Just about every guy would lie like a weasel when his girlfriend looked up from their cock and ask, "How come your dick tastes like lipstick?" It's one of those questions that brings out the liar in every man.
I smiled down at Nancy's devilish look. She was dragging her tongue across the bottom, undoubtedly to make sure of the flavor. My dick lurched up at the rasp of her tongue.
She slurped me into her mouth, keeping eye contact with me. Then she pulled up, sucking me strongly as she did so.
"So what's the story with the Big Guy?" We loved telling each other stories of our sexual adventures, but usually it was on the phone. I was doing a lot of travelling on assignment during the past year and it helped make the nights on the road less lonely. We'd be making love with each other, except we weren't always in the same bed. Hell, sometimes we weren't even on the same continent.
"The girl next to me on the flight from New York wants to be a model. When she found out I was a photographer, well..." I trailed off and leered at her. "The casting couch is hard to resist."
Nancy gave me a playful nip. "Tell you what, sport. I get to hear the story and you get the best welcome home blow job you ever had."
"Deal." I said instantly.
I'd gotten home earlier than I'd thought and Nancy didn't have the bed made, plus she was on her period. I didn't mind, but Nance didn't want to get the couch or the carpet all messy and the towels were still in the dryer. Normally, we'd have been fucking like rabbits about a minute after I got in the door, but Nancy has this Suzie Homemaker thing about bloodstains on the furniture. To make it up to me, she was down on her knees in the kitchen, sucking me off. I'd been home about two minutes and hadn't done anything besides drop my gear and kiss her and then she was unfastening my jeans and that brings us up to date on what lead up to her question.
I spun out the tail (pardon moi, ) of how this sexy little girl had come on to me and I'd been lured back to the rest rooms at the back of the plane. She'd dragged me reluctantly inside and forced me to sit on the toilet seats and eat her to about six or eight orgasms.
Nancy has dozens of ways of giving a blow job, some quick, some slow, some of them designed to get me off quick and some of them really diabolical in the intensity she can arouse in me and the way that she can sustain that intense period a guy feels just before he comes. They range from unbelievably excellent to way off the charts. The one that she was giving me now was designed so that I could talk, but it was in choppy sort of gasped out sentences. I had my eyes shut and was concentrating on telling the story. Nancy would stop if I stopped talking and I knew that she had it in her dirty little mind to make me come when I got to that point in my story. What the hell. I was willing to go along with it.
I told Nancy about how my wannabe model was coming her brains out and I just had to get some. I stood up and jammed the Big Guy into her while she was getting her cookies, just as the plane gave one of those lurches that lands your drink in your lap. I kind of had her around the ass, and when the bump happened, it knocked me back down to the toilet seat and spilled my fortunately small and light weight acquaintance across my lap, just as I started to come. She had her hands around my neck and her hips going about a hundred miles an hour "... and I, uhh, justa!... came, oh god hon!... AHHhhh!"
.... There is more of this story ...