Soft-Mouthed Sandy

I set Fiona gently upon her china-blue down comforter and watched her meld into a semi-fetal position as she sighed out a soft laugh. "I already feel like heaven," she said.

I paused, admiring her body. She still wore the green satin panties, although they were now heavily sodden with her vagina's fragrant nectar.

My dick throbbed, erect to the point I could feel the tip practically chafing against my abdomen.

"Oh," she said. "Poor thing. Guess it hasn't had enough today, huh?"

I made a move towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Condoms," I said. "They're in the--"

"So you used a condom with Betty?" She giggled.

I let my head hang a bit in shame... well, the head atop my shoulders, at any rate.

"I'm on the pill," she said. "But it's good to know you're responsible, Boy-o."

Boy-o?

"Suit up," she said. "Bring extras. Let's plan for a long night, shall we?"

"As you command," I said, moving to the bathroom.

"That part's over!" She called out from the bedroom. "You're to have your fiendish way with me or else!"

"Or else, what!?" I called.

I came back with the entire box of condoms and tossed them on the nightstand. She had removed her panties and was in the process of sniffing them.

"Damn," she smiled. "These were brand new."

"Or else, what? What was the third thing you bought at the sex shop?"

"Nuh-huh," she laughed, tossing the panties at me. "Definitely second or third date material. In fact, I may have to build my arsenal with you. Do some heavy reading."

I had caught the panties in my free hand, and taking the cue from her, I inhaled the rich, heady aroma.

"What does my hungry little pussy smell like, Mr. Grisham?"

"If bees could make honey from it," I said. "They'd ruin the bouquet."

I took one of the condoms out of the box on the night-stand.

"Hold off a moment," she said. "Come here."

I palmed the condom and approached the edge of her bed. She twirled around onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows.

"Something tells me if I don't suck this thing in the raw in the next few minutes, I'll be dealing with a dead poet."

Before I could retort, she gripped my hips and took the whole of me into her mouth, swirling her tongue a few times and bobbing her head rapidly before opening her throat to take my full-length. I felt the heat of her tonsils on my tip, then her gag reflex around me, all within a matter of 15 seconds.

"Christ! Ah! FUCK!"

I came. I came hard! Faster than I'd ever cum in my entire life.

"Oh..." My knees buckled as she sucked, and the full load funneled down her throat. I collapsed on the edge of the bed as my cock slipped from her lips. My head hit her naked hip. "Wow," I shivered. "Okay, I deserved that."

She came off the bed to straddle me on the carpeted floor.

"Now," she said. "We've got to start all over again from even."

She kissed me. I tasted my own cum on her tongue. And when the kiss ended after several eons (perhaps milliseconds), she stood, offering me a hand up.

"Now, I can fluff you up, or you can eat me out," she said. "Considering what I had to listen to through the floorboards last night and this morning. And what must have gone on with Betty sometime today? You're going down, Sean-boy, and hard!"

I smiled, still floating on the best and most sudden ejaculation of my life.

"Oh, your game is deep," I said.

"Just so," she said, standing in all her nude glory. "I'll fetch us both some water. You figure out how to stand up while I'm gone."

Boy-o. Oh my God. Tap out! Too deep! Too far!

I sat on the edge of the bed. Alarms were blaring.

Clippy appeared. "In the past 72-hours, you appear to have had sex six times."

"Seven, if you count sucking Sandy off," I corrected.

Clippy hovered, blinking.

Fiona returned with a bottle of mineral water. I cracked the lid and chugged a third of the bottle down.

"Too much too soon?" She asked.

A heavy brooding voice laced with a Scottish brogue piped in. "Piss off you little paper clip," it said.

A black Oxford shoe kicked away the little mental icon. An unseen orchestra blared a familiar theme. A suave British secret agent came into focus, dwarfing everything with his perfectly pressed tuxedo, neat bow tie, and stroking theme music.

"Go down, Sean," the secret agent urged, arching his eyebrow. "Go down and think of England."

Fiona sat beside me, her body ripe and luscious as an apple in the Garden of Eden. She patiently toyed with the lid of her still unopened bottle of water. "So," she began. "Tapping out?"

I capped my water bottle, tossed it away, and simultaneously knocked hers out of her hands. "Lie back," I ordered.

"Wow! Yes, sir," she laughed.

"My rules, now," I said. My voice, I barely recognizable. It was deeper and driven, almost guttural. I needed to taste her. I needed my senses flooded with her sex. I needed to smell and feel and taste her all at once, just once before I hit the wall.

"The things we do for England," My 00-Sex Drive chuckled. "Godspeed, Lad."

Fiona opened her legs as I began kissing her just above her right knee. The texture of that simple patch of her skin against my lips felt like a poem that no one could never write. And as I kissed upward, tasting the faint sweetness of the sexual nectar that had run down her thighs, intensifying as I approached the fountainhead. I paused just a few more moments each time, not to torture her, but to catalog in my mind the subtle differences that distinguished each little greedy suckling kiss.

"You're getting back at me, aren't you? For the rope trick?"

I moved up to kiss the little nook of her skin where her inner thigh met the outer rim of her sex.

"Not at all," I said, looking up at her dozens of reproductions of famous paintings by famous artists, only a few of which I could name. In a room full of beauty, on a soft blue goose-down comforter, I knew I was about to brush my lips for the first time against a soulful experience that would define all that was sexual, romantic, lustful, and potentially destructive to my life. I felt her voice saying the word through my lips.

"Anticipation."

She moaned.

"Mistress," I breathed, knowing she could feel my breath upon her aching sex. "May I?"

"Please," she squirmed. "Please, Sean."