Too Much of a Good Thing

Too Much of a Good Thing: A Fantasy of Excess

Chapter V Diana!

Angel did not call. I called. About three hundred times, or so it seemed. But whether at the boutique or at the house on the hill, all I got was Angel’s sweet answering message promising to return the call, endless ringing, or a busy signal. I left messages galore, but no call was returned and in the end even my male ego was convinced! Angel had meant what she had said. It was over.

Never in my life have I experienced such a combination of helplessness and despair. In such circumstances, the male makeup calls for action. Do something, anything. So I tried to find out where Angel’s boutique was --- she had never told me and I had never thought to ask. Since I was not even sure in which district of LA county this was, it was not too surprising that my search rapidly became untenable. I tried to locate her apartment --- thank God for the internet, thought I --- but it became clear rapidly that she had either given me a phony name or all her numbers were unlisted. The third weekend I swallowed my pride and headed up the hill to the house. On Friday evening no-one was there. I went again Saturday, only to find the black limo parked in the drive. Clint was not in it. Was he within? Was Clint my replacement? Or another? What was going on in there? I dare not ask. I did not ring the bell. I did not scale the wall to peer over at the swimming pool. I wimped out big time, got in my car and drove meekly away.

The next few weeks were quite awful. How can one return to a life as a 9-5 accountant in a staid downtown LA financial services company after an experience such as I had just been through. Every evening I went home hoping -- for what? I tried hitting the bars, but the few attractive women I encountered were surrounded by a swarm of suitors obviously much more in their element than I was. I am basically a loner and definitely not the type who can trot out appealing opening lines to women in bars! I went to a few office parties, thinking perhaps to meet Angel, or perhaps that lightning would strike twice. I did date a couple of women. One from the office and one I got talking to at one of the parties. But neither showed much of a spark. Their idle chatter about clothes, what ‘people’ were doing and about the movies they had seen irritated me to the point where it was on the tip of my tongue to ask them whether they had ever been cunt whipped! Of course decorum prevailed. Also boredom to the point that even if they had been willing to stay over with me, I found myself disinterested and didn’t even bother to ask. I still thought of myself as a rather staid, conventional guy, as I had indeed been pre-Angel. And I thought that some day soon, I would revert to this former self, be comfortable with it and be ready for a ‘normal relationship’, whatever that was, with an ‘average woman’, whomever she was. But this time was not there yet! I had experienced excess and, unknowingly, embarked on a journey from which there is no easy return to ‘normality’, whatever that is!

It must have been six weeks, or perhaps even a couple of months after the ending of my association with Angel that I bumped into Diana. Literally! She was sitting on the doorstep of my apartment building and I ran into her on my way out heading for the office. Of course I did not immediately recognize her. The two worlds, my day to day routine of going to the office and whiling away my evenings in whatever fashion I could, and my weekends at Angel’s place on the hill, were totally disconnected in my mind. Also, Diana was not stark naked, was not heading down towards my ‘chaise longue’ by the pool with a gleam in her eye and her nipples prominently and fully erect atop their firm, perfectly proportioned and deliciously supple supports. She was dressed in street clothes --- teenager gear, blue jeans and halter top --- carried a small rucksack on her back, seemed dejected and looked disheveled. One of a thousand young things you run into every day on LA’s uncompromising streets. Yet, through what aspect of her being I do not know, I recognized Diana instantly. And a flash of remembrance, and improbable hope! coursed through my brain. Hope? Yes, hope that something, anything was about to happen to allow me to break out of the depression that my current life was pressing upon me.

‘It is Diana, isn’t it?’ I asked, hesitatingly but unnecessarily.

Diana nodded but did not speak. She seemed disoriented and it looked as though she had been crying.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked gently.

‘Oh! Nothing!’ was the reply, literally truthful, but obviously irrelevant. Bit by bit I wormed the story out of here. She had been holed up with a boyfriend, but they had a fight and he threw her out on the street. Twenty years old and out on the street at 2am in LA! What a rat!

‘He was from the studio,’ she said in a monotone. ‘Bastards all of them!’

‘So what are you doing here?’ I asked again. ‘I mean, is this an accidental meeting or did you know……’

‘I knew you lived here. They told me at the studio…….’

She looked up at me with those azure eyes and long lashes.

‘I liked you. Somehow I knew you were different. So here I am. No money, nowhere to stay, nowhere to go…..’

‘Don’t say that!’ I interposed quickly, afraid she would begin to cry. ‘Look, I have to go to the office now, but you are very welcome to stay at my place. Get freshened up and get some sleep. There’s food in the ice box. It’s quiet. No-one will disturb you. I’ll be back around 6 this evening and we can discuss how to get you fixed up. How does that sound?’

Again those cow eyes raised up to me. ‘Do you mean that?’

‘Of course!’

‘You’re so kind.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I really do have nowhere else to go.’

‘No problem!’ I said breezily. ‘I’m really glad to see you! And only too happy to help out.’

And, God be my judge, I was in no way lying!

Well that was that for me for the day. I went through the motions but God help anyone who had to rely on any of the accounts I went through. My thoughts were on one thing and one thing alone. Diana! And I became increasingly anxious that when I got back to my apartment she would be gone. It had not seemed so when I left her, crumpled up in a heap on the bed, too exhausted even to undress. But my anxiety rose steadily anyway as the day wore on. I thought many times of making an excuse to leave early. But we were under a ferocious work load and many of us had been working late into the night to make up the backlog. My boss was one of those career females with a sharp edge to her tongue who one did not approach with such requests at such times. Truth to tell, she was something of an advertisement for the ‘Peter principle’ and was herself under the continuous stress that devolves from not being quite on top of things in one’s revere. There were the usual rumors as to how she had gotten where she was, but I paid these no attention. I quite liked her, she seemed to like me, we got along fine. I had never had a day off through sickness since joining the firm, I would not be able to fool her that day if I tried, and of course I could scarcely tell her the truth --- that I had the hots for a young chick half my age who at that moment was lying on my bed asleep. So I sat fidgeting on my paranoia and left matters to the hands of fate.

I left at the earliest decent hour. Never has the downtown LA traffic been so roundly cursed! I made it nevertheless in record time and arrived at my apartment just before six. I parked the car askew, raced for the elevator -- never has that damned elevator taken so long to arrive ---- and, trying to be calm, let myself into the apartment. My relief can scarcely be described. There was Diana stretched out on the couch with the TV on and just finishing a sandwich she had made from the bits and pieces in the ice box. She greeted me with a big, seductive smile.

‘You’re early,’ she said coming over and giving me a peck on the cheek. ‘I wanted to be ready for you.’

She took me by the hand and squeezed it gently.

‘I’m glad to see you’re feeling so much better,’ I managed, trying to appear nonchalant.

‘Oh, you’ve no idea what a difference it makes when someone treats you kindly. I’m so grateful!’

‘Nothing to be grateful about at all, Diana,’ I said. ‘It was a pleasure.’

‘Well it will be,’ said she even more seductively, ‘when we get you out of those business clothes. You do look different with clothes on, I have to admit.’ She giggled, covering her mouth. ‘I think I like the other one better!’

And so saying she nestled up to me and began loosening my tie.

‘Diana, you don’t have to do this, you know. I’m just glad I was able to help.’

‘Relax,’ she said. ‘A favor deserves a favor. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself and, believe me, I need badly to remind myself that men are not all like those pigs at the studio!’

So with my token resistance defused, Diana resumed loosening my tie, which she did very deliberately making sure her breasts brushed my chest. Whether she had had anything on under the halter top that morning she certainly did not now! Her nipples began to stand out through the thin cloth as she drew herself up and down and backwards and forwards across my shirt front. I remember thinking ‘This is wrong! I should not do this!’ but of course I was far beyond the point of no return. Diana could do with me what she would, and both of us knew it. With my tie drawn over my head she got to work on my shirt, button by button, stroking the hair on my chest with long, exploratory fingers.

‘Mmm! Sexy!’ she murmured.

As she stroked, my hands, acting almost involuntarily, began to unfasten the buttons of the halter top until this fell away and her naked breasts with their hardening nipples gleamed up at me. She eyed me seductively, then pressed herself to me, massaging her nipples in my chest hair. Gently, she took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom. The curtains covered the window blocking out the evening light, and the room was lit but the lamps on the bedside tables, which lent the room a warm, cozy and seductive atmosphere. The bed was made, but a corner turned down, invitingly. On one of the bedside tables a large glass of bourbon gleamed.

‘I figured from the liquor cabinet that bourbon is your drink,’ she said, smiling.

‘Quite right,’ I said, clearing my throat. ‘Well, one of them!’

I crossed to the table and took a sip of the bourbon.

‘Thanks! That was thoughtful.’ I took another. And another!

‘Me too!’ she said.

She took a sip and smiled up at me. Our lips brushed lightly. Looked at from above her breasts made the shape of two perfect pears, complete with thick, dark stalks.

‘I should take a shower,’ I said, as I felt her hand moving down.

‘Later,’ she murmured. ‘Later.’

And she sat down on the bed and began unzipping my trousers. Almost pedantic in her movements, she felt inside and drew my cock and balls inch by inch through the slit in my underpants, easing at the edges of the cloth and tucking it neatly in so that my balls and cock protruded fully and the pressure from the underside of my pants raised my ball bag, giving it a rounded appearance. Diana seemed fascinated by this and stroked and fondled my balls seemingly for ever, glancing up at me from time to time with that look that somehow combined the innocence of an angel with the wickedness of a vixen.

I suppose the trade term for what followed is a ‘stand up blow job’, but the utter inadequacy and inappropriateness of such terminology became more and more apparent as Diana stroked, caressed, kissed, sucked every square inch of my cock and my balls until my entire genital region was aglow. Such was the care with which she went to work, it must have been half an hour before I was fully erect. She would work me very gently, then tighten just a little so that my cock stiffened, but then slacken up so that it relaxed again. In cycles, waves, she grew my fella with exquisite deliberateness to his full dimensions. Then she sat back on the bed as though admiring my cock, or her handiwork, or possibly both, and she began to unfasten my trousers and ease them down around my ankles. Freed from their accoutrements, the tension in my ball bag was relieved and my balls hung free. Long fingers stroked, massaged and engulfed them, while the wide mouth with its full lips raised my fella again to full attention. Inching my cock further and further into her mouth, Diana began to increase the pressure, sucking on the upstroke and releasing on the down, all the time watching my reaction to make sure she was pacing correctly, not too fast not too slow. Again, she would increase and decrease the tension in cycles, sucking harder and harder, at the same time squeezing my balls with her hands and digging her nails into the base of my cock, then, as she sensed a tenseness build up in my torso, relaxing the pressure, maintaining the status quo.

I found myself recalling the long nights spent with Angel when this kind of action could go on for hours. But Angel’s talent was to keep me on a plateau for, well, for as long as she wanted me there, then take me suddenly from there to the top. Diana worked differently, deliberately raising me from one plateau to the next, never staying for very long on one particular one. For Angel there was only one col. Diana found many, and she lead me from col to col inexorably, but exquisitely slowly upwards towards the summit. She began to work my cock harder now, using her fingers and nails and brushing the head of my cock with her teeth on the upstroke. The downstroke took me deeper and deeper into her until the head of my cock encountered the back of her throat. She deep- throated me for an age, raising me to yet another col where I had never imagined there could be one. I was as close to orgasm as it is possible to be without coming. Somehow, Diana kept the juices locked inside even though the fire in my cock and balls burned now bright as the inside of a volcano. Diana kept me there for a very long time, judging perfectly from my breathing how close I was and how far she could go. This was the last col! Eventually, she stepped up the pace again, almost imperceptibly, but enough for the tension in my body to build up. My breathing was heavy now and I was losing control. Involuntary grunts came from deep within me. I was the fruit of Diana’s art, reverted to the purely animal. My grunts became more insistent as the volcanic glow in my genitals raised the magma through its tortuous channels to the surface. Diana sensed the impending eruption and she withdrew and tilted my cock upwards so that the tip lay just within her mouth and beneath her tongue. Gently but firmly she massaged the base with the finger tips of her right hand whilst holding the shaft very still with her left. My cock was the only still part of my body, which began to shake uncontrollably as the orgasm hit and the hot semen coursed into Diana’s mouth, to reflect back from the underside of her tongue and coat my shaft with it’s sticky lubrication. The eruption went on and on and Diana continued her finger tip massage for what seemed like an age. Involuntarily, my body responded with a series of jolts, like aftershocks, which gradually subsided. Only then did Diana take my cock again fully in her mouth, continuing to suck and massage until my fella gave up the ghost completely and collapsed.

Diana sat back on the bed admiring her work. Her teeth were slightly bared and the inside of her mouth gleamed with the residual cum. A single strip of semen ran from the underside of her lip down her chin. My cock and balls were heavily coated with the stuff and I could feel a trickle finding its way into the crack between my balls and my thighs and beginning to run down.

‘Not bad,’ said Diana, looking up at me with that wicked smile of hers. ‘You’ve been saving that up for a while I can see! Now we both need a shower!’

And so began a long, long night of exquisite pleasure. With one or two breaks during which Diana told me something of her history, the sex was continuous. Fresh out of the shower, I carried her across the room to an overstuffed armchair that I had acquired somewhere, was rather attached to, but had never used. Tonight was the night. Diana settled back in the chair with her legs spread wide and I did for her what she had only too wonderfully done for me. She was fully shaved and her labial lips were lotus petals glistening pink. I began by running the tip of my tongue up and down the crack between the outer husk of her genitals and her thigh. I felt her legs splay further apart and continued until she was fully extended before moving in to tease the outer edge of the labia. As she had done with me, I took extreme pains to move her along as slowly as possible without losing sexual momentum. I had practiced the art of cunnilingus with Angel of course, but that night -- I say as I should not --- I truly excelled. There was something about Diana’s body, her manner and her bearing that I found truly irresistible and that inspired and excited me. I remember reading once that, basically, all women’s bodies are the same, than which, in my limited experience, nothing could be further from the truth. To me Diana was really a goddess and her vagina was hallowed ground that it was my incredible privilege to explore. And explore I did. As she had left no centimeter of my cock unexplored, so I gave attention to every millimeter of her cunt.

All sense of time had long since left me, but I would swear that I worked on the outer part of her vagina for a full hour before gently easing my tongue between the petals and beginning a long, slow but inexorable penetration. I flicked my tongue across the inner wall of her vagina entering her deeper and deeper until her lips were fully opened and I was practically breathing the juices that flowed copiously from within her. I fucked her for a while with my tongue and lips hearing her gasp with pleasure. On the way out I grasped each vaginal lip in turn between my teeth and began a playful chewing motion that had her writhing in anticipation. I increased the pressure slowly seeking, and finding, that elusive boundary between exquisite pleasure and pain. I swear another hour went by before I gave way to the ever more obvious direction of Diana’s pelvic thrusts and slid my tongue up the full length of vaginal slit to her clitoris. Using a circular motion I edged her clit out from its hood to full erection. Diana’s gasps told me she was near the edge, but now I practiced what she had taught me and kept her there for as long as I could, stimulating the clitoral hood and the outer base of the clitoris, with only the occasional flick of the tongue onto the clitoral tip. Each flick elicited a gasp and the wild jerking of Diana’s pelvis told me how close the eruption was. Gently, I set my lips to enclose the clitoris and began ever so gently to suck. This was the end game. As I sucked, her bucking became wilder and wilder until a exhalation of breath and a sudden tensing of her body signaled the beginning of a massive orgasm. Her hands went to the top of my head and her legs closed tightly around my ears, but still I continued to suck her clitoris and flick the tip with my tongue easing only as the orgasmic spasms began to abate.

‘MiGod!’ said Diana when she could. ‘That was fantastic. Wherever did you learn that!’

‘Gentlemen never tell,’ was my reply, a twinkle in my eye.

By now of course I was fully aroused and when Diana saw my erection she grabbed my fella without a by your leave and rammed it deep into her cunt. I began somewhat tentatively, thinking that Diana’s orgasm may have left her sensitive, but it was plain that this was not what she had in mind at all. She wanted a hard fuck and she made here preference known in no uncertain terms! I was happy to oblige. That old armchair has surely never seen such action, but nevertheless could have been purpose designed. I could take the bulk of my weight on hands and feet while leaving more or less complete freedom of action for the ‘working parts’, which I exercised with alacrity. Diana’s vagina was pouring out lubrication so my thrusts deep in and out of her elicited squelching noises which blended with synchronous squeaks from the arm chair and Diana’s grunts and exhortations. She was supremely aroused and we had not been going for very long when I sensed the onset of a second orgasm. I stepped up the pace and ground her body down deep into the cushions of that old arm chair. She wrapped her legs around me, her feet drummed on my back, her thighs gripped tight around my waist and her finger nails gouged canyons in my back. I increased the stroke yet further until Diana came, in no-trumps! Her spasms went on and on and on, and I kept on grinding her back into the chair until I felt her body grow limp. Slowly I reduced the stroke and relaxed on top of my Goddess, the supreme, though now supine Diana.