Gwendolyn
Copyright© 2026 by yfnsp
Chapter 3: A Lot to Swallow
Gwendolyn chatted happily while I drove. I knew a place that would be great for “parking,” an overlook on the river just below the interstate bridge. It wasn’t accessible from the highway; you had to know how to find it, an unpaved road off of River Road.
I mostly listened, even more happily, as Gwendolyn talked. Just the sound of her voice and the nearness of her, animated and vivacious, filled me with indescribable joy. She was my girlfriend! Mine! An amazing and wonderful future lay before us as lovers and friends. She seemed to feel it too.
“So that’s why,” she was saying, “I decided not to date. I wasn’t going to fall into the ‘relationship’ trap. Boys are all perfectly nice to start with, but as soon as you let them fuck you, it’s like a switch gets flipped and they act like they own you. You know?”
I nodded. I had seen it, even if I hadn’t experienced it myself.
“I never thought I’d meet a boy like you, though.” She was smiling when I glanced at her. We were nearing the turn to the overlook.
“You had fantasies; so did I. I wanted to be worshipped. I dreamed of a man who would give his love unconditionally and never lord it over me.”
We turned on to the dirt road, drove through the dense grove of tall trees, and emerged onto a gravel lot edged by a log guardrail and faintly lit by the bridge lights high above us. Although there were no other cars, I parked at the far end, facing the rail.
Gwendolyn didn’t wait for my attendance this time, but opened her door as soon as we stopped and stepped out into the cooling summer night, alive with the sound of insects, the distant hum of traffic on the bridge, and the fluid sounds and smells of the river below. She surprised me again by immediately opening the back door and climbing onto the back seat. She had slid to the center of the seat by the time I got in beside her.
She wasn’t wasting any time. “Kiss me, Mike,” she demanded softly, and put her arms around me.
Unlike our last kiss, she let me press her lips gently with mine and part them with my tongue as my passion quickly grew. She sank softly into the back cushion as I pressed my mouth hungrily against hers. She welcomed my tongue inside, sucking it gently, her hands in my hair.
“Mmmm,” she moaned softly, thrilling me to my core.
I pulled her closer and moved my lips to her neck, just below her left ear. The taste of her skin was tantalizing, like nourishment to a starving man. I kissed her throat. My hands migrated to the front of her blouse. I traced the swell of her breast as my lips kissed her clavicle.
She unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse and arched her back, easing my lips lower, between her breasts. I breathed in her scent and tasted her skin, sliding my mouth with sharp tiny kisses and soft little bites towards her stiff, sanding nipple.
“Ohhh, you smell so good!” I said, needing to transmit some reflection of my ecstatic joy, however inadequately.
“Do you know what that is?” she asked. Some exotic perfume? I couldn’t imagine a product that subtle and powerful.
She pulled my head closer. “It’s me!” she whispered in my ear as her nipple slid between my lips. I covered it with my lapping tongue even as I sucked it deep into my hungry mouth.
“I’m not wearing any fragrance at all. I didn’t even use deodorant after my shower.”
She shifted a little so that my nose was at the edge of her armpit. The nipple slipped out of my mouth. I kissed the side of her breast beneath her arm. So soft there. I tasted her skin. My tongue wanted more. More wet kisses, more tongue. I lapped up into the cave under her arm. Her flavor was stronger there. It was divine. I licked harder. I wanted to devour her.
“Do you like it?” she asked breathily.
“You taste like heaven!”
“Oh, Mike, I’m so happy!” She pulled me up and kissed me on the lips. “Can you pull your pants down for me?”
Could I? Nothing could have stopped me! Okay, it was pretty cramped in the back seat of my Malibu, but I managed to quickly get one leg out of both my jeans and my underpants. My cock stood tall, free at last after straining for so long in confinement.
She reached out and gave it the sweetest caress with the backs of her fingers before she took hold of the shaft, softly rubbing its head with her thumb. “Such a pretty cock,” she said fervently.
She let go of it then and took my hand. Guiding it under her skirt, she said, “Here, I want you to feel me too.”
She had nothing on under her skirt. Bare thighs, naked pussy, trimmed soft curls above slick, wet folds that parted easily at the touch of my gently questing fingers. We were kissing again, I suddenly realized, and her hand was back in possession of my throbbing manhood, stroking slowly, deliberately, expertly.
“Mmmm, yes, fuck me with your fingers,” she said, her voice husky, her breath becoming shallow and hot on my cheek, before I covered her mouth with mine once again.
I found the taste of her lips suddenly enriched by the strength of the scent emanating from below as I stirred her nether lips. I had tasted that flavor before; it was familiar to me; it was imprinted on my amygdala.
Her hand was gripping me tight, stroking my slick-coated shaft with excruciating precision, making my precum bubble forth to aid her expert ministrations.
I now had two fingers deep inside her heated sopping pussy, sawing, twisting, exploring her pulsing tunnel. With my thumb on the outside, stroking her hooded bulb, I curled my fingers, pressing their pads into the front wall of her cave, feeling its contours between fingers and thumb.
“Yes!” she panted, “Right there!” Uncoupling our lips, she pushed my head down to her breast. I grabbed her nipple between my teeth and scraped it while I sucked. I was beginning to loose control.
“Yes, Mike! Yes! Make me cum with your fingers, your fingers, so good, yes, please, don’t stop...” She was babbling now and I was cumming. And so was she! I could feel her release, like mine, like a geyser, like an earthquake, like an underground nuclear test. It was both of us, simultaneously, in tandem, intense, in synchronicity.
We collapsed together, each with a hand still on the other’s sex, feeling the subsiding aftershocks, the gentle tremors in our limbs, as our lips sought each other again and melted together softly, feeling our pulses gradually calm.
“Oh, Mike,” said my Gwendolyn. “You are so good. That was perfect!”
I had to admit it. It was without a doubt the best experience of my life. And yet, I had hoped, even expected, to actually fuck her. I didn’t say that.
We began to stir, to untangle ourselves and sit up. Gwendolyn clamped her thighs around my wrist, trapping my hand against her hot, wet pussy. I didn’t mind if she wanted to keep it there. She took her hand off my limp cock then and held it up.
“So much cum, Mike, look!” She sounded impressed. Her palm was full of my pearly spend. And there was more, on my thighs and in the hair between them where my limp cock was afloat in it.
She held her cupped palm to my lips. “Dink it for me, Mike,” she urged earnestly.
She tipped her palm and I pursed my lips on its edge to sip on the fresh cream of my passion. The first sip slipped past my lips, onto my tongue, awakening my tastebuds to its salt-acrid taste, while the faintly caustic fumes of it pervaded my sinuses. New sensations, mild but definitive, and strong enough to make a statement: I am hers, humble and obedient.
I sipped all I could sip. Then I licked her palm clean, and underneath, where the back of her hand harbored streaks of it. I licked her fingers, and I sucked them, like a newborn calf in need of life-giving sustenance.
“Good boy, Mike! Yes, eat it all up!” She scooped and scraped up all the cum she could from my lap and off my legs and fed it to me until it was all gone and my mouth tasted like a used condom.