The Cone

Day after day, they tried to redefine their connection. Flirting was working. They both wanted to feel that spark. Unsure of the flame's value, those flickers of excitement kept them both interested. They connected on many levels. He turned her on but she would not let him hear that passion pour through just yet.

When they at last decided to embrace the relationship's dynamics, names were exchanged. "for now, you can call me Jason" he stated as if it were some grand confession. "And you may call me Cameron" was her slightly confident response.

It felt as though a wall had been dismantled, piece by piece, crumbling the barrier that until now separated them.

With the small amount of worry in her, she excused herself from the conversation on the premise that her battery would soon be out of charge and she did not want him to be cut off. Before disconnecting, she assured him she'd contact him again.

As soon as communication ended, her painted fingertips found a comfortable place upon the burnished silvery keyboard. Thousands of strokes (of her fingers upon the keys) the tale was nearly finished and began as follows:

The long line at the festival was slowly shortening. Their patience was wearing thin as my emotions were becoming heavy – not the serious kind of heavy, but the need-to-release-soon type of heavy. Jason watched as I performed a dance of sorts. Unsure of what caused the little dance, he asked enthusiastically as if he was a boy asking whether his favorite team won the game. With a wink, I told him of the humidity factor down below and how he was the man making me so wet. A twinge here and a tickle there, squeezing my knees together was the most likely means of keeping my sensations under control.

I tried to explain that it was a viable answer, since if I were to begin touching myself as a man would –to make all necessary adjustments- I may not be able to stop. In and of itself, this may not be so bad, but I'd prefer he be the one to do all the touching. So, back to the dance...tightening my muscles was only adding to the wetness. I tried to clamp my thighs together and pinch off the extra blood flow to my lips, but it was not working fast or well enough to suppress the feelings. It had to stop, but I could not make it so.

It was finally Jason's turn to order. He stepped up to the counter and boldly ordered one blueberry ice cream for me and one vanilla cone for himself. We left quickly to get back to the 4 wheel drive. Windows wide open, the heat was melting things faster than I could effectively lick, Jason enjoyed the visuals of seeing me lick my fingers and suck at the drips as they slowly trickled off the edge of the cone. Long lapping strokes of my flattened tongue brought his mind from my ice cream and to the suddenly hardening cock moving in his shorts.

As mentioned before, men are "allowed– in their unwritten male culture-to adjust their stuff and get away with it. And, as I watched, dampening my panty-less skirt further, he had adjusted himself well enough to easily grow out the bottom of his shorts.

The next lick was married with a moan as I watched his head emerge. He had the most beautiful penis I think I'd ever seen. My moan caught his attention, causing his eyes to scan downwards.

Just as soon as he saw the pink flesh poking out, he tried to cover up. He was too long and his shorts were too short. My eyes lifted and lit up at the sight of him touching it. His eyes eventually went to the cleavage separating two extremely excited and hardened nipples.

While his eyes remained fixed, I lowered my cone to them to break his stare. He looked my way and I asked for a "lick of his". He grew instantly! I was sure to take a wad of cream in my mouth as he offered his cone my way. After that, I asked him through my giggle to "hold mine". He took it, but with a curiosity. One finger made way through my closed lips. My other hand reached into my v-neck, pulled it aside to expose one hard pink nipple. As I withdrew the cream filled finger, I smeared the cream across my breast, grabbed it with the other hand from underneath pushed it up, and offered it to him. Jason emphatically looked at the two ice cream cones filling his hands and believed me to be teasing him.

"You'd better hurry before I lick it all off myself" I threatened playfully. Jason grunted some caveman kind of sound as he handed my cone back to me. He licked it off me and sucked all around just to be sure he got it all. This fun game went on for a while – feeding him ice cream off my breast but the lower half was feeling a bit left out. Jason somehow sensed it. He put the car in gear and headed off to a parking area near exit 17. The car was hardly in park before his hand shifted into exploration mode. When I asked for a few licks of his, he smirked and lifted the lower edge of his shorts, thinking that I was trying to be polite or hinting at asking for his continually swelling cock. When I reached my tongue towards his cone, he met me half way to feed me. Again, my fingers helped him along.

My seat reclined, his exploring hand slid my skirt up and I dabbed some vanilla on each and every spot that was craving some of his tongue's abilities. Like a good man, he licked me clean. The coolness of his tongue was a refreshing treat. The gasp I let out was sprinkled with orgasmic sparks. Each time his tongue was about to break contact, his lips collided with my flesh clamped between them. Sucking and pulsating kept me stimulated and increased the levels as well. I cried out his name in a forced way, since he brought me to such a breathless state.

His cool lips chilled my swollen hot wet clit, paving the way for his tongue to continue the rhythm he began. A few quicker laps of his tongue became my indicator that he may need me to reload, or that it was now my turn. As it would be, it was my turn to reciprocate.

With a bit of good fortune, I'd be able to provide him with that same level of unexplainable comfort. Cool yet warm moist mouth upon that super sensitive organ that was waiting for some attention...is what he waited patiently for. He held his cone to my mouth for a last big swirl of my tongue across the sweet drips. When I smiled, it deposited a thin layer of whiteness on my upper lip. I had to swallow most of what was in my mouth in order to lick the cream from my lip. Jason felt badly about not letting me glide his hard cock over my lips and into a blast of cold creaminess. He held his cone up once more and allowed me the absolute pleasure of another long lick of his stuff.

My virtually empty cone balanced his balls on it as if they were a substitute refill of ice cream. I giggled under my breath as I withdrew his cock and licked at the new flavor filling my cone. He got nervous as I bared my teeth pretending to be ready to nibble at the treat before me. The brief joke ended quickly as I reinserted his head. With a curl of my tongue, he had a groove to slide in on. In an inch and out half, in another inch and out another half. He let me play until he felt the curve at the back of my tongue. I could feel his waning patience in the way he held my head snug. Lips pressed to his skin, cock head to the tonsils, we were fitting well together. The cone managed to fall from my hand and that game would not resume. More focus on the task at hand brought him to a guttural moan.

Sensations pulsated through me at the tune he was humming. The wetness that began an hour ago only intensified as he continued with the vocal participation. Knowing I would not be saying much, he managed to speak to my desires and then commanded me not to reply. Groaning and moaning was the acceptable response to his comments. He even went as far as to tell me when to suck, and how hard it should be done. It remains an unanswered ponderance as to whether it was possible to talk with a throat full of a man. On to bigger and better causes first.

Little pulsations in and out, moving a fast inch each way once he was in place brought him to a guttural scream. It excited me beyond my next breath. I pumped him harder with each thrust of his hips. His response kept me getting progressively wetter and more turned on. Wherever his hips gyrated, my mouth followed. We maintained the rhythm of a fantastic sexual escapade generally held for a scripted movie.

Jason was amazing and passionate and the moment I touched my pussy again with one light fingertip, I made myself jump. By the time that fingertip eased past my lips to my swollen clit, the cock in my throat was turning my scream to a moan! I came before he did, but once he realized the twisting and writhing of my body was not just response to him, he came immediately.

There was hesitation on his part. Jason knew I wanted to swallow all he had to offer, yet I wanted as much to feel the heat of the next facial he'd apply. I took it in the face and licked off whatever was dripping to the corners of my panting, ingratiating mouth.

Eyes closed gently but fully, I rolled to my side and reflected as he tumbled beside me... the first words pushed over my lips asked him what came of his cone...