Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Wife Watching, Spanking, Group Sex, Orgy, Oriental Female, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Squirting, Voyeurism, Analingus, Size, Small Breasts, Big Breasts, Public Sex, .
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Paul Hartstein an aspiring, but unpublished author, opens our story by calling on his friends Jim and Celia Masters. Only Jim isn't home. Celia recalls only too well the times she shared Paul's bed back in college. But that's just the opening chapter.
Paul Hartstein winced as the icy wind blew the swirling snow into his face and wished he’d thought to bring a scarf with him as he vainly tried to deflect some of the snow from his face and eyes.
He bent his 6’4” feverish frame into the stiff winter wind whipping down Danbury’s Main Street. It was the coldest January in forty-seven years and he never doubted it; but he did regret not having taken his car to the pharmacy, but on reflection, it had been awfully low on gas and he didn’t have the money to pick-up his prescription and put gas in the fifteen-year-old Dodge Charger.
Paul had graduated from the University of Connecticut with honors; had edited the University newspaper and played linebacker on the varsity football team for three years before a knee injury sidelined him his senior year.
Now 26, he was half finished with his first novel. His first work, a novella about a girl on a train had been submitted to several publishers after his former English professor urged him to do so; but as with most first offerings, it wasn’t well received. Rejection slip after rejection slip arrived with almost no comment on the work itself. If Paul’s count was correct, only one publisher had yet to respond, and they may have just thrown his novella away and not bothered with the rejection slip. He was getting desperate, not having eaten in a day or so, and with very little money to his name.
Yet he felt his latest work was far superior to the novella, and was confident it would be picked up when finished, if he could last that long.
He turned right onto White Street, into an even stiffer wind. His one room apartment was one block east, when he smelled the aroma of food coming from the Mexican restaurant a half block away. He realized how hungry he was, and it occurred to him that Jim and Celia Masters, old and true friends from college, lived just two doors down from where he stood.
Inside the Master’s home, Celia munched at a frozen Milky Way while watching an old video of herself and her husband they had made about two years earlier. In it, Celia was lying nude on their bed, on her back and with both legs pulled just past her head.
Jim, her husband, was alternating between licking her ass and her pussy and driving her crazy with pleasure.
Celia stared at the screen, breathing faster than normal as her arousal sent sensations of warmth and excitement spreading outward from her pubis. The ensuing wetness slowly moistened the tiny thong she had on under her jeans. Previous viewings of the same video had produced similar results, and Celia knew that in due course, this thong would soon be soaked through too.
A faint Mona Lisa smile played across her face as she recalled the tumultuous orgasm Jim had given her the day they made the video. The smile widened as she recalled without shame about the number of men she’d passed earlier that very day at the Danbury Mall and how shocked they’d be if they knew what she was doing now. Her fingertips furtively crept across her sternum to caress the contours of her breasts. She giggled on spying the goose bumps popping up on her areolas; took note of a hair now sprouting up there that required clipping and flicked at the nearest nipple until it began to harden.
Pleased with herself, Celia twisted both her nipples. A soft, pleasured moan left her throat and the dimples surrounding them played against her fingertips as she lightly tweaked them.
Another somewhat louder involuntary moan followed as Celia felt the juices begin seeping from her cunt, coating her labia and making the lips slick and ready for a cock, finger, or vibrator. The liquid continued seeping from her as she stared unblinking at the screen as her husband sent his cock into her, filling her with his thickness.
Celia ached for the real thing. Jim wouldn’t be home until four or so. With all the snow he had no work to go to and so he was off drinking beer and playing pool with his friends. Celia couldn’t wait any longer; closing her eyes, she imagined a man--any man—there with her, holding her close and running his hands over her body. Oh, yeah ... play with my boobs, my knockers, my tata’s. What else does Jim call ‘em? Kahunas and my twins, Fred and Ginger.
Celia looked at her beautiful melons in the mirror, hefting them up to show them off even better.
Shit, my areolas are so big--I remember the other girls in junior high looking at them with envy and awe as if they were special because of their size, and I guess they are. My titties ... my pleasure domes! With that, she began slapping each of her boobs until the nipples stood up to her satisfaction. Fuck! I’m one hot bitch.
Opening her eyes, Celia noted the video had reached the point where she was cupping her husband’s balls with one hand and feeding his cock into her mouth with the other. She moaned recalling the moment then shut her eyes to blot out reality and give in to her imagination, preferring the imaginary man to her husband in a reprised role.
The imaginary stranger teased her back with long fingers, ran his hand along her hip, and suddenly she was aware of the urgency with which his cock was pressing against her thigh.
“Okay--okay, now for some real fun!” she crowed to the empty room, and spreading her legs pried her thong up so that it wouldn’t interfere and set her fingers to roaming over her hairy twat as the first droplets of juice ebbed from her vag.
Celia shoved a pillow between her legs, making it do for her imaginary man, and molded herself to him. With eyes clamped shut, she imagined his fingers slipping under her thong and into her wetness. Not satisfied with that, she rolled over onto her back, parted her thighs and welcomed his imaginary cock into her.
In actuality, Celia’s clit had just emerged from its hiding place and she began to rub it, sending a vivid sensation from the delicate nerve endings coursing throughout her body. Her breath was more rapid than before, and her body began to lose itself to her lust.
Oh yeah--oh yeah--fuckin’ right! Right--right--right there baby! Just you and me, baby--just you and me!
“UGH! UGH! UGH! OHHHHH...”
OHHHH FUCK ... I’M LOVIN’ THIS!
Her body was undulating sensually as her other hand explored other areas of her body-- thighs, belly, breasts. With a reluctant groan, Celia took the finger from her slippery cunt and brought it to her mouth and started sucking. As the taste of her cunt registered in her brain she shuddered with delight and had a little orgasm.
Moments later she was pumping three fingers in and out of her wet twat, thumbing her clit, and gnawing at the fingers on her other hand to keep from crying out too loudly. For she was certain the occupants of the adjoining apartment had come home earlier because of the snow. Celia felt a huge cum coming on and flopped backward landing spread-eagled, and covered in sweat, her hair in disarray, and panting heavily, caught sight of herself in the mirror adjacent to the bed.
Christ, I never looked sexier!
“More ... I need more!” she croaked, and bending over from the waist while keeping her legs straight but slightly apart, Celia rummaged around her lingerie drawer, found what she was looking for and gasped, “Gotcha!”
She held the pink cock-shaped dildo she called Big Jim aloft then layback and smiled. Then with due deliberation, she teased herself by rubbing the pink cock up and down her pussy, then around her clit.
A minute or so passed before the first moan left her mouth. Slowly she eased the large toy into her cunt while using her other hand to rub lightly over her clit.
“Oh yes, oh yes,” she gasped knowing her climax was close.
Suddenly it’s on her!
“Oh fuckkk ... oh fuckkk...” a mantra that went on for over a minute as wave after wave consumed her. Tom, Tom.” Kath continues on for over a minute as a second wave consumes her, and then the room went silent.
That was the moment the front doorbell rang and catapulted her into action.
Perhaps it was because he needed to talk with another person, or possibly the fact that his teeth were chattering as his fever balked at being out in the sub-zero temperature that made Paul ring the bell to the entrance to the Victorian home that served as a trio of apartments for young couples.
He waited about a minute before ringing the bell a second time. He was about to ring it again when the door opened. Celia stood there, wearing one of Jim’s old flannel shirts and a pair of tattered jeans, but no shoes or slippers. Paul noted her flushed face and that she had dyed her hair blonde since he’d last seen her, and a moment later, that she had cut it short.
The startled expression she’d had on opening the door vanished as she smiled and said, “Well, look what the cat dragged in! C’mon in! Jesus, get inside here before I freeze to death!”
Paul opened his arms, and Celia threw herself against him, hugging him tightly as they stumbled into the middle of her very high ceilinged living room. Disengaging herself from his arms, she gave him a pecking kiss on the lips and laughingly chirped, “Jesus, man, you’re shivering like crazy! Brandy--you need a brandy.”
She hurried across the room to a bookcase containing three bottles of liquor on the top shelf, but noted that her jeans were not fully buttoned and deftly buttoned the top button before plucking a half full bottle of Hennessy off the shelf and made a dance-like move that would have pleased her old teacher immensely, whirling around and in one continuous motion grabbed two Brandy snifters off a side table and poured them both generous amounts of the coppery looking liquor before sitting down beside him on the couch.
“Good Health,” Celia said, and took a generous swallow.
“Thanks,” Paul said taking a small sip, shivering as the 80 proof brandy warmed his belly.
“Why have you been such a stranger, Paul? You know Jim and I love you; so what the fuck?”
“I ... I’ve been working on my novel,” he said hoping that would suffice.
“You’re always working on a novel. Is it the same one, um, about that girl on the train?”
“No, I finished that one,” he said so lamely Celia couldn’t hide her dismayed expression and quickly tried to cover her mistake by asking an ever worse question. “So you got it published?
“Well...” He took another sip of brandy and this time enjoyed the fire it lit in his belly as it spread through his system. “Um, I do have a publisher looking at it. Favorable comments, but...”
“No money, huh?” Celia said sadly.
“Yeah, no dinero.”
“When did you eat last, Paul?”
He waved the question off as if it was of no consequence, but she was quick to overrule it.
He didn’t answer her because he couldn’t recall. “Um, maybe a doughnut yesterday, I’m not sure.”
Celia put her hand on the small of his back and guided him into her kitchen and had him sit down at the small metal topped table. “You like scrambled eggs?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Mmmm, haven’t tasted sausage in a while, Ceil.”
“Good, I made too much this morning. Can you handle four links?”
“Yes, I think so. And thanks, I really appreciate it.”
“You can come by anytime you run low on cash, Paulie. You know we love you. It’s not charity, you know. Some day you’ll be rich and famous and you can take Jim and me on a trip to Puerto Rico, or some other island paradise.”
Paul nodded as Celia placed the plate of scrambled eggs in front of him, then handed him a knife and fork.
He quickly put away the scrambled eggs while the sausage sizzled in the frying pan, and she scrambled two more eggs for good measure.
When Celia thought the sausages and eggs were ready to eat, she brought them to Paul along with two slices of buttered toast.
She smiled contentedly watching him eat the impromptu meal, and poured him a cup of coffee, adding a shot of brandy to it.
Wiping some egg off his mouth, Paul smiled, stood up, and said, “I really appreciate you letting me thaw out and especially for the food. It hit the spot believe me. But Ceil, I’d better be on my way, or I’ll fall asleep on you, Jim may not appreciate finding me here.”
“Are you kidding? Jim will be delighted to see you. He’s always talking about the fun we had back in college.
Paul wondered if she meant the time they had a threesome together, and while he was wondering, Celia ushered him into the bedroom. The bed was unmade, sheets still rumpled from the couple’s slumber of the night before.
“Sit, I’ll get you a blanket. I can see you’re still cold. Just sit there. I’ll be right back.”
He gave her a shy look but sat down on the end of the bed. When Celia took a step toward joining him, he quickly said: “Can I use the ... you know?”
The facilities? Sure, take your time.”
Paul walked unsteadily to the bathroom and stood over the toilet, unzipped his jeans, took his penis out and began urinating. As the golden fluid streamed from his bladder, he glanced around the room. His training as a writer allowed him to see much more than the ordinary person might, and he took in the pantyhose with a hole in the right toe draped over the shower rod, and the frayed brassiere coiled up and lying over the drain in the tub.
Christ, they’re almost as bad off as I am. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of her. They probably needed the food themselves, he thought.
Suddenly the bathroom door opened and Celia walked in on him. He wasn’t shocked, or even surprised. “Still the neat freak I see,” he said with a smile while gesturing at the pantyhose hanging from the shower rod.
She laughed, “Yeah, anal as hell, that’s me,” she said and laughed again. “Be sure to shake that thing. Don’t want any pee stains on my glamorous sheets.” Celia was obviously uncaring that she’d come in and caught him with shaking his dick.
They both laughed as Paul tucked his penis back into his shorts and zipped up. He did note Celia’s eyes lingering on his groin for a beat longer than she should have and he realized it had been four long months since he had lain with a woman.
“You smoke?” she inquired, holding a package of unfiltered Camels out to him.
“No, I quit a while back; couldn’t afford them.”
“Great way to quit cold turkey,” Celia laughed. “Go on, take a couple. Jim’s bringing a carton back with him, if that is he can get the Brink’s armored car to deliver them.”
Paul calmly tucked himself away and smiled at Celia. “I guess you mean the high cost of cigarettes today. I haven’t had occasion to buy any for a while so I’ve kinda lost touch.”
Celia turned away and left the bathroom. Paul followed her into the bedroom and sat down in the exact spot he’d been in before.
She decided not to beat around the bush and asked, “So how badly off are you, Paul?”
“No worse than usual. I would have passed by, but it’s so damn cold out and I thought I saw the curtain in your window move. I ... I didn’t want you to think I was deliberately avoiding you guys.”
“Are you really still writing, Paul?”
“Yes, of course I am. Some day...”
“I know, and when that day comes you’re taking Jim and me to the fanciest restaurant in town, or, maybe in New York City!”
It was her second reference to his taking them out when he struck it big as a writer. He didn’t mind and made a silent promise to do just that if and when. He looked into her eyes and said aloud, “It’s a deal, Ceil,” then realizing that he was using her old nickname.
Celia grinned at him and placed a hand on his thigh. “You’re too generous, Paul, much too generous.”
Recalling a time or two several years earlier, Paul returned the favor, feeling her strong muscles through her skin-tight jeans as he leaned in closer.
“How’d you know to come by just now? She asked in a husky brandy laden voice.
“I’m an alien. I sense these things, Ceil,” then he leaned in and kissed her under her ear.
Celia shivered and laughed. “Oh shit, Paul, you know what that does to me!”
“C’mon Paul! I mean it. Jim will be back any minute!”
Paul knew her well enough to know she was lying. He also knew that in all likelihood, Jim wouldn’t mind finding them in his rumpled bed. In fact, Jim would probably shed his clothing and hop into bed with them, filling whichever orifice Celia didn’t have occupied at the time.
Paul had always been good with women; and no longer freezing with the cold, he reverted to form and casually grabbed the back of Celia’s neck sending a delightful shiver that caused instant goosebumps to skin-surf her entire body.
“Damn you!” she bawled, but her shoulders were already scrunching in delight. In the back of her mind Celia was thinking: Is Paulie my imaginary guy come to life? Jim hasn’t done that in ages. Is it too much to hope for? Hasn’t held my hair--mmmm, yeah like that! Christ, how did he know to do that? Yes ... tight ... oh, yes! Right at the root where the hairline meets the nape of my neck ... please-please-please, pull it, but gently, gently, gently.
“Ohhh, yes, Paulie, baby, just like THAT! And hold it, hold it, HOLD IT!
“AHHHHHH, now please ... pull it again, ahhh, sooo good. Soooo fuckin’ good!”
Paul did just that.
Celia’s heels and toes slowly and desperately peeled off the floor. A moment later her brain was teeming with urgency, craving, lust and ... hope. The shiver returned only to begin a new journey on the outer edge of her thigh then creeped serenely down the length of her leg leaving Celia in a state of flux. At which point Paul began opening the buttons on her flannel shirt and with the shirt peeled away, undid her bra and sent it fluttering to the floor.
With a moan that sounded like a growl to Celia, Paul cupped both her breasts in his hands, Celia came to her senses and mewed, “What am I going to do with you?”
“Fuck me?” Paul laughed. A second later, the shirt was gone and they were done talking. He kissed her chin, recalling the tiny dimple on its left side, and then her neck. At this point her hands were busy undoing his jeans while her breasts rested against his bare skin in a kind of celebration of their rekindling an old relationship.
With his jeans off and crumpled at the foot of the bed, Celia tore at the rest of their clothes, peeling her skin-tight jeans off with alacrity, and then almost tore his shirt off before wrapping her arms and legs around his naked body for the first time in at least four years.
Paul groaned happily and made his way down her body until her legs opened around his neck, and she cried out when his mouth found her.
“Wait--wait,” she shouted. And jumped from the bed, took two steps to a nearby dresser, found a box of condoms and ripped one open and returning to the bed, carefully placed it over his rampant cock.
Paul almost as quickly, positioned her so that he could go down on her; and did so.
“Oh fuck, I forgot how good you are at that,” she purred happily.
As he licked and sucked and fingered Celia, Paul remembered something he’d written in a journal and shared with her and Jim that last time.
‘Marriage is like an ice cream cone. When exposed to the heat, it gets drippy and sticky unless its participants are very diligent about licking the sides, keeping it even all the way around, ensuring the mound on top of the cone doesn’t topple over onto the scorching sidewalk. This was why even the best marriages occasionally required help in holding the melting rate at bay.‘
He decided to try a few things he’d thought about on Celia and without any warning began slowly dragging his tongue toward her throbbing clit, exulting in knowing she was already trembling from the heady sensations his tongue was causing.
Ceil was wet, wetter than he expected; her juices dribbled over his tongue as he lapping away at her. She was gasping with each separate touch upon her most sensitive part, and added to her pleasure by letting his fingers drift up the inside of her thighs and slipping into her cunt--two fingers first--pushing them with almost no resistance as far as they could reach.
He was rewarded with a generous splash of Celia’s wetness, as her cunt began sucking on his fingers as she groaned and pushed against them.
Paul added a third finger, and began a slow but steady finger fuck even as his mouth and tongue continued their tender kisses and gentle sucks upon her rapidly pulsing clit.
He knew she wanted him inside her, wanted him to fuck her, but he wanted her to cum first, to beg him to fuck her. He needed to hear her say it.
And to make it happen he placed one foot up on the bed with the other firmly planted on the floor and holding her tightly by her upper thighs raised Celia so that her head and shoulders were on the bed and brought her cunt to his mouth.
“Ohmygod!” Celia croaked. “What the fuckkk?”
But Paul’s lips and tongue lapped relentlessly at her cunt. And when her thighs scissored around his head, it freed the fingers of his left hand and he sent them into her, rooting feverishly for her g-spot while at the same time humping her by rubbing his penis against her spine.
Paul couldn’t believe how wet she was--and hearing her gasp knew he’d found her g-spot. He hooked the fingers and stroked the soft spongy area increasing the speed gradually, but continuously--his mouth still adhered to her clit allowing the fingers room to move about.
“Jesus Christ, Paulie ... You’re driving me crazy!”
He laughed, loving the new found power he had over her; and to maintain it he swirled his tongue over her swollen nubbin then drew it between his lips and pressed them tightly together.
Celia came, groaning and gasping as his lips mashed against her clit, shuddering deliciously, bucking against his tongue--groaning his name.
Paul felt another splash of hot, silky wetness over his fingers--then a moment later tasted her cum juices.
“God, Paulie-- Uunnhhh fuckkk-- ooooh--gonna cum again!”
“I want you to cum--that’s what I want--cum over my fingers--cum over my face--that’s what I want,” he snorted into her cunt. Then sent her off into another wild orgasm by lowering her back on the bed and whispering, “I want to drink you all up, Ceil!”
Perhaps a second passed, and then Celia started to cum--hard--bucking and writhing on the bed--her cunt sucking and squeezing around his fingers while her body convulsed and she cried out his name as he continued to lap the juices from her cunt.
He couldn’t hold off his need to fuck Celia any longer, and dropped lightly on top of her, slid up her body until his cock was aligned with her slit and groaned happily as she took him in hand and guided him into her.
Paul moaned with pleasure as her cunt parted around his cock--so hot, so wet--and they began to fuck--he thrusting --she pushing back at him. Wrapping her thighs around his back to bring him ever deeper.
He kissed her and she tasted herself on his lips and tongue and if possible grew even hotter. He found a comfortable rhythm, and she repeatedly telling him how good he felt, urging him to go faster and harder, unable to believe she was on her way to another orgasm, but then it arrived--roaring in on her like a subway train with brakes screeching as it sped into the station.
Celia, without realizing it, started biting him--on the neck, shoulder and chest. Paul felt the pain, yet didn’t feel it, but unconsciously drove his cock into her harder than any previous thrust.
Celia screamed his name, wanting them to cum together, but losing that battle and coming first. Paul finished right behind her, succumbing in to the frantic squeezing of her cuntal muscles around his member. In a last ditch act to prolong the intense pleasure, he took hold of her ankles, placed them on his shoulders and rams into her one last time.
Celia released a gusher of fluid, flooding over his cock and balls while screaming his name one last time. Paul’s cock throbbed one last time before pulsing three times in succession--each one sending a thick stream of hot sperm into the prophylactic he was wearing while calling Celia’s name.
“I’m impressed, Ceil. When did you start squirting?”
“Hmmm, you’re the first guy to ask me that.”
“Are there that many guys in your past?” he said, making sure to have a big smile on his face as he posed the question.
Celia slapped his penis in feigned annoyance, but answered him quickly. “Don’t worry, I’m not offended, Paulie. It didn’t come naturally to me. I read about it online and learned that it could happen with intense g-spot stimulation, but it took me forever to locate the damned g-spot. And let me congratulate you on finding mine so quickly. You’ve done your homework.”
“I had an older woman as a partner for a while. She taught me several interesting things.”
“You can try those ‘things’ out on me if we have enough time.”
Paul laughed and slapped her lightly across the nose with his flaccid penis.
Celia laughed and resumed talking. “I had barely found my g-spot at the time. Um, this was about a year ago. The truth of the matter is that I wasn’t going to find it on my own. But then a girlfriend told me about the LELO Ella, a wonderful toy. You can use either end when penetrating oneself. One end is long, sleek and tapered, with a bit of an accentuation on the upper side. The other side is curved up and has a wide, flat, blunt end. I tried the tapered end first. It felt nice. Insertion was easy, and the shape fit snugly in my vagina. I thrust a couple times, you know? It felt comfortable, but not especially pleasurable. So it was the other end that really caught my interest.
“Anyways, I inserted the blunt end. Now there was a difference! The blunt, flat tip was pressing right into my g-spot. G-spotting toys that I’ve tried before have been very thin and pointy at the end, and I had long since concluded that poking my g-spot with those wasn’t doing anything for me. Ella didn’t feel like poking, it felt like pressing and stroking. I think “kneading” is a better word. And that’s exactly what my g-spot needed. So I kept thrusting, picking up the pace, and it didn’t take long before I started to feel a new kind of heat in the pit of my stomach, you know, like I had to pee, but not quite. I kept shoving the toy into me as fast as I could, thinking ‘Here I go, I’m gonna cum!’ I mean suddenly I had this hot flashy feeling and I came. It didn’t last long, but it was different than my usual orgasms in that it felt like it came from somewhere deeper.”
“So you really felt it?” Paul inquired gently.
“Oh, I felt it all right; in fact it occurred to me that, as I’ve seen in some porn vids, that it might be possible to squirt a decent distance--several feet or so. Still I didn’t bother getting a towel or something to cover the sheets because I had no idea that I was going to squirt. I was lost in the fact that I’d found the elusive g-spot and that I was gonna cum, big time. And right about then, as I was dismissing all thoughts from my mind, a warm sensation washed over my vulva--and I knew. I was about to cum, really cum. And I’m not usually loud when I cum by myself, but I sure as hell let some noise out. Shit, Paul, I lost all control. I relaxed, released and came, hard and warm, lost in the moment. And best of all, for once, my clit was of no consequence. None. All the orgasmic feelings were concentrated deep in my twat. I was in awe.
“When I regained some semblance of sanity, I looked down and saw only a splattering of cum on the inside of my thigh. I thought, ‘That’s it?’ But when I got up and glanced back at the sheets I’d been laying on, there it was—a huge wet spot about nine inches in diameter. Being the huge dork that I am, I actually said out loud to myself, “no way.” I picked up a handful of damp sheet and felt it, then smelled it. I couldn’t believe it. And when Jim came home, I clobbered him with details about the experience. And here I am now, gushing about it again. After that, it was like I had unlocked a secret talent my body could do. I knew what g-spot stimulation felt like, and what the precipice of squirting felt like. I knew what was required to achieve success—I had to thrust crazily to get that release. I acquired more toys, particularly the njoy Pure Wand which remains the single greatest toy for squirting that I’ve ever tried. Now I can squirt just using the vibrator on my clit if it’s strong enough, with anything jammed up my twat.”
“How often do you squirt?”
“Not all the time, thank God. It’s usually planned in advance. But it’s different each time. Sometimes it’s just some extra wetness during my clitoral orgasm. Sometimes it’s a real gusher, like just now. Sometimes the force of removing the toy causes my squirt to spill onto the floor.”
So you’ve experimented doing it?”
“Of course I have. Don’t be an idiot, Paul. Haven’t you jerked off in different ways, or tried to fuck something other than a pussy. Jim once confessed that when he was a teenager, he cut a hole in a cantaloupe and fucked it. He admitted it worked pretty well for him, although he never eats cantaloupe anymore.
“As for me, I’ve tried squirting outward and then upward. That takes using an insertable toy with lots of thrusting. For instance, I was determined to christen my new office, and so I squirted like a fountain and left a puddle 16” across. But the most epic squirting moment of my life so far was probably squirting in front of--and onto--my girlfriend. It just kept coming, probably because I was trying to show off, and it was awesome.
“As for the sensation, it’s a buildup of pressure, and I can sometimes feel the fluid pushing to the surface, begging to be released. The sensation can feel like needing to pee, since stimulating the G-spot also stimulates the urethra, which sends a signal to the brain that you have to pee, but once I started squirting I no longer associated it with that. I often find myself holding my breath when I’m about to squirt. The moment of squirting feels overwhelming; I can feel the ejaculate rushing out of me, sometimes splashing on my legs or seeping into the towel beneath me. It’s completely different from clitoral stimulation or a clitoral orgasm — not better, just different. It’s more amorphous, with no definite start or end to the orgasmic feeling. If I keep thrusting, I can prolong it — but at some point, my arm gets tired.”
Paul, his face serious, inquired, “Does it feel like peeing the bed?”
Celia laughed and gave him a playful slap. “No silly, because it isn’t. I think it’s all psychological, and that if you believe its pee, it may “feel” like peeing the bed. But it isn’t.”
“You sound so sure about that.”
“I am. I’ve sampled both.”
Paul laughed and she joined him. “I should have known. But it is interesting. I really appreciate your telling me all this. A lot of women wouldn’t dream of sharing that information with a guy.”
“Well they should. It can only lead to better orgasms.” That said, Celia laughed, it was a very dirty laugh and then flipped his flaccid penis with her fingers and murmured, “Mmmm, maybe I can do something about that.”
“You have my permission,” Paul said with a broad smile as he caressed her right breast. Celia sighed softly then slid her leg quickly over his body and straddled him, looking down at him as she settled astride his hips and took his penis in her hand and slowly stroked it.
“Mmmm,” he moaned softly. “My kind of girl,” he said and laughed.
“I hope you’re not suggesting that I’m a bad girl, Paulie. Is that what you’re implying?” He was hard now and she could grip him with both hands and did so. “My big, bad boy,” she murmured more to herself then to him.
She slid several inches lower and rubbed her rubbed her mons against his cock, felt it stir against her, responding to her movements.
“You are a bad girl,” he said. “The absolutely best kind of a bad girl.”
Then with a nimble adroitness of the athlete he once was, Paul leapt from the bed to the floor and stood at the foot, holding his rising cock in one hand. “Now suck my cock.”
“First tell me again,” she whispered with her eyes fixed on his erection, “tell me what a bad little girl I am.”
Paul smiled down at her. His hands went to her head, holding her in place, and he pulled her down a little more firmly against his growing erection.
“Oh, maybe you want me to tell Jim what a bad girl you are.”
To his surprise, Celia let out a deliciously evil laugh. “Oh, do that!” she cackled. “Do it! He’ll fuck me silly for days afterward.”
Paul’s cock was almost fully erect now, warm and throbbing against her face.
“Come on, tell me...” she said, “I want it ... I want you to tell me I’m a bad little girl--say it to me, Paulie...” Her words dripped with lust, she wiggled her tongue at him, causing his cock to jump with excitement.
“You’re such a bad little girl,” he breathed, “such a little slut...”
“God yes,” she gasped, taking the tip of his cock into her mouth and tightening her lips on it, then asking: “Like the feel of my mouth, Paulie?”
“Yes, yes” he groaned.
Celia’s hand swept her hair out of the way and her other hand gripped his cock, feeling its heat radiating into her pores as she slowly stroked it up and down.
His hips flexed up toward her hand as her breath drifted over the head of his swollen erection.
“Fuck yeah...” he whispered contentedly as one of his hands teased its way through her hair, pulling her face closer to his cock. Celia knew what he wanted, what he needed. The gentle, insistent pulse in her hand was a clear enough signal. Her tongue came out, and she flicked it against the head, sending a wave of pleasure through him. Then Celia ran her tongue all over it, and Paul thought he was going to die of pleasure.
She gazed up at him with a smile as she continued to tease him with her tongue.
This was heaven! He had never felt so good!
When her lips wrapped around his cock and she began to suck, Paul actually thought he was going to pass out. Celia started slowly, taking him deep in her mouth then sliding her lips back up until only the head remained. Then she went deep again and repeated the process, over and over again, sending him to ever greater heights of pleasure.
Celia smiled up at him, took another couple of strokes and then engulfed most of his erection with her mouth. Paul moaned as her lips sucked him; her tongue swirling, swallowing her saliva and reveling in the taste of him.
Paul groaned again: “Ohh fuck ... god that feels good...”
With a hand firmly in her hair, he tried to shove his prick deeper, as he fucked her mouth with slow but forceful strokes.
Celia gave ground grudgingly, but knew she was capable of deep-throating him. She had done so when they were in collage and he was no different now.
When she finally began her deep-throating she pretended to gag, and lifted herself up and pulled away from his saliva coated cock, a long string of spittle clung to her lower lip and his cockhead. Celia shook her head and broke the string from Paul’s penis. Then she gave the tip a last lick, lingering there for a few moments, enjoying the taste of him on her tongue. She looked up at him again, knowing how much men loved that and stroked him thoroughly lost when he met her eyes. Suddenly she realized that her heart was racing and her sex was drooling juice.
“My turn,” Paul said in a husky voice that caused Celia to shudder with excitement.
Celia rolled over on her back and spread her legs.
Paul leaned over her and slowly kissed his way down her flat stomach, rubbing his nose in her short pubic hair and finally kissing and gently sucking her clit.
He was almost methodical, kissing her sticky wet lips gently, over and over, before slowly allowing the tip of his tongue slip between them only to trace the full length of her slit before darting more fully into her folds, finding at last the wild depths of her hole. The whole of his lower face was soon coated in her pungent sauce.
Celia returned the favor, sucking on the head of his cock, filling the room with appreciative grunts and sucking sounds.
And then Paul moved to her clit and things went sort of crazy. He flicked the tiny button, licked it and gave it a long steady suck. Celia ground her crotch against his mouth, forgetting about his cock as she concentrated on her own pleasure.
Though Paul’s ears were muffled by her thighs, He could hear the phrasing of her response, a fast gasp followed by a slow groan. He felt the first flicker as she shifted into a panting whine, a tremble of anticipation building in her legs and backed off to give her something different to think about.
Celia didn’t think long before bucking wildly against his face and shrieking, ““Damn it, Paul, do it!“
He responded by slipping two fingers into her cunt and returned his mouth to her clit. Celia’s loins exploded. The resultant spasms shot shivers through her limbs. She dropped on top of him, the dead weight nearly knocking the breath out of him. Paul was forced to roll them both over just to gain a lungful of air.
The motion seemed to revive Celia a little. She was giggling as Paul felt fingers tickling his dangling balls. Another hand soon wrapped itself around his shaft, slowly pumping it to its full inflation. She began planting kisses on the head, but it was evident from her squirming that she wanted his cock somewhere besides her mouth. But she was a woman who knew how to lead a man on, and with a determined look in her eye, Celia bent her head and took him into her mouth--her warm, wet cocksucking mouth, with its constantly swirling tongue.
He groaned happily.
Moments later Celia took him from her mouth, giggled and said, “Can I suck cock, or what?” She didn’t wait for an answer and returned to fellating him. Paul mutely allowed her to do what she wanted with him. She was extremely good at it, as far as that went, and Paul could only moan when her tongue completely surrounded the head of his penis before her mouth plunged downward to fully engulf him in her throat.
Celia’s timing was near perfect. Sensing his eminent ejaculating, she removed him from her mouth and slapped his member smartly, draining away the moment of moments--at least temporarily.
Celia laughed and swung a leg over him. “Use your mouth on me for a while, lover man.”
Her hind end was hovering a foot above his face. Paul took in the pungent odor of her cunt just as well as he could see it. His hands moved on their own volition, reaching up to grab handfuls of her softly rounded ass. Then he tightened his grip and pulled her down, bringing the wet pinkness of her sex to his suddenly insatiable mouth.
But right now the thought was barely registering with her. All she could think of, all she could feel, were his lips, his hands, his fingertips, as he explored her body, thrilling her senses. Celia gasped as she felt his hands slide up over her breasts, and she groaned softly as he pinched her nipples and clamped her legs more firmly around him, rubbing herself wantonly against him.
Celia looked directly at Paul, breathing hard, her hair half-fallen across her face as she caught his gaze, her hand still wrapped around his cock, easing up and down, keeping him erect, loving the power she suddenly held, knowing that she was all powerful for the moment.
Paul was groaning softly, his body moving in rhythm with her fingers, thrusting slowly up into her hand, and she leaned over him again, taking him back into her mouth, sucking him, engulfing his hard cock with her lips, his body jerking a little as her tongue slid around his shaft, licking all the way back up and teasing him with the tip of her tongue, looking up again, meeting his eyes and gloating to herself for the power she held over him.
Celia felt a delicious rush of wetness at her sex; was she squirting while sucking him?
The rush remained although it faded slightly from the original powerful near orgasm it was at first. She decided it was her body telling her she needed to be fucked--now. That she was no longer able to wait.
“Fuck me, Paulie. I need it now, sweetie.”
Paul groaned, but pushed Celia onto her back on the bed, kissed her neck, his body now firmly between her open legs, the length of his cock rubbing against her sex, gliding along it, slipping against the wetness. She could barely take this. Every touch of his fingers was inflaming her senses. She needed it so very badly. “Fuck me, Paulie,” she gasped again, her hand sliding down to take hold of his cock, guiding the swollen head against the lips of her sex. “Ohh, God please fuck me!”
Paul knew his women and paid little heed to her vocal demands. He knew better. He knew to draw out their pleasure, for they derived almost as much pleasure from the act itself as the final culmination of the orgasm. And so he slowly kissed her lips, her throat, her nipples. When he returned to her mouth Celia met his with a savagery that surprised him, but he returned it with savagery of his own.
But he’d overestimated himself with respect to her needs, not just the need to be fucked, not simply the desire to feel his cock inside her--she needed to be possessed by him, needed to feel him take her. She wanted to be consumed by him for every sense in her body was aching with want for him.
Finally he realized his error and with a soft growl Paul nudged his cock between the wet lips of her cunt. With one sudden movement he thrust hard and deep inside her. She groaned with pleasure she had never felt before as his cock filled her, feeling every inch of him as he pushed all the way into her, his cock invading her, penetrating her, his hips grinding against her as he began to fuck her.
She clung onto Paul, trying but missing kiss after kiss, but she kept trying as her thighs held him in a death grip she moaned loudly with each thrust of his cock.
They found a rhythm together; intimate little wet sounds spilled from her cunt as the rhythm increased, her hands sliding down to his firm buttocks, pulling him into her harder, wanting to be taken, wanting to be fucked. Each thrust seemed deeper and harder, Paul looking down at her as he rammed his cock into her sex, leaning down again and sucking then biting on her neck. She cried out with pleasure, not mindful of the marks he was leaving; or that her husband was sure to see. So filled, yet needing more, never wanting this to stop.
The very idea that it might go on forever brought a flood of her wetness spilling over Paul’s pulsing cock. Celia clung harder to him, barely able to take it now, trying hard not to cum too soon; her hands clutched onto him as he rammed his cock deeper, her cunt splashing with each thrust of his prick inside her.
She looked up at him, catching his gaze, his eyes so filled with desire for her, clearly right on the edge himself, thrusting and pounding, possessing her, taking her. She was so close now, needing him to cum inside her, needing to feel him fill her, again and again.
His skin felt like fire to her touch, his body strong and hard against her, her body arching up to him now, needing him deeper, so close to her orgasm, his cock pulsing harder inside her, his moans increasing. It was clear he was holding back his orgasm, waiting for her, his cock thrusting deeper into her cunt, each thrust pushing her closer.
“You’re going to make me cum...” she gasped, loving him for holding out like this.
.Suddenly Paul grabbed her wrists, pushing them up over her head, holding her down hard on the bed as he took her. Celia screamed with pleasure, arching and writhing underneath him, and then it happened. She felt her wetness surge again, spilling over his cock, and realized she was beyond the point of no return.
“Oh fuckkk...” she groaned, “I can’t hold it back ... OHH FUCK! I’m gonna cum ... don’t stop! OHHH, FUCK ... Please ... DON’T STOP!”
Paul’s grip around her wrists was firmer, pinning her down.
Her thighs clamped around him.
He screamed, “Cel--I’m cumming!”
“Yes, now, Paulie--NOW!”
Celia’s body arched up to meet him, her own orgasm suddenly surging through her body, feeling him start to come inside her, so hard, so deep, spurt after spurt of hot cum jetting from his cock, pouring into the condom.
Their bodies merged together, her cunt engulfing his cock, her wetness spilling down his balls as she came, soaking him, and the sheets.
He rolled away, in part to get away from the wetness under him.
“Oh, no, God, Paulie! Oh, my God, oh, Paulie! No, no--I mean yes--oh my God yes!” She placed his cock in her mouth to shut herself up, giving it half-hearted sucks between moans. It remains to be seen as to who was more surprised when Celia came again so quickly, and so forcefully.
This time Paul was the one to crawl around, drawing his face above hers for a sloppy, exaggerated kiss and when it ended, Celia moaned, “I know you gotta rest, sweetie, but can we do it again?”
“If you want me too, I’d love too, Ceil.”
But Paul needed time to recharge his batteries, and Celia had an idea how to help matters in that regard. She hopped from the bed, threw her flannel shirt on and turned the video of her and her husband fucking on the very bed that Paul lay on. His eyes widened as he realized what she’d done.
“You’re revealing secrets that maybe you shouldn’t, Cel.”
“It’s worth it if it makes you hard for me,” she quipped and returned to the kitchen to make them something to eat. Paul watched the video until the smell of bacon lured him into the kitchen where the bacon sizzled, and shortly after, swallowed the bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich Celia placed in front of him in three bites, along with the leftover coffee from that morning, reheated in the microwave.
Celia wasted no time in assisting his recovery, dropping to her knees and sliding under the kitchen table to suck his cock back to life. It worked, and with a quick glance at the kitchen clock, she saw that they had at least forty-five minutes, perhaps more, before Jim was due home.
They ran into the bedroom and Celia jumped up and landed in the middle of the wet sheets. “Shit!’ she exclaimed, “I have to change these sheets before Jim gets here.”
“Do it after we fuck, Ceil,” Paul said, “you’ll probably wet the new ones and where will that leave us?”
She looked at him at said, “So, you don’t mind?”
“What’s a little dampness when I can have my dick in that sweet cunt of yours?”
Celia laughed that dirty laugh again. “You sure are a sweet talker, Paulie. Let’s do it!”
She gave his cock a quick suck and shook it to make certain her was really hard, and released him satisfied that he was ready to go.
“I think we can avoid the wet spot if you hang over the bed, maybe support yourself with your hands,” he said, getting behind her.
Celia followed his suggestion, and discovered that the angle suggested raised her ass accordingly and let Paul kneel behind her at a near perfect angle for deep penetration.
She knew from the moment of his entrance that she and Jim would be using this position early and often, for Paul slithered into the deepest part of her vagina with the second thrust, and there after it was total pleasure for both of them.
It wasn’t long before Ceil was making those all too familiar sounds warning Paul that she was close to cumming, and he decided to make it a memorable time for both of them by teasing her, perhaps even torturing her before allowing her the eagerly sought orgasm.
He stopped thrusting.
“Please, baby ... put it back!”
“It is in, I’ve stopped humping.”
“Well, please start again. I’m close, baby!”
“I can’t hear you,” Paul teased.
“C’mon, Paul--time, we don’t have that much time. Jim’s coming home--c’mon let’s finish fucking. She sat on top of him with his cock deep inside her tight pussy, breathing hard.
Paul took in her cunt lips splayed out on either side of his embedded cock then moved upward to her heaving breasts.
“You want it bad, huh?” Paul said.
“Yeah ... I do.”
“Then ride me hard. Work for that orgasm, Ceil.”
The first sign that she’d heard him was when she squeezed the muscles of her cunt so fiercely she jolted Paul’s cock.
In reply, he raised his hips to meet her as she came back down of him, both benefited from the act and they continued doing it for a full minute before Paul tired and slacked off.
But Celia didn’t. She kept at it, riding him hard, and when he slipped out she merely grunted at the loss and reached out, found him, and rubbed his cockhead around her pussy’s entrance, flicking it over her lips and up to her clit before coming to rest with just the tip inserted inside her.
Then with her knees either side of his waist she rested her hands on Paul’s chest and slowly lowered herself down on top of him letting his cock slowly fill her, inch by inch until he was completely inside her.
Paul felt cuntal muscles milking him and reveled in it.
Celia slowly raised herself then dropped down causing his cock to involuntarily impale itself in her, bring a rapturous feeling to both of them.
“Oh my God,” she sighed as she rose up again. “I can feel myself stretching inside.”
“Can you turn around? I think it might be better yet,” he said.
Celia quickly complied and now the couple faced one another.
“You’re so tight,” Paul panted, “and it’s so fucking hot watching it disappear inside you. I love the way your lips cling to my dick.”
He reached up and put a hand behind her head and pulled her down for a passionate kiss, during which Celia managed to maintain her gyrating back and forth on his love pole.
Paul eventually pulled his mouth from Celia’s sought one of her nipples now dangling near his face, capturing the left and sucking hard causing a happy sigh to escape her lips, and he also noted that she continued her movements up and down on his member.
“Are you close, Ceil?”
He reached out and took both breasts in his hands and squeezed them.
“YESSSSS! Harder, please! Mmmm, maybe if you bit them...”
Paul continued squeezing them, while biting on each of her reddened nipples. Celia moaned happily, and bounced even faster on his pole.
“OHHH ... gonna cum, Paulie! Gonna cum ... please tickle my asshole!”
And as he pressed his index finger against the outside of her asshole, Celia let out a wail and stopped bouncing up and down and shuddered on top of him.
“Fuckkkk YEAH!” she moaned exultantly.
Paul glanced down to where their bodies were joined and saw his cock coated in a white cream as she trembled on top of it. At this point Celia sat unmoving although still mounted on him. Paul lifted her slightly into the air and pounded into her with three quick thrusts, his cock slipping easily in and almost out of her dripping cunt as he fucked furiously from his prone position.
“AHHHHHH FUCKKK, Paulie--CUMMING--Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”
Paul saw her stomach muscles spasming as she thrashed wildly upon his impaling member. Recalling her plea to play with her asshole, he wet his middle finger and sent it into her asshole.
Celia shuddered violently before cumming in torrents, gushing non-stop through a tumultuous climax before and then rolling off Paul and collapsing on the bed, unaware or uncaring that she lay in the middle of her mess.
Paul’s cock, no longer inside Celia, began to spurt. The first line landed on his stomach, the second fell between his legs on the already saturated sheets.
Celia lit another cigarette lit, and he gently wiped the sweat off her body. She shook her head at him as he ministered to her, but she didn’t stop him. Paul finally tossed the rag onto the floor and Celia extended her hand toward him so he might take a drag from the cigarette.
“I forgot that you know that thing about my ass,” she said.
“Ceil, everyone knows that thing about your ass.” He took a deep drag on her cigarette.
“Fuck you,” she said and then began laughing. “That’s not true, Paulie.”
“I am so happy I stopped by,” he said, leaning back and staring at the smoke as it left his mouth. “And not just so I can sit here naked in bed after fucking your brains out. I haven’t had a decent conversation in days. I don’t know. I needed old friends again, you know? Fuck, it’s good to see you again.”
“You so did not fuck my brains out. It was nice, but brains are definitely still here. Why do I always say yes to you?”
“I didn’t have to ask. We just jumped each other’s bones.
Celia nodded as she lit another cigarette and nestled in under his arm as they shared it. He kissed her hair and she ran her fingers up his leg, both lost in their own thoughts.
He was finished fucking. Celia could have gone another round, but after resting a minute or so, looked at the alarm clock on the dresser and forced herself to get up and nervously tell Paul to do the same, adding, “Jim’s going to be here any minute now.”
Paul hopped out of bed and dressed.
Celia grabbed the sheets, pulled them off the bed so they formed a ball in her arms and walked naked to the washer in the small room that served as combination bath and laundry room.
Paul listened to her start the washer, picked up her jeans and brought them to her, handing them to her in front of the washer.
“Want that bra?”
“Um, yeah, I’ll add it to the laundry.”
“Jim won’t notice you’re braless with me?”
“Only have the one bra, so I go without whenever it’s getting cleaned.”
Paul shrugged and finished dressing. Celia joined him in the kitchen and as she buttoned her flannel shirt he kissed her mouth and neck. She brushed the hair from her eyes and gave him a look that told him he could knock on her door anytime.
Suddenly he recalled that he’d left the used condoms on the floor next to the bed. He walked quickly to the bedroom, picked three rubbers off the floor, wiped up the small residue of sperm that had spilled out and deposited them in the toilet just as Jim Masters walked in the door. Paul flushed the toilet and acted as if he were adjusting himself as he returned to the kitchen and greeted his college roomie.
“Aw, I was gonna surprise you,” Celia chirped happily, as Paul walked into the kitchen with a broad smile on his face.
Jim gave Paul a fierce hug, then took a step back and looked at him.
“Fuck man, how long’s it been?”
“Too fuckin’ long,” Paul replied, and hugged him back.
“Ceil, get us a couple beers, would’ja?”
“I would but we’re out. You went out for beer, remember?”
“Oh, shit! I met Bobby Cavanaugh and we played some pool. I forgot.”
“You probably had six or seven playing pool anyway,” Celia said sarcastically.
“You know I don’t count ‘em, but yeah, I had some,” he admitted sheepishly.
“So, Paulie, what’cha been up too? Finish that novel?”
“Working on it, Jim.” Paul said. “I’m maybe half finished.”
“Paulie says he’s gonna take us out to a fancy restaurant when he sells it,” Celia laughed happily.
Paul nodded, “Yeah, I will and that’s a promise I intend to keep.”
Paul stayed with his friends for another hour or so and then Jim drove him home. Paul found his small apartment colder than usual and climbed into bed fully clothed, pulled the blankets around him and went to sleep dreaming about fucking Celia again.