Southern Belle

I had just finished my dinner at the Bulldog in Columbus Mississippi. The noise level was increasing as the college crowd was coming in. I was still drinking a cup of coffee, working on the delicious vestiges of my Key lime pie, when I noticed a group of sorority girls walk through the door. Even though they were young, I was impressed with how demurely they conducted themselves, yet with the coy flirtatiousness of young girls. It was easy to detect in them, the gentile breeding of the south. Their youthfulness transported me back to my young days, and my mind spun through some delicious reveries. One girl in particular caught my eye. She had long dark hair, blue eyes, and the kind of pouting lips that begged to be kissed.

I knew that any kind of involvement with a woman of this age was out of the question for me. Even if she would have been interested, I doubt that I could have seriously considered her a satisfying endeavor. For me, true enjoyment could only be with an older, more mature woman—one who knew the pleasures of her body, and had the patience to have each sensual spot explored by a man familiar with the process of opening locks—a woman who knew the parry for each thrust. I paid my bill, and looked once more on that beautiful young thing, and mentally smiled an exhortation “go to it boys!”

The drive back toward Louisville was pleasant. It was one of those balmy June nights, not too hot, and the humidity was unseasonably low. Turning off the air conditioner, I opened the window, allowing the intoxicating aroma of honeysuckle to caress my nostrils, putting its foot in the crack of my sensual door.

Driving slowly, I listened to the sounds of tree frogs, hiding beneath the blanket of kudzu that draped the trees with its suffocating green foliage. It was a joy to drive, there being little traffic on the road, no lumber trucks to block my view, or throw stones, which could crack my windshield.

As I drove I heard the gauzy giggles of the sorority girls, thinking of the one with dark hair and blue eyes. I smiled as I wondered what her mother looked like, and fantasized a mature version of this young southern belle.

Being away from home for two weeks now had filled my reservoir of swirling hormones to the point of overflowing, and the combination of lustful thoughts, soft music, and balmy southern ambiance cast its spell over me as I felt a mild swelling in my groin. I smiled as I turned the dial on the radio, changing from country music to soft rock and oldies, feeling a longing in the pit of my abdomen as I imagined dancing cheek to cheek with that beauty’s young mother, my nostrils smelling her shampooed tresses, and the delicate aroma of her perfume.

She was there beside me as if by magic. The soft strains of Moonlight Serenade spiralled dreamily from the radio. My softly hanging testicles flexed in tiny spasmlets, as I felt her long red fingernails tracing up and down the side of my neck.

I looked to my right and there in the seat beside me was the older version of the coquettish southern belle. Her face showed the rich patina of her experience, and years of care. Her smile was radiant. “Hello Cindilee” I said. How did I know her name? Funny, it was as if I had always known her. She moved closer showing no concern of the danger of an unbuckled seat belt. I felt her silken dark hair brush my cheek and neck as my nose feasted on the banquet of her perfumed elegance.

“Did you like my daughter?” she asked.

I smiled, thinking about the young girl’s lovely figure, bright smile and flirtatious awareness. “Yes, Cindilee, I found her quite exciting.”

“As exciting as her mother?” she asked, her red lips showcasing her sparkling teeth.

“Well, that is not quite fair. She is young and beautiful, but doesn’t even approaching the presence that you possess.”

“Mmmmmm. Well, that’s the right answer, you political devil.”

If she could have felt what I was feeling between my legs and in the pit of my stomach, she would have had no doubt of my sincerity. I wanted to take her hand and put it against my swelling length, and then bask in the ambiance of her touch, but didn’t want to appear crude in her presence. I hoped that she would brush me there, if even by mistake.

“Are you saying that I excite you?” she purred. She spoke with a sultry fog that blanketed her voice, which caused me to press my legs together and embrace my expanding flesh.

“Don’t you know how much you excite me Cindilee? You have excited me with each picture you have sent me—to the point of…” What was I thinking? I had never seen her before.

“Yes, I do know.” There was a devilish sparkle in her eyes “I have been with you in my dreams.”

I was amazed, that she would say this, and flashed back to the dreams I had been having, and realized that it was she who participated in every dream that awoke me, my chest heaving, and my sheet wicking the warm aloe pool of our lovemaking.

“Tell me how much Matt.” I saw the tip of her pink tongue lick her upper lip to the corner.

“Well, ah…”

“Tell me”

“I have made glorious love to you in my sleep Cindi —many times.

“It has been beautiful Matt” She giggled as she said “a couple times, my husband woke me, and asked what I was dreaming.”

I jerked the wheel slightly to the right, causing the car to wiggle, as the shock of her touch coursed through my body. I cleared my nervous throat and said, “Yesss!”

Her flat hand ironed the fabric of my trousers across my thigh, and then, pushed on my hardness, gathered in the material of my trousers and underwear. Then, her fingers found the girth of my expanding manhood, pulling slightly, positioning it, as they wrapped around the exited expanse. My buttocks clamp together and I couldn’t help the breath that escaped as I moaned, “Cindiii.” I couldn’t help but wonder if she had discovered sex when she was in college like her daughter, thinkng perhaps, tonight her little one will be holding one of those boisterous young men in the Bully, or outside in his car.

“I like how it feels Matt” she whispered in my ear as she continued to rub my crotch. She kissed the side of my neck and slipped her left arm around my shoulders and down my shirt. My body was now as taught as a crossbow, cocked for the kill.

She knew how to make a man feel good, as she straightened me inside the material and started stroking sensuously along the length of my shaft.

“What are you thinking Matt?”

I didn’t want to be blatant, or crude, and hesitated to answer. But she didn’t need an answer as her arm slid from my shoulders and moved downward to hold my belt. Her other hand fumbled for the zipper and began to move it downward. My fingers grasped the wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white as I wiggled my hips trying to accommodate her progress. I spread my legs slightly, while I concentrated on the lights of an oncoming car, and felt her hand fumbling to get through the fabric. The touch of her hand on my naked flesh warmed me with a sudden chill as her fingers entered the open slit of my silk boxers. She scratched my pubic hair as if to massage my mound and let me know that she was just playing with me, making me ache with the marvel of her touch upon the crying flesh of my penis.

“Right now, Cindilee, I am thinking that I am going to explode before we get very far.”

“Well, you had better be a very good boy Matt, and control yourself, so this Mississippi lady can glean all of the goodness of this experience.”

Her hand was well inside now, and I felt her wrist now pressing against my abdomen. The palm of her hand found my engorged length pointing downward in my pants leg and pushed at it twice. Then her fingers wrapped their knuckled length around my girth. My buttocks tightened and locked together, as my mind cried out “Jesus!” My eyes glazed as the approaching car passed, and a light show went on in my periphery. I heard, but barely “Ooooh Matt, I would call this a nice handful.”

Her head was now on my shoulder. I was captivated by the clean shampooed smell of her dark hair, and couldn’t quite believe this was happening to me. But her hand kept working me out of the slit of my boxers, and then I felt the balmy air as my plumped manhood came nakedly into the humming automobile, back lighted by the greenish glow of the car radio, which was giving forth the sound of Johnny Mathis singing “Twelfth of Never”.

“It’s pretty” She said.

“What?” I asked

“I think your penis is beautiful Matt and it is calling for my attention.”

She was holding it erect, pointing it straight upward, although, she didn’t need to. I jumped, the flexing of my buttocks raising me higher on the seat, as I felt the stream of cool air from her pursed lips blowing on my shiny purplish head. I had never heard my penis referred to as pretty, and was captivated by the word.

The head lights of the car blazed on each white dash in the middle of the road, as if marking the distance to Lake Takota. I was concentrating to get us there safely, but my body was awash with the anticipation of what was next to come.

Her hair rustled deliciously on my shirt as her head moved downward. I felt the moue’s of her soft lips kissing the tip of my head, which, again caused my buttocks to clamp. My hamstrings pulled taut, and a long “ssssssss” escaped across my damp tongue which pressed the roof of my mouth. The feeling was unexplainable, and I heard the soft pianissimo of her pecking lips against my skin, which nearly made explode.

My eyes widened to make sure that I paid attention to the narrow dark road and my Adams apple bobbed in my neck, as I swallowed, anticipating her next move. A thousand tiny shocks covered my body as I felt the tip or her warm tongue smearing her saliva over the taught, shiny surface of my hardened head. My toes compressed at the touch of her tongue as I felt it fold into an envaginated vee, lick the rim of my helmet, and then draw a line down the center, pausing at my slit. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop the ooze of the clear baby oil-like substance that found its way to the tip of my throbbing erection. As my fingers, white- knuckled-tight, gripped the steering wheel, I wanted to close my eyes, but dared not. I hoped that she wasn’t turned off by the substance that I have heard referred to as ‘precum’, but then felt her tongue slipping over my skin more easily as she squeegeed the liquid, over the top and sides of my head, and then up and back on the seam underneath.

Urgently, I hissed “Cindilee, I can’t hold back!” She handled the situation as calmly as if she were a surgeon in the midst of a medical crisis. I felt her hand reach into my fly, and then down past my scrotum, feeling her finger slide behind my balls, finding the spot, and pressing it tightly. Then she began sliding her lips like soft gentle gaskets down my tapered head, knowing no matter how excited I became, I would not gush uninvited inside her mouth. I was having a very difficult time concentrating on the road, and felt relieved when I saw the billboard advertising the Takota Motel—just three more miles to go. I was wanting to close my eyes, to lay back and kick up my heals. To reciprocate in lavishing my lady’s femininity with my own tongue, and I gasped suddenly as her soft lips slid further down my shaft and then my achingly sensitive head touched the softness of her warm and wet soft palate.

Mercifully, the light was green, and I slowed to make the right turn to the lake, then did my best to hold my foot steady on the accelerator for the next mile and a half. Her finger continued to press, as her wet lips skimmed through her warm saliva and tickled my maleness to ecstasy. We approached the dim lights of the motel, not a motel by road standards, but more like a country Inn, set off the road on the edge of a lake. I made the left turn, crunching over the gravel parking lot, the lights of the car shining on the lake. We stopped. I whispered…Cindilee…please stop, but keep your finger in place for a few moments, so I don’t ejaculate prematurely. I felt embarrassed to have to say this, but hoped that she would appreciate my honesty. Her lips slid up my shaft as her tongue continued to excite me, over the back of my head, and then off the taper to the tip, and released me with a gentle “pop.”

“ loved the feel of you in my mouth Matt.”

I gently took her wrist and moved her hand out of my fly, as I realized the crisis was past, and touched my hand under her chin, raising it. Looking into her blue eyes which mirrored my reflection caused by the soft amber lights in the parking lot, I kissed her soft lips, so very softly and wondered if the softness of her lips had anything to do with their activity on my shaft. I felt the soft warm breath from her nostrils on the side of my face, and warmed at the soft moan coming from deep inside. Her lips parted slightly taking mine with them and the tip of my tongue parted my lips further as I licked the inner surface of her’s, then felt the tip of her tongue on the underside of mine.

My hand pushed the hem of her skirt up her smooth legs, as the silky mesh of her hose caressed my fingertips. There is an excitement about fondling with clothes on that excites my imagination. The thought of where my hand is going causes a filling and tightening of my maleness that being naked and seeing doesn’t always accomplish. It must be the mystery of what I am going to feel, and the whole of my presence anticipates each movement. My first sensual shock came as my fingers moved up the criss-cross of her smooth mesh, and felt the seam and then the lace of her hose. It seemed as if my senses couldn’t be any more involved as our lips and tongues gave and took pleasure, causing our saliva to overflow and leak down the sides of our chins. My fingers felt the lace end as they touched the shaved smoothness of her warm and tender inner thigh. “Thigh-highs!” I realized, and the realization caused a shock of excitement to shoot straight to my genitals. I cramped the cheeks of my bottom tightly, knowing that if I didn’t I would fill my pants with my hot white cream.

I felt with my lips the pulse in hers as her excitement continued to grow, and my heart fluttered, as my sensitized fingertips crept eagerly along her smooth leg between the lace of her hose and the fabric of her panties. My fingers reached the band of her panties and traced between skin and fabric. Then my fingers stretched long and felt the gathering of her pubic hair through the lace material, and I pushed and caressed the curls which sprouted from her padded mound. Her hips started to gyrate slowly, raising the part of her legs closer to my finger tips, and I realized that I had teased long enough.

The contours of her body were magic to me. My extended middle finger felt the combined puffiness of her large lips, and I saw in my mind the soft crack, waiting to be explored. My finger pressed the fabric between her two soft lips and immediately, the soft hardening node touched the tip of my finger. She bucked forward to seat the touch and her thighs closed on my hand tightly to hold the touch in place. I pushed, and circled, feeling the luscious liquid beginning to wick through her panties. I pushed and she met my push. I circled and she gyrated. As she broke the seal of our kissing lips, tiny strings of saliva stretched and snapped. Her head tilted back, and her lips compressed, holding in the muffled mmmmmph, mmmmphs of her rising passion.

I needed to be there, on her naked wetness. So, I pulled the bunched and damping material aside, put my finger inside her lusciously wet groove, and slid back up to the growing clitoral excitement, touched the tip, wiggled it and heard her thrilled ‘ooooh’. I pushed the tip up inside her hood, feeling its mass gather, as I began massaging and circling. Her thighs opened and closed, almost clapping as they touched. Her hips bucked and gyrated, and my finger slid round and round her swollen node.

I worked my finger with a passionate purpose, as I glowed with the excitement of knowing that I was pleasing her. She gyrated in wild circles, bucking forward when she feared my finger would leave the engorged surface. Each buck produced an “uh, uh, uh”, her neck resting on the seat back, her head back, wagging from left to right as she bucked. And then in one action her legs smothered my hand, as she gasped “mmmmmmmahhhhhhhh! Aaahhhhh! Ohhhh!” I could feel the spasms high up in her legs and in her vaginal lips, once, twice, three times, a pause, two quick jerks, and then total relaxation.

She rested her head on my shoulder and purred, “Oh Matt that was good.”

I was so proud that I made her feel good, and knew that once we walked up those stairs and closed the door, that the evening was going to be the most magical night I had ever experienced.