by Sasha Pearl
I had a plan, it was a dumb plan and then I realized it wasn’t a plan at all because before I could even lean myself back a little so she could turn over and I could slide her dress up higher and maybe figure my way up to her boobs (did I mention how very curious I am about her boobs? They are quite friendly looking, I’ve told her that and she's offered them and I've thought they'd be delicious) I was on my back, on the floor, with her over me, pinning my hands over my head like it was some game.
She didn’t kiss me – in fact, that would have been weird because we were still talking actually, talking about something else, I think it was about the 17th Amendment or it could have been the 23rd – but Heather pushed her legs and her pussy up against me so nicely that I did throw my head back some and she did kiss my neck.
I cannot tell you how long it was that I was under her (and happily so, soaking wet) twisting against her but really more into her or actually against her thigh. Maybe because I didn’t fight her little pin me down game (and I didn’t reject her) she loosed her hold on my wrists and sat up a little so she could slip my wet panties off.
After that I can't tell you how long she slid her silky thigh and panties against my pussy, but it was long enough to where the two of us were either going forwards or stopping.
I sat up and in a move that I should like to have taped so I can trademark, I scooted her towards me in an affectionate gesture, then moved my hands from her waist, up her ribs, and to her tits. I slid her bra off with both hands at the same time, then held her tits and they are not as heavy as mine (we both later decide that) they are higher and very very pink and her nipples were so hard and she looked so happy under the spell of my hands I had to taste them.
And that isn’t even my Great Moment.
I liked the feel of her tits against my cheek and in my hands, and I loved to suck her tits.
Cocks are great - wonderful, actually, but if I had to suck something all day I'd have to pick tits ( there would be two, and I would *always* have one share with you, unless you count both of mine, then you'd have 3, which is plenty, yes?).
This is where I started drifting, thinking how nice it would be to ride your hard cock while I was playing with her tits.
As pleased as she looked and sounded (do I purr? I wonder if I purr like that, not like that, do I?), it wasn't enough she pushed my head back down a little farther, lower than her tits, down to where I'd never been.
For a moment (longer) I thought maybe of repositioning myself so she could touch more than my back, more than the back of my head, but I didn't really need more and a voice in me realized I had been challenged.
Heather didn't say it, but she was going to let me make her cum.
We talked about it earlier, about how easy it was for me, and she frowned a little then told me -- She could make herself cum, but no one else had.
Guys had tried, guys had watched her then tried, but nothing. Not dicks, not fingers, not vibrators, not porn... nothing but 5 minutes on her pillow thinking about whatever it was that she thought about (who was I to ask?) would make her cum.
She's said that earlier, tossing the gauntlet.
And now she was pushing my face, my hands and my attention down her middle, past her peachy stomach to her waxed pussy.
There was not much between me and her satisfaction -- her panties were gone - don't ask me where they went. I had the sense not to stop and ask where her panties were.
Or take a picture, but I did think about taking a Victory Shot for the , like the guy who hunts River Monsters takes pictures with 150 pound catfish, only it would be me with a the wettest most beautiful vagina and now I wish I hadn't have written about fish and vaginas because I'm completely off topic and you can forgive me for that, but just remembering the Great Moment has my pussy throbbing now, under the laptop as I write, so I'm not using every point of my IQ.
This is the point I realized Heather wasn't moving anymore, she was just looking at me. I looked right back at her and slid a finger very slowly right into her fat wet pussy.
So you stop me in my story (really, you stop me? not encourage me? who's advising you? Dan Quayle?) and ask if this is real.
Is this real? you ask, breaking the spell.
You sit up and turn on the lamp (the brown and teal oval one from Target that I helped Heather pick out forever ago when our carts crossed at Target.
Anyway, in asking the question you look so genuinely worried I want to giggle.
"Did this REALLY happen?" you ask again but you look tired, like a kid whose ridden one too many roller coasters.
"I turn the light back off and you go back onto the pillow.
"Are YOU real?" I ask you, because silly questions don't get answered (that's only reinforcing bad behavior.).
Then I wonder, do you need pictures?
Like how people want to see death shots of bin Laden?
or of REALLY big fish?
But I know better than to say that.
Of course you would love pictures.
Then you'd probably want video and at that point we're halfway into just making a porn site with daily uploads and paying off the rest of my student loans.
Anyway, I don't have any pictures of this escapade except the one I'm painting for you, myself. So please, relax, I'm only one single stroke into it.
I slid one finger in slowly, not exactly sure how far up to push it or how fast, so I more or less stayed almost still and let her squirm her way down it -- up it? -- on it? -- slowly.
She pushed herself onto my hand and I pushed back in.... and up a little, with my palm facing
up so my thumb was just next to her clit.
When I was inside her again, I let her push down on me and then she worked herself in little circles, rubbing her swollen clit on my thumb.
After that, I pulled my finger out slowly.
, I can't tell you if I slid my finger in and out slowly for in ten minutes or one very wet hot minute but I can assure you --- "really really" --- it was deliberately slower than her pussy wanted, which is exactly what her pouty pussy needed.
Her pussy seemed to cry like a baby losing its pacifier and wanted tried to moved down with my hand to keep it from escaping but I pulled it out anyway and then after a second or two, pushed back in, even slower than before.
And this time when I pushed it in I used two fingers (and I did "really" think to myself but caught myself before laughing, "V is for Vagina Victory!") and held my fingers in a victorious V inside her waiting to see what she would do -- ask for more? less?
(Please do this to me. Thanks.)
There wasn't any talking, I think it would have broken the spell.
Was it time to move to the tits?
Was I going down on her?
Yet?
At all?
What about the glass dildo, should I offer it?
Again, because Dan Quayle is NOT my advisor, I kept my fucking mouth shut and stayed on mission, which involved keeping my hand hard and still like a tiny dildo.
She put her hand on top of mine to keep me from pulling out again (I liked that -- alot, and if you were actually near me and asking - interrogating? - this story I'm not sure I would have remembered that detail, but if your hand were in my pussy I'm really sure I'd do the same thing and not realize she does it too --)
I kept my hand inside her tight wet pussy, under her hand, and instead of doing anything that could be called "fingering her" I pretty much let her fuck and buck on my hand for a little while and then out of the blue stopped (and she looked like she was about to cry!) and said, "See? I can't come?! And this is so fucking hot. What's WRONG with me?"
I laughed at her frustration and impatience (because you and I both know) I hadn't even really tried to make her cum.
Yet.
I’ve got a damn good straight face. It comes from years of dealing with truly crazy people, perpetually frustrated people, small children, and hungover students.
So I didn’t laugh at Heather
and her silly little moment of frustration.
Its like she had a script in her head and had even fed me my lines earlier...
“Poor Heather, she can’t cum. So please try try try to make poor Heather cum, please beat everyone else who came before this moment and rubbed and banged and sucked and rubbed and finally pulled out feeling tired and sad”
I can almost hear and see this movie and envision a row of men who attempted this mission before me, walking away from her and her bed looking much like the Soviets when they sulked out of Afghanistan….”
Anyway, this isn’t about Heather, it’s about me and my Heather Headache. Have you gotten lost in the story? Stay with me!
I didn’t answer her, not with words.
I was thinking, “If this girl has a nice mood swing on me I will not be able to tell the I went down on her and after all this I’m going to have a nice long story to tell the and I’m going to take my fucking time telling it to him….” and literally held my ground.
And by that, I mean, I stayed where I was and softly held her legs open and went in between….
*******
We were on the (very very impossibly clean, and yes she has a maid and also no one really lives here) carpet right by the sofa.
Heather was on her back, her dress pulled up high enough that I could -- and then did -- kiss her right above and then below her belly button, then lower and lower and then, right before where she wanted me to keep going, I stopped and prepared for an invasion at the time and place of my choice.
Her knees were too far up, and I feared moving my face lower and having her squeeze me between her thighs. That would be like communist encirclement. It would put her in charge.
And that wasn’t going to happen, because her way never worked anyway.
It was time for my way.
I ran the backs of my hands up and down her thighs, from the back of knees to right where her pussy started, but I didn’t touch her pussy, even though I think if it could have spoken or make a noise it would have wimpered a little like a dog that desperately wanted to be pet.
Delicately, deliberately, I moved my hands (and fingertips and nails) back along her legs slowly -- not in a particularly straight line -- and then up to her pussy again.
I did this over and over, taking my time to enjoy the softness of her skin and the growing urgency of her breathing.
Note: While I did this, I was very very aware that my rear was exposed and unguarded. I could have definitely used a friendly hand back there, and will consider that in staffing the next mission.
Below me, Heather bucked up off the ground, moving her pussy up towards me in a gesture between offering and begging.
I took my time lowering my face between her legs, waiting until she slid her hands behind her thighs and held herself open for me (like France, on June 6 so long ago).
Even though I made the rookie mistake of keeping her on the floor instead of moving her to the sofa, where her pussy would be so much easier to lick - I did not let her push her pussy onto my face like she was trying to.
I think, if she were to have had her way, she would definitely had pushed her pussy up onto my tongue, and rubbed herself shamelessly on my face.
That was not going to happen.
I’m American.
I think to pause at this precipitous moment in the story (my story! MY STORY!!!!*) and ask you what you think I did, or what you would have done at the point to plant the proverbial flag.
If you do want to guess, then just don't read any further than this because I'm about to diagram the last minute (or so) before I spiked the ball and made her cum.
You remember where we were in the story don't you? - you do remember?
Nod your head so I'll keep going and we can get to the happy ending (for her) I promised and am not making up and did not imagine.
As this was my first exploration through the proverbial *other team's goal posts,* I took serious mental notes on the texture -- smooth, fat, tight, dark -- is dark a texture?is it a place? how do you describe a warm tight hole? -- silky, slippery, swollen and the taste -- a little like thick sweet metal.
You ask if I like the taste (I can read your mind? Whaaa?) and I say I'd prefer it was you; I am not into her.
I was down between Heather's pussy lips awhile, long enough that my tongue started to tingle and ache.
Something told me to either to switch my tactics or call in reinforcements -- as far as I could tell I was working this mission alone, but I did imagine it would take only a few seconds to grab my hard glass dildo and work it into our dance.
I didn't have a flare to send up for you, and even if I ever did, I would always let my wisdom guide me and I wouldn't stop something when the momentum was building so deliciously.
So there.
Keeping one hand (two fingers - VICTORY) inside her, I slid my face up her stomach (which was so soft, I see the appeal --) and to her heavy tits.
I moved myself and my heavy tits against her over and over (how long? I don't know! I've been without my most precious watch for weeks and I'm useless without my iphone and I definitely didn't have my iphone out for this) and saw her face get redder while I pushed my hand into her and a little forward.
She ground herself on my hand with a delightful frenzy I have never so stoically watched up so close.
I will never again underestimate the power of female hips in service to the pussy.
My free hand moved around one of her boobs and then pinched the tit first lightly and then harder while I sucked on the other one, getting harder.
That's when I heard her suck her breath in like "uuuuHHHHHH" which I took as a good sign so I held steady on the course until I felt her throbbing pussy cum all over my hand.
Minutes later -- was it? because it was fast, just fast enough -- she was thirsty, my jaw suddenly ached, and we went back into our computers and phones and our lives.
She left for home; I stayed and waited for you.
