Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian, Heterosexual, Fiction, Interracial, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Water Sports,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A fantasy set around an MF reunion, leading to fulfillment of desires that were expressed long ago. Adult situation with character development. Additional chapters may be added, if there is interest. Feedback and suggestions appreciated.
I took one last sip of cold water from the bottle before stepping out of the car. Trepidation and hope whirled in my head in a spiral of confusion. I could feel the tightness of the conflict in my body — the hunched shoulders, constricted chest, and knot in the belly. I was of half a mind to get back in the car and drive back to my hotel, despite the two hours it took me to get to there in the first place. However, determined as I was to see myself through the visit, I waited for the feeling to pass, taking a few deep breaths to release the tension.
The two-storied house at the end of the cul-de-sac was the last in a row of houses. The houses along the road that I had passed by were threatening to float away in the shimmering heat waves that enveloped them in hot, vapory sheaths. The houses were set along on side of the winding road that ran along the length of the small hill, midway between the crest and foot of the hill. They sat on the side that sloped downwards, front doors facing the road, and the fenced back yards skirted the foot of the hill along its length. Beyond the fences, there was a thicket of trees on gently undulating fields, with a stream winding its way through the woods. Further beyond, the city lay in the distance, with the few skyscrapers of the business district appearing like fractured columns in the smothering haze of midsummer. Farther away still, vague lines on the horizon suggested the mountain ranges that formed the backdrop to the plains.
On the other side of the road, the hill continued its gentle rise to a flat plateau at the summit, leveling off to a horizon of cloudless, blue sky. The land between the road and the crest was an empty stretch, with a few sulking trees here and there amidst an expanse of grass gone brown in the heat. The dull roar of the traffic from the highway that lay beyond the other side of the hill came up intermittently on the occasional breeze. The only other sound was the chirping of a cicada hiding under a rock somewhere. In the stillness of the afternoon, the only movement was the occasional rustling of the leaves on the trees, as if reluctantly acknowledging the hot breeze that swept through them. Reeling in the heat, I walked the few steps to the door. This was it — I came determined to face up to Sheila. No more hiding from what I had been avoiding all these years. I had to either face up to her, or, wonder forever how things would have turned out if only I had tried. It was more the fear of a hellish future of regret that had finally impelled me on this quixotic quest. I drew up to the front door, clutching the flowers that the hotel had arranged to be delivered in the morning — they were already beginning to wilt. And so was my confidence.
Sheila and I were close at one time — in fact, we were lovers then — but we had not seen each others in years. I wasn't sure how the visit was going to turn out; I wasn't even sure whether I should be there in the first place. But, before I could torture myself further with doubts, the door opened and Sheila surged into my arms, wrapping me in a tight hug, her soft cheek cool against my hot skin. When she lightly kissed my cheek and whispered how glad she was to see me, my troubled mind subsided, lulled by her friendly greeting. The feel of her body and her soothing voice murmuring in my ear rekindled memories of the intimate times we had shared long ago.
I was glad to see her, despite the confusion, doubts and misgivings that had been dogging me through all the years we had been apart, right up to this moment. Her welcome gave me some confidence that, at least the long standing question in my heart would be settled. Win or lose, I would put to rest the distraction of not knowing how she felt about me. That question had been festering me to distraction, preventing me from moving on with my life.
She led me into the comfortingly cool and dark interior of her home, closing the door behind us. We chatted about my drive up as we crossed the spacious living room and the dining area at the end. She took the dozen or so dark red roses and placed them in a vase on the dinner table.
The open, uncluttered living and dining area was tastefully decorated with paintings, objets d'art and plants that were distributed around a few pieces of furniture. A couple of red leather sofas, a large, plush chair (also in leather) with an ottoman in front, and a coffee table in the center marked the living area. Bookshelves along the wall with a stereo and a TV and a few nick-nacks in the shelves added a touch of sophistication to the room. A butcher table with six, solid, cushioned chairs defined the dining area, followed by an island with a marble top to the right. The counter top and the abutting entrance led into the kitchen, which was set off at right angles to the living and dining area. Large French windows at the dining end of the room gave the space a light, airy feeling. Through the gauzy shades that were drawn across the windows one could see a patio, beyond which, the backyard rolled gently down to the wooden fence. The city and the rolling hills were hardly visible from inside. The view from the patio would be even more lovely during spring and fall, and all the more so with the cover of winter snow on the ground.
Sheila went across the room and drew the heavy shades partially across the windows, dimming the light streaming in. I sat down on the sofa, still feeling nervous, but somewhat calmed by her friendliness. She disappeared in to the kitchen, and I could hear glasses clinking and presently she emerged with two tall glasses of lemonade on a tray. Handing me a glass, she sat down opposite me on the chair, her feet propped up on the ottoman
Having settled down, I took the time to study her, comparing her appearance to the person I had last seen years ago. She wore a light maroon skirt and a yellow sleeveless blouse — casual, yet stylish — accentuating her slim, athletic figure. Physically, she looked as fit as ever, except for her hair which she now wore clipped and short, giving her face an openness that was all the more alluring. Her demeanor had certainly changed — she seemed more at ease, as if she had settled into herself. I couldn't detect any nervousness or anxiety in her, in comparison to my agitated state of mind. Her luminous eyes still held that lively, mischievous sparkle that had so captivated me when I first met her.
When I complimented her figure and mentioned that she seemed more relaxed, she smiled and responded that I appeared to have mellowed down as well. It was reassuring that our first appraisal of each other was favorable. In fact, favorable enough that my troubled memories of the events that led to our parting began to recede into the background. A slender thread of hope that she might be ready to "forgive and forget" the offense I had caused her years ago started to take root.
During the years of our separation I had wracked my brain for ways to make amends with her and engineer a rapprochement. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to even call her. Perhaps I was too scared to lose what little contact I had with her, or not mature enough to reach out, or, perhaps saw it as a lost cause not worth pursuing. Whatever the reasons, we had not talked, even on the phone, for the last two years. But, hearing her, it was obvious that the years apart from each other had diminished whatever misgivings or apprehensions we had towards each other and that the connection we felt towards each other was intact.
Sheila and I met for the first time at a party hosted by a mutual friend in the Southern city that I had just moved to. She was getting past a break up and I was just beginning to make a few friends. As we talked, we found that we enjoyed the same kind of movies, the kind that people would consider too arty or weird. That was just the beginning. We seemed to share an amazing number of interests: NYT on Sundays, tea, working out, biking and hiking; and hole in the wall ethnic restaurants. Flirting came easily, without any sense of inhibition or shyness, and, as the party broke up, we exchanged phone numbers before leaving, promising to call each other. Unable to contain myself I called her the next day and we spoke for two hours on the phone. Soon we were spending most of our weekends with each other and spending a fair amount of time on the phone every day. We could talk about any subject under the sun, including our past lovers and experiences, and we seemed to understand and respect each other.
Our friendship grew over the months, but neither of us wanted to make that move which would take it to the next level of intimacy, even if the mutual attraction was quite palpable. And then one weekend, when she came over to my place, I was feeling upset over some silly quarrel with my parents on the phone. She sat and listened to me vent and then just leaned over and hugged and held me gently, without saying anything. After a while, when she made to break, I pulled her back, not wanting her to lose the warmth of her touch, the comfort of having her close by. The kiss that followed came naturally — we even took to calling it as the "kiss of truth." We must have sat there kissing each other without saying a word for an hour, relishing this transition, before she made the move. When I felt her hand on my crotch, I got up and, wordlessly started taking her shirt off. We were then running to my bedroom, taking off clothes along the way, laughing and giggling. When we got there, we fell into bed and fucked ourselves into a frenzied orgasm. That was how we became lovers.
She was a refreshing change from all my previous lovers — imaginative and passionate in everything she did. We were together every chance we could; her friends started complaining that she was abandoning them. When it came to making love, she loved oral sex, just like I did. Our lovemaking was like play, like an adventurous exploration of new territories and interiors that we didn't know existed. She taught me a few things: the delicate art of fingernails digging into skin, enough to leave marks without causing much pain. I helped her discover the erotic pleasure of a wet tongue gently swabbing and probing the ear. Freed at last, our mutual erotic desires bloomed to reveal hidden secrets that we had sheltered from our previous lovers. Slowly we were admitting to more and more risqué desires. After a couple of years, we were even beginning to discuss marriage, even though neither of us were interested in starting a family. I was looking forward to having her in my life for a long time, even if not in the "till death do us apart" manner and all that.
But, that's not how things turned out.
Three years after I met her, Sheila received a job offer from an out of state research organization that was well respected. In addition, they offered to pay the tuition fees towards the part time graduate program at the nearby University. Naturally, she took it and moved, with the intention us getting back together at the first opportunity that either one of us got to move. I had come up once to help her settle in. We had kept in touch over the phone, but over the last several years these diminished to calls on birthdays and year end exchange of greetings and polite pleasantries. And then, about three months ago, I was offered a transfer to the regional office located in a smaller town not too far from the city that she lived in. The transfer came with a promotion and a hefty raise which in itself was reason enough to accept it. That it was close to hers made it all the more attractive, despite the apprehension I felt about meeting her and stirring up a hornet's nest of disappointments that was better left alone.
I called and told Sheila about the offer two months ago, expecting no more than a polite congratulation. However, I was surprised by her seemingly genuine excitement over the news. She said that she had been thinking about calling me lately. She made me promise that I would visit her before settling down into my new office. Since I had a couple of weeks off to pack up, relocate, and find a place to live before I started in my new position, I readily agreed and we decided to meet up on the first Saturday after I reached here.
But, after I hung up, the doubts resurfaced. Was she genuinely interested in rebuilding our old relationship, or, was she being merely polite to an old friend? I had to do to find out where she and I stood, which meant I had to meet her face to face. Regardless of what her motivations were, I had to find out and that's what I resolved to do. The reason behind our separation and how I had precipitated it made me nervous about the whole idea of bringing it all up with her again. But it had to be done...
The revelation that I made before she moved marked the beginning of the end of our relationship. We were both worried about the challenges of maintaining our relationship over the long distance, both of us fretting over the hardships and frustrations of such an arrangement. But, we were confident that the strong physical and emotional bond we shared would help us work through those difficulties. Both of us felt that the trust and affection we had built over the years was strong enough for us to persevere despite the challenges. But, we were to be proved wrong even before she moved. Our bond was not as rock solid as we had thought, but a slender web that would be broken by one strong gust of disagreement. That the ill wind blew was my fault — I had rushed the situation and told her things that were inappropriate. And I had lived with the regret of that deed all these years.
A week or so before her move, we were in bed, after having made love, talking about how connected we were to each other, more so than even with our families ... But, I knew that there were things about myself I had kept away from her — things that I wanted her to know, but was afraid to talk about. I wasn't sure when I'd get a chance to tell her. Since we were telling each other how our mutual feeling ran so deep that nothing could break it, I felt I could tell her my secret. That's what started it all — the desire to be true about myself. But, it was the wrong moment for such an admission.
I told her that I had held back on one of my interests and that it'd be better if she knew of it. When she asked me what it was, I confided to her my kinky "interest." She seemed taken aback. After a brief silence, she mumbled that it was not the time to talk about it. Suddenly the conversation came to an abrupt, uneasy halt, all the mutual rah-rahs of a moment ago completely forgotten. Although I wanted to ask her if I had offended her, I felt hesitant and nervous to pursue the topic again, thinking it best to let her respond in her own time. And she never brought it up in any of our subsequent conversations. A week later she was gone. We kept in touch over the phone, but the conversations seemed strained, as if we were making an effort.
A month after she moved, I flew up to visit her as originally planned. I helped her unpack, and put her things together. But, our relationship was stained. When we made love, it seemed out of a sense of duty. Every time we talked, it turned to the difficulties of managing a long distance relationship. I took the gist of it to mean that she was not too keen on continuing our relationship. It seemed to me that neither of us wanted to face up to the real reason -— that she didn't like me for what I had told her. So, I suggested that it might be best for us to stay friends than continue on as lovers. Even though she seemed surprised at first, she didn't disagree. That she didn't feel strongly was further proof to me that she was put off. We didn't talk about it and the next morning I returned home. Thereafter, our communication dwindled to the New Year and birthday cards we exchanged dutifully, barely maintaining a connection.
During the years since we broke up, I had often wondered if our relationship might have turned out for the better had I not told her about my secret desire. Why did I rush into it? Why didn't I just wait a little longer? Why did I strongly seek her approval? Why, after we had decided to stop being lovers, couldn't I just let go of her? Even though I tried hard, I just couldn't stop thinking of what could've been. On the one hand I didn't see continuing with her if she couldn't accept me for who I was. On the other, I just couldn't forget all the things we shared between us. I just couldn't forget her and move on with my life.
Despite the doubts from the past rumbling about in my head, I could detect nothing but warmth and affection in her bright, cheerful smile as we sat facing each other that day. Our conversation felt easy and comfortable, as if we had never lost touch. She told me for the second time how glad she was that I had moved closer, raising my hopes. Of course, my logical mind was still busy coming up with doubts and questions that brushed aside any hopeful signs. Still, my mind was engaged in relentless tug of war:
Perhaps she forgot my kink altogether? Yeah, right!
Maybe she thought that I had outgrown it, or, won't bring it up again? Get real! Why would she think that? She knows you only too well!
Maybe she missed me and wants us to be lovers again? Hah! Fat chance!!
May be she's interested in a platonic friendship? She probably has friends from all these years here. Why then would she want a platonic relationship, particularly since she holds you in contempt?
May be she was ready to accept my peculiar inclinations? Yeah, remember the look on her face when you made the announcement? That was disgust you dodo!!
The dumbfounded look on Sheila's face at the moment of my "revelation" came to my mind as I sat there sipping the lemonade - I must have smirked.
"Hmmm, so, what's that smirk all about, Bim?" Sheila asked playfully, not missing the fleeting expression on my face.
"Oh, nothing really. I just remembered something funny from our past," I said evasively, avoiding the topic that early in our conversation.
Sheila's eyes narrowed, as if trying to fathom the thoughts lurking in my head. She twirled the glass in her hand, smiling at me rather mischievously, her eyes twinkling as they used to when she had something up her sleeve.
"What's that? Tit for tat?" I needled her.
"Perhaps. But then again maybe not. You'll have to wait to find out," she answered equally evasively, lifting her feet and folding them under her on the chair.
As her legs swung up, the clipped patch of auburn of her mound appeared briefly between her smooth and creamy thighs, before it was covered again by the skirt as it fluttered down. It wasn't surprising that she was bare — both of us liked to walk around nude when we lived together. She liked the freedom and comfort, as well as the naughtiness of not wearing underwear, all the more so when we went out. I took it as another good sign. Sheila noticed my glance and sighed softly.
"You know Bim, we had a good thing going, didn't we?" she sounded wistful.
"No doubt about that Sheel," I said, remembering the intimacy and passion of our lovemaking, "vanilla" though it was.
During the time we were lovers, we were both learning to accept our more "unusual" erotic desires. Sheila was the first of my lovers that I trusted enough to confide in my fantasies. Perhaps I felt at ease with her because she was suggested new areas to explore in everything that we did — from movies, trips, books, even if not that much in our lovemaking. She was curious about what interested me as I was about her. We would discuss things we wanted to try until, egging ourselves into doing it.
In our lovemaking, perhaps we were not as adventurous, but even there our trust was strong enough that we tried a few new things. While adjusted into certain areas easily (such as role plays that we would devise), others took more time. We were somewhat hesitant when it came to sexuality, but we were beginning to explore. Except, of course, for my last suggestion to her which had proved fatal to our relationship. Still, I had missed her spunk and vigor as a lover. It was time to see if things had changed.
"So, how's the love life?" I tried to sound nonchalant, as if merely making polite conversation, while, in fact, I was dreading her reply.
"No boyfriends for the past year, although I do have a couple of good friends who are men that I go out with now and then," She hesitated and then asked somewhat stiffly, "How about you, Bim? Are you breaking anyone's heart by moving here?"
I was relieved to find her in the same boat as I. I told her about the few relationships since our last meeting and how they had fizzled due to various reasons, primarily the lack of shared interests and poor compatibility compared with what I had shared with Sheila. I told her about the decision I took a year ago to not get into another romantic relationship where I could not be open and truthful about my inclinations and interests, and, that, as a result, I hadn't seen anyone since taking it. As I explained, she seemed to lighten up a bit.
"Hmmm. 'Inclinations and interests' — is that it, you naughty boy? Maybe you deserved what you got. Or did not get," She snickered, teasing me.
"Really, am I such a bad boy?" I put on a sad face and we both laughed.
"Well, maybe if you behave, we can share some fun, just like the old times?" Her voice rose at the end.
Was it eagerness I detected in her voice? But, what was that bit about "behaving?" Although I was flattered, I wasn't sure whether she meant what she said, or if it was merely friendly teasing.
"Hmmm. Thanks for the offer Sheel. You're a comfort, as always," I left it at that.
Even though it was tempting, what with my self-imposed exile from the kingdom of love that was now running into its second year, I reminded myself that I was not getting back with her while the unanswered question hung like Democlese's sword over my head. And I wasn't ready to bring it up yet — at least not before I had a feel for her intentions towards me. I certainly wasn't going to rush it like the last time.
Over the next hour, our conversation moved on to other topics: our families and friends, work, books we had read and such. Sheila kept excusing herself, going back in to the kitchen. I wondered if she was preparing something elaborate. We had agreed on a light, early dinner before I drove back. When she came back from the kitchen for the umpteenth time, I had to ask.
"Sheel, what's going on? I thought we were having something light? Are you preparing a five course meal in there?"
"No, no - its basic salad and sandwich and ice cream for dessert. I was just checking the water from the tap — it's been off color ever since the plumber came in yesterday to fix the leak in the water main outside. It seems to be alright now."
Later, we had a simple dinner — a salad with a lemon-vinaigrette dressing and turkey sandwiches, and homed made kahlua ice cream. We reminisced about all our old friends, many of whom were at my going away party, and the changes in their lives: marriages, divorces, children and the ones we had lost touch with. Amidst the easy banter, we ate and drank leisurely into the evening. As we were finishing up, she brought out the pitcher and emptied the last of the lemonade into our glasses.
"That's the last of it, Bim. The water from the tap here still seems no good. I should've bought a bottle of spring water, just in case. But, that shouldn't be a problem, I have a bottle of wine."
When I offered to run down to the supermarket down the road, she turned me down, saying she'd get it in the morning. Besides, since there was orange juice in the fridge, it should tide us over. She suggested that I stay overnight unless I was in a hurry to get back to my unpacking.
It was the Friday evening of a long weekend. I felt comfortable with the way things had progressed thus far. Although not a conclusive signal, that she wanted me to stay over was indeed a positive sign. The extra time meant that I could go with the flow — let things proceed at a natural pace. There was time enough to find an apartment and unpack before I started at the new office. I agreed, my hopes growing stronger by the moment.
After clearing the table, Sheila opened the curtains. The sun was not quite down yet, but the horizon was turning crimson. We went back to the sofa and chair where we sat sipping the wine, continuing to catch up on the "lost years." Sheila began to fidget and shift around in the chair. I asked her if she was okay, but she just smiled, shaking her head, brushing aside my concern. After another glass of wine, I began to feel a little thirsty, what with the dry salad and sandwich.
"I'll help myself to some of that juice," I said as I stood up.
"Go ahead. You know where it is. Get me a glass too, if you don't mind."
I went into the kitchen and took the orange juice from the fridge. It smelled bad when I opened it. It was a few days past the expiration date and so I emptied the carton into the sink. I checked the fridge again, but there was nothing else in there — no milk, no juice, and certainly no water. I checked the tap water and it seemed alright, but decided that Sheila knew better. I gave her the news about the juice and offered again to go to the store to get some water and milk.
"No, no Bim. Wait here. I'll be back," she was insistent as she went in to the kitchen and I heard the tap running.
The sun was setting in the distance and the room was flooded with a reddish light. I was examining the books on the book shelf when she returned. She handed me a glass of water. It was warm to the touch. I looked at her, puzzled.
"It's safe!" she gave me a reassuring look and smiled, standing by me next to the sofa, wine glass in hand.
"Boiled water!" my mind surmised.
But when I raised the glass to my lips, I detected a familiar aroma. I glanced at Sheila. She stood there looking into my eyes, her face blank. I brought the glass back up to my nostril, and then I was sure! I felt dizzy with confusion and shock!! It couldn't be! I must have looked comical, because she was smirking again.
"Sheel? Is this? I mean..." my voice trailed off into a helpless croak.
Her eyes glinted with the old mischief. But, there was also a hint of hesitation when she nodded her head. I was completely taken aback by the turn of events. Sheila watched me intently, as if wondering what I'd do next. I looked into her eyes as I slowly took a sip from the glass. The warm liquid was lemony. The smell that wafted from the glass was undeniably her musk, the scent of her arousal.
"The lemonade has left its mark Sheel," I commented breathlessly.
"Do you like it?" her voice betrayed nervousness, now receding.
In answer, I raised the glass to my mouth and gulped the rest down.
"May I have some more, please? I'm very thirsty," I said, voice quivering with nervous excitement.
She sighed, relieved, and almost ran to the kitchen and returned with another glass in her hand. She had never looked so happy and radiant!!!
"Will you help me fill these?" she asked, standing in front of me, looking me straight in the eye, as she handed the second glass to me.
Her forthrightness was shockingly delightful. I could only nod my head, having lost my voice altogether, as I began to understand why she had gone to fetch another glass. My heart was pounding violently in my chest, as if it wanted to get out and go thumping around the room.
Sheila twisted around, and unzipping her skirt, let it fall to the ground. My gaze followed the skirt as it slid down her smooth thighs and toned legs, then back up her to her hip, stopping at the well groomed mound. I relived the pleasures of our happier days by a mere glance of her pink, pouty pussy lips, a darker shade along the edges with hints of the deeper pink showing beyond the wet and glistening entrance, the pert clitoris peeking from behind its sheltering hood above it, all topped off by the mound of her clipped pubes. The view of the wet, soft petals of her pussy coupled with the aroma of her musk cast a mesmerizing spell, taking my breath away and making me giddy. I looked back up at her, catching her eyes, glittering with the passion and liveliness that I had so longed for. She picked her skirt up and flung it on the chair.
"God, you are as beautifully dazzling as ever darling," I managed to croak again, finding it difficult to get my voice above a whisper.
I was fast losing any resolve on keeping a strong front anymore. But then again, the resolution to stay aloof and guarded seemed so meaningless, since, with just one gesture, she had skipped past all those questions that my rational mind wanted answers for. Her gestures had rushed my mind past doubts and questions. What was there to be careful about anymore?
Sheila stepped forward and lifting her left foot, rested it on the armrest of the sofa beside me. Sliding forward, I held my now empty glass underneath the fragrant petals of her engorged flower, that object of my resurrected desire. Our eyes locked, hers sparkling and glazed with the naughtiness of what she was about to do. The sight of her standing half naked, about to give me more of her nectar made the anticipation unbearable. I could feel the feverish heat rising from my depths, sweeping across my body. The veins in my neck pulsed hot with the rush of blood, and my heart put out a fierce beat, as if it was about to explode like a nuclear bomb, mushroom cloud and all. I wondered if she could hear it thumping away.
Her eyes partially closed, she tried to concentrate, and then her shoulders quivered and a tremor traversed her torso, reverberating in her hips and parted thighs. A long sigh escaped from her slightly parted lips. She moved forward, supporting herself with her elbow on the raised thigh, head bent down so that her gaze was fixed on the glass between her thighs. As her body relaxed and steadied, a squirt of liquid emerged from between those luscious lips followed by further spurts. It then formed a thin stream, which hugged her thigh on its way down. I pushed the glass against her thigh to catch the flow. As the glass started filling, the stream steadied and separated from her thigh, now falling straight out from between her labia — a small, clear rivulet splashing into the glass.
As I sat listening to the glass fill, I abruptly remembered the large pitcher of lemonade sitting in the kitchen when I first came in. She had poured out the "last glass" of lemonade at dinner from that pitcher. It was almost full when I arrived. I must have had at most two glasses of lemonade. The reason for her frequent trips to the kitchen was now clear. She must have drunk most of the lemonade while we were talking! No wonder she grew increasingly fidgety after the meal!! She must have planned this whole thing beforehand! The little devil!!!
I was stunned, but, I was already shell shocked by then — a little more stunning hardly mattered. Still, I felt smug to have unraveled her secret. After my glass was almost full, I took the one she was holding in her hand and switched it in to the path of her stream. Holding both the glasses, one full and the other filling up, I watched and listened to the pleasant sound of her stream as it swished into the glass. Sheila was watching carefully as the second glass filled up noisily. As the warm liquid rose in the glass, she visibly struggled to stop the flow. With a spurt or two towards the end she managed to stop her stream just before the glass overflowed.
"Great control, baby. You must have had a lot of practice at this," my compliment was delivered with a sly smile that was part teasing, but more lust.
"It's your fault — you planted this idea in my head!" she blushed, pouting at me in mock accusation.
"Lucky me!" I retorted.
She took one of the glasses from me and we took our seats, she sitting opposite me, naked below her waist and with her legs lightly parted, so that I had a clear view of her lovely mound and the crevice at its center, the lips and pubic hair now glistening with a mixture of her juices and the droplets of her stream that glistened like dew drops on grass. I couldn't believe that she'd be so unabashedly open about something that she had dismissed outright in the past. Not only that, she was drinking her own sweet pee!! We started sipping from our respective glasses, sitting quietly. So many feelings and thoughts swirled around in me that I didn't know what to say.
"I've looked forward to seeing you every day since you called me Bim. And growing horny at the same time," she said finally, with a sly smile.
I had to take a few breaths before I could say anything as I was in no condition to respond clearly. I nodded my head as the strength of speech returned ever so slowly and agonizingly.
"Oh, God, Sheel! I came here expecting worse — much worse — thinking that you had kept away from me because of my interest in watersports. I can't tell you how much this means to me! How reassuring, comforting it is to know that I didn't lose you after all. Remember those days when I spent hours tonguing you? I used to fantasize that you would start flowing into my mouth and I would drink it all up. But I was so hesitant to tell you about it. And when I did tell you..." I paused. "I was sure you were offended when I told you. Were you? Did you have a change of heart since then?"
"Hmm ... I don't think it was as much taking offense as being caught off guard, Bim. But, it did take me a while to come to terms with it. At first I was surprised that anyone would consider watersport erotic — it seemed so ... well, strange to me. You know? But, the weird thing is, after we parted, the idea kept playing over and over in my head. I really was curious about the whole thing and eventually had to admit that it was ... umm ... interesting enough to investigate?" she smiled, tilting her head to the side as she held the glass to her cheek.
She looked so beautiful and wanton, the picture of a little slut who was completely in control of the situation and had me eating from her hand (or, was it drinking from her pussy?). I could feel my cock harden into a concrete pillar, straining to get out and inflict revenge upon her. But, I just sat there, biding my time as I waited her to continue.
"After you called me, I decided to do some serious research on the subject, and discovered that it was not so uncommon a practice after all, provided one takes certain steps — you know, stuff like hygiene and dilution. What's more, I found out that pee is even used medicinally - imagine that!" she paused, as if still unable to come to terms with it, "And so I thought that I'd see for myself what it felt like. It took me a couple of tries to build up the gumption to do it. But, once past that initial hesitation, I quickly found out that I enjoyed it immensely."
"What kind of research did you do? I mean where did you find the material?" I managed to ask in a shaky voice.
"Oh, on the web, of course. There's tons of material there. Of course, there's also tons of porn out there, which really didn't do much for me. What really did the trick was a really well written — very tastefully written, I must say -- manual on the topic. The way it was described really put me at ease. You know, it was just a matter of overcoming conditioned behavior and attitudes," she sighed, "as with other things."
"I know the watersports manual that you're referring to. That is exactly how I feel about it too," I answered, wondering what she meant by "other things."
"Once I realized I liked it, I wanted to tell you about it, but ... Well, I wasn't sure what the point was, since I didn't know if we would get together at all. At least it seemed that way with us before you called me. I wondered if you were going out with someone. I don't know ... I ... well ... I didn't want to muddy the situation further," she looked at me ruefully, taking another sip from the glass, before continuing.
"That's why I didn't tell you anything about it on the phone. Once I was sure you were available," she laughed, "well ... here we are, Bim! Thanks for coming over sweetie. I missed you all these years."
So there it was. I sat there shaking my head, feeling cheated. The whole thing was tragi-comic. Instead of an aversion towards it, Sheila was really into watersports, even partaking in the pleasure by herself. She loved that one thing that I thought was the reason for her animosity towards me. I had given her the wrong signals by prematurely concluding that she didn't want to continue our relationship based on her initial hesitation. If only we had both been more patient and open with each other, and not rushed to judge each other, we needn't have suffered through years of mental self-torture. What touched me deeply was that she had only meant me well in not revealing her interest towards me. I realized that we had to quickly get past the regrets and let bygones be bygones.
"Awww, Sheel. Looks like both of us had read the situation and each other wrong. I thought you were offended with the whole thing and felt uncomfortable with me. When I suggested that we remain friends when I came up here just after you moved, I was trying to salvage a relationship that I thought I had wrecked. I wish I had shown more faith in your feelings towards me and trusted you to come to terms with it in your own time," I paused, "And, I appreciate your reasons for you not telling me — I felt the same way. I'm really touched that you were thinking of not hurting my feelings. I can't tell you how sorry I've felt through these years for not giving you the space and time to come to terms with it and for bringing it up as you were in the midst of the move."
Sheila gave a wry smile, nodding in agreement. The years apart, full of fears, doubts, and longing were regrettable and could've been easily avoided. But, at last they were finally over — the time we had lost was surely not a complete waste. The separation had helped us acknowledge the depth of the connection we had with each other. It gave Sheila the space to accept her interest in watersports and at her own pace. In many ways, it had strengthened the relationship, even if the path had proved to be tortuous and risky.
"Well, hey, let's make up for all that lost time now! All's well that ends well. Yes?" She said, as if reading my mind.
"Yes. Water under the bridge, I suppose," I concurred.
"Oh, yes ... and more to flow! But, for the better this time!" She giggled in response.
It was a relief to be past the mutual doubts we had of each other. We both sat quietly for a while, smiling at each other like silly teenagers. I still couldn't believe that we were sitting there doing something that was so overpowering in its kinkiness.
"God, this is so good, so lemony! I want some more..."
"Well, we're not quite done yet bad boy! You'll have to drink the rest of it at its source. You think you can get off that easy?" Sheila interrupted me.
"Of course not!" I assured her, and then continued with a wink, "But, in a way, I am certainly "getting off," aren't I? We both are, yes?"
"Smart ass!" She retorted, her lips wet and glistening.
I emptied the rest of the glass, relishing every drop of it. I stood up and quickly shed my clothing as Sheila whistled encouragingly as each item came off my body. My cock, free at last, stood proudly at full mast, as if saluting the renewal of our relationship. She took one last gulp from her glass and stood up and took her blouse off. Her small breasts topped by pert, longish pink nipples, appeared, inviting my tongue and lips to romp around those delicious mounds and suck upon the rubbery nubbins.
Stepping forward simultaneously we fell into a passionate kiss, my lips trapping her lower lip and reveling in its softness. Our hands clasped each other, pulling us into each other. My turgid root was crushed between our groins, the top of it snuggling against her soft belly, the curls of her pubes surrounding it like vines climbing a tree. As my lips fully meshed with hers, her tongue invaded my mouth, and behind it, a small flood, the last gulp she had taken from her glass, flowed into my mouth. A rush of surprise and excitement swept up and down my body. Swishing the liquid around, I passed it back into her mouth. As I swirled my tongue in to her mouth, she pushed a portion of the liquid back into my mouth, swallowing the rest. I drank it down greedily — I couldn't seem to get enough of Sheila's sweet stream. Her eyes twinkled. Suddenly I felt very thirsty.
"Sheel," my voice sounded like a frog croaking from within a well, "I need to drink more from your tasty fountain, please?"
"That's a good boy," she murmured approvingly, between sharp breaths, "and good boys are always rewarded."
But, I wasn't going to let her get away with manipulating me so. However cunning her plan was, I was determined to reverse the situation and inflict some surprise and torture on her in return.
"Oh yeah? And you've been a very naughty girl, haven't you Sheel? You planned the whole thing — you made up that story about the water; you knew the orange juice was stale; and, sneakiest of all, you drank most of that pitcher of lemonade. I bet the tap water is quite safe?"
She laughed as she hugged me closer to her, grinding her hips and causing my cock to roll helplessly like a log between our torsos. Then to top it off, she stuck her tongue out, mocking me, adding insult to injury. I kissed her again, kissing and licking her face, worshipping her cheeks, chin, and neck in turn. My tongue glided over the ridges on her ears and her earlobes, slowly penetrating her ear, making her giggle and shiver. I drifted further down, to her breasts and exquisite nipples, her hand holding my head, caressing it encouragingly, her fingers fondling and running through the hair. I shifted from one breast to another, suckling greedily on her rubbery nipples, pulling my head away now and then until her nipples popped out between my lips, making her shiver with pleasure. Suddenly her hands were on my shoulders, pushing me away from her.
"Enough, Bim! Sit down! I've been holding back long enough. Now it is time for you to do your duty," She ordered me in a stern voice, like a schoolteacher disciplining a student.
With a last kiss, she pushed me down on the sofa, and I sat there, my gaze level with her navel and hips. I was somewhat surprised at this take-charge-assertive side of Sheila, which was unlike her in the past. Not that she was ever shy or reticent, but now, she seemed intent on putting me through the paces. Appealing as it was, it was also clear that there were other reasons for her rushing things along. After all, she was desperate after drinking all that lemonade. That realization set the gears in my wicked mind turning — here was the perfect opportunity to take my revenge!
Sheila turned around slowly and deliberately, until her smooth, rounded derriere was in front of my face, and stood looking over her shoulders at me with a sly smile, as full of lust as love. The soft globes of her ass, and her firm, strong thighs, had now taken the place of her juicy cleft and the turf of trimmed soft hair that were in front of me a moment ago.
The cheeks of her derriere enthralled me — the smooth, rich creaminess of the skin, the fleshy, well-rounded, shapely heft of her buns, and the way they met each other in the receding valley in between. It was electrifying, and a tingle ran down my spine until it reverberated in the increasing stiffness and girth of my cock, making it throb and stiffen. The head of my cock peeked out from under the foreskin, pink and shiny, like a spectator come out to watch the show that was about to begin.
Sheila started slowly and deliberately bending down at the waist, unfolding a voluptuous and sensuous sight that dazzled my eyes. As she leaned forward, the valley between her mounds opened up, gradually revealing the hidden delights between them. It was like the mist lifting off a mountainous river gorge revealing nature's bounty down below. Her ass cheeks spread apart, unfolding like a book, bringing into view Sheila's sweet rosebud. The whiff of her feminine musk mixed with the faint scent of a light perfume and summer sweat swept across my nostrils. The smooth cheeks of her globes slowly distended, twin fleshy mound jutting up into the air, each dome a shrine that I longed to worship. Mounted atop the pillars of her toned legs, they shone in the crimson evening light streaming in through the windows rousing in me feelings that were almost religious. As she continued to bend forward further, her effort made her pucker contract, tightening the skin around and pulling it inwards.
I remembered the first time I paid homage to that sweet bud. When I first brought up anal play, Sheila was hesitant. At her suggestion, we had bought books on the topic to educate ourselves on hygiene, physiology and other aspects of anal sex. After substantial preparation she allowed me to touch and feel her, progressing slowly to rubbing without penetrating. I had taken to it more readily then her, unabashedly using my tongue to rim her without her permission, making her squirm with pleasure, even if hesitantly. The desire to pleasure her anus felt natural to me -— the scent of her rosebud was intensely arousing and the roughness and texture of the crinkly skin a delight to my tongue. She, on the other hand, was hesitant to let even her finger wander between my cheeks just once, a fleeting gesture of reciprocity at best. We were just newcomers to that wayward pleasure when we parted ways. Now, I was giddy with the prospect of resuming it.
As she continued to bend further, her split pussy came into view, upside down, like a secret entrance of a cavern between the pillars of her legs. The lips of her flowery quim, pressed tight against each other like a bud yet to bloom, followed by her fleshy mound of Venus covered in short curls rolled in beneath her rose bud. Finally, her face appeared between her feet, below the knees, her short hair hanging down from her head. She had pulled all the stops and presented herself in a way that she knew would turn me to mush and putty.
"Drink up all my lemonade Bim! I know you are thirsty," she purred, ordering, cajoling and pleasing me at the same time.
My breathing had stopped altogether. The air was trapped in my lungs, its movement arrested by a fantastic failure of the involuntary response system. I was totally captivated by the slow unfolding of Sheila's charms; charms that she had revealed with such effective drama that even the nervous responses of my body were thrown into disarray. I heard the blood pounding in my temples and felt overcome with a trembling that took over my whole body. My tongue was parched and I felt dizzy, light in the head as if I was going to faint. I was going mad with the giddy delight and desire to just give myself up to the long forgotten love and lust. Sheila had rekindled those faint embers into a roaring fire. Lost to reason, thought, logic, caution — all the rational faculties — I was swept away by the swift currents of desire, floating helplessly, immersed in the mystical grace of her sluttish offering. It was with difficulty that I willed myself out of that trance. Taking a couple of breaths I looked into her upturned eyes, gazing at me encouragingly, insistently, and lustily. Tempted as I was to give in and do her bidding, I decided that it was time to spring my surprise on her!!
"You have been a very naughty, the way you had planned and set up this whole thing and didn't even give me a hint, Sheel!! You're going to get what you want, but, it's time for you to listen to me rather than order me around," I said in as firm a voice as I could muster (truth be told, my innards where quivering, and I had to resort to whispering to hide the tremor in my voice).
The words seemed to have a chastening effect, as the anticipation on Sheila's face turned to surprise and she stared at me in confusion.
"I can't hold out longer. I have to go soon, Bim!" she toned her voice down, perhaps in response to my whisper, perhaps in true desperations.
"Oh no, you're not going anywhere lassie," I reasserted my authority, taking pleasure in derailing her well laid out plan, "A naughty woman like you needs to learn to those who love you first."
"So what do you want me to do? Should I stand up? Do you want me on the couch? Let me at least go a bit — I can't bear this too long," she pleaded.
Now that I had her attention, I put into action a long forgotten fantasy. I wanted to tease and torture her, but at the same time, heighten her pleasure — slowly and deliberately.
"You better not do anything foolish Sheila. First, you show me your lovely behind, spreading it in front of my eyes so deliberately, driving me nuts. And, now, you want to rush through this? That's as bad as giving a blind man sight only to blindfold him! Don't give me all this bull about having to go — I'm sure you can hold for a bit longer what with all that control you have been showing off. Besides, you deserve the discomfort you are feeling, given the way you set this whole thing up!" I said firmly, and issued my orders to my hapless lover, "Hold the position, keep quiet and keep your eyes open. Whatever I do, you call tell me how it feels and express your pleasure or displeasure. Otherwise, not a word from you! Is that clear?"
"Sure, whatever you say Bim," her voice was unsteady, but she was smiling despite her mounting desperation, beginning to enjoy the suspense.
Locking my gaze into her upturned eyes, I brought my hands down to the inside of her knees and ran them lightly against her inner thighs, almost up to her protruding pubis, grazing her skin with the back of my hands. At the top, my fingers withdrew, running over the back of her smooth thighs, without touching the upturned mound or the clipped field of pubic hair, caressing the firmness of the ass, and moving outwards to the waist. From there, I reversed the movement, as my hands wandered inwards along her buns, the fingertips gently grazing along the inside of her ass cheeks. As they approach her rose bud, I withdrew all my fingers except a thumb, which went around her pucker, my skin barely grazing hers, hovering above the crinkled skin, tracing gentle, lazy circles around it several times. Then I let my fingers go back to her buns, away from the crevice, traveling to the outside of her legs, caressing the skin with my palms. From there, they went down her outer thighs down to her knees, rubbing her smooth skin a bit more briskly. I ended the circle with the back of my fingers gently caressed the inside of her knees, which I knew to be sensitive. She bit down on her lower lip and a low, long moan escaped her. The treatment was definitely having an effect.
"Oh, God! This is torture ... Bim, what are you doing to me?"
In answer, I let my hands repeat the routine, this time pinching the skin close to her anus lightly as my fingers got close by. To my delight, her breathing turned to gasps and her tense muscles shivered in response to my ministrations. After a couple more caresses, she was moaning incoherently, and her legs started shaking from the erotic charge building up in her body. Her mound of Venus protruded out like a rounded hill, more pronounced. The engorged pink lips of her pussy were drenched with glistening juices as they began to flood out and the air grew thick with the scent of the musk. Her rose bud puckered in spasms, pulling and releasing the rough skin in and out of the sweet pit of her anus. Around the fifth "rub down," I noticed the juices slowly dripping down the outer lips of her pussy, collecting in the upside down hood of her clitoris. Her clit was engorged and fully erect, and her labored, rapid breathing reflected itself in her rose bud contracting and puckering which in turn only stoked my excitement and lust. I could barely control myself as I ran my hands over her one more time. Then, with her looking on, I leaned forward from the edge of the sofa, lowering my mouth to her clitoris. Extended my tongue, I gently let it rest on the hood as my upper lip clamped down from above on her clitoris, trapping and draining the juices that lay collected in it.
"Aaaahhhh ... Bim. I can't take it anymore! Put your tongue in me, please, please," she moaned.
Ignoring her pleas and taking care not to let my nose nudge into her luscious pussy lips, despite the attraction of the unbearably intoxicating aroma and a desire to taste her, I withdrew from her luscious flower. It was hard to restrain myself when every ounce of me wanted to thrust my tongue in and drink from her pussy straight away; and to allow her to release her tangy stream into my parched mouth.
"I told you to keep quiet. You may only express your pleasure, Sheila. Nothing more, nothing less! Is that clear?" I reminded her as firmly as I could, but my resolve was fast dwindling away.
She nodded, upside down, as her hands reached for my legs. She desperately wanted to get her hands on my erection or, if she could, grab my head and pull it back between her thighs, but that was impossible in the position that she was in.
"And don't even think of touching my cock! I want you to focus on the feelings in your body."
With that, I started running my tongue up her left thigh, working a wet trail up towards her buns. Taking my time, I wandered slowly with my tongue on each side, while dodging her attempts to move her pussy or rosebud towards my tongue. In her attempts to get my tongue to the center of her sweet bottom, she shifted her weight from one foot to another, dancing in desperation.
"You are cruel Bim. This is really torture ... why are you doing this to me ... I need to go, I really do!" She started wailing.
I wanted to give in, but forcing myself to ignore her, I kept running my tongue across her buns, at times drawing close to her rose bud or her mound but always avoiding full contact. If I felt her move her delights towards my mouth, I moved away to her thighs or the outer edges of her hips, nibbling her skin gently with my teeth. To increase the tension further, now and then I licked the juices as they collected in her clitoral hood, but rapidly, without lingering to play with her clit. When she had been moaning suchly for a few minutes, I knelt beside her to kiss her on the mouth. Our tongues met in combat, trying to push into each other's inflamed mouth. Her hands reached out to grab and caress my cock and rub my tight sack.
"Enough! Sheila, I asked you to stay still and you start playing with my cock! Get on your arms and knees!" I croaked as firmly as I could, taking her hand away from my cock.
Once she had her hand on my erection, I knew I would lose all control of myself, leave alone controlling her!!
"No, no, but..." she said, as if to resist, but I pushed her gently from behind, with my arm around her hips to steady her as she stumbled forward. She caught the edge of the chair and came down gently on all fours, her lovely derriere sticking out invitingly. She looked over her shoulder at me anxiously, her eyes pleading for release from the torment. I moved up beside her on all fours, and as we kissed, ran my hand through her hair, down her neck, giving her back a brisk but gentle rub up and down until I felt her body relax ever so slightly. Our breathing subsided somewhat and she returned the favor of a rub to my back. Quickly, I dove underneath to pay homage to her pert breasts, taking her taut nipples between my lips, firmly rolling and nibbling at them.
"Mmmm," she moaned softly.
Sensing her urgency, I quickly let my tongue leave a wet trail further south to her navel, while my hands continued gently pinching and pulling at her taut nipples. Our bodies began to tighten up again. Retrieving myself from underneath her I moved into position behind her. By now, Sheila's legs were spread apart, and I could see that her happy valley was indeed happily and completely sodden with gushing ambrosia. Composing myself, I forward to her lower back, and starting with a kiss, let my tongue wander slowly down her spine.
"Bim, I really can't hold it anymore!" she complained, and got her derriere swatted in response.
"Ouch! You bum!!! I'll get you for this!!!" she threatened in a low voice.
Ignoring her, I continued, my tongue now at the top of the rift between her buttocks. I lifted my head up, interrupting the trail I had drawn down her spine momentarily.
She was almost sobbing "Noooo! Please, please don't stop Bim!"
I waited just a few seconds, and then, stiffening my tongue I plunged it straight between her cheeks right into the center of her rose bud. Her breath rushed out in a short, sharp sigh and she momentarily stiffened.
"Oh, yes, yes, stick your tongue in! Stick it in to my ass! I want it! I want it bad!!" She started moaning and screaming, enjoying at last the assault that she had been courting so long without success.
My tongue caressed her anus eagerly, running over the puckered skin, and after a couple of swirls, I stiffened and drove it in to the center. With the prodding and cajoling of my tongue, her outer ring gradually relaxed, allowing deeper access in to it. Encountering the second ring, my tongue swiveled around it, stretching it and releasing it slowly into allowing even deeper penetration. Sheila leaned forward, resting her shoulder and head on the floor. Then, placing her hands one on each cheek, she pulled them apart, encouraging my now delighted tongue to delve further and deeper. I plundered her pucker, luxuriating in the softness and wetness deeper inside. Then, just as suddenly as I had started it, I withdrew. She gasped and turned around to look at me.
"What the ... I'm about to burst!!" Her voice was pleading.
I didn't have the heart to tease her any further. I wanted to give in to our mutual craving.
"But you're enjoying it, aren't you?" I asked her, and she gave me a dazed look, her eyes crazed with the pleasure and mounting desperation.
"Yes, but..." she began, and before she could continue further, my mouth was clamped on her pussy lips, my tongue invading that orchid's stem, extracting as much of her slick, slippery, tangerine nectar as it could. Her voice, cut short, continued to repeat hoarsely, "Oh God, oh God..." as if she was under some spell. I ran my tongue all around her pussy, extracting and drinking every drop of her slick, creamy juice that my tongue could get to through the sluice of her turgid pussy lips. I then lowered my mouth to her clit, sucking her hood between my lips, my tongue gently tapping her clit. Her whole body stiffened as I introduced two fingers into her soaking wet pussy, sliding them back and forth deeply a few times, before pulling them out.
"Put it back in their Bim, you lousy..." She screamed.
But when I offered my now slick fingers to her mouth, she cut short her protestation and greedily sucked the creamy juice off my fingers. When I looked between her legs again, her stream had started in dribbles and spurts, despite her desperate attempts to control herself. There was only one thing to do...
Pulling my hand away from Sheila's face, I lay down on the floor and she followed quickly, straddling my face. As she lowered her sweet pussy towards my mouth, she leaned towards my feet, taking my cock in her mouth. She started vigorously pumping her head up and down, her tongue twisting like a frenzied helix around my turgid rod. My tongue busied itself, briskly exploring the depth of Sheila's passion fruit, tasting the warm waters dribbling out of it, my nose now happily smothered in her anus. Her body stiffened and then relaxed again, and soon a trickle of her warm, lemony fountain started flowing into my eager mouth.
She stopped sucking me, her breath warm on my erection, as she tried to relax until the stream picked up in strength. Her sweet anus puckered and pulsed against my nose, filling it with the musk of her derriere. I was in heaven!! She lost control a couple of times and her jet spurted into my mouth. Then as she steadied the flow, she started to suck my cock again, vigorously. I realized that I was fast losing control as her tongue lashed the mast in her mouth. If I was going to concentrate on her, I had to get her away from my cock, and quickly.
Following Sheila's stream with my tongue, I located the source of that fountain and then pressed my tongue firmly against it, stemming the flow. She moaned in surprise and tried to wiggle her hips and free her pussy off my tongue so that she could continue to relieve her bursting vessel. I held on to her hips with both my hands, and quickly replaced my struggling tongue with a finger. In between, a short, sharp, torrent escaped her pussy and drenched my face and hair.
"Sheel, stop it! Do it now!"
I could see her efforts to obey me reflected in her rose bud as it puckered and tightened, as she brought her stream to a stop. I kissed her rose bud and tongued it in encouragement while she moaned in a confusion of agony and ecstasy. In a while, she seemed to have regained her control. She lowered her head to take and swirl my balls around in her wet mouth. Her finger was now going around to my ass. I moved to regain control of the situation.
"Stand up, the way you were before." I ordered her, with my finger still pressing against her pee hole.
She struggled to her feet unsteadily, I took the few spurts that now escaped from her pussy on my chest. She stood facing the sofa and bent forward, head hanging down as before, peering at me between her legs. I followed her quickly, kneeling behind her and placing my mouth close to her cleft, my nose settling gently into her ass. This time, her stream started up without any effort. I could hear her sigh and feel her body relax.
"Ooooh, so good, soo goood..." she kept repeating as she let go.
Her fountain started fast and what I couldn't drink, spilled from my mouth, down my jaw, flowing down my chest to my cock and balls on its way to the floor. Sheila's cupped hand reached up to my chin to gather the spill, which she then took back to her eager mouth. In time, her stream held steady and I greedily drank as much as I could, savoring the slight saltiness and lemony flavor of her pee, flavored by the creamy thick juices from her pussy.
"Drink it! Drink it!! Straight from my pussy!!" she cheered me on in between sighs and moans of lust mingled with pleasure and relief.
To hear her speak in such a brazen and wanton manner only served to heighten my passion. Her hands were around my cock, caressing it, and I was too lost in the immediate sensations, too immersed in what I was doing, to care about restraining her anymore. The slight hiss of the sound of her stream, the smell of her pussy, and the softness of her thighs as they rubbed against my face and chest and the feel of the crinkled skin of her anus against my nose -— all these sensations drove me into a state of absolute bliss and dizziness. My head felt light and airy, as I continued to gulp and drink Sheila's steady stream flowing straight into my thirsty mouth.
Above her streaming pussy, the crater of her sweet anus puckered with her efforts at controlling the flow. Overcome with the desire to feel its contractions, I wet my middle finger in her stream and gently inserted it into her pucker, sliding it in easily all the way in one movement. I pulled my mouth back once in a while, so that her stream shot out unhindered, and coursed its way in to my open mouth. She could see it emerge from her pussy and traverse along an arc through the air, glittering in the fading light of the setting sun, before entering my waiting, eager mouth.
"So beautiful, Bim! Oooo, it feels so good!" she cooed her appreciation lustily.
As she struggled to keep her flow steady, I slid my finger in and out of her flexing rosebud, going in as her muscles loosened, and pulling out against the stricture of the rings as they tightened. Finally, her fountain slowed to a trickle and I held as much as I could in my mouth as it came to a dribbling halt. I took her clit between my lips, gently pressing on her hood as I sucked on it, until her whole body trembled and she moaned loudly as she came, pressing back into me. I held her by her hips, pulling her close and gently rubbing my lips against her lush labial petals.
As the tremors of her orgasm subsided, I pulled myself up on wobbly feet. My finger slipped slowly out from her sweet bottom. She too stood up and we fell into each other's arms, kissing. As her lips meshed into mine, I let the liquid I was holding in my mouth pass in to hers. She drank it down eagerly, moaning into my mouth. She continued to tremble, quivering as the after shocks of her orgasm traversed her body. We continued kissing until our breathing slowed and, finally, stumbled back on the leather sofa next to each other. Sheila smiled at me, her eyes soft and tender as she kissed me.
"My god! No guy had ever made me come like that!!" She said, her words choked with emotion, "Welcome back into my life, sweetie. I'm so glad we're back together."
"Me too, Sheel. You've quenched my thirst with the tastiest lemonade ever," I whispered in her ear as she hugged me tightly.
"You're welcome," she giggled. "Well, talking about quenching thirst, what are we going to do about my mine?"
"Hmmm, what would you like to drink?" I teased her.
Sheila laughed softly as she gently caressed my aching balls and cock with her fingers. Her fingers grazed slowly up and down my cock, and her hand gently cradled my balls. We kissed again and she started licking her juices that coated my lips and cheeks, purring with pleasure.
"Darn, no wonder you are so obsessed with my pussy, Bim. Mmmm ... this tastes so good," she ran the tip of her tongue slowly around her lips.
"Not just your pussy, but every part of you and all of you," I corrected her.
"Mmm. Right you are. The things you do with your tongue to me. Lord! And what you did to my ass ... Lordy, lordy!!" she whispered in her approval in my ear.
It was true —I hadn't indulged in anal play ever before with such abandon. And, Sheila was completely unabashed about her desire for it as well. She was more than encouraging — she was downright disappointed and didn't conceal her disapproval when I stopped caressing her lovely behind.
Her hand encircled the shaft of my cock, slowly pulling back on it until the head was bulging from under the foreskin, like a ripening plum, glistening with the juices of precum that coated it. As she squeezed, another pearly drop of pre-cum appeared at the tip, ready to drip down. I quickly wiped it off with my finger, and bringing up to my mouth, flicked my tongue to taste it.
"So creamy and salty! Even better than your sweet honey," I teased her.
"Typical selfish male, aren't you? No consideration or sense of fairness! Brute!" She chided me and swatted my shoulder with her palm.
Sheila lowered her head to my cock, still throbbing from the tight grip of her fingers at its base. Her warm mouth surrounded the head and I could feel her tongue running all around the wet bulbous end, as she savored the juice coating it. Her appreciative moans sent gentle vibrations reverberating into my cock head, creating tingles running up and down the shaft and into my balls. My hips and thighs quivered uncontrollably in response. She then raised her head just above my cock, as if inspecting it carefully. Her pointed tongue darted out, its tip gently running over the little slit at the top, parting it aside. My cock, starved so long of any attention and already sensitive from the prolonged hardness of the past half an hour or so, experienced mini-jolts of currents that now encircled the head as if an electrical storm was raging over it's surface. My lower body twitched involuntarily with every jolt.
"My God! Gently, gently!" I begged, laying my hand at the back of her head and gently pushing it, hoping she would take the hint and let the entire length of my throbbing cock slide in to her mouth.
"Just suck it, will you Sheel?" I said it outright when she kept jabbing at my cock with her tongue.
"Now, now." Sheila looked up at me, as her fingers continued to grip the girth my stiff and quivering cock, "Just a little touch and you start pushing me around. After all that you put me through. Hmmm?"
I could see from her eyes that she was beginning to enjoy my agony. She had me by the balls now — literally!! I was sure that her pretty head was busy scheming. I kept caressing her hair, hoping she would get back to what she was doing, trying to figure out how to encourage her along. I was ready to burst -— if only she would touch me, caress me, pay attention to me.
"Let's see ... What was it that you told me? Hold the position, keep quiet and just watch? No sound from you except in appreciation? Isn't that what you told me? Hmm? Guess what? Now it's the ganders turn!" she smiled at me, her eyes dancing wildly.
"Okay, sure. But, remember that I was the victim of your wicked plot in the first place. Be kind," I tried to humor her and appeal to her sense of fairness, feeling helpless and foolish.
"Oh, yeah! Sure! What about the torture I went through, obeying your every whim and wish. Eh, cruel master? Didn't I suffer at your hands? Without complaining? Hmmm?" She knew she had me cornered.
There was no point in arguing with her. Besides, what I wanted was not to win a damn debate, but for her go back to whatever it is that she wanted to do with my cock! Anything!
"You're in control ma'am! I am your obedient servant." I hoped feigning surrender would move things forward.
Beg 'em if you can't beat 'em.
She laughed softly, shaking her head at me in admonishment, seeing through my ruse. She knew my desperation and she knew I was playing along, hoping that she'd move forward. She got up and sat down on the floor, in front of me, between my parted legs, momentarily easing the grip at the root of my erection. And for added effect, she ran her tongue around her lips to tease me, before bending down to kiss the tip of my turgid, impatient wand all the while watching me with her steady eyes.
"You know, you do taste creamy and salty. Just as you used to — at least that hasn't changed."
She grasped my cock holding it with her palm and fingers in a semi-circle so that she gripped midway, leaving the bulb and the bottom half the way down to the balls was exposed to her mouth and tongue. Watching my expression, she lowered her head to the tip of my agonized wand. Her tongue darted out again, to the tip of the turgid bulb, sending electric jolts dancing around the stretched head again. But, this time, she quickly moved down, licking and gripping the flesh of the tumescence between her lips. She paid particular attention to the corona where the head meets the shaft, running her tongue all around the sensitive edge. After tonguing forcefully around the ridge a few times, she continued licking and nibbling her way down, until she reached the very base of my cock. Taking a pause, she considered my balls, which were by then curled up in a tight pouch. The clean shaven skin was bunched up, rough and in ridges, like a pair of prunes.
"Ooooh. Look at these cuties. Tight and juicy!"
She caressed the bundle with her free hand, brushing and rubbing it in her palm, cupping and squeezing it, scratching it with the trimmed nails on her fingers.
"Ahhh. That feels so good!" I moaned, looking into her passionate eyes.
She lowered her head again and started running her tongue along the rough surface of the sac, wetting them and leaving them shiny with saliva. She then took the whole bulge between her lips, teasing the balls into her mouth, rolling them around with her lips, caressing them with her roving tongue. At times, one or the other slipped out from her mouth, making her go after it with her lips. An incredible range of tingling sensations gripped my groin and inner thighs: the wetness of her saliva on the skin; the tremors and shivers along my inner thighs; and the interminable straining that my cock was being subjected to in her merciless grip. I couldn't tear away from Sheila's gaze, which held it in it's hypnotic powers as I moaned incoherently between sharp breaths.
Still teasing my balls in her mouth, with her right hand holding my cock, Sheila gently lifted my right thigh with her left hand. Taking the hint, I raised my legs, resting my feet at the edge of the sofa. I sat now, spread and exposed in front of her, as her head gently moved side to side as she continued to slide my delighted balls in her wet mouth. She caressed my inner thighs with her free hand, adding to the unbearable tension that was tying my body into a knot. I was breathing hard, and guttural sounds — moans of pure bliss — came from somewhere deep within.
Suddenly, she let my balls slide out of her mouth, wet and glistening, and drifted lower, tracing a wet path further down with the flat of her tongue, fluttering it across from side to side, pressing it into my perineum. Just before the wetness reached the aching patch of my anus, she stopped, sliding her tongue back upwards, to my balls, with that maddening flutter of the tongue. I wanted to grab her head and move it down, so she would return the favor I had shown her. Instead, I had to be content while my hands gently massaged her shoulders and neck, showing respect to her demand to restrain. Soon her tongue was approaching my balls, but this time, she let it slide up the sac, and when she reached the shaft, tilting her head sideways, took the length of it into her mouth. Her teeth gently gripped at the side of the shaft as her tongue ran all over the skin. My poor erection strained in her mouth, a very wet tongue tormenting it. She slowly moved up with her mouth along the length of the shaft, her teeth gradually climbing my cock like a rock climber moving up a slope at a steady, careful pace. At the top, she paused, noticing the excess fluid that was flowing from the slit, and wrapping her hand again around the head, flicked her tongue at the juices, circling the head of the cock.
It was intensely, excruciatingly pleasurable watching her, but, more intense was the agony of the crying need for release and consummation. I was grunting incoherently, with an occasional deep groan thrown in as if I was having a religious experience. (It was certainly that, come to think of it.)
"Mmmm. Yes, yes! Soooo creamy and salty!" She repeated after she had gone around the head a couple more times.
Without much of a pause, she started the process again, traveling towards my balls. She was repaying me the teasing I had meted out to her, returning measure for measure the torture that I had put her through!! My voice had gone fishing and I could barely groan, leave alone put a few words together to plead my case to her. I wanted to tell her to suck my cock; to take my balls in her mouth again; to let me come in her mouth; to let me touch myself; and a thousand other possibilities that would simply finish me off.
She looked up at me and giggled at my hapless condition, and then continued with her mouth as before. However, this time, I felt her thumb on my anus, rubbing around it in circles, gently but insistently pressing at the nether opening without pushing through. It was getting to be a bit too much!!! I decided that I was going to take things into my own hand (so to speak!) before I died from this torture!
She must have sensed my mounting desperation, because she suddenly rose up, reaching up and letting her hands slip around my neck, kissing me as our tongues danced against each other. She kept cooing, "Good boy, good boy," between wet kisses as if she was rewarding a pet for good behavior. Our tongues intertwined as I held her close to me, feeling grateful for the warmth of her skin against mine. Slowly, she moved her mouth around my face kissing my cheeks and neck deliberately, while her hands caressed my hair. As my breathing slowed a bit, she took my face in her hands.
"Bim, on your side, facing me," she patted the sofa.
I complied post haste, reclining on my side along the length of the sofa. Sheila adjusted her position on the floor so that she was kneeling next to my erection as it pointed outwards. Her hand cupped my balls, rubbing the sac round and round, while the fingers extended between my legs to the back. I lifted the leg on top to ease their path, and her middle finger was soon rubbing and pressing the rings of my pucker. Then, she lowered her head, going straight for my cock, the entire thing, as if it was a lollipop. She took the tip between her lips and slowly slid her lips further down, taking it all in her mouth. Finally, her lips were at the base, resting against my pubis as I grunted uncontrollably with pleasure.
Sheila started moving her head back and forth, squeezing the length of my shaft between her lips, lashing her tongue against it as it moved between her taut, smooth lips. Matching her movements, I began to thrust into her as her head came forward, feeling my cock slide all the way in to her mouth. The wet grip of her mouth around the entire shaft, intermingled with the firm flicks of her tongue, was fast bringing me to the close that I ached for. My breathing was picking up again as the tension built up in my balls.
The sight of her sucking my cock, watching it disappear entirely into her mouth, only to emerge again glistening wet with her saliva set my senses ablaze. The movements of my hips, which thrust my cock in and out of her mouth added to the eroticism of our mutual pleasuring. The wetness of her mouth, the probing of her finger on my ass, and the sensuousness of watching her head moving back and forth set the pleasure waves racing from deep inside my lower belly. My balls began to tighten and tingle, signaling the onset to imminent release. Sensing, it she slipped her hand momentarily from between my legs, and after lubricating her middle finger in her mouth, placed it back, pressing insistently at my nether opening until it slid in, up to the first knuckle. That sent me over the edge, and placing my hand behind her head, I pulled and held her to my groin, thrusting forcefully one last time into her mouth. The swell of the creamy essences racing up the shaft from deep within released my body like a coiled spring.
Through the swollen head stretched to the limit, the torrent sprayed into Sheila's waiting mouth. She moaned and purred as the juices hit her throat, swallowing quickly, sending further waves of pleasure from the vibrations of her sound into my body through the very root of ecstasy. With each successive release, my body trembled and the tightness of my anal rings against her finger served only to intensify the spasms. Sheila kept swallowing, while pulling me towards her with her hand, as if trying to keep my cock from slipping out of her mouth. As the ejaculations began to subside, my grip on her head loosened, but she kept sliding her tongue gently along the shaft, as if to sooth it. Finally releasing it, she laid her head against my thigh, and slowly removed her finger from my ass. We stayed like that for a few minutes, looking at each other, her hands caressing my sides and mine running through her hair, neither of us saying a word, just simply soaking in the affection we felt for each other. Finally, she struggled to her feet, as I watched her through groggy, unbelieving eyes.
"Ta da!! Presenting the new and improved world of OUR pleasure!" she announced triumphantly, spreading her arms, her breasts perking upwards, the twin nipples pointing up like the tips of mangoes.
I'd never felt such gratitude before in my life - for anything or towards anyone. I pulled her down on top of me, and we kissed, sharing and savoring the remnants of my creamy cum on her lips. The musky odor and the salty taste of it were incredibly arousing, but my body lay exhausted and content, unable to keep up with the continuing storm of sensations. It was a comfort to feel the warmth and wetness of her skin against mine, her breasts gently crushed against my body. I caressed her face and cheeks with my hand, as she rubbed the back of my neck. She rested her head on my chest, kissing it gently with her lips, as I ran my fingers through her hair, still amazed at how the complications of years had dissolved in an afternoon. I looked at her, wondering how someone so could feel so familiar, and yet, be so new and different. It was as if our intimacy had intensified manifold, and yet, she was not the same person I knew before.
"Five cents for your thoughts," she said, running her finger on my lips, her head still on my chest.
"Umm ... Sheel, you seem familiar and different, all at the same time. It's as if we hadn't been apart all these years, and yet you've certainly changed. It's strange."
"Oh. Well, I could say the same of you," she said as she raised her head to look at me, "Maybe we're more sure of ourselves?"
"Oh, yes. I think that's certainly true. But whatever it is, my God, that was incredible!! I feel so lucky that I got this second chance with you."
"Oh yeah? And how about what you did for me? Do you want me to thank you for that? It'll probably require you to stay here for the rest of the week!" She tweaked my nose playfully.
We both laughed, relieved that we could finally express the mutual love and desire that we had nurtured for each other but held back through the years. We lay there for a while, listening to our breathing and heartbeats and savoring the simple joy of our closeness.
"We better clean up," she finally murmured into my ears, sliding off me.
"Oui, ma commandant," I agreed.
With the pail and mop that she handed me, I set about cleaning up the wooden floor, which was not much worse for the wear. Sheila set about wiping up the cushions on the leather sofa. When she was done, she took our clothes inside. I was done with the floor when she came back and we stood there surveying the room.
"Okay, so, you're staying here tonight..." She said and then she added, "And tomorrow night? And the night after? And Forever?"
"If I do this three nights in a row, I'll end up in heaven. Let's take it one night at a time shall we?" I realized that I had to get some provisions, "I need to go get some toiletries. And, water, milk, and orange juice of course. Anything else?"
She wiggled her finger, beckoning me to follow her into the kitchen. In the cabinet under the sink were several bottles of spring water. She opened the door to the freezer and extracted a carton of milk and orange juice. I couldn't help but smack myself on my forehead. We both started laughing.
"Come here you scheming wench. Let me spank your wicked bottom!" I moved towards her menacingly.
"Since when are you into spanking?" She tried to squeeze past m as I caught her by her waist pulling her close to me and smacked her buns.
"Ever since we got into this whole mutual torture thing."
She pecked me on the cheek and taking my hand led me into the guest bedroom downstairs. As we entered the bathroom, I saw the toiletries — toothbrush, paste, disposable razor, and such — arranged neatly next to the sink. There was a small pitcher of tea (mint it was) with a glass next to it. When she pulled out one of the drawers under the sink, I felt the heat rise to my face, even though its contents were not unfamiliar to either of us. It was an enema bag — an essential part of our ritual that we used before indulging in anal play. I must have looked sheepish, because Sheila giggled and patted my rear reassuringly.
"Now, now, nothing to be ashamed of stud man. It will only add to the fun. After you're done, come over to the master bedroom upstairs. Okay?" she added, closing the door behind her.
I poured myself a glass of tea and started filling the red bag with warm water, my mind very still. Afterwards, as I stood under the shower, I realized that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this woman. The soothing warm water cascaded down my body, and the fragments of a poem I had read somewhere floated through my mind.
" ... heard the brook... / A slender tinkling fall... /Like pearls, and now a silver blade."
I could neither place the poem nor remember the name of the author. But, those bits and pieces of words evoked a sense of peace and fulfillment in the aftermath of an incredible experience. Finishing the bath, I took the now empty pitcher and glass back in to the kitchen and then climbed the stairs, swathed in the bath robe, feeling refreshed, my mind at last at ease.