Continued from "The Yoni Massage"—read that first if you want the whole story.
*****
Rachel took me by the hand, helping me to hop off of the massage table. She then escorted me to the exit from her business and led me up the stairs to her apartment. It must have been an interesting sight to see—a gorgeous topless mature masseuse leading a completely naked mature by the hand up the stairs. My body still tingled from Rachel's expert touch, and I was partially excited, partially nervous, about what was in store next.
We reached the entrance to Rachel's and Steve's apartment and she let herself in. It was small but tastefully decorated, filled with artifacts from years of travel—African masks, Asian wall decoration, European knickknacks. Steve was nowhere to be seen—perhaps he was in the kitchen or another room in the apartment.
I continued to scan the room as Rachel led me down a short hallway towards what I assumed was their bedroom. She opened the door, confirming my assumption. Their bedroom was elegant, a large, king-sized bed dominating the far wall, expensive coverings atop the generous mattress and decorated with perhaps a dozen pillows. She led me to the bed and told me to sit down, which I did.
"Lie back," she said. "Use one of the pillows if you need it." I did as she was bid, watching Rachel standing in front of me, her full breasts impossible to ignore. She smiled at me, and began to work her loose, colorful skirt down her hips, wiggling them playfully as she lowered the clothing inch by inch, revealing neat, lacy panties adorned with bows.
I watched her and smiled, this gorgeous creature hovering near me, her perfect body tantalizing me, my body reacting favorably to the spectacle in front of me. The fingers of my right hand wandered idly through the tuft of curly hair between my legs, tugging lightly on a few random strands. She rested her knees on the bed and took off her glasses, setting them aside. I looked into her piercing green eyes and saw her facial expression change from one of flirty playfulness to one of desire—lust, even.
Her head hovered above my sex, her eyes still locked on mine. She blew cool air on my folds, causing me to writhe a bit in response.
"Are you sure about this?" she cooed, "Because when I start, I'm not going to want to stop."
I nodded silently, anxious to be touched, to be stimulated, to let go and lose myself in some form of bliss.
Rachel smirked, and softly lowered her face between my legs, her hands gently resting atop my thighs. "So be it," she whispered, and I raised my legs in anticipation of receiving her attentions.
She planted a soft kiss on my mound, looking up at me to see how I would react. I could only stare wordlessly. Another kiss on my tuft, and she moved her left hand between my legs, parting my wet folds softly with a fingertip. She teased and tantalized my petals, and I bit my bottom lift softly as I watched her work. Finally Rachel moved her head further south, coating my entire sex in a single, slow, wet lick.
Rachel used her mouth and tongue expertly, first circling my vulva, leaving soft kisses around the circumference. Her fingers continued to just graze the edges of my lips, a near-tickle. I exhaled deeply and closed my eyes. She then sucked my folds into her mouth, tasting me, tugging and nibbling lightly, pushing her finger into me more fully. I ran a hand through her soft curly hair and used my other to pull my left leg flush with my chest. Rachel's lips kissed and licked by labia, the sensations almost overwhelming to me. But I held it in, fighting the urge to explode then and there.
Her free hand pressed on the back of my thigh, her nails raking lightly along my skin, her head between my legs. I pushed on the back of her head, longing for her to explore me more deeply. She moaned into my opening, drawing in my fluids as she added a second finger to her wet exploration.
Rachel pushed deeper into me, wiggling her fingers, touching my walls on all sides. She held her hand there, her knuckles pressing flush against my button. I moaned again, more audibly this time. She looked up at me, her mouth and chin glistening with my leavings, slipping a third finger inside of me and thrusting firmly, in and out, slow and deliberate, watching me as I reached the point of no return.
I spasmed on her fingers, letting go in a quick rush, my body convulsing as I came. I cried out, my free hand squeezing my breast hard, pinching my nipple and pulling. She pulled out from me, wet sounds betraying her hand's departure. Slowly Rachel crawled up my body, her lips moving to mine, and I kissed her hungrily, tasting myself in her mouth, wrapping my legs around her waist.
As I held Rachel close to me, continuing to kiss her, our tongues exchanging tastes, I heard the bedroom door open. Looking, I saw Steve standing in the doorway, smiling at the tryst taking place in front of him. Rachel looked over her shoulder and met his gaze, smiling again. She then turned to me.
"Last chance to back out," she said, kissing me softly. Silently I held out my hand towards Steve in response, urging him forward.
He approached us at the side of the bed, Rachel's delicious body atop mine, still clad in her tight pink panties. She reached for his pants, popping the button and pulling down the zipper. Steve helped her undress him, kicking off his shoes and assisting her loosening his trousers. I helped her pull his pants and boxers down his legs, and stared wide-eyed as the most magnificent cock that I had every seen spring forth.
It wasn't necessarily the longest that I had encountered, but it was as close to perfection as I could imagine. Thick and veiny, perfectly curved, with a smooth, uncircumcised foreskin that covered a bulbous head, allowing only the very tip of his glans to escape. His balls were smooth and heavy. The entire package was capped off by a neatly trimmed pubic bush. I had seen dozens of dicks in my day, but this specimen was truly breathtaking. Seven inches of meat that I was hoping to share and savor with Rachel.
I tentatively took his girth in my hand, weighing it, barely able to wrap my fingers completely around it's circumference. Steve unbuttoned his shirt as I touched him, removing it and letting it drop to the floor below. My eyes looked up at Steve, following his contours. He was more toned that I had expected given his loose-fitting shirt. Not ripped necessarily, but solid enough to understand that he was actively working on keeping himself fit.