Two months after I'd first gotten into Margie's pants, she still wouldn't let me fuck her. It's not that we didn't have the opportunity. Once a week or two we'd leave work in the mid afternoon, drive to her nearby apartment, and there we'd make out and grope each other on the sofa or the livingroom floor, or sometimes even in her bedroom on her double bed with her teddy bear looking on in bemused silence. We did just about everything else, but she said no to intercourse.
It's not that she didn't like sex. From the very beginning, from that very first day she invited me to her place and I got her off with my fingers, Margie seemed to have few inhibitions. The second time, three days later, she was on her back on the living room floor with her skirt up to her chin and her thighs squeezing my neck, followed soon thereafter with her lips wrapped around my cock. But intercourse was a no-no.
"It's my boyfriend," she told me one afternoon as we cuddled on her couch. His frequent business travels had accommodated our regular get-togethers. "I know it sounds silly, but it makes me feel like I'm still being faithful to him." Her notion of faithfulness was a little bit puzzling to me, since at that particular moment her fragrant juices were smeared all over my face and I had two fingers curled inside her, pressing a rhythm against her roughened g-spot. Ten minutes earlier, my cock had been releasing my pent up tension into her mouth.
I wasn't complaining, mind you. At least I wasn't complaining much. Margie's pussy was a sheer delight of a feast. She opened her legs for me without a hint of shyness. Her aroma was distinct and heady, clearly signaling her arousal even before I could slip her panties off and fling them away. Her outer labia were chubby and just begged for my tongue to split them and suckle her pink inner labia that quickly swelled and parted. She'd hold my head between her hands and curl those short legs around my neck and hook her ankles together, and then her hips would be in constant motion.
Margie was one of those women who wasn't very loud during her buildup. She signaled her pleasure with dashing accelerations in breathing and sprints of breathy pants and a way of pulling on the back of my head with her hands while she lifted her hips, to more tightly capture my face against her sweet openness.
Best of all, I could always tell when Margie was going to come. Her inner labia swelled to form a wide, firm valley. At the top, her clit stood high and hard and called for my tongue to dance and my lips to suck. At the bottom, that juicy valley formed an enticing gateway to the crinkly, hot opening of her vagina, that source of seemingly endless slick juices. When Margie's pussy blossomed like that, I knew that all she needed was another thirty seconds of steady lapping pressure.
And then she'd pop. Perhaps "pop" isn't the right word. "Explode" is more accurate. Margie's hips would slash her pussy against my mouth and she'd breathe so hard she seemed to hyperventilate, her moans becoming louder and higher-pitched until she crested with a series of three or four intense shrieks and a shuddering body that vibrated for half a minute or more.
Sometimes I could keep her going like that for more than a minute, though I learned to stay away from her clit and just focus on those chubby labia, combined with the occasional plunge of my tongue into her vagina. Then she'd rise to a second orgasm, sometimes a third, before those rubbery-hard pussylips softened and her body became limp.
Needless to say, my own body wasn't limp at this point. Margie may have been reluctant to fuck, but she showed no reluctance to getting me - eventually - to an equally limp state with her mouth. She was particularly adept at that particular skill. She seemed to sense exactly how to get me off, using just the right combination of slow, sensuous rhythm and gentle suction that I like. She'd lie between my legs and suck, her breasts against my thighs, her dark brown eyes gazing upward and locked onto mine, her wavy brown hair falling down to my body to frame her face, humming around my cock as she felt me get closer and closer. And when I'd come she'd hold that eyelock, bobbing her head to greet every wet pulse, sucking and swallowing, sucking and swallowing, until I was spent and shriveled.
