(Again thank you for the many positive remarks. They are very much appreciated. For the others, if this material offends you please don't read it, my slide into depravity only worsens as the story goes on, which for you that have trouble with, is more true than you may wish to accept.)
*
So, there I was, kneeling in front of an intoxicating-ly erotic man with the most wonderful cock I had ever seen. I was amazed at who I thought I suddenly was aware. Prior to this day, I was a rather prime and proper lady that would have used the word "penis" to describe male genitals. Now, I was half naked, kneeling in front of a man that really didn't have to order as much suggest what I was to do. I was simply overwhelmed.
Previously, I'd not been too sympathetic with people, men are women, who claimed that they got swept up by events and ended up doing things that they later regretted. Now, I can relate to their claims. I was on my knees, mostly glad to be there, but a little ashamed by both being there and having enjoyed it. It was several minutes before J.P. said something.
"Honey, it isn't going any where and neither are you it would seem."
I blinked myself back into the present moment and realized that my hands were still gripping the steel-hard cock. One hand above the other, like when I played high school softball and was gripping the bat. While my hands were quite dainty, the shaft of this magnificent cock still would have extended above and below the hands of a larger gal. I had the impression that it wouldn't matter what I did or how hard I squeezed, I wouldn't be able to make any mark on it at all.
There, looking at it while kneeling in front of him as he sat on the couch, still watching the game, but trying to seem as if he were paying attention to me more so, I realized that I loved looking at his cock. The head was especially captivating. While the wonton lust got the better of me moments before and I had to slake my thirst, I allowed my self the opportunity to gaze and appreciate the wonder before me.