Luna squeezed his cock and sputtered half a giggle, the kind that almost sounds like a tiny cough. He was marble hard, standing thick and substantial. Her grip was iron tight, forcing a rush of blood into the tip that made his crown swell and flush an arrogant purple. The final seepage spilled off the ridge, down the exposed length of shaft and over her knuckles in a rolling fall of spunk, like hot wax dripping down a candle and over the holder.
Her hands were big for a college girl. Strong and sure. There was a flicker of twisted fascination in her eyes as she watched the spasms of his cock subside to lazy dribbles. It was as if she were observing some natural phenomenon from a great distance, even though she was close enough that he could feel the steady pulse of her breath cross his flesh.
“Fuck, that’s a load of cum,” she said, as much to herself as him.
Mr Wolfe was trying to breathe again, watching her grip, squeeze and play. Her strength continually astonished him. As thick and curvaceous as she appeared - ripe breasts that leaned heavily with her gestures - she possessed deceptive agility and muscularity. She’d taken him to a place where he hovered in suspension, wondering if the wild, unrestrained fountain of raw, steaming spunk would ever stop flowing out of him. She’d made him feel like a power transformer had exploded in back of his skull and now the cables were dangling and zapping off sparks wherever they touched.
And she’d done it with her hands, one grasping the base of his shank tight as a blood pressure cuff, the other corkscrewing up and down his hard stalk with unrelenting persistence.
Luna’s hand and wrist were spattered with cum. Fat dollops clung higher on her forearm and even more speckled Mr Wolfe’s flat belly. She finally let his cock snap back against his body with a wet smack. She traced its ridges and contours with the tip of her finger. Then the finger moved onto his belly and lazily smeared figure eights in the cum on his skin.
He reached for her hair. Shimmering raven black all around her bare shoulders.
“I didn’t realize you were such an avid cum maven,” he smiled, lacing his fingers into her mane.
“I didn’t either.” She smiled back, but then a look of sudden bashfulness came over her and she glanced back down at his spattered belly and cock. “At least I never was before. Before I met you, I mean.”
He kept watching her face. She glanced up long enough to catch him, then looked down again, embarrassed. But she didn’t seem embarrassed by his watching her play with his cum. It was more like she was embarrassed over being herself, as if she weren’t used to being caught being herself.
“I’m definitely not complaining,” he said, “but why the change?”
“Oh god, please don’t ask me something like that.” She turned her head completely away.
He unlaced his fingers from her hair and brushed them down the sleek knuckles of her spine. “You never have to answer anything you don’t want, but at least let me ask. Ok?”
Her finger kept moving around in the cum slick on his belly. Thoughtful. She nodded once. Then her lips curled into an improbable shape. “Ok,” she agreed. “It’s just ... for whatever reason ... I like making it come out of you especially well.”
He looked at her curiously but kept the question to himself. She answered anyway.
“It’s cuz you blow like you mean it. Like you do lots of things. Like you mean ‘em.”
“Jesus, Lu,” he muttered.
She lowered her head and pressed her lips against the broad smear below his navel. She kissed his skin lightly through the slick. Her tongue slipped forward and stole a fast lick. Then she moved up to face him. She paused, hovering, her shimmering wet lips dangling in front of him with provocative daring. She was like a sparrow with sudden courage, catching his eyes before she kissed him with her slippery mouth.
He bristled as she mashed her mouth over his. She could have just kissed him, if she wanted. She didn’t have to make a point of slathering her mouth in the cum puddles on his skin. He didn’t need to taste himself on her mouth to indulge some faint illusion of power or importance to her. He didn’t need to imagine that the simple and profane gush of his cum represented the mark of his heart upon her soul.
The only thing more common than a cock spouting jizz were pennies dropped in gutters from there to Purgatory.
It would have been a mistake to take her caution for weakness.
She was kissing him with all the motion of her extravagant body as she knelt and hunkered over him. She was talking to him with her lips, saying she’d taken him down inside her blood in secret, without even his knowing, and she was on a sudden impulse to give him this glimpse of the proof. His tongue made a hard, sudden sweep into her mouth in reply.
His hands swept up the damp silk of her body, up the sides of her thighs, rounding the taut curve of her ass, along the length of her spine and over her shoulders, down the arms supporting her weight, underneath to catch her naked, dangling breasts with pouting nipples to crush beneath his thumbs.
They kissed with their eyes open. An act of defiance full of unspoken challenges. But in the end it was nothing more than both of them tasting both of them. Mr Wolfe rolled, taking Luna over and onto her back as he pinned her down with his mouth. The only air they could breathe seemed to come out of each other’s body, and already he felt his cock pulsing with fresh life as she clawed at the back of his head and whimpered into his mouth.
Her pussy was bald. Puffed, yielding and wet. He pulled away from her mouth and they both gasped. His cock thickened and he ground the belly of his shaft against her mound.
She was smiling at him. She did it so rarely it was like winning a prize when she did.
“Guess maybe you wanna fuck,” she said.
“Guess maybe I do.”
She tilted her pussy against his cock. She was slick and smooth as ripe mango. He was beginning to throb again. Everything was nasty with honey and cream.
“Maybe a handjob isn’t enough for a man like you.” She snickered briefly, then turned her face to the side and covered her eyes with her hands.
“A man like me?” He laughed. He almost laughed out loud but he needed his breath for wanting her.
“Or maybe you just get hard seeing me play with your cum,” she said. She tilted her hips again and caught his shank in the furrow of her crease.
“Or maybe it’s not really about the cum,” he said. He kissed the top of her breast, then moved lower and briefly sucked her dark nipple into his mouth.
“Then what?” she asked around a sigh.
He sucked the other nipple, a little longer than the first, letting it harden and buzz inside his mouth against the swirl of his tongue. He let it go with a soft smack. He studied her face thoughtfully. Something about the shape of her features - the way her eyes held on longer than usual, the curious, expectant set of her lush lips, the chaotic tangle of her hair – made him feel like everything inside him was dropping off the side of a cliff, but the rest of him was still standing there on the ledge. His cock was beginning to sizzle in its sweet confinement against her mound.
“It’s that thing you don’t know what is,” he told her in a sure voice, as if the phrase made obvious sense.
Her face broke into an involuntary smile and she looked away. She reached down between them and wrapped her hand around his cock, squeezing lightly. Stroking him. She held his dome to her slippery maw and ran her finger underneath where they joined. “You feel good,” she sighed, “even if you do talk a lot of shit. You hardly even went soft all the way.”
“When you touch me, it makes my skin feel like something else. I don’t know what. Something better, maybe. Like when you touch my skin my skin feels like something that can’t be touched, except you’re touching it anyway.”
“You know, you really talk crazy sometimes.” But she was still smiling.
“I don’t care.”
“Yeah, well ... not sayin’ you have to stop.”
“Good.” Then he let his lips brush against hers, his voice dropping to a whisper while he said the rest against her mouth. “Did you know you taste like something I don’t know what is? I don’t mean your pussy, but ... yeah, your pussy ... but ... your skin and your mouth and even your breath. Everything you are. Everything you have. Maybe even everything you think and feel. It all lives in the air around your body like a nimbus. Like touching you means reaching through a layer of something you’re made of before actually touching you.”
“Da fuck is a nimbus?”
“It doesn’t matter. More shit nobody knows what is. Maybe all I’m saying is you’re pretty and you make my dick so hard I just wanna fuck you into next week.”
She smiled and her eyes got smoky. “That makes sense. Now you’re talking normal.”
“Yeah, normal. That’s us all the way.”
.... There is more of this story ...