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Preface: I have always believed you should love a person, or at least, like them, before engaging in sexual intercourse. On one occasion however, I learned the rich rewards of carnal animosity.
“Hi. This is Laureen. Remember me?” the voice on the phone chirped.
Although it had been a good five years since I last saw her, it took me about a millisecond to make the connection. The name instantly summoned up the image of a tall, rather thin, curly-headed blond in a dress that exposed a great deal of decent leg. Laureen had attended a vocational school where one of the courses taught people how to build stringed instruments. She had enrolled and by the end of the school year, had built a guitar… almost. Unfortunately, she was unable to finish it within the allotted time limit. Before being playable, the guitar first required a few crucial operations performed on it. A mutual friend had suggested that Laureen hire me do the work, since he knew I was competent to complete it. He explained the whole situation to me over the phone and I accepted the project. He dropped off the unfinished instrument the next day.
A couple of weeks later, the work had been completed and I gave her a call. The day Laureen came to pick it up, my friend, Dan, happened to be visiting. She strummed a few chords while sitting on the couch, finally able to play her creation for the first time.
“It’s a pretty nice sounding guitar, considering it’s your first,” I told her.
She seemed quite pleased with it. As she focused on her fingers, Dan and I focused on the view. We ogled her long legs, nicely displayed in a short skirt made shorter by the act of sitting. I almost laughed out loud when Dan mimed stuffing his tongue back into his head with his fingers.
After paying me for my work, Laureen left. We watched from the window, enjoying one final glimpse as she walked to her car. Before getting there, however, she dropped her keys and bent over to reveal flowered panties that stretched tightly across her bulbous ass. For some reason, I suspected she knew we were watching. She sat down in the driver’s seat and swung her right leg into the car while leaving her left foot on the pavement– just long enough for us to grab a good look at her camel toe.
As the car pulled away Dan confessed, “If the show had been any longer I’d be in your bathroom right now.”
“Stay out of my bathroom,” I advised.
A few weeks later I received an email from Laureen thanking me again for the good job I did on her guitar. She said she loved being able to tell people that “I built it all by myself”. I wrote back thanking her for thanking me (?!) and that I thought she was a lovely woman.
Five years later Ms. Legs was on the phone.
“Yes, I remember you,” I replied.
“Do you still do guitar work?” she asked.
“Yes I do”, I answered, feeling that there may be reason to live after all. “What do you have?”
“Nothing major, I think my guitar just needs a little adjustment,” she answered. “It’s getting a kind of hard to play.”
“Sure, I can take a look at it.”
We agreed on a day we both had free and made a date that I could examine her instrument.
At the appointed time, I happened to see her car pull up and watched as she approached my door. I don’t believe I would have recognized her. She was still reasonably attractive, but her hair was now dark and she had put on a bit of weight in five years. She was wearing a longer dress this time, displaying a pair of rather chubby knees. Don’t get me wrong, I like women with some meat on their bones. It was just that the change was rather striking.
The guitar work was an easy ten minute job that was performed while she waited. Afterward she asked what she owed me.
I said, “It was nothing, no charge.”
“Won’t you please let me give you something?” she insisted.
“You could have a drink with me,” I smiled.
“Sure,” she smiled in return.
It was a pleasant day. We sat on the deck with our drinks, exchanging small talk. I asked her if she had built any other instruments since graduating. I was not surprised to hear she hadn’t. Building a guitar is a long, complex project and she had come to me for a fairly easy adjustment. Again, Laureen said she really loved impressing people with the fact that she had built the guitar. She went on to add that she had moved to Kentucky after graduation and was in the area only for another week visiting friends and family.
“I never forgot your email where you said that I was a lovely woman. That was very nice, thank you.” We had another drink as our talk turned less superficial and a bit flirty. I showed her my new digital camera and took a few photos of her. She seemed to enjoy posing for me and at one point, pulled the straps of her dress down to bare her shoulders. It exposed a little cleavage as well. Feeling the drinks, she shared a little story about meeting a couple of delivery men at her front gate one day, wearing only a t-shirt and nothing else. She said it was pretty short and barely covered escort bostancı the goods. “After I turned to walk into the house, I could feel their eyes all over my ass,” she recounted with a naughty twinkle in her eye.
Hmm… a tease. I believe I felt something below my belt move.
Laureen said she had decided to go back to college and get her Ph.D. She had been out of college for quite a few years and I asked what prompted her return. With a wicked gleam in her eye she explained, “I want to get a very important job somewhere so I can order lots of people around and make the men under me squirm.”
What a noble motivation to seek higher learning, I thought sarcastically. This girl had some issues.
My good sense told me to get this woman the hell out of my house, but my extremities said, “not so fast Einstein, we have needs too.” As with other men (of the male persuasion), I find that once the love lizard is awakened it’s difficult to get him back into the cage.
Back in the kitchen, while I made our third drink, she said, “I really wish you would take something for your work.”
In my head, Mr. Johnson whispered, “A blow job! A blow job!”
“I’ll take a hug, if you can spare one,” I replied, thinking that this might be a good starting point.
“Sure”, she said without hesitation, the liquor aiding significantly to the lubrication of our sexual tensions.
As I put my arms around her I caught the faint, pleasant scent of her perfume. The hug lingered on and on, neither of us wishing to break it off. I turned my head and buried my nose in her long, curly brown hair. Then magically, our lips connected. It was a long, wet kiss that was punctuated by brief parting and rejoining. Later, tongues became involved. As my usual routine dictated, I slid my hands down her back and onto her ass. It was still as bulbous as it was five years ago, but now it also possessed additional width. Again, the fabric stretched tightly across her butt, only now it was in a bigger dress. I kneaded and cupped it below her fleshy cheeks.
While our lips were locked, I started inching her dress up. When I got it up to her ass she said, “Wait a minute, I’ve got to remove something.”
This sounds interesting I thought.
“It’s kinda embarrassing… I’m wearing a girdle.”
I smiled, “You can take it off in the bathroom upstairs.” She disappeared up the stairs. A minute later, I followed and stepped into the spare bedroom. When I heard the bathroom door open, I called out, “You can come in here Laureen.”
She entered with a small stack of unmentionables as well as her pantyhose. We embraced again, taking up where we had left off. In no time, I had her dress unzipped and in a heap around her ankles. I discovered she had also removed her bra in the bathroom. Her breasts were a little larger than average and had just the right amount of hang, a good indication of the all-natural boob. She must have been aroused because her nips were very hard. They had constricted to the size and shape of gumdrops. I couldn’t resist immediately tasting one. She sighed a bit as I wandered her hills, licking, tweaking, and lightly biting as I roamed.
I laid her down on the bed and pulled off my pants. I situated myself between her legs and dry-humped her crotch with the bulge in my underwear. When she started to moan I got up and slowly pulled off her panties, exposing a substantial growth of rich brown pubes. It was obvious that this lawn had never seen a mower. I laid down next to her and ran my fingers through the bumper crop. My social finger slurped its way inside her gaping wet muff. I went down on her and licked her clit. Before long, she was squealing and grunting. She especially liked it when I inserted a finger while I lapped. If I worked my finger just right I could make her pussy emit a farting noise. I don’t think she liked that because she twisted a bit and looked a little embarrassed whenever it blurted. Of course this only encouraged me to try for even more volume. When it appeared she was on the verge of an orgasm I stopped. I kneeled over her chest and rubbed my cock between her tits as she held them together. She grabbed my cock and brought it to her lips. First she licked the underside and then teased me with light licks all over. Finally, she wolfed it down almost all the way, skillfully sucking it like a pro. Whenever she got tired, I provided the movement, feeding her the same meal of wiener again and again.
I eased my way down again until I was lying between her legs. I guided my erection with one hand and used it to massage her slit, making sure that her clitoris got its share of contact. She was so wet my cock made sloshing noises in the hairy rain-forest. She was getting impatient and started thrusting her midsection, trying to snag junior in her womb. As I placed the head just inside I said, “Wait… I need to ask you something first.”
Suddenly distracted from vagina feeding time, she blinked, “What? What is it?”
With junior at attention and waiting patiently at the portal ümraniye escort to pleasure, I spoke, “I’m sorry to ask this now but, are you married?” I could have easily asked her an hour ago, but this seemed infinitely more fun.
Taken aback, she admitted that she was, and gave the quickest historical summary of her crappy marriage and worthless husband that she could muster; hoping to quickly get back to the cock at hand.
“Gee” I feigned concern, “I don’t think this is right. I’ve never made love to someone else’s wife before.”
“Just put it in, we can talk about it later.”
“But I have to think about this. You don’t want to do something stupid, do you?” I asked naively.
“That’s my problem. Are you going to put it in or not?”, she asked impatiently and made a lunge with her hips. I pulled back, successfully avoiding her slurping me inside.
“Gee, I wouldn’t want to contribute to the breakup of anyone’s marriage” I said nobly.
“Fuck me, you asshole!” she seethed.
“But do you really think we should rush into something that we can’t undo.”
“You fucking prick!” she fumed grabbing my ass, trying to force me inside.
I almost expected her to start punching me. “Okay, okay” I finally conceded. “But when you tell your husband about this, just make sure he knows that I was totally against it,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. Laureen just ignored the last comment. Then I added, “Maybe if I put it in just a little way it won’t be so bad”. I began easing it in very slowly and stopped about halfway. I had to summon every bit of self-control not to drive it home.
Totally frustrated, she growled “God-dammit!” through clenched teeth. Raising her sturdy legs up and around my waist, she pulled me down hard, driving my cock all the way in, almost knocking the wind out of me in the process. Secretly, I was as relieved to be inside and wasted no time pounding away on a hole that I was fairly certain had seen its share of traffic.
With every stroke, her gumdrop-topped breasts jostled back and forth on her chest like half-filled water balloons fastened to a board. She emitted some eccentric but sincere oinks and grunts. I was just happy she didn’t do a hokey porn-queen squeal, like the ever-popular, “Oh, oh, fuck my hot, little pussy.” I often thought that if I ever heard that or some similar shtick, I would probably lose my erection. I much preferred “Fuck me, you asshole.” At least you knew it was genuine.
I rolled her over. She knew the routine, up on your hands and knees, it’s doggy time. When I grabbed two handfuls of meaty hip, the guys at work came to mind. Whenever the subject of asses came up, someone would invariably quote the ancient goof-ball wisdom: a big butt gives you “more cushion for the pushin'”.
Then I noticed something… no tan lines. She was tan all over. I pictured Laureen lying nude in her yard back in Kentucky, exhibiting her goods for the delivery guys or anyone else who happened by for that matter. “Oooh, don’t look at me, I’m naked! Here, let me wrap this towel around me. Yes, I can sign for the package. Ooops, I dropped my towel… Oh well… could you rub some oil on me? Oh, that feels good… Want a cool drink?”
After growing weary of pushin’ the cushion, I pulled out and laid on my back. Without a word she jumped on top and guided Mr. Stiffy through the thick, curly underbrush and into her dank cave. Ah, the lazy man’s method; lay back, hands behind the head and enjoy the view. Judging by her ample repertoire of movements and positions, this girl obviously loved the pipe. She even threw in a reverse cowgirl without being prompted. She had great vagina control too. The tension and release technique she used in riding my hard-on was absolutely masterful in its execution. Fornication can only reach this level of virtuosity through countless hours of practice.
I assumed her orgasm was imminent by her gaping mouth and oblivious expression. I too, was approaching the point of no return. As soon as the words “I’m coming” left her lips, I shot my sauce deep within her quaking belly. “Uh, uh, uh” she repeated until her spasms subsided. She laid panting against my chest as my shrinking wiener marinated in the squish. “Mother of pearl, that was good,” she breathed out. Apparently her annoyance with me fifteen minutes earlier was forgotten.
As she raised herself up and off of me, a great glob of jizz and muff-honey mixture fell out of her and onto my stomach and pubic hair. “Oops. I’ll go get some toilet paper,” she said. Laureen left the room cupping her genitals with one hand lest more gravy leak out onto to the carpet. She came back, and sitting down on the edge of the bed, sopped up the mess.
“You have a big head.” she said out of the blue.
“Nonsense,” I replied, “I wear a seven and a quarter hat, which is an average-sized head.”
“No, not that head!” she corrected me.
“Your cock’s head. Of all the ones I’ve seen, yours is quite large.”
I was going to ask her for a rough estimate of kartal escort bayan how many cock heads she had seen but she immediately launched into a story about a guy she had once dated.
“He had a very small dick. It was really small.”
“How small?” I asked.
“About the size of my thumb.” she laughed.
“How was sex?”
“It wasn’t very good. I dumped him right after that. I ran into him again one night in a bar and he pissed me off. He was with a bunch of his friends and hinted around that he had dated me. I said, “Yeah, and do you remember when I kept having to ask if you were in yet? And then I left. Oh that was sweet! I could still hear his friends laughing their asses off from outside the bar.”
The nerve of this dude wasting Laureen’s time with the dick nature had given him. Actually, I felt sorry for the guy. This girl is nasty I thought. And I didn’t mean in the good way.
“Hey, your nips are still hard,” I noticed out loud.
“They’re like this all the time.” She said.
“Really? All the time?”
“Yeah, they’re an attention-getter. They’ve also gotten me in trouble a few times” she said with a lewd grin.
“Ha. Are you cold, or are you glad to see me?” I kidded her.
“I’m glad to see you baby.” Then, after a ten second pause, she says, “So… when are you gonna fuck me again?”
“Wow, give me a little time to recharge my batteries. Okay? I just hope I didn’t spend both nuts.”
“Okay, but I can’t stay too much longer” she said and started trying to resuscitate Droopy with some mouth to mouth.
The more I got to know this spiteful woman the more I disliked her. She definitely had some sort of man agenda. She also wasn’t about to let a little passive aggression come between her and some hard salami. In my mind, we probably should have parted company long ago but I guess the little guy was running the show today. Though junior may have a ‘big head’, he was not particularly known for his brains or good judgement.
After a minute or two, Laureen’s mouth started filling up with my magically-expanding meat. I grabbed the back of her curly head and guided it up and down on my wand. Faster and faster her noggin bobbed until it occurred to me that, just maybe, I could climax in her mouth. Not knowing how she felt about jism drinks, I decided to hold off on that for time being.
I had her get on top again because… well… just because junior said so. Those permanently-hardened nipples danced on her chest entertainingly as she stirred her innards vigorously upon the cock that was presently in her. Laying under her motionless, it occurred to me that my involvement wasn’t all that necessary for her to meet her ends. If I had a magazine handy, perhaps I would read it. And then I could look up, annoyed when making me lose my place by announcing her next orgasm.
Back in the real world, she pounded away, working up a good sweat until her entire body was as shiny as the Oscar I would give her for the portrayal of a decent human being. She drove that raging cunt with a vengeance; clenching, releasing, and jerking poor, defenseless junior. I swore she was trying to rub it raw or worse yet, grasp it tightly enough in her vaginal jaws to rip it from my body. I imagined a bloody red mass dangling from her bush with strands of ganglia still connected to my balls as I screamed in horror.
Laureen’s pace quickened. “Come on” she panted, “Don’t just lie there you bastard. Help me cum.” I planted my feet on the bed and lunged my pelvis at her while she was in the up position. We slammed together as she was coming down. Again and again I rose up: slam, slam, slam. “Harder, you fuck!” she ordered.
“You’re sweet,” I puffed, wishing that junior was suddenly a foot taller.
“Uh, uh, uh,” she gasped. It was loud enough that I was afraid the neighbors might think I was choking someone. I’m not sure who was more relieved when she finally climaxed. Mercifully, the histrionics faded. “That’s some sweet meat!” she exclaimed. “Didya cum?”
“Well, get on the stick Bucko. I’ve got to hit the road real quick here,” she said in a voice dripping of impatience and condescension.
I said, “Okay,” as we exchanged places.
On top, I considered calling it quits. I was not sure whether junior had the endurance to go on, much less, the nuttly liquids required.
Her face was encircled by a mane of little brunette corkscrew curls, appropriately tousled by an afternoon of debauchery. The tender feelings I nearly experienced evaporated when I caught her checking her watch behind my back. I vainly tried to think up some orgasm-producing thoughts.
“Talk dirty to me,” I said, lamely, determined to speed the process.
“Fuck my hot, little pussy,” she lied.
Shit!, I thought, feeling my hose contract a bit. In an attempt to erase her sorry porn script from my mind, I thought about other things– sexy things, like all the nice women I knew. The ones who actually liked the men they fucked.
Unfortunately, words from today’s conversation with Laureen kept intruding rudely… I thought about her future Ph.D., or rather her license to make unfortunate underlings dance and grovel. I thought about the needless humiliation of her thumb-dicked boyfriend and I thought about her cuckold husband.
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