Mitchell inhaled deeply as he entered the apartment. Sandalwood and cigarette smoke swept into his stuffy nose. He sniffled and wiped a damp red towel across his face. Cold conditioned air engulfed him, sending chills down his body. What warmth there was in his wet shorts fled immediately. They went almost frigid, and he felt his genitals retreat accordingly. He shut the door behind him, toweling himself vigorously in an attempt to raise his body temperature. It was always a shock going from the cool apartment, to the sultry heat outside, to the soothing pool, back into the heat, and back into the AC. It was a wonder he hadn't gotten sick yet from the morning dips he'd been enjoying since moving in with Nina last weekend.
She was straddling the arm of the sofa, swinging her legs, and sipping coffee. She was dressed in a grey Navy t-shirt several sizes too large for her and a pair of plain blue cotton panties. A wisp of cigarette smoke rose lazily from its source in the ashtray on the coffee table. Her wavy, sand-colored hair piled on her shoulders and draped between her shoulder blades.
Continuing to rub himself all over with the towel, he strode towards her and lightly touched her bony, deeply-tanned shoulder. He brushed a long strand of hair from her face and kissed her on the forehead.
"Morning," he said softly with a grin.
"Afternoon," she replied huskily. Her deep voice contrasted with her frail body and eminently feminine face, with its high cheekbones and narrow chin. She said her voice was like that before she started her pack and a half a day habit.
"Sleep well?" he asked and stepped between her legs. He pushed his waist towards her. She brushed her lips on the trail of brown hair running up his belly. The skin beneath the trail of hair was noticeably lighter than the rest of his body. He let the towel drop and land on her knee.
"Ooh, it's wet!" she complained and pushed it to the floor. She leaned over and placed her mug on the table.
"Sorry 'bout that," he said, still grinning, and kissed her on the top of her head.
She ran her narrow hands with their prominent tendons down his cold damp shorts and up into the leg openings. She worked towards his clammy, shriveled penis, and squeezed it. It was so cold and little. He mmm'ed and tangled his fingers in her hair. She pulled her hands out of his shorts and deftly untied them. The strong Velcro fly tore open loudly when she pulled it apart. His shorts dropped to the floor, revealing a stark tanline around his waist, showing him to be morbidly white to halfway down his muscular thighs. His dick was swelling and when she felt his balls again she could feel that they were starting to descend. She took his still cold penis past her warm lips. It tasted like cock and chlorine. She sucked it all in and swirled her tongue around it. Quickly it swelled and grew too big for her coffee-heated mouth.
He cooed, "Oh, baby," and brushed her heavy hair from her face. She didn't look up at him. She always thought people looked dumb when they looked up from that spot. He thought ladies looked good with his fat dick halfway in their mouths. She massaged his balls. She knew he liked that a lot. Her boyfriend didn't like that, but Mitchell did. Mitchell said that he got a lot of power from his balls. He said his soul came from them. He talked about them frequently. They were big and dangly and even when withdrawn still the sack stayed big like half baseball buried behind his dick. Her boyfriend's disappeared almost completely when he got aroused. It turned her on to hold Mitchell's balls. She had his soul in her hand. She lowered it and his soul followed, until it could go no farther. She squeezed the inside of his thigh. With the other hand she gripped his cock, now too big to get her hand around unless she squeezed it really hard, which she did. Its head swelled huge and purple, like a salty exotic fruit swollen with juice. She flicked her tongue against the tip, and indulged him with an upward glance and a smile. He wasn't even looking. He was staring straight ahead, breathing deep and slow, inhaling through his nose, exhaling through pursed lips like he was going to whistle.
He looked to his left. The blinds on the patio door where open. Mateo, one of the Mexicans who maintained the apartment complex's simple landscaping, slowly made his way past the patio, waving a loud, gas-powered weed whacker back and forth. His attention was on what he was doing. She felt Mitchell tense. She knew why and smiled. She wrapped both hands around his superheated penis and pumped it vigorously, causing his hips to jut front and back and his nuts to swing. His balls began to rise again as she tugged more insistently.
"The blinds," he muttered but didn't really care. Just let someone walk by and see him like that. He could die right then and it would be alright. He hardly cared about anything. Let the whole world see him getting jerked off by this beautiful woman. Let them take a picture. He could die right then and leave that picture as the sole clue to the man that he was. He could die right then knowing that's how the world would know him for the rest of time.
And the little death began as she worked feverishly at his red and purple penis. She jerked it roughly with both hands. He was getting near. With his consciousness focused on one end, he pushed her hands away, and began stroking himself in earnest. She pulled her shirt off over her head. Her small brown, dark-nippled breasts flashed briefly in his fevered mind. She grabbed his ass and pull him closer. Throwing her head back, exposing her neck like a charmed maiden presenting herself to the vampire, she ran her hands up and down his legs, then brought them to rest. One hand held his soul, the other his ass. The climax came and erupted all over her chest, neck, face, and hair. He always came heavily with violence. He shook like he was having a seizure, growling "Oh God! Oh fuck!" again and again, as the hot semen shot thickly from deep within his being.
He almost collapsed but he held himself together just enough to kiss her cum-streaked face, tasting his own seed. He bent to grab the towel and wiped off his dick. She grinned triumphantly, enormously turned on now. She'd soaked her panties and probably the arm of the sofa, too. She tore the towel from his slack grip and wiped herself off. She was heated now and couldn't help pushing her pussy down against the wide soft arm of the sofa. He grabbed her hair again, pulled her head back, and kissed her on the lips. Their tongues collided and fought each other wildly. He grabbed her biceps painfully and continued the rough kiss. He knew she wanted it now. That's why he was so attracted to her. He never knew a girl to get so turned on from jerking a guy off. She said it was because he came so hard and so much always came out of him that it turned her on and made her want to fuck like a nympho.
She looked towards the open blinds and smirked. "I hope Mateo didn't notice," she lied.
Mitchell chuckled. "Let's go back to the bedroom." He stepped back and held out his hand to help her up.
