DAMP - AN EXQUISITELY TRUE STORY OF LUST, LIKE AND LIFESTYLE
My thanks to angel_love for gracing this tale with her editing skills. I particularly appreciate her being able to chuckle at and accept, rather than criticize, the images of Hector and his candy.
A sometimes wise woman once explained to me that before one could claim love with a partner, the duo needed to meet the criteria of three preliminary "L" words, those being lust, like and lifestyle.
Damp, like she'd just showered on a warm summer's eve and slipped into a short cotton dress without drying herself thoroughly. Lilac, fresh and clean like a spring's breeze, glowing from her skin and reminding me of the large, purple flowered bushes growing in my backyard as a child. Dark blonde curls, everywhere cascading like a waterfall from her head. Slow, soft jazz beating away from a saxophone somewhere in the distance and setting the mood.
I'd just entered her home for the first time. We stood in the foyer looking at each other for a long moment, the smile in her eyes captivating my imagination. Little beads of dew dotting her forehead drew my attention from her eyes. The ear-to-ear grin on her mouth matched mine and was just so inviting. Simultaneously we'd stepped into each other's arms. That was minutes, or hours ago. We'd barely moved, save my hand's slowly stroking her slightly damp back.
Thoughts finally pushed sensation from my mind and I broke the hug, lifting and pulling back my head. Her face tilted up. We were both still ear-to-ear. I couldn't resist. Back to the clench. She's not wearing a bra, I noted to myself. How male of me.
More minutes passed and she stepped back, took a hand and led me into a slightly darkened living room, minimally but nicely furnished. For no reason at all I noted the walls were painted a goldenrod color. The color matched the mood of the saxophone.
She motioned to a sofa. I walked forward a couple of steps, turned and sat, landing on the middle of three cushions. The thought of whether or not I was too obvious whisked through my mind. From ten feet away her ear-to-ear grin answered, as it morphed into a seductive, teasing smile. With her hands on her hips and her eyes glued to mine she sashayed straight at me, mounting the sofa without hesitation and planting one knee alongside each of my hips. Grasping my wrists she placed my hands on her breasts.
"Thirty-eight Ds," her first words announced with clear pride.
My fingers began kneading. Firm and quite real, her breasts were, and each more than what fit into a hand. My gaze dropped from her face to her chest. I watched intently as her fingers interrupted mine and undid three top buttons and spread wide the cotton of her short, summer's dress, inviting me in. My fingers touched her skin, again feeling the fullness of her. Grasping the back of my head she pulled me forward, forcing my face between her breasts and against her warm, damp, lilac scented skin. My hands, no longer able to touch her breasts, reached behind her finding the two firm, round globes seated on my lap. No panties I suspected.
My tongue licked a wide swath upward to her throat. She leaned away from me, arching her back and thrusting her chest forward while bracing herself with her hands locked behind my head. Tossing back her head, she exposed everything above her navel as a moan escaped her mouth. My mouth found her neck and began kissing, sucking, nibbling, before slowly moving to her shoulders and then to her chest, ultimately finding a nipple, first one and then the other. Opening wide I sought to engulf an entire breast. Silly me, I knew it wouldn't fit. I tried though, sliding my hands to her back and pulling her chest toward me once, twice, three times, simulating intercourse, but her breast was too large to fit into my mouth. Trying a new tactic, both of my hands encircled one of her breasts and tried squeezing it all into my mouth. I stretched my jaws allowing a bit more to enter, but still nowhere near all.
She saved me from further futile attempts by sliding her hands to either side of my face, tilting me upward and to one side and lowering her mouth onto mine. Soft, slow lips touched me. Electricity sparked. A small, wet tongue penetrated me, toying and tasting as it explored. We lingered now, tongues and lips touching, probing, discovering the mysteries of each other's mouths. Neither of us hurried. My tongue under hers, hers under mine. My tongue tracing her teeth, hers tracing mine. My teeth nibbling a lip, hers nibbling mine. There was no order to the exploration, no sequence. It was all curiosity, satisfied randomly. The overwhelmingly erotic concept of little beads of her saliva dripping slowly but necessarily from her mouth above mine into my mouth below hers coupled with that ever slow, sexual saxophone inexorably drained all thought from me, leaving only dizzying sensation.
Gradually her motion changed as her tongue slowly slid deeper into my mouth before withdrawing. Over and over she repeated this motion. Each time she pushed into me she emitted a small moan. She now was simulating intercourse just as I had tried earlier. As her tongue entered and withdrew from my mouth, she began moving her hips in like manner. I relaxed and allowed myself to lean back deeper into the sofa while opening my mouth wider, providing her full access to me. My hips slowly joined her, raising and lowering in time with her motion. My hands found her hips and assisted her relentless grind.
Thus we continued, as though time were lost. Our motions matched that smooth saxophone. Neither of us was going anywhere quickly.
I was hard and quite noticeably so to her in spite of my jeans. She, without panties, had found her rhythm against me. Occasionally she jerked slightly as she shoved her groin forward. I knew she had found her pace toward relief.
I began suctioning her tongue deeper into my mouth before releasing her to withdraw. Small sounds grew, signifying her approval.
Her hands and fingers tightened around my head pulling me closer. Our mouths opened wider. Our teeth scraped. She adjusted her position slightly, raising her bottom and spreading her knees wider. That little bud at the top of her center now traced its path back and forth directly upon my rough, jeans covered hardness. Her hips quickened as her moans grew louder. Her pace modulated as she began thrusting her hips forward with more force and withdrawing more slowly, still dragging herself against my length.
Faster she moved. Harder she thrust. More intently she withdrew. Louder and more desperate sounds escaped her mouth and slid deliciously into mine before disappearing down my throat. Her mouth pushed hard against me in time with her hips. Her teeth ground against mine. Her tongue thrust as deeply as possible into my mouth and held there. Her moans became grunts timed to the thrusts of her hips.
I understood there would be no more evenly paced timing, instead simple animalistic action aimed at achieving the singular goal she craved. More thrusts, more grinding and suddenly she stopped. Total quiet. Her mouth off mine.
"Oh yes!" escaped from her mouth.
She drew back her hips slowly and with great purposefulness. Her head falling slightly forward. Suddenly she bucked her hips forward, her head flying upward and backward. She withdrew quickly.
"Now!"
I didn't know if her word were a demand or an announcement. I didn't care.
One more thrust forward and back. And in quick succession another and another and another. She stopped again. Back arched. Head rolled back. Eyes closed. Slow humming from her throat. I stared in awe and wonder. Three slow thrusts followed by one great one and then one more.
One more time and suddenly her body shook wildly as sounds beyond recognition escaped her throat while she jerked wildly against me.
Gradually she calmed and then it was over. Her forehead rested against mine. My tongue lightly licked her lips as she continued slowly rocking her hips against me until finally she stopped altogether and collapsed against my chest.
And so I met Teri. Before this evening we'd chatted on the internet and even spoke a few times on the phone. There was a fresh innocense about her sexuality, not as though she were inexperienced, but more like the spirit of an artist who painted simply because she loved creation. On our third evening on line I'd asked if I could visit. She agreed. I asked when. She said her son went to bed at 9. Could I come at 10? I asked tonight? She answered yes and gave quick directions. I told her I would see her in a few hours. All I heard was "mmm" purred into my ear as the phone clicked off.
I showered, shaved, donned jeans, a casual shirt and my traditional penny loafers, sans pennies. The drive took a little more than an hour. I found her apartment door and knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. Thoughts of being toyed with and stood up entered my brain. I quieted them, hoping for the best. It was a time shortly after the internet craze began, but before cell phones became a necessity of life. I climbed back into my car and drove to a nearby gas station I had spotted on the drive to her home. I found a phone booth, inserted my quarter into the phone's slot, dialed her number and my heart leaped as she answered.
