Almost a year had passed since Allison walked out of my life and I was beginning to realize that a vital piece of me was missing. I desperately wanted it back. At 46 I felt old and apathetic, lifeless. Barely able to make love to my own wife, I secretly longed for the erotic intensity of my yearlong affair with the flaming young adulteress.
I saw her everywhere: imagined her cock sucking lips on the faces of pretty girls I passed in the street; I fantasized that she was the anonymous woman in the cyber chat room, the slut on the web cam, the nubile nymph on her knees in every blowjob video hidden in the bowels of my computer. I was hungry for Allison's sweet young body and her perfect mouth, but I could only possess them in my dreams. She was the most sexual woman I had ever known; but losing her had drained me of my sensuality.
My last memory of her is this:
wild-eyed and half-naked, the lithe 23 year-old is on her knees, curly red hair matted and sweaty, her white silk blouse unbuttoned to the waist. She is bra-less-- exposing firm, orange-sized breasts to the cool air, the nipples stiff and fire-red. Her skirt is a chaotic mess of black cotton bunched around her tiny waist. She is shamelessly sucking my cock in broad daylight in an empty church parking lot. Somewhere back in my car are her panties. Her auburn pubes, still damp from the sweaty fucking I had just given her, glisten in the bright sunlight as she plays with herself while she blows me.
I am cumming in her mouth now--my body is trembling, knees buckling. I feel her delicate fingertips gently supporting the cum-spewing cock resting on her tongue. Creamy-white spurts of semen fly between her red lips and I hear her noisily swallowing thick sperm as it repeatedly gathers in her throat. Tiny white pearls of cum appear at the corners of her pretty mouth. She is so beautiful on her knees, servicing me in public like this. She is oblivious to where we are and so am I. In her twinkling green eyes I see a deep, satisfied contentment as I finish by milking myself into her open mouth. A few drops gather on her tongue and she tilts her head back, mouth open, displaying her treasure proudly before consuming it. She closes her eyes, and then mews softly as warm cum slides down her gullet. She fingers herself to a quiet orgasm and I watch in amazement as her body trembles while she tastes and swallows.
Suddenly, she grasps the rock-hard shaft firmly with one hand. Smiling devilishly, she pumps the last of my jism into the cupped palm of the other. She retrieves a small coke vial from her handbag nearby and drags it through the small pool of bubbly, pearly liquid, filling it to the brim. She caps the tiny jar and carefully places it on the ground. This will be for future consumption, she tells me --a parting gift, she says, to remember me by.
Looking up into my eyes, she gratefully thanks me for her cum meal. Slowly and deliberately, she licks the remaining sperm from her hand and from the slimy cockhead dangling above her pretty young face. She takes her time, sighing softly, savoring the salty taste of cum and hot man-flesh she knows so well. She laps like a sleepy kitten, soft and sensual, then glides her pouty lips up and down the shaft, kissing and tasting the mixture of cum, sweat and saliva until it is clean. Not quite done, her fleshy pink-white tongue appears and swipes her shiny, sperm covered mouth-- removing all traces of stray jism. Discreetly sucking her teeth and gums clean, she swallows one last time. Finally satisfied, she rises to her bare feet, smiles triumphantly and kisses me tenderly on the cheek. I smell her cum breath and it is intoxicating.
"I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did," she says, a cat-like smile on her face. I truly can't answer her. It was at this moment that I fell in love with her.
"Goodbye, Michael. I'll never forget you", she says, as she backs away toward her car. I am standing there, naked from the waist down, speechless and spent like a used condom. I want to talk. I have so much to say to her. But she speeds away, doesn't even wave goodbye and never looks back.
That was ten long months ago.
Too late it seems, I realized that she was much more than the willing mouth and warm cunt of our brief affair. 'Timing is everything', they say. 'Time waits for no man', is another clichΓ© that fits this tale of lost opportunity. Allison, I came to understand, was a precious instrument of joy and love and a source of unparalleled physical pleasure rarely found in the middle-aged world of a jaded, cynical and world-weary man. That was her gift.
Each night for months, this final scene played in my head like a personal porno clip: an endless, erotic loop that I masturbated to obsessively. I imagined her delicate hand around my cock. I felt the gentle coaxing of her warm, wet tongue and the sucking pressure of her silky lips. I squeezed my cock in vain, trying to recapture the tightness of her elegant throat. I came, and it felt good for the moment--my legs trembled in pleasure; the semen erupted--but Allison wasn't there to savor and swallow it. She wasn't there to glide her mouth up and down the wet, hard shaft and suck it dry. She wasn't there to lick the head clean and zip me up. It wasn't the same. I resigned myself to my fate, believing that, for me, sex would never be the same.
And then, of course, as in any good love story, the plot twists. Fast forward to the present:
I'm wallowing in self-pity, at work in my office, when the phone rings. I put the receiver to my ear and hear just one syllable. I know it instantly. I'm in shock. It's her!
"Hi-i stranger. How have you been?" The familiar sing song voice is pure sensual music to my ears and I immediately feel a stirring in my pants. I'm speechless for a moment. I check the caller ID: the Marriott in Brentwood. She's here on Long Island, less than five miles away. Ten months with not a word from her. I need to know if she is still hiding from me, as she has been for all these months, so I test her.
"Allison. Jesus. Where are you?" I ask, already knowing.
"I'm at the Brentwood Marriott. Got in last night. I want to see you. What are you doing today", she asks matter-of-factly, as though I just saw her yesterday. I feel anger rising in my gut. Was she playing a game with me?
I am somewhat reassured that she didn't lie about where she was. My heart skips a quick beat as the prospect of having sex with her quickly two-steps across my mind. I can't escape her mouth, I think to myself. I'm obsessed. But I am pissed about how she left and there are some things I needed to say before I give in.
"What the fuck do you mean 'what am I doing?' Where the hell have you been all this time? Why haven't you called me? Goddammit, you just walked out of my life like nothing ever happened between us, like I was a piece of shit; or was it ....a piece of meat," I scold her. She'd turned my life upside down and disappeared like a ghost and now she was waltzing back in looking for a date? I am not too fucking happy.
"You know better than that, Michael," she purrs.
"I'm not so sure, Allison. How could you just walk away like that?" I want to know, even as the sound of her feline voice begins to calm me.
"I'd rather not talk on the phone." She answers softly. "Would you come here? I do want to talk about it."
"I'm not so sure I should." I offer in pathetic self-defense. I want her again so badly I can taste her, but I can't let her know...not just yet.
She sounds very self-assured. "Well, you sure sound like you have lots to say to me! How about if you do all the talking and I just keep my mouth...mmmm....occupied with...aaah.... other things." She giggles. "Wouldn't you like that?"
She hasn't changed much, the cockslut, except now she is being a seductive little bitch. She is good at it. I am already checking my appointment book, but I keep up the ruse.
"Oh, so it IS the meat rack, eh? Is that all you really want from me?" Little does she know it's more than enough.
"You know that's not true!" she snaps back. "And why, all of a sudden, am I the enemy?
"Your not the enemy," I admit. "But you sure fucked my head up, you know, the way you left."
"I'm sorry for that, Michael, but it had to be."
I am anxious to hear her story but I know that if I am going to allow her back into my life, it has to be on my terms, not hers. I need to know if I am still in control. Do we still have the same relationship? Has anything changed? I thought I'd try a little game we used to play.
"So you want to suck my cock do you, you little cunt?"
There is silence, just quiet breathing on the other end for a moment. Her voice gets lower. "Yes," she confesses. "I do. I AM a cunt, aren't I, Michael. I can't help it," she responds meekly.