Demerara

Demerara

We strolled back to the villa from the restaurant. We shared a comfortable silence. The desert insect life, an occasional breeze through the trees, and rhythm of our dress shoes on the path were the only sounds. She nuzzled under my arm; my right hand commuted between her right hip and her ass. I could feel my cock, flaccid but full, sliding against my sodden undergarments.

My dining companion had worn a simple black cocktail dress, sleeveless, high necked to deemphasize her ample breasts, but cut above the knee to accentuate her magnificent legs. The simple yet important heels amplified the curves of her calves, which shimmered in her sheer stockings. A long black silk scarf curved around the front of her throat and cascaded down her back.

In the back booth of the dimly lit restaurant, that little cocktail dress kept farther up her thighs. My hand was drawn magnetically to her, my palm gliding across the top of her left thigh. Soon it dove between, my fingers feeling the smoothness of her stockinged legs on both sides. Her legs slowly, casually parted. Accepting her hinted invitation, I glided on, exploring further, soon discovering that she was wearing true stockings that abruptly yielded to the warm soft skin of her upper thigh. The air was close beneath her dress; I could feel her heat wrapping around my hand. I wandered on.

A sly smile crossed my lips as my fingers felt the first strands of her hair, confirming my deepest hopes that she had not worn any underwear. A subtle breathy sigh escaped her lips; her legs widened more. My cock strained against the fabric of my trousers. My middle finger caressed the cleave of her lips. Pressing lightly, her folds surrendered, my finger plunging into her swollen femininity bathed in her molten essences. She let out a barely audible "ah," the salad fork in her mouth stifling it. I could feel my own undershorts becoming soaked with pre-cum. Occasionally a bead would land on my thigh and spill down. My cock screamed.

I continued to caress her periodically throughout the meal, taking care not to draw attention or disrupt decorum. But I made it clear that she enflamed me, captivated me, and that as important as eating was feasting on her. In turn she expressed her desire, running her hand over my thigh and the indiscreet bulge in the front of my trousers, sporadically gripping my steely shaft through the fabric, stroking.

As we neared our room, she suddenly parted from me and, stepping a pace ahead of me, broke the silence.

"Unzip me."

"Huh?"

"UnZIP me."

Shrugging my shoulders to myself, I reached out with focused care and, keeping our gait, drew the zipper of her dress down from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, whisping her ass with my fingertips when I released the zipper's tab. She hurried a few steps ahead of me, curled her shoulders forward and slipped the dress off her arms, down her body and onto the path. She stepped over the discarded raiment, a tacit request for me to pick it up. I stopped, stooped, and retrieved it. As I righted myself, she was a few more paces ahead. The black horizontal strap of her bra, her black garter belt, the black scarf, and black stockings and heels was all that was covering her. Her smooth demerara ass, framed by the black garters, swayed invitingly as her hips rolled with each strut. The scarf fluttered gently above. I felt my cock strain against my trousers as I resumed walking; a cooled droplet of pre-cum rolled down my left thigh.

I watched her silhouette as she rounded the corner for the villa's front door, catching a glimpse of the voluptuous curves of her breasts, ass and legs as she turned. I found her leaning on the doorframe, her arms behind her back, the black scarf pulled to the front and draping around her breasts, a devilishly inviting smile on her lips, her hips angled by one leg bent at the knee, the delicate triangle of dark wheat hair on her mound framed by her full thighs. Softly lit by the entry sconce, I could see a wicked glimmer in her eyes. And no wonder: she had slipped off her bra, her breasts jutting proudly from her chest, made all the more prominent by the black scarf curtains.

My eyes locked on hers as I approached. Without breaking the stare, I slipped the keycard in the slot. I held the door, allowing her to enter first. I caught a whiff of her perfume and shampoo as she passed, which I drew quickly, deeply into my lungs. She strutted to the middle of the sitting area, unsnapping her garter clips as she went. She stopped, bent at the waist, and methodically, sultrily rolled a stocking down her leg. Had I shifted to right just a few inches I could have caught the outline of her womanhood peeking from between her thighs. I chose to stay still; knowing that it was just out of sight—the tease of it—amplified the eroticism of the moment. I slipped into the bathing area just off the entryway to disrobe. Having hung her dress and my clothes, I was just flinging my boxers from my foot when I heard her call from the other room.

"Are you ready for dessert?"

I rounded the corner and found her stretched languorously atop the kitchen bar, adorned in the white terry hotel robe, bathed in candlelight. She was elegantly sexy. With her open robe draping over the countertop like a tablecloth, she stretched her body long on the counter: her right leg extended, her left bent at the knee just past it, her hands cupping her mighty breasts. With a bit of humor, she affixed a temporary tattoo to her hip. In the shape of a highway sign, it read: Slow Curves.

She had prepared a barstool for me at the end of the bar, but I moved it aside, preferring to stand. I cradled a knee in each hand and gently slid her to me. As I glided her along the bartop, I kissed my way up the inside of her left thigh, lingering where her leg yielded into her tumescent outer lip. I continued kissing up the pillowy, engorged gateway to her Venus mound. As I pressed my face into her mons, I felt the distended head of cock bump into the wall of the counter, the plentiful pre-cum allowing it to skate across the cool smooth surface. Dragging my nose through her hair, I continued to kiss her mound and puffy right outer lip and, as I had done on her left, kissed the crease where her sex flared out to her leg and kissed along her thigh. I savored her skin on my lips, her scent in my nose, her salt on my tongue, her deep uneven breaths in my ears. I paused and enjoyed her with my eyes. Her hands were gently massaging her breasts, with the index and middle fingers of each hand clipping a nipple, rolling them in a light, fluttering roll. Beneath, I could see her ribcage rise and fall like great ocean waves. I dragged my gaze across her abdomen to her sex. Even in the candles' warm vanilla glow, I could see her bloated caramel outer lips, her distended, glistening inner lips forcing their way out from beneath, a tear of her excitement trailing out and down between her cheeks and onto the robe.

I approached with my lips, extending my tongue, catching her wetness with the tip and tracing back up. As I reached her entry I sank my tongue in. She inhaled sharply, offbeat from her respiration's rhythm. I released her knees, sliding my hands up her thighs to her sex. I withdrew my tongue and continued upward, pressing the tip into the soaked, swollen flesh above her entry to the straining bead of her clit. Her body shuddered as lightly flicked her clit with the tip of my tongue, hooking it under its protective hood. I spread her lips with my thumbs and kissed her lips with mine, sucking her right petal into my mouth. She let out a long moan, arching her back as she did. I moved to her left lip, kissing it lightly before drawing it into my mouth, sucking on it, nibbling gently.

I released it and pulled back, blowing lightly on her superheated sex. I widened my stance for a more comfortable angle and, having paused a couple of beats, I plunged into her, sinking my tongue as deep inside her as I could, sealing my lips on hers, lapping her, drinking her, thirsting for her, craving her, being fed by her, needing her. She released her breasts and gripped the sides of the bar, let out a sharp "Ah!" by the surprise of my onslaught. I wrapped my arms around her thighs, pressing my palms into her mound as if I was trying to feed more of her into my mouth like a starving man reunited with food. I soon struck a rhythm between my mouth and my hands, grinding her clit against my lip as my tongue fluttered within the muscled ring of her entry. A hand gripped the back of my head. It was difficult to breathe as her mound filled my nostrils. I didn't care. I needed to feast on her. Her crystalline honey ran over my tongue and down my throat, warming me. A "Ngha" escaped her lips followed by, "oh, fuck, that feels ... so ... good..." She breathed in desperation through her mouth.

Her hips rocked in a gentle fucking motion, my tongue sliding in and out of her, a sensation usually afforded my cock. I could feel her sex swell further, like it was trying to envelop me. I could sense her bearing down. "You're gonna make me cum. Oh, f—, oh...fuck, you have me so close!"

I pulled off and said in a heavy breath, "I want to see it! I want to see you cum!" And I quickly returned to tend to her. Plunging my tongue into her a few more times, I felt her muscles tighten. "Oh, fuck, I'm there! I'm cumming! Aaaaaaahhhh!" She cried. I pulled back and watched her body experience the pleasure I brought her. With her thighs quivering, I could see her lips convulse and quake. Her nipples were erect, sitting like raspberries atop her rolling breasts. And though her lips were soaked in secretions that she and I contributed equally, a fresh rivulet trickled out and down onto the robe.

Though some shockwaves continued to course through her, I felt her body relax as I ran my hands along her thighs. I stood straight up and kissed her navel. She was sweaty. Her perspiration was savory on my lips. I glided my hands up her body to her breasts, fluttering the pads of my index fingers across her relaxing nipples.

"How was that?" I asked.

"Mmmm," she responded, sliding her palms under mine. Our fingers locked and I helped her sit up, seizing the opportunity to kiss her breasts and her neck as I did. The robe slipped off her shoulders onto the counter. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I did around her ass, and I helped her off the bar, kissing her deeply as I did, our tongues entwining, exploring. My pleading cock slid along her inner thigh, bathed in my own pre-cum and her essence that had begun to run down her leg, nuzzling itself in the nest of her mound. I held her close, running my fingers through her hair.

"Your turn," she said, patting the countertop. She slid out from me. My body shuddered as my tumescent cockhead dredged through molten silk of her hot labia before springing out from between her legs, thwacking her left hand inelegantly. I clumsily hefted myself onto the bar. Arranging the robe beneath me, I could feel the damp circle she and I had created in the terrycloth on my butt. Knowing that I was sitting in her cum was oddly arousing, and I could feel the blood rush into my cock, making it swell more. I parted my thighs and leaned back on my hands, my cock pointing out at an angle, my aching testes hanging beneath, grazing the damp robe. I could see a bead of pre-cum fall from the tip past the edge of the bar, a thin thread connecting my cock to the floor. Though I had more than my fair share of orgasms on this extraordinary day, the uninterrupted teasing throughout the afternoon and evening had flooded my prostate, which I could feel like a bloated bean deep within as I sat back. I was ready, craving, needing to cum again.

As I did with her, she teased me, running her hands along my thighs, raking her fingernails lightly on the insides of my legs. As the fingers of her left hand combed through my pubic hair, she gently dragged the fingernails of her right over my scrotum. I could feel my sac tighten and tingle as my cock jolted, making my corona flare. "Oh, fuck," I hissed. I expelled more pre-cum, which she caught in her palm. She made a point of bringing her right hand to her lips and extending her tongue to lick my oil from the heel of her palm, all the while her eyes looking deep within mine, the candlelight making her eyes sparkle. Savoring my flavor, a smile crossed her lips as she closed her eyes and let out an, "Mmmmm."

Opening her eyes, she returned her focus to my throbbing cock. She extended her right index finger and ran it lightly up and down the underside of my shaft. As she pressed from the base to the head, more pre-cum came out, which she daubed on her finger, swathing it all over the engorged head of my cock. My body shuttered under her touch, the feeling too intense, my nerves too sensitized. She stopped to admire her work. My cock swelled and bobbed with each heartbeat, the thick vein bulged on the left side of my shaft, my glazed corona catching the candlelight.

In a stunning example of turnabout-is-fair-play, she lunged, taking my cock fully into her mouth. The searing heat of her tongue blanketed me, swirled around me, made my muscles go weak. I choked on my own breath. She pulled back, spinning her tongue around my cockhead, making my legs spasm, only to take all of me again. I convulsed, my body hurled forward, my back arching over her head. I ran my hands down her back, clutching her ribs as she found her own rhythm on my shaft. I felt her nose press into my mound, her tongue working out past her teeth to tickle the base of my cock, pressing the tip into the soft channel of my urethra on the underside of my cock. She periodically drew air in her mouth, cooling my erection's stretched skin, which served only to accentuate the intense heat of her mouth.

I could feel a tempest roiling deep inside. I knew I wouldn't last long. "Oh, fuck, that feels amazing. You're going to make cum so hard." With a couple of teasing licks on the underside of my cock, she looked past my coated beseeching erection into my eyes and said, "I want to watch you cum too," then swallowed me again. That set me off.

"Oh fuck, I'm cumming! Oh...f—mmmm!"

She released me. She backed away and quickly ran both hands up my thighs, stopping at the front of my hips, kneading me softly. I sat up more, pointing my cock straight at her. My orgasm spiraled up like a tornado, swirling at an incredible speed outward from my prostate and the base of my cock deep within. My penis vibrated, my legs shook. I croaked, "Nnnnngha!" as my cock spasmed, hurling my white-hot semen at her neck with a force commensurate to the pressure she had built up within me. My hips bucked and my cock jumped as the successive pulses splashed my seed onto her chest. Through my blurred eyes I watched my cum cascade down her—some over her right breast and around her nipple, some into the deep valley between them—before collapsing backwards onto the bar, trying to catch my breath.

Her left hand slid across my body through my pubic hair and grasped my cock. My waning erection convulsed involuntarily in her hand. The blood slowly exited my shaft as she caressed the last drops of semen from me. She rested her head on my right thigh. As my breathing returned to normal, I could hear hers accelerate sharply, punctuated by a sharp muffled "Ah!"

Quizzically, I asked, "Did you just cum again?"

"Mm hmm!" She hummed with a sheepish giggle, like a kid caught with a second cookie in her mouth.

"Hot!" was my reply, making my cock twitch in her hand. "Let's get some sleep."