The first time I fucked Wendy, I knew she was a cock slut. Away on a weekend with a large group of friends which did not include her present partner, she had, unbeknown to me, already screwed one of our mutual friends. I had split up with my girlfriend through pressure of work. This was my first break in several months, and almost my first sex in as long. Does ex-sex count?
When Wendy, after a couple of hours of drinking and chatting, asked if I would still respect her in the morning if she slept with me that night, I was gobsmacked. I had never thought I would hear a woman speak those words. Did she think I was going to say no? This was a fine looking woman, with a smile that lit a moonless night. The body didn't quite match up to the smile, but for a 40 year old with two grown children; she was in good nick. Shoulder length blonde hair, highlighted from a bottle, bobbed around an oval shaped face, nice brown eyes, and those luscious lips and shiny white teeth. Her cheek bones were high, reminding me of sexy Scandinavian women. At times, with a few touches of make-up and at the right angle, she was truly a stunning beauty.
At 5'4" tall, she was about the right height for my 5'10" frame. In English dress size she was a 12 with a very nice length of leg and wonderful calves. A pair of 4" heels gave her added height, and tightened all the right muscles. Her breasts were fairly small, with a softness and a slight droop that made them a pleasure to toy with. Nipples that were large and brown, and high set meant her breasts actually looked rather pert. As quite a lot of bum and tit flashing went on in our, often drunken group, Wendy had cottoned on to the fact that when flashing, she would keep her arms raised, thus making her tits look larger and more pert than they were. She did have very suckable nipples. Her stomach was reasonably flat, small love handles on her hips and her bum was on the larger size, which seems standard with English women.
My previous girlfriend had been an athlete of a high standard, with a killer tight body, abs to die for, and a set of breasts so firm and high that a surgeon could have used them as a mould. Indeed she once modelled for a sculptor who carved her shape in stone. I swear the guy was trying to get in her pants, but Miss Innocent was above any nonsense. The statue did look fantastic in the photos I saw. All before my time, so I wasn't too bothered.
Perhaps I was too hard on Wendy. Comparisons were never going to do her any favours when matched against a girl 10 years her junior, no kids, and a training regime that would have killed most people.
What Wendy had in trumps was a heart of gold, a bubbly, friendly nature, and a caring personality. She was warm and kind, in thought and deed. I really, really liked her. Did I mention that she was to turn out as being as horny as hell; and open to the adventures that the next several years would bring us both.
That first night. Those strange words. I switched from pints of beer to Vodka and orange. Beer bloats, Vodka makes me horny, and OJ, well it has Vitamin C. Must be good for something. An hour later, as closing time approached, we made an unobtrusive exit and escaped to my room without our friends noticing us leaving together. Our group was a tight knit one, but some discretion is always appreciated.
As the door closed behind us, we fell into each others' arms, tongues intertwining madly, as we mashed our mouths together. Wendy had on a loose blouse and jeans, me a T-shirt and chinos. Fingers were working frantically at buttons and zips, and clasps.
We found ourselves kneeling on the bed, Wendy in everyday knickers and bra, me in boxers and a pair of chinos caught somewhere between knees and ankles. Wendy was pushed back onto the pillows, her bra slipping over her outstretched arms, my lips descending onto her nipples; nipples that grew larger and harder as I suckled. I alternated between her mouth and her nipples. Then I started kissing down her sides, over her stomach. My fingers dipped into the side of her panties to brush her sparse and downy pubic hair. No trimming here I thought, no sexy Brazilian of the past. As my fingers brushed across Wendy's pussy lips, they opened and a flood of juice escaped. Wendy was soaking wet. Leagues beyond the moistness I had expected.
Rapidly I pulled her cotton briefs off her. It is amazing how quickly this can be achieved when lust is rampant. Holding an ankle in each hand, I spread her legs wide and gazed at her dripping cunt. It was a mess. Stray pubic hairs were stuck with pussy juice, her lips were red and swollen nicely. They shone in the dimmed lights of the room. The entrance to her pussy was open too, looking like a small black hole in space. I pushed her legs back slightly. Her tightly puckered arsehole looked very trim and tidy.
I may have mentioned how sexy her pussy looked, and how wet. Wendy possibly replied that she had been horny for several hours having decided earlier that she was going to fuck me tonight. Mentioning that I was going to tongue her for hours seemed a normal comment for me. Wendy seemed surprised. It later transpired that most of Wendy's conquests had been fairly drunken escapades involving little foreplay, an energetic fuck, and little post-copulation cuddling. Her three long term relationships had typically lapsed into a rut of a Saturday night romp after a night out drinking, or tired sex after the kids had been put to bed. Little passion, little mystery and no imagination. No wonder this woman was ready for adventure.
I loved devouring her pussy. I explored every nook and cranny, I dipped my tongue inside her as far as I could, I sucked, bit, nibbled, hummed over, lapped and blew on her clit. I slathered my tongue over her anus too, much to her surprise. I smiled as I felt her jump a little. I would save that treat for later I thought. It took her quite a while to come that first tongueing, but she went over the top like a First World War soldier. Gasping and yelling, her breath short and rapid. I kept her peaking with two fingers pulsing against her G spot. Wendy did not squirt but the wetness flowed from her like warm honey from a tipped-over jar. She soaked my fingers, my knuckles; she coated my lips, mouth and chin, and there was enough left over for me to swallow a couple of times. It was fantastic.
The glazed look on her face made me feel like a million dollars. Her eyes were huge, her breathing rapid, her tongue ran over dry lips, and she garbled in some unintelligible language. I recognised the word God, several times. I guess it may have been Latin then.
I wasn't going to give her much time to recover. I had a cock craving attention. Female attention; not the stroking I gave it. Would have given it had work not kept my nose to the grindstone for several 100 plus hour weeks. I don't think I'd come for four, maybe five days. Very unusual as I am normally an every day man. Use it or lose it being my mantra.
Many men complain that women don't give them blowjobs. I've never found that to be true. I work on the basis that if you take the time to go down on a woman for as long as she takes pleasure from it, and as long as your cock is clean and smells reasonably good, then seldom do you meet a woman who is selfish enough not to return a pleasure.
Wendy certainly didn't seem to mind as I kneeled beside her shoulder and manoeuvred our bodies to feed my cock to her generous mouth. She tried gallantly but truly you could tell Wendy did not own one of those drinking mugs with Worlds Greatest Gobbler printed on it. But hell, I am not a man to complain. Taking her head in one hand, my cock in the other, I roamed it over her lips, against her cheek, into her mouth, let her tongue lick at it as I moved it. She soon caught the mood, and tried a few moves herself. Enough that I could let go her head, using my free fingers to mop up some of her pussy juice and massage it back into those juicy lips. Wendy hardly hesitated as I offered several sticky fingers coated thickly in her love juice to her mouth. My fingers slid deep into her mouth, encouraging her tongue to lick them clean. I didn't expect an answer to my enquiry as to whether she liked the taste. My cock had quickly replaced my fingers. Wendy's eyes showed me that this was a new experience. Her slut side easily overcoming any misgivings. So I did it a couple more times. Wendy was certainly getting more vigorous sucking my cock. I was really enjoying myself.
"Will you fuck me now please? I really want to feel your cock inside me." gasped this lovely creature.
Of course, I teased her a little. Made her wait. Asked her if her cunt really wanted cock. Rubbed the bell end over her clit a few times. Rested my length between her pussy lips and pulled her flaps tightly against it. But like a good man I try to be, as soon as she begged like a slut for cock, I slipped into her. Just the tip. Then a tiny fraction more. A little more. Her hips were pushing up at me more and more wildly. I was having to move in time with her so as to not rush things. Now I had two or three inches inside her. I wish I could say there was another 6" or even 9 inches left to give her. I am 7.25" on a good day. I have been told that my cock is quite thick too, which is apparently another pleasing feature for the ladies. I was so hard that this was proving to be a very, very good day.
I was enjoying Wendy's cavern immensely. The first new pussy since I met my ex-girlfriend over four years earlier. It was hot wrapped around me, hot and wet, and slippery. All those things we men enjoy about new conquests. Novelty, new sensation, different movements, different sounds. Now there is a lot to be said about slipping into something comfortable, something well known, well used. But like those comfy slippers, or those old gloves, we can be fooled into taking them for granted. Try on a new pair of fur lined sheepskin slippers; and all your sensations are heightened. You feel every seam, every bobble of fur, every little bit of tightness in the skin. Pussy's are the same, Ladies. Same, same but different as Asians say.
