This story stands alone pretty well, but it constitutes another part in a series. The series begins with a story called "Fire Pole," about these people and how they meet. The scene is upstairs in Nancy's apartment over her hair salon.
Nancy braced a hand on Sean's chest, and with the other, guided him home into her pussy. The first sweet push inside set her tingling again. Men have no idea, she thought.
Truly; for although Sean noticed her intake of breath, the delectably hard nipples and even the little
frisson
which passed over her like goose bumps, he had seldom felt that kind of sensitivity. Like most men, he hadn't the estrogen levels for it.
It was like a come, only a come whispered, gently. Nancy loved her sex! She was thirty-six, her prime; and the twenty-eight-year-old married man on her bed really turned her crank.
The bone-hard curving cock of the fireman filled her. "God, you feel nice," she said.
His rugged face split in a grin, and he reached for her flanks. Seated astride, she squirmed around and around, savoring the endlessly fascinating feeling of hot man, inside the pussy where they belong.
His firm touch moved up across her ribs and he cupped her breasts. He does that just right! she marveled. "Oh, yeah, take 'em!" she told him. She leaned in and his lips brushed a nipple, sending yet another wave of gooseflesh over her neck and chest. She called his name gratefully.
They'd been fucking already since her noon break, and she wanted to make him late and have sex all afternoon. The man was a cut above; a real find!
His rough tongue on the nipple sent telegraph pulses of sweetness in a line right to her pussy. She pushed her breast softly against his face; his hand brushed the other nipple. She rode cock with her hands on his shoulders while he went from breast to breast and stroked her flanks and ass.
It was lovely! But the constant little orgasms were distracting her; Sean, too, was getting more intense, thrusting up at her more strongly. Soon they shifted to another position, where he had more scope to move.
Snowcroft was determined to make the afternoon stand out. It was his first time in eleven years of marriage to have looked beyond his wife for fulfillment. Nancy had told him she didn't want a real affair, but he wanted to come back for lots more. The woman was skilled and enthusiastic; he would hate to just leave it at one or two sessions.
It was so hard to work up the nerve to do this in the first place,
he thought.
If I could have Nancy I'd have all I ever need.
He set himself to the agreeable task of driving her out of her mind.
He turned her so that both were lying down, supporting her upper leg, kissing her and stroking, going slow but paying attention. He'd already done a hard, animal fuck at the beginning; this was a sensuous, scientific operation. She was already pretty far gone, as he saw it.
The padded end of his cock rode high, his hair rubbed her clit deliberately at the bottom of his strokes. He worked her neck and breasts with his mouth and held her into him with a hand cupping her hips.
The sparks came constantly, shooting out and through her body from her center. She was barely able to take notice of how he was doing it any more. She licked and kissed him, his muscles felt so exquisite working under his skin, her flared nostrils captured his male smell.
Little come succeeded little come, some fluttering, some spreading across her like ripples in a pond, some sharp and local in her pussy or centered on a breast. She lost the sense of time, a little.
Just let go, Nancy-babe; let go! Come big!
She lived alone and gave herself advice all the time; this time, she was going to follow it! She dug her heel into his ass to drive him deeper; when he came to a breast again she pinned him there with an arm. Her hips rolled hard into him, she closed her eyes and came.
He took it all as a signal for a last huge effort. Shifting up on his elbow and bracing a leg, he pounded as fiercely as the reclining position would allow.
Nancy was moaning, without control, just holding tightly while the fireman brought more and more sweet explosions from her clit, nipple, pussy, everything at once! Somewhere in the middle of this storm, the man's cock jumped, then jumped again while he nearly screamed. He lost his rhythm-- he was coming too! His pulses diminished and his hips stalled, deep on the downstroke. She surfaced enough to beat her pussy onto him, to give him more movement, but soon she felt a wave of languor overtake her.
They collapsed, gasping. Opening their eyes, they caught each other's gaze. She laughed. He felt good inside her; she felt like a happy kitty with a belly full of warm cream.
"So
now
will you let me lick you?" he asked.
"Stay right there a minute," she replied, pushing her hair back off her face, "Don't you move. God, that was nice, Sean!" She stroked his chest and responded to his kiss. She loved the feel of a fat cock in there in afterglow.
They regarded each other in contented admiration. But with humans, nothing is ever simple.
He considered and rejected bringing up the subject of return engagements just then; and he would have been gratified to know she did the same. Then she remembered his remark about licking, and the conversation it referred to.
"You want to hear me tell you a story, now? I owe you one," she said.
"I'll lick you while you do it, if you like. What story?"
"You told me the time you had a virgin; I did that."
"Tell me."
"I want that backrub, and you can eat me after awhile. Sound good?"
It was a deal. Reluctantly, she let Sean slide out of her pussy. She rolled over to lie face down while he got the condom off and wiped up a little. He coated his hands and began on her calves, working toward her feet. When she'd relaxed and he was well started, she spoke with her eyes closed, head on folded arms.
"His name was Roman. He was from what they call the Czech Republic now; it was Czechoslovakia then. He was almost a punk, you know the punks?"
"A punk scene in Czechoslovakia?"
"They didn't dare do the real punky stuff with all the weird hair, in Prague before the revolution, but there's still a big punk scene there, from what I saw in
Rolling Stone
. Then, they had to be careful, it was all bootleg tapes and smuggled albums, people's apartments and the back rooms of places. He told me all this and I was fascinated. Of course he wanted me.
