Thursdays 10/13- Dessert

My legs feel like jelly; the collapse into the pillow was only half-faked. And when I ask you what now, I half expect you to be hard again already. Instead, you say you're hungry. Just like that, as though this happens all the time. Who are you?

I remember catching you looking that first time during class and wondering what the hell you were doing. Definitely not my type. Shorter than me. Balding, although doing a good job of hiding it by shaving your head. A little bit of a paunch. But there was something about your eyes, brown in one light, greenish in another, and in the lines around them, lines that spoke of experience. There was a youthful gleam in them. The intensity of your gaze made me want to squirm. Before I saw the little grays in your hair, I would have guessed you a good eight, ten years younger than you were.

At dinner tonight, you are all youthfulness with the edge of experience. You listen to what I have to say and, unlike others I've dated, you have constructive things to say about my work. It makes you more attractive. My panties are wet throughout.

When I touched you that first time, after you kissed my neck and ran your tongue along my throat, I was stunned. I have seen bigger, but I was still surprised at your size. You kissed me with such passion; you kissed me like it was a privilege. When I touched your dick, when I felt its unsuspected girth, I knew I wanted to feel it in my mouth, so I went down on you. And when I did, you seemed to know what you wanted, itself a turn-on. I do not usually swallow; for you, I made an exception. For you, I will always make that exception.

You touch me so casually and yet with such great purpose, as we sit close in the booth at the restaurant. I barely notice my drink, the appetizer, the meal, as your hand runs up my leg, your finger slipping inside the crotch of my panties. I reach down to find you hard, and wonder if you're using some kind of drug to be this aroused. As you look at me, as you listen to me, I find myself wanting to be back in our room—our room!—to test your virility again.

I could not believe how I offered myself to you that second time, and I could not believe your response. I was not prepared for your passion. My previous lovers were all boys, except for one and that was a...special...case. Again I was struck by how you seemed to know what you were doing. You seemed to want more than to simply get your dick wet, more than simply to come. You wanted me to come. When you went down on me, I was ecstatic. Others had, but they seemed to think we were in a porno; they would simply batter my clit and flick their tongue here and there and think it enough. But you...you enjoyed what you were doing and wanted me to enjoy it, too.

I catch you looking at various times. You seem to like the way this dress fits me, this dress I picked out in response to the fantasy you sent me. The thrill of turning you on like this is palpable. This lacy bra, the way the top falls away when I lean forward, showing you my breasts, the tightness of it around my hips are all for your benefit.

Objectively, I know I'm good-looking. Objectively, I know men look, and occasionally stare, at me. Objectively, I know they want to fuck me. I know you looked at me like that and wanted that, too. Subjectively, I feel like a goddess.

I don't know what to expect when we get back to the hotel. All I know is that I want to fuck again, and maybe again after that. You begin kissing me, aggressively, but you're not overbearing. Your tongue seeks mine out and reacts to mine, like a dancing partner, one who's not afraid to alternate between leading and being led. I can feel the dampness in my panties increase and I grind against the erection you somehow seem to have carried all evening.

Before I can get to it, you've reached around to the back of my neck, and begun working the zipper to my dress. Once it has reached the bottom, you place your hands on my shoulders, beneath the fabric, and run them down my body, a trail of goosebumps following your fingertips, pushing the dress down until it falls free from my hips and sinks to the floor. You find the clasp on the front of my bra and with a deft twist release it. Reconnaissance, indeed!

My nipples harden as the cooler air of the room hits them, and there is a shock that travels from the erect tip through my breast and straight to my spine as you rub them with your thumbs. I moan as you cup one breast, and bend down to kiss it, brushing the areola gently with your lips and closing your lips around the nipple, teasing it with your tongue, the warmth as much a shock as the cold air had been.

Then you kneel in front of me rub the sopping crotch of my panties, feeling my contours through the sheer fabric, pressing at my opening and I cannot help but moan. Hooking your fingers under the waistband and you pull them down, down, down my legs, until I am completely naked except for my shoes and you on your knees completely clothed. You then kiss my abdomen and duck your head towards my pussy. The sound of you deeply inhaling my scent is beyond unreal.

You stick your tongue out, and begin sliding it along my slit. I shudder, and feel like I'll collapse, but you hold my hips, keeping me upright as you crane your neck between my legs. Up and down, along the curve of my pubis, your glorious, glorious tongue, now rough, now smooth, manipulates my lips, my clit, my opening. Finally, you move one of your hands and press a finger inside me. I feel each knuckle as it enters me, as I squeeze around it. Back and forth with the finger, the tongue concentrating on my clit, pulling the cover and circling, my tiny erection a distant cousin of yours. Waves of pleasure convulse me, radiating outward from my pussy, which has closed like a vise on the intruding finger. My nipples are so hard they almost hurt.

I start to stumble forward, but catch myself on your shoulders. When my orgasm is done, you look up at me and smile. For a moment, I understand the thrill you must get when I kneel in front of you, the feeling of...domination is the wrong word... being served, or maybe serviced. I wonder what you will do next.

You stand and kiss me, my flavor stronger than it had been before. It makes me even wetter than the combination of my juices and your saliva has already left me. I reach for the buckle of your belt, but you gently, playfully, push my hand aside and shake your head. Instead, you scoop me easily up in your arms (you are far stronger than you look) and place me on the edge of the bed. I remain sitting, to watch you and, for a long moment, you look at me.

When you have placed me where you want me, you unbuckle your belt and open your pants. Your dick springs out, jutting from your pelvis in search of my warmth and wetness. I am seized by a longing to touch it, to feel it in my mouth, and in my pussy, all at once. But I know what you want, and I'm not about to deny it. I scoot forward to the edge of the bed, and lie back. I can see your face, the lust that plays across it as you look down at me. You run your hands along my sides, over my breasts, across my abdomen, and between my thighs, which you spread. In anticipation, I lift my legs, bent at the knees.

Stepping forward, you place the head of your dick at my opening and lean forward, pushing, holding on to my bent knees. There is the familiar popping sensation as your head enters me, and as I widen to accommodate you. A groan escapes your lips, and you push harder, overcoming what little internal resistance there is, inexorably filling me with your wonderful, wonderful dick. I love the way that I can feel every inch of you, that my hips rise of their own accord to get more of you inside. The gentle curve of you and the angle you penetrate me from allows the tip to press lightly against the front of my pussy, the pleasure radiating from the point of contact. When your hips collide and I feel your testicles hit a split second later, I'm in heaven.

As you pull back, I feel myself partially close in your absence, and a short-lived sense of emptiness follows, to be relieved as again you thrust forward, with surprising power in your hips, and I am filled once more. Individual sensations vanish as you begin repeating the motion, standing at the edge of the bed. You lift my legs, placing my feet on your shoulders, which, amazingly, allows you to plunge even deeper, touching places that even the one or two boys with bigger dicks couldn't find.

When I open my eyes, I am astonished at the intensity on your face. You are holding my legs and thrusting into me. My body shakes each time, but the entire impression is of passion, not roughness. I surrender completely to the moment, focusing only on the sensation of you plunging in and pulling out, until my orgasm is upon me. My pussy convulses around you as I cry out, ultimately tightening, making you feel bigger. Then, there is a tell-tale twitch, as at the last minute you becomes just a tiny bit harder, just a tiny bit larger. You plunge as deeply as you are able and I can feel it pulse just before you pump your semen into me. There is a noticeable warmth as it hits my walls. Finally, once the spasms have concluded, you begin to soften and withdraw from me. I feel a last wave of pleasure as I adjust to your reduced size, and as I close somewhat behind you.

You stand for a moment, looking at me, and a smile crawls across your face. I sit up, wrapping my legs around you to hold you in place, and we kiss again, gently, softly, wonderfully. The hour has grown late.

Silently, we prepare for bed. I go to bed clad only in a pair of panties, surprisingly immodest. Usually, I like to cover up after sex, but something about the way you look at me makes me want to display myself. You strip down to your boxers and then, with a shrug, take them off before slipping into bed. We lay down together, your arm around me and, satiated, I drift off to sleep.