"Aren't you happy for me?"
"I'm happy. I'm glad you had a good time."
It was late, and Tammy was calling to tell me about the latest sex-capade she'd just had. About how some new guy had measured up -- bigger and better than expected. About how he'd put her legs up on his shoulders and pounded her for a good 20 minutes, hitting all her trigger spots.
"Sometimes it's so intense I feel it all the way to my toes -- and ears."
All the other juicy details: how it felt to have him stretching her tight, how many times she came, the look on his face and sounds he made when he got off. And how she'd taken a look at the condom after he pulled it off and was surprised by how much he'd filled it up.
"You don't sound that happy."
"I'm always happy to hear about your fun, and I appreciate that you share it with me."
"Does it excite you?"
"You know it does."
"But is it exciting you now? Making you hard?
The pause before answering was a beat too long, and she picked up on it.
"Just a bit tired," I said. "You must be, too."
"Yeah, but in a good way. I'm still keyed up. And I'm worried about you. You sound bummed."
I was. I'd been thinking about my former lover. Tammy was a pleasant diversion, but sometimes it made me wistful, wanting something more. Still, I'd accepted her rule that we never fuck -- that our encounters were all oral and manual, spiced with naughty and kinky talk. In a way she was right, it kept everything uncomplicated. We'd never work as a regular relationship, with the 12-year difference in our ages and the different circumstances of our lives.
She likes being able to confide and tell her secrets without getting judgment back. She gives me something I need though not all I want. But it's also her point of power in the quirky relationship we have. And, frankly, it was starting to drive me a bit nuts. Let's face it, she's hot, young desirable. And the more the last frontier is denied, the more I ached to attain it.
Every time I slide my fingers into her tight, juicy sleeve and massage her g-spot, I imagine how incredible it would feel gripping my cock. When she's sucking me to the brink or I'm licking her into a frenzy, it's all I can do to keep from pinning her down and giving her a good drilling. I imagine the whole slip and slide, the slap, slap, slap of skin on skin, the look of surprise on her face. And, yes, the whole sensation of letting go and shooting deep inside.
But I know that afterwards there might be regret and remorse for breaking a trust. And that would probably be the end of us. I enjoy what I have with Tammy too much, so I play by her rules.
"Do you want me to make you feel better?"
"No, it's fine. I'm... wait, there's somebody at my door."
"It's me, silly. Let me in. And you can answer the door with nothing on."
I had on gray sports shorts. She still had the phone to her ear and a sly grin on her face. She had on a very sheer black top that did little to conceal her braless tits and their perky points.
"Haven't you had enough for one day?"
"This is just for you."
She took me by the hand to the couch, laid me down, peeled off my shorts and proceeded to give me a toe-curling handjob, adding saliva for lubrication. She didn't want any reciprocal action, though she pulled up her shirt and let me rub her boobs. When I reached lower she maneuvered so I could work a couple of fingers under the leg of her shorts into her recently fucked pussy, which was as steamy as a primordial swamp.
Tammy knows exactly what to do and say to make me want to sell my soul to ensure she'll keep saying it and doing it.
"I love your cock in my mouth. The way you taste."
She danced a sensuous salsa with the tip of her tongue in the opening of my cock, creating a fluttery sensation that reached deep into my balls. She applied just the right amount of pressure to the magic spot near my ass, the sensitive taint.
"Do you like that?
"Mmmm."
Do you want to cum in my mouth?"
"Mmmm."
"Do you want to taste it on my lips?"
When my hips began to arch, she formed an O with her lips and stroked the shaft faster until I cried out and fired a flurry of creamy volleys into the warm, wet the target.
She never flinched or took her eyes off mine until the flow abated and the last spurt dribbled off her lip and down her chin like a drip from a melting ice cream cone. She scooped it with a finger and deposited it on her tongue, already coated with whiter frosting. She hovered over me, lips parted enough to let me see it, her eyes dancing with mischief.
I knew what she was suggesting, and I couldn't resist. I guided her up slowly, bringing her face closer until her lips were just above mine. Tantalizingly, she extended her tongue, bowed her head slightly and let a stream of fresh cream flow into my mouth.
We'd done this before, and I had taken a liking to the taste of my own cum, especially when Tammy fed it to me. I pulled her mouth to mine so I could savor the slippery, tangy tonic on her lips and tongue. This was the kinkiest thing we'd done together, and I was in no hurry to let her go. She seemed to like it, too, and she continued to massage my tongue with hers while I stroked her back, enjoying the warmth of her body, particularly the pressure of her breasts on my chest.
Finally, she got up. Without a word, she kissed the head of my cock, pulled down her shirt, blew me a departure kiss and left with the same sly grin as when she arrived.
The next day I got a text message: "I know what's wrong."
A few minutes later she called my cell. No hello, her first words were, "How long since you've gotten laid? I mean, you know, really laid?"
The only response to that is to laugh. She was insistent.
"You know it's been quite a while."
"Aren't you still playing in the band?"
