My jaw is aching. And my tongue is tired. And my knees are chafed from rug-burn. That's what happens when you spend close to a half hour on your knees, going down on someone. In this case that someone is Melissa, my roommate and lover. Melissa is going to be away for a few days, and she said she wanted to give me some "parting pussy" (her exact words). It was a sort of presumptive statement, and some people might resent that attitude, but I don't really mind, not at all. Melissa is very demanding, but I know that and love that about her. I like being her personal pleaser. I like making her cum, teasing her to the brink, over and over, until at last, she starts to shake and moan, her long, beautiful legs clutching tightly around my head.
Which is where she's at right now, or at least close to it. She's lodged in our comfy chair, completely naked, her legs splayed over the chair's arms, as I eat her and she tries to put off the inevitable, to extend the pleasure. But I'm persistent, licking and sucking on her tender parts. I've already made her cum twice, and now, once again, her moans are getting louder, her breath is coming in gasps, and her beautiful, flat midriff is undulating franticly, moving in and out, a sure sign that another orgasm is imminent. And it's going to be a good one.
Sure enough, in seconds she's going off, crying out, "Unghhhhh ...Unghhh!! Oh god! Mmmm! Mmmmmm!!!! FUCK!!!" as her thighs shiver against my cheeks and her fingers dig into my skull. "Ohh-h-h-h-h-h, ALYSON!", she cries again, her third orgasm peaking with a series of hard thrusts of her lower body, as I feel a gush of woman-juice pour into my mouth. Yes, indeed, it is a good one, deeply satisfying, for both of us. I keep licking, lapping up her juices, hoping to get still another out of her, but she stops me. "Mmmm, sorry, babe. I'd love to keep going, but I've got to pack." Reluctantly, I back off and go on with my day.
* * *
An hour later, Melissa is frantically packing. She's going to be gone for three nights, off to a fashion business convention in Las Vegas, and she's fretting over what outfits to take with her. She's traveling with her boss, and she wants to make a good impression. Finally, she finishes up and orders an Uber. Once her ride arrives, she gathers up her bags and, with a quick goodbye kiss, is off to the airport. "See you Friday, babe. Love ya!" And she's gone.
I spend Monday, my first night without Melissa, at home, alone. At first, being alone is a pleasant change. I can do what I want, watch whatever I want on TV, and let my natural slovenliness come out without Melissa's scornful gazes. But by the second day, I'm already a little bored and lonely. And horny. I'm used to eating Melissa out on an almost daily basis (she says we're both addicted to it), and frankly, I miss it, miss the excitement and satisfaction of being her "pleaser". So, now my mind starts to wander. Not just to Melissa, but to other girls as well, to some of the girls we've done together, to my hot celebrity crushes, and to other girls who've just caught my eye.
But I also start to wonder about Melissa and what she might be up to at her convention. Melissa has a talent for identifying and recruiting girls and women for sex. She brings them home to do it with the two of us, but we have an unstated agreement, an understanding, that we will only fool around with other girls as a couple - no one-on-one hookups. But now, she's at this convention without me, and I know it's mostly women, and she has that talent for picking up girls. Plus, she's in Las Vegas! Sin City! Is she having fun (sex) with someone right now? Surely, she'll be tempted.
I stay home again Tuesday night. I try to relax with a book, but it isn't long before my mind is wandering back into the sexual realm. Visions of Melissa and of other hot women fill my head, along with dirty thoughts of what I would do with them. The night ends up being a prolonged session of masturbation, including a number of semi-satisfying orgasms. Then I decide. Tomorrow night, I'm going out! Why should Melissa always be the one who picks up the girls? I can, too!
* * *
It's Wednesday night, and I'm going to do it! I'm going to go out and find a chick on my own, bring her back here and make mad, passionate love with her all night. I keep telling myself that. I have to, because in reality, I'm doubtful and nervous as hell. I've never done this before.
Dressed casually but just sexy enough - short-shorts to show off my legs, a deep v-neck tee to display some cleavage - I set off to the local girl bar, Juicy Lucy's. As I enter, I feel like all eyes are on me, but that's really just me being self-conscious. No one really takes notice of me. Most of the women here are in groups or couples. That's discouraging, but I take a seat at the bar and order a drink.
They have live music at Lucy's, and tonight it's an all-girl band playing "Americana" music. There's a guitar, a mandolin, a fiddle, and a stand-up bass, with the guitarist and the fiddler handling the vocals. As I drink and listen, I wonder if they're all lesbians. Probably, I decide.
While I sit there nursing my drink, feeling discouraged at my prospects for tonight, I start to fantasize about each of the band members, playing my favorite mind game, imagining how each of them would look and sound in the throes of orgasm. As usual, this starts to turn me on.
Each band member is sexy in her own way, but it's the fiddle player that makes me perk up. She is the obvious focal point of the group, both musically and in stage presence. She just draws the audience to her and holds their attention. At least, she does that for me. I can't take my eyes off her. The way she moves as she plays, her wide, oh-so-female hips swaying dramatically to the music, is just enchanting. She's not utterly beautiful in the traditional sense, but is nonetheless striking. Her full, heart-shaped face is framed with a mane of thick, wavy chestnut hair, falling down over her boobs, and accented by deep red lipstick that adds a certain brazenness to the package. Yes, she is striking and, at least in my mind, just exudes sexuality. Plus, her hips are wide and womanly, and she's wearing low-cut jeans and a red crop top that exposes her bare midriff - the very things that drew me to Melissa and led to my original seduction of her. In short, this chick looks amazing. I want her.
But alas, how can I hope to have her? I imagine every horny woman in the place has their eyes on her. And, what the hell, who knows if she is even into women? The fact that she's performing here does not mean that she's gay. Could be just a gig for her.
