Am I Doing It Right?
She'd been hinting at an "extra" birthday present for a while.
OK, so they'd groped each other drunkenly. Then they'd groped each other stone sober. Both experiences were pleasant, but admittedly neither of them were teenagers anymore. And she had a vivid imagination; that much was apparent from the erotic fiction that she'd written. None of that amounted to all that much in reality — it didn't mean that he was going to get oral sex for his birthday, any more than he would likely receive a pony for Christmas.
What the hell — as long as he got a sneaky kiss every now-and-then, and as long as she kept the happy, carefree flirting going, he was content.
So what was he expecting would happen when he arrived at her flat? Who knew? Who cared? Deep down he didn't, and he was comfortable with that. Even the voices in his head were quieting — those voices that told him that while it was fine for the likes of President John F. Kennedy, King Edward VIII, the Honorable John H. Gorton and all of those other "fine folk" to have mistresses, it wasn't for him.
Well — pooh! to propriety. He'd had a lovely morning yelling himself hoarse at a Metropolitan Cup footie match, and now he was approaching her street. A kiss, a hug, a cup of coffee, and then back home.
So why was he so nervous going up her stairs?
She answered the door; dressed in the fuchsia blouse he'd previously admired on her and her old jeans. Her welcoming kiss was as warm as he'd expected; but the heat turned WAY up as she shut the door behind them.
He answered her kiss savagely — almost bruisingly — crushing her body against his. Instant erection! He eased his hand down under the waistband of her pants; quickly sliding a finger into the moist heat between her legs as they kissed — no, not kissed; more like devoured each other — before removing his hand from her pants once more.
Hands now shaking, he unbuttoned her blouse; barely waiting for her to slip out of it before he was eagerly unhooking her bra — revealing her generous breasts with their small, pale nipples. Kissing her again, he cupped her breast; gently at first, and then as fiercely as her kiss demanded. Relaxing the crushing hug a little, she unbuttoned his shirt; sliding it off him, before fumbling at his belt and the buttons of his jeans. Impatiently, he took over. Unbuttoning his jeans and stepping out of them, he kicked off his boots and socks at the same time.
Stepping back from him, she admired his jutting erection.
"A naked man in my flat! What shall we do with him?" she asked.
In answer, he grabbed her again; crushing her to his naked body. She pressed her pelvis against his cock, feeling for it with one hand; holding him prisoner as she ran her free hand over his body.
This was all going fast, but he didn't care. It felt right. His cock was rejoicing at her touch, and at the feeling that her kisses had sent through his body.
He felt for the waistband of her jeans, grabbing them to pull them off her; but she stopped him.
"Not today," she said. "I want one thing at a time"
"I want my tongue in your pussy," he said; his voice hoarse with desire. "I want my fingers and tongue in your pussy and arse. I want to make you cum with my mouth, and then I want to fuck you!"
"I know you do," she said.
But she still resisted his hands at her waist; leading him across her lounge-room and sitting down on her couch with him standing squarely in front of her.
Smiling, she kissed the head of his cock. A fleeting, tender kiss; savouring the glistening droplet of pre-cum, she found there; a sign of his obvious pleasure at her attention. With feather-touches, she stroked his shaft; admiring its shape and the gasp of electricity that made him shut his eyes and draw his breath.
"The last time you did that to me, I was a micro-second away from tearing your nightie off and cumming all over your tits."
"The last time I did this, I was a micro-second away from tearing my nightie off and fucking you. I still want to give you a lap-dance, but not today," she said; stroking him again and watching his body quiver.
"If you're going to do that, it'll go everywhere. You'll get it all over your pants. It'll be best if we're both naked — skin can be washed."
"Clothes can be washed, too."
She squirmed a little to keep his hands out of her pants, stroking his cock again as she did so. As he arched his back in pleasure, she leant forward; unexpectedly taking his cock in her mouth. He gasped loudly as her lips closed over the head of his cock — moaning as she drew them off him; enfolding him in her mouth.
"Oh, my god," he said.
He bit his wrist to stop from crying out; his loins quivering with pleasure from the contact.
"That was easier than I thought. Did I do it right?" she asked.
"Yesssss," he hissed. "Please, again."
She slid her mouth over his knob again, savouring the feeling this time. He closed his eyes, biting his wrist again as the softness of her bottom lip slid across the sensitive nerve endings on the underside of his glans. The feeling of her lips down the shaft of his cock was astounding, but the sensation of her tongue on his glans was electrifying.
He looked down and to his astonishment, her nose was almost touching his belly. No gagging, no scrape of teeth, no clumsy teenager! Even when he was a teen, the feeling of a mouth on his cock was worth the occasional clumsiness - but this!
"Are you really telling me this is the first time you've done this?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes." She answered simply. "Why? Am I doing it right?"
She had an impish grin and licked her lips a little; teasing him.
Leaning over, he pushed her back onto the lounge; crushing her lips to his own and caressing her bare breasts, her hands running across his naked back. He was clumsily teetering on the edge of the lounge over her, but he didn't care. Lying there, it was obvious that she was the one in control. She was intent on pleasuring him with her body, but on her own terms or not at all.
The feel of her naked skin on his own was almost as intoxicating as the feel of her mouth.
Her mouth was a drug; whether against his lips, or encasing his cock.
Sliding his hands down her body, he slipped one hand between her legs; rubbing the edge of his hand against the heat coming through her jeans. She pulled his head down against her shoulder, demanding his weight against her body; but again she denied him when he tried to slip his hands inside her pants to feel her.
"I want to control one thing at a time. This is for this time," she said, cryptically; before taking his earlobe between her teeth.
"There are things you could do to me that would drive me wild, but I won't tell you what they are yet," she said.
The sharpness of her teeth sent little ripples of electricity through his body to his groin. Again he tried for the grope, and this time she pressed her legs together against him.
Frustrated, he felt for her breast. Finding it, he took her nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping it; feeling her body respond. Going with the game, he kissed the side of her neck, and the gasp that drew told him that this was one of the things she liked.
The heat of their passion closed his senses in on the touch of his mouth on her skin, the feel of her body as he kissed and nipped with his teeth, the feel of her clever, supple hands on his cock between them.
"I want to fuck you," he whispered.
"Oh, you will," she said, "but later."
He continued to kiss and nibble her bare neck and the upper curves of her breast, but the feel of her hand on his erection was driving him crazy.
He paused, looking at her face as she lay under him. She looked very satisfied with herself; a woman who was absolutely content with her actions.
Gently, she drew his cock against the bare flesh of her belly above her jeans; pressing it against her skin with the flat of her hand. He let it stroke there for a second, then drew himself up, until his cock was level with her breasts. Gently, he pressed them together around his shaft.
The head of his cock protruded slightly. She bent forward; kissing it before taking him in her mouth again. Once, she slid her mouth down his cock, then held it in her mouth as deep as she dared, before sliding it out again; placing a kiss on the head. Again, she slid her mouth over his cock.
That was it — she was in control of the action, while he was passive; receiving. To do anything else would ruin the mood; and the mood ... the scent ... the feeling, was so overpowering that he could think of nothing else.
Barely daring to move, he balanced himself by his knees on the edge of the couch and his hands on the back of it. The precariousness of his position only added to the thrill, as her mouth descended again onto his aching cock.
The feeling of her tongue on the underside of his cock, and the roof of her mouth on the top of his glans, was ecstasy. Her lips on his shaft were the bass notes of the tune she was playing, and his moans of pleasure the phrases and stave markings.
As his pleasure grew, and his control was approaching the ragged edge, he said gently, "If you don't want a mouthful of cum, you'd better let me finish over your breasts or something. Because if you keep going..."
Her only response was to suck slightly harder; increasing the pressure from her tongue and the roof of her mouth, and stroking him into her mouth slightly faster and deeper.
"Oh, my God," he said; not knowing how loudly. He tried to stifle his cries with his forearm, but he needed both hands to steady himself.
As the waves of pleasure grew, he said it again, and again; and as his climax became inevitable, he was groaning "my god my god" continuously like some frenzied mantra, until finally, he climaxed.
He could feel each pulse coursing through his cock; his climax stronger than he'd remembered having for some time. He was aware that his spend was unusually copious. Each jet felt like it was more than he had ever shot before.
Dimly heard her swallow once, twice. He felt her sucking the last drops out of him, and finally, reluctantly, he drew himself out of the heaven her lips had formed; collapsing onto the couch next to her.
A drop of cum had fallen on her left breast, and he wiped it up with the tip of his finger. He held it out for her, and she licked it off with some relish; smacking her lips impishly. He was so winded that all he could do between gasps was smile at the gesture.
"Man! That was more than a spoonful!" she said.
Wide-eyed, he nodded and managed to gasp affirmation before collapsing back; sucking the air back into his lungs.
As his breath returned, he asked her again, "Are you sure that's the first time you've done that?"
"I told you I'd been practicing," she said. "I had the greatest fun working out what might be a good size to mimic you. Now, I want to know: What did it feel like?" she demanded.
He shook his head in disbelief.
"Was I really that good?" she asked again.
He caught his breath enough breath to say, "As good as anything I've had in the last two decades or more. I still can't believe that was the first time you've ever done that."
"Happy Birthday," she said brightly; giving him a chaste peck on the cheek. "I think I'll put the kettle on now. You look like you could use a cuppa."
He cursed her for making him laugh.