg toward her opening, using my mouth to occasionally lick, bite, and suck my way down. By the time I got to where my nose started to tickle from the microscopic blonde hairs surrounding her pussy, I could smell the musky freshness of her. I softly put my mouth to her pussy and began to spread her apart using only my lips. Then I began to French kiss her there, running my tongue in and around the whole sealed package. Cheryl was so wet and writhing in pleasure, thrusting her hips, running her pussy up and down my face. I gave her several long gliding licks from low on her bottom to her very top. Then I began working on her clit, chin firmly nestled inside her. I settled into a frenzy of butterfly flurried licks to the spot where she loved it the most.
Cheryl began to shake, her thigh muscles started to tense. I knew that she was about to orgasm. Suddenly she crawled backward and rolled away from me, and I had to stop. I looked at her in disappointment. What had I done, I asked myself?
"I want you to fuck me," she said in reply and wordlessly began to throw me around on my back, displaying surprising and unnatural womanly strength. "Fuck me."
She firmly grabbed me around my base by one hand and sat right down on my stiffly hardened cock. I entered her in one continuous thrust, all the way to my pelvis. It felt amazingly hot. Cheryl was not messing around anymore. She meant business. She started to pound on me with an urgent purpose. I was thrusting up to the limit of her movements to get every extra available inch of my dick inside her.
I was so in tune with her rhythm, so full of enjoyment, and then suddenly it happened. Cheryl moaned like a siren, and all at once I was covered in a very warm liquid that I could feel running down my legs and crotch. Our once smooth motions now sounding wet and sloshy, slapping against our legs. I felt like two pints of something warm had just been spilled on my crotch. I stopped short.
"You didn't just," I started to say but did not know how to finish. "Did you just piss on me?" I asked.
"No," she said. "I just came on you. That's how I do it." Cheryl turned red, embarrassed by her little secret.
Now before I go on I have to tell you, I have been with a few women before, believe me. And I know how to pleasure them, and I manage to bring most of them to climax. But never like this. Not like Cheryl. Cheryl was one of those rare birds that you hear about, like an urban legend. Somebody that, even as early as a young schoolboy, you are fairly sure you will never meet. You are not even completely sure that she exists: like Big Foot, or the Abominable snowman. Allusive to say the least. However, here she was on top of me, totally embarrassed about what she just did and how she did it, and I lay there soaking wet from my belly button down to my knees.
"That's why I pulled you up," she said softly. "I didn't want to do that while you were down there."
I looked at her wide-eyed. "Yeah, I can appreciate that," I slowly nodded and said, "Do you do that every time?"
She looked embarrassed again and shrugged her shoulders. "That's how I do it. Didn't want to scare you off."
Was she serious?
I was still staring at her thinking of her little secret as the driver turned onto Ocean Drive. Cheryl had been looking out of her side of the car window, while I had been daydreaming of her orgasm in my mind, when she noticed I was looking. Like telepathy she knew exactly what I had been thinking about.
She gave me a stern look with a sly grin. "Stop it," she whispered and looked embarrassed.
Pam was up front in the passenger seat of the S.U.V. She was second generation Italian, tall with long dark hair, big brown eyes and incredibly sexy. I had met Pam for the first time a couple of weeks ago at a sports bar by the softball fields. I was with Cheryl, her best friend, and I jokingly flipped her off. I was not sure if she knew that I was just kidding or not. But if she did not like me she hid it well.
We were all double dating because Pam had a problem. The driver, Phil, her boyfriend of about five months, apparently was not giving her the appropriate amount of attention. They would kiss, he would become aroused, but every time Pam tried to take the next step Phil would think of a reason to leave. It was very frustrating for her, and quite frankly she did not want to be alone tonight. Actually Pam was thinking this might be the end of her and Phil. Cheryl had told me of Pam's dilemma, but I was not going to get involved.
Of course Phil was behaving like everything under the sun was just fine. He had no idea about Pam's desires. He seemed to not have a care in the world, driving us to his company New Year's Eve party on Southbeach. I did not particular like Phil, but I did not particular dislike him either. He was just one of those people who did not seem to get a lot of things. His understanding of people, especially relationships, was limited.
