Chapter 5

She got my shirt off and ran her hands over my pecs. She didn’t talk or look into my eyes. She just had fun exploring things. When she got to my pants she had trouble with my belt. I’ve gained a little weight over the years and have a bit of a pot belly. That puts strain on the waistbands of my pants and because I have no hips, my pants will fall off if I don’t cinch my belt up really tight. She couldn’t pull on the end of the belt hard enough to get it unfastened.

I reached and undid the buckle and then stood, waiting. She undid the zipper and pulled, baring my underwear. When I’m in uniform I don’t wear underwear. It makes it easier to pee because the fly on the uniform pants is buttons instead of a zipper. You only have to undo one button if your penis is easily available. When I’m in civilian mode, though, I wear the briefs I got for Christmas when I was eighteen. My mother said, “Please don’t go into battle or get in an accident with dirty underwear on.”

Moms. Gotta love ‘em.

My point is, those briefs were twenty-three years old and, even though I didn’t wear them every day, they had been washed enough they were thin. She squatted, with my pants around my thighs, and contemplated my bulge. The shape of my cock made it clear it was almost, if not fully hard.

“I should not be as excited about doing this as I am,” she said.

“Most women approach this particular exercise with some apprehension,” I said.

“Not me,” she said. “I like your penis too much. I like playing with it and making it go off and seeing it go off. I don’t think having it in my mouth will make me like it less.”

“Famous last words,” I said.

She ignored me and pulled my briefs down and out to free my dragon. She stared at it and finally reached to grasp it with one hand.

“And you really want to put that in me?” she posed.

“Yes,” I groaned. How many times did I need to tell her that?

“And you’re sure it would fit?”

“Yes, but you don’t want to do that,” I said.

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” she said. “If Peter was standing here, beside you, naked like you, I’m pretty sure I’d choose your penis instead of his.”

“This is not helping me resist you,” I complained.

“Get your clothes off and lie down,” she said.

I did and she crawled onto the bed with me. She decided staying on her hands and knees wouldn’t be comfortable, so she lay down with her face right by my groin. Her legs, from the knee down, were hanging off the bed. She rolled a little and reached to grip Mr. Happy with her right hand. She stroked him a few times, unaware this was bringing him to almost painful hardness.

“What do I do?” she asked.

“Lick it. Taste it. Play with it. Follow your own instinct. Some women like to move their mouths up and down the shaft. Others like to just suck the tip. It’s all up to you. It’s your playground. I’ll tell you when you’re doing something that feels good.”

She played with the foreskin a little bit, until she pulled it all forward and it looked like a Shar Pei’s skin. She kissed that - just a peck - and then licked her lips. She didn’t say anything, but it looked like she hadn’t tasted anything because the next thing she did was stick her tongue out, stiffened to a point, and drove that point into the wrinkled mass she had just kissed. She licked her lips again and looked at my face.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said.

“Then don’t,” I told her. “If you want to just jack it off, I’d love that.”

“I want to ... I just can’t,” she said.

“Like I said. Forget the oral sex and just have fun with your hand.”

She ran her hand up and down the shaft several times.

“Like this?” she asked. “This is what you were doing.”

“If you want to bring me off you’ll have to go faster. If you want to tease me, keep going slowly like that.”

“I don’t want to tease you,” she said.

She sped up and I told her to grip it a little tighter.

“That’s nice,” I sighed. “I love the feel of your hand on it.”

“Do you think you can shoot?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “It feels good and I like being here with you and -”

I stopped talking because she had scooted forward and, with no warning, put her mouth on the bulb of my penis and locked her lips into the valley behind the head. She had a mouthful, but her tongue still whirled and her cheeks caved in. She sucked four or five times, like a baby sucks at its mother’s breast, and then dragged her lips off, ending up kissing the tip and then she looked at me.

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“Trust me, you did it. How do you feel?” I rasped.

“Can you shoot if I keep doing that?” she asked, instead of answering my question.

“Yes,” I gasped.

Now, that was interesting, because I’ve had several girls able to get me off with a hand job, but I have never cum while a woman had my dong in her mouth. It feels great. I just can’t cum that way.

But I knew I could cum if Angela Harris sucked me. And I wanted to cum.

“There will be taste if you keep sucking,” I panted.

“When you shoot?”

“Before I shoot. You’ll get just the hint of a taste of what my cum will taste like. If you like that taste, and you stay on, you’ll get a strong mouthful of it. If you’re not enamored with the taste, then you’ll want to pull off and finish me with your hand. I’ll warn you before I cum, okay?”

Her answer was to go back on. She did things no other woman had ever done. For example, she’d clamp down behind the crown and then drag her lips to the tip. Then she’d put it back in her mouth and suck and drag. She stared at the tip as she jacked on it every once in a while. But she always went back to sucking the head. It was remarkably like she was eating an ice cream cone in little sucking bites.

At one point she dragged off and kissed the eye before looking up at my face.

“This fits in my mouth perfectly,” she said. “Now I wonder if it would fit in me ... down there ... perfectly, too.”

Then she went back on and, whether out of accident, instinct, or some design, she stroked the shaft quickly while she sucked. I knew I had leaked and she had tasted me. The urge to cum was overwhelming and I kept my word.

“I’m gonna shoot!” I gasped. “I’m gonna cum in about two seconds!”

She didn’t pull off. I was watching her cheek when I came and I saw it expand before milky-white fluid practically burst from the seal of her lips around my knob. The head of my dick fit her mouth perfectly, but it left no room to accept a load of my jizz.

I heard her swallow as her other hand appeared to try to catch the drool that was flowing back down on my pubes. It was a mess.

She pulled off just as I weakly added one last dribble. Her mouth was open, but not wide, and she breathed quickly through her re-opened airway. I saw cum in her mouth just before she closed it and swallowed again. She stared at her hand, which still grasped my softening cock and was covered with spunk. The hand she’d used to try to catch the leaking sperm was also covered. She rolled onto her right side and contemplated her hands.

“What a mess!” she yipped.

Then she started licking her fingers, like a cat cleans its paws.

“Wow,” I panted.

“You want to know the crazy part?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“I’d do that again to you in a heartbeat, but I don’t think I could do it to my husband at all.”

“That’s not a fair comparison,” I said. “You know me better, in a sexual sense, than you do him. If you spent as much time with him sexually as you have with me, you might feel different.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “You care about all this. All he did was climb on, shoot in me, and then get off. He only cares about himself.”

“You could change that,” I said.

“In a year I could try to change that,” she said. “And that assumes he still wants to be married to me in a year.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” I asked.

She got to her knees and took her shirt off again. Then she undid her jeans and, while she rolled with her legs up in the air, got them off. Once she was naked, she cuddled up to me and reached to grip my now completely soft organ. Her fingers widened to include my balls.

“I like you way more than I’m supposed to,” she said. “Isn’t it likely he’ll meet a woman he likes too much, too?”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

“Just before I came over here, tonight.”

“Really!” I said. “What did you talk about?

“The usual. I asked him how his school is going and told him about my job.”

“Did you tell him you missed him?” I asked.

“No,” she said, quietly. “He didn’t say it, either.” She squeezed my junk gently. “It was more like two friends catching up.”

“I’m sorry it doesn’t seem to be working,” I said.

“I’m not. I have learned so much since I got here I feel like a different woman. And he’s a different man, I’m sure. I don’t think we were in love when we got married, and I don’t think we’re in love now. I’d be more amazed if it was working for us.”

“What do you want to do?” I asked.

“Stay here this weekend,” she said.

“You know what will happen if you do,” I said.

“I know,” she replied, softly.

“And?”

“I just know. I had no idea what any of the rest of this would be like until I did it. I have no idea what that will be like, either. I’m not afraid, anymore, though.”

She kissed me and it turned into a make out session, where two naked teenagers writhed against each other in unbridled passion.

And then I was hard again, and I rolled on top of her, and while our lips were still welded together I felt her hand on my spike, aiming it, pulling it, acting through pure instinct.

And I was too excited. When the bulb stretched her, no doubt cruelly, and I felt her nether lips clamp down where her oral lips had clamped as I shot her mouth full of spunk, I lost it and filled her vagina full of spunk, too. It was like my penis power-puked. I did the same thing her husband had done. There was one vaguely silver lining, though. I lost some rigidity immediately and as I kept going and pushing all that slippery spunk up toward her cervix, I wasn’t as thick and didn’t stretch her as much as if I was still completely rigid.

“Ohhhhh fuuuck,” she groaned.

“Are you okay?” I wheezed.

“Give me a minute,” she grunted.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “Just like Peter, I was too excited.”

I was all the way in her, and my pubes were mixed with hers, so I pressed and rubbed a little.

“Ohhh Mama, that’s nice,” she gasped. Her hands came to grip my face and suddenly our eyes were locked. “It did not hurt. It does fit in me. Can you keep going, please?”

“You mean this?” I rolled my hips and she yipped.

“Yes! Do that! Ohhh, Bob, I think I’m going to...”

She took a deep breath and her cry sounded like she had just won a marathon. She was elated; that was clear. I wanted in that moment to be able to ejaculate more than I think I ever have, before, but my tank was empty. I was still half hard, which still filled her nicely. So I kept rolling and extended her orgasm until she beat on my shoulders and gasped “Stop! I can’t breathe!”

I stopped and started to withdraw, but her legs whipped around me and she growled, “Don’t move!” in my ear.

So I stopped and just laid on top of her.

“I don’t want to crush you,” I said.

“Don’t move!” she barked again.

She was gasping for air so I made my arms stiff and raised my chest off of her breasts, in violation of her order. She didn’t chastise me for that. Her eyes were closed and all she did was pull in great gasps of air and keep her legs tightly wrapped around my hips and thighs. It was probably five minutes before she opened her eyes and spoke.

“I can’t remember it,” she groaned.

“What?” I asked.

“What just happened!” she barked. “There was too much and it happened too fast and it was too strong and I can’t remember all of it and I want to cryyyyyy.”

Her last word was drawn out and turned into a sob as she did cry. I could tell it was a cry of frustration and I didn’t want her to be frustrated. I disobeyed her orders again and rolled, holding her to me, until she was on top. Her legs had let loose automatically and now they pressed against my hips. That opened her groin up and allowed my penis to ooze out of her.

“No, no, no!” she complained. “Don’t take it out!”

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Rounded Away

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