I’d been fucking myself for four days, and my pussy was in a constant state of torment. At work, fighting back the sensations... the tug of my new pants against the side seam of my underwear crotch, the tender zap of surprise when I sat down too abruptly or felt the purr of the motor when I started the car... I wondered how men can stand it, having such a sensitive organ hanging out there, always at the mercy of the environment.
So I arrived home, my pussy throbbing once again, yearning for relief. I made a tour of the house, searching for a new toy. Disappointed, I collected my usual toys and laid them on the bed. Don’t get me wrong, they’re good toys. The first time I felt my fleshy lips forced apart by that rubber penis I nearly screamed with joy! That was a long time ago, now, and a rubber prick never quite satisfies like a real one.
When I heard the doorbell, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Thinking it was just a salesman, I hastily threw the toys in a drawer and hurried out to answer the door. My nipples pricked when I saw you on the porch. It had been almost a year. Somehow, in our phone conversations, I’d forgotten about your height, your chocolate brown eyes, the bulk of your sexy shoulders.
“Hi,” you said, almost sheepishly.
I let you in. After an awkward moment, I opened my arms, inviting you for a friendly hug. You accepted, and I felt your bulk brush against my leg as we embraced. My clit jumped. I moaned your name and held you tighter, pressing my fleshy mound closer to the warmth of your groin.
You hesitated a moment... surprise, I guess... and then smoothed your hands down my back until they settled over my round ass. I leaned my face into yours and our lips pressed together, wet, and soft. Pulling away, I kicked the door shut with my foot.
“Hi,” you said again, a shit-eating grin on your face.
I smiled back. “Shut up.” I locked the door, a habit. Then I tucked my fingers through your belt loops and pulled you in for another kiss. This one lingered, and our tongues searched pleasantly. I untucked your shirt and found myself grinding against the rock in your pants.
Your hand kneaded my breast as you sucked my neck, awakening long-forgotten nerves in my skin. My lips pulled and tugged at your earlobe and my hands struggled with your shirt buttons. Finally, I splayed my fingers against your hairy chest and without thinking, my teeth clamped down a little too hard on your lobe.
You pushed me away. “What the hell?”
My entire crotch was pulsing now, and I knew what I needed. “Sorry,” I whispered.