PLAUDITS OF THAT UNLETTERED MOMENT (con't) -- #2
Her swollen,
sensitive breasts smashed against him. Her nipples prodded unyielding
muscle. He was one large, prevailing
guy, her inner voice observed with acute
pleasure. A very strong, buff, dominant guy who could overpower her
easily, and she wanted that. She saw a
hunk who was so tough he could piss his name into concrete, make feral wolves
turn their eyes away, or quiet a bar fight when he walked into the room.
She wanted
invasion, an attack of senses and body.
He smelled so masculine, so erotically of musky clean and woods fragrant
soap and raw fleshy heat. That heat transmitted itself to her, warming her on
every erogenous level, from flesh, to mind, to spirit. Even the
hot, wet, minty taste of his tongue, the velvety texture of his mouth, increased
the sensitivity to every new machination of sensation.
He deepened the
kiss, ravished her mouth. She’d never been kissed with such hunger, such raw
need. All knew that there was no substitute for victory, his conquest was the
complete joy of her mouth fused to his.
As though he’d yearned for this moment for a lifetime.
She clutched his
shoulders. Her chest was tight with
desire, her throat dry with it; her heart hammered against her rib cage. She
felt ready to combust on the spot. She
now understood why heroes and heroines of novels would risk everything for sex.
She was horny enough to cum without her clit or cunt being touched.
Yet, she
struggled to cool down, slow up and take back control. It was her turn to dominate him and make him
as weak as he made her. It was her way. He already made it past barriers that no one
else ever had. She never had sex in her
room, her intimate domain, and she was ready to allow that, to take that
step. Past sex was oft mechanical
lacking emotion and desire. And marked
by one very fundamental style, she retained control. The foray into virgin ground unnerved
her. Thus, she needed to blow him, needed
to make it less personal, needed to return to what she knew how to do, and do
well.
With others
she’d have their pants down and their cock in her mouth before they were even
fully in the apartment. Her room was her
domain of sensual dreams and fetish fantasies, and she had oft wondered if
there would ever be a man of flesh and blood carrying her across the threshold,
gaining entrance to the solitude of her most inner haven. Momentarily, she bristled that previous sex
was about his orgasm, duty and devoid of emotions of heart and soul and
spirit. She got her upstart in her sex
life under the afore principles, comprehended the long term impact on her, but
she was far too reticent to have fixed it.
The epiphany she was presently experiencing was sex and love were
wonderfully hinged one to the other. She
wanted, no, needed to swing on them.
But. The same old was the same
old and comfortable.
Moving her hands
from his hair, she slid them over his taut, expansive shoulders. As her hands migrated, so did she, ending the
fiery kiss with a tender bite of his bottom lip. Yet, simultaneously, beginning another seduction
as her fingernails traced his neck veins, hands cupped powerful deltoids,
crossing over triceps and biceps. Her
fingers reached his hands, and entwined them with hers as her tongue traced a
pattern over his chest, down and down to hardened abs. Cyndy was deadeyed
on reaching one objective, it rising to meet her. That conquest was within inches, and she was
ready to overtly impress.
He began to pull
his hand free. "No...!" he
mildly asserted, projecting little challenge in his tone, knowing that this was
their experience and she had every right to express need and want.
"Yes,"
she returned, in a confident, husky tone.
James gathered
her head in large hands, stalling her movement.
"Yes. Let me." Cyndy reacted to quell the
kerfuffle that he presented.
"Yes?"
"Yes." She won their turkey-shoot and was about to
eat the bird.
She made her way
slowly down his body until she was on her knees in front of him. The moment stilled as the culmination of
passionate emotion inundated her. The
feelings were so different, as her face addressed his cock and balls. No thought of the mechanics of pleasure
saturated her mind, more the intimacy of expression, caring, giving, pleasing
because he was James, the heat of her heart, not just any other man. Her eyes appreciated his wealth, drivel
moistened the corners of just parted lips and her heavy breathing ruffled his
loose shorts, warming.
His stomach
quivered when she reached the waistband of his dark blue briefs and dipped her
tongue on the underside of the elastic, then dragging that tongue along the
length. She tugged at his briefs with
her teeth, one side, then the other, then she once more ran her tongue along
the elastic well below his bellybutton. Her journey took her to the tip of the
triangular of curls outlining his cock. Just as those curls were borne of true
kink she bent and bowed to that ideal.
Using her teeth
once more, to pull the briefs to her
fingers, she drug his shorts well past his hips, purposely yanking them down
and down. The captive cock finally free,
popped and jerked and bounced and presented itself with apt pride.
She kissed the
bulbous tip tonguing it, while continuing to urge his briefs down and down
until they ended up around his ankles. She lowered her hand to one of his
calves, then urged him to step out of the cottony clothe, first one foot then
the other. As her hand migrated up via
his inner-thigh she cupped his balls and held a wealth of manness she knew was about to be completely hers.
To give credit
where credit was due, this was her forte, her ace of manipulation that could
momentary enrapture a man past his point of resistance. When it came to this, it wasn't a crapshoot
more the shooting fish in a barrel. Yes,
she was that good. She oft recalled her
Grandpoppie always decrying a thing worth doing was worth doing well, though
she knew he really wasn't specifically thinking of this. Would he be proud of her? Of course James would be. Why?
She was that good.
Flinging the
briefs away, her fingers brushed along the wealth of curls and then engulfed
his cock, finding a drop of pre-cum perched at the very tip of his head. She lapped it up and into her mouth. Her eyes met his at that moment.
With slight of
hands both balls vanished in the caress of her.
She recognized the generous gush of blood that was engorging him,
bringing phenomenal length and gargantuan girth as well as an unwavering joy to
her. He was becoming her greatest
challenge. From the git-go she could anticipate his
astonishing size but didn't expect the totality of it as it firmed up,
seemingly without stopping. Could she
take him completely down her throat?
That concept was moot. Why? She just would force it and herself to
achieve full deep-throat. Why? This was their moment in time. She wanted, no, needed to give all she
could.
She heard him
catch his breath, felt him trembling.
Had the misdirection of blood dazed him?
She wasn't certain but her slow and sensuous approach was only a
precursor to the wild foray that was about to follow. Her blood churned with heat and she was ready
to take him on a bonafide ride of seduction, to shake, no, shatter the very
ethos of him.
Fingernails
raked the back of his gonads, stimulating the muscles that propelled
ejaculation. She wanted the strengthy shrapnel of projectile semen
to bounce about her throat, feeling it all the way down.
Once again she
trapped his hands. Her own circled his
wrists, holding them like manacles as if that were enough to stop him from
moving. They both knew it was her roving
tongue and seducing mouth that did that.
This intended manipulation was simply the precursor to provide intense stimulation.
James' possible
consternation was that if she'd play it out until he was weak-kneed and nearly
incoherent would disquiet him. Yet
again, he offered a weak protest, "No... wait...."
She knew his resistance
was folly and began to noisily feast upon his penis, famished for the hot
meat. She thought touché take that and that.
"Damn!"
he flashed.
At that moment
she devoured to a depth he never knew before.
That haymaker of the blowjob world brought him a momentary wobble.
"Flash fry
the buffalo. Babe, that was
hot." James closed his eyes and
leaned into her quest for depth. But
that was short lived when he tried to pull her head back. "Wait." Yes, that wait
was counter-intuitive to all Cyndy wanted to share and maybe a bit
anticlimactic. Had he wanted to delay
gratification? Maybe. Or maybe there was another goal he aspired. "Wait."
She didn't,
believing his request was asinine, thinking damned
if you do and damned if you don't.
Would have said it out loud, but her mouth was completely full of
swollen cock.
James pulled her
head off his little head. Hoping that
the blood's enthusiasm would have some time to convalesce.
Refusing to
commiserate with his strange rebellious mood, her physical answer to his
displacement was to draw slow circles on his muscular thighs with her practiced
tongue, moving down and then back up his inner leg with each spiral. His cock jerked upward like a marionette
being manipulated by a puppeteer.
Pleased by his response, she brought her face to his turgid rod once
more. Her warm breath coated the head
before she used the flat of her tongue to lick him from the back of his balls
to the tip of the cleft of his cock-head, readying it to be engulfed in her
wonton throat.
She moved from
one ball to the other, tormenting him until his legs went weedy. The doldrums of a year fantasying about him
transfigured from a downtrodden idea to a transfixing exhalation. Destiny had always been the antichrist that
perplexed Cyndy, but at this moment she felt, in our dark lord we trust. There they were, lost in the throes of lust,
that was about this very moment, all previous and more importantly, all to
come.
The density of
the wall pressed into his bare backside as she nuzzled his legs apart with her
prodding head, undaunted by his
muscularity she forced his legs apart, while big-tongue lapping at any flesh
which was close.
She acted the
wily minx, undeterred in her provocative mindset that this sojourn was not
about the culmination, but more about the minutia of each action. And her earlier developed repertoire was vast
enough to procure that end.
He moved as if
he wanted her to stop, at which she slapped his bare-butt being the momma
telling that nudgy child to stand still,
knowing it would behoove him to let her finish.
She slapped a second time, more effusively, instructing that she was in
charge.
He couldn't help
the animalistic growl, when she speared the cleft of his sex and amused herself
with it. She then lavished his cock
with the flat of her tongue. Each act
was raucous, direct and controlling.
Feeling the raw
bestial call, "Grrr..." James
entwined his fingers within her hair. He
could have jerked her down onto him, taken ultimate control, driving every bit
of his inordinately long, gargantuan cock down her throat, making her his
pleasure-slave, but he understood this was her moment, so he growled,
again. "Grrr..."
He continued to
growl deep in his throat as she swirled her wicket tongue, and then engulfed
the head to suck it. First just an
affable taunting, but the suckling grew by degree and her rounded mouth
continued down the span. Gulping in his
length, further and further, one inch added to two, then enjoying five,
struggling slightly with eight, proving a point when she surpassed twelve, not
sated until her lips met the root with her tongue probing his ball sack. An immeasurable accomplishment, yet so very
measureable at thirteen inches. A full
praiseworthy display of her ability thusfar, and then with middling
procrastination, she slide back up until her lips were just a pucker at his
cock tip."
"Kiss the frog, Princess."
Princess might have been mistaken as being pejorative by many, putting the fire and brimstone on, but Cyndy embraced it as if she was wearing the jeweled tiara of royalty, radiating. She wanted to dance at the balls. (to be continued)
***
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