Sex Still Spoken Here: An Anthology (24 page)

I can’t concentrate. It’s Wednesday and all I can think about is what she might taste like, feel like. I have a perpetual hard-on. At 9:30 I break into a sweat, suddenly wondering if I am crazy. I could be putting myself at risk of total humiliation. Now it’s 10pm and I am on my bike. It seems to know where I want to go. My mind has turned to mush and I’m glad the route is straightforward. Adrenaline surges through me, and I pedal furiously, racing through amber lights and near-misses as a door opens from a parked car. I’m barely fazed, as my body buzzes with feverish anticipation.

He
should
be
here
soon
.
I
am
confident
he
will
come
;
for
some
crazy reason
I
trust
the
vibe
I
got
from
him
.
My
tenants
are
home
downstairs
;
I’ve
placed
the
phone
next
to
me
with
their
number
on
speed
dial
.
I
love
an
adventure
,
but
you
never
know
,
right
?
I
am
wearing
a
skirt
,
no
panties
,
of
course
,
and
have
folded
up
a
large
thick
blanket
to
cushion
his
knees
.
Trying
to
ignore
the
anxious
flutterings
in
my
belly
,
I
sit
back
and
sip
my
glass
of
wine
.

I lock my bike to the fence in front of her house. She had said to go in the front door and upstairs to the second floor. Why stop now? The door is unlocked, just as she’d said it would be. I can practically taste her and hope for a full, dark bush concealing a salty sea-clam. I can’t wait to bury my nose in it and dip my tongue in deep. I take the stairs two at a time, run my fingers back through my hair, feeling the dampness of a light sweat. Fortunately, the evening is cool.

Neither
of
us
speaks
.
He
immediately
kneels
at
my
feet
,
his
breath
coming
quick
on
my
thighs
as
he
lifts
my
skirt
.
I
suspect
he
took
the
stairs
running
.
He
slides
his
hands
gingerly
up
my
inner
thighs
and
murmurs
,
So
soft
.
I
hope
he
doesn’t
mind
a
full
bush
—
Brazilians
and
landing
strips
are
just
not
my
thing
,
but
I
do
keep
myself
trimmed
.
At
the
gym
,
I
notice
more
and
more
women
with
their
mounds
bare
as
the
day
they
were
born
—
this
strange
girl
-
child
aesthetic
seems
to
have
become
the
ideal
,
but
to
me
,
it’s
pervy
in
all
the
wrong
ways
.
Plus
,
it
must
be
torture
when
it
begins
to
grow
in
…
but
these
thoughts
are
distracting
me
from
the
moment
.
He
hasn’t
wasted
one
precious
second
getting
down
to
business
—
the
end
of
his
nose
nuzzles
my
clit
and
his
tongue
is
all
over
my
opening
,
lapping
like
a
kitten
at
a
bowl
of
milk
.
I
slide
down
in
my
chair
to
open
myself
to
him
more
and
he
responds
with
longer
licks
,
his
tongue
flat
,
soaking
me
.
He
teases
my
asshole
with
the
tip
of
his
tongue
;
my
cunt
is
opening
,
throbbing
.

I wish I could see better, but the fabric of her skirt is blocking out the dim light from the lanterns on her deck. She smells amazing—clean, but not perfume-y—with a sweet saltiness like the Raspberry Point oysters I stole from the cocktail party I worked at last summer. That briny taste of the sea and the slippery-soft texture of the flesh stayed with me. Her bush is just as I’d hoped and the soft springy hairs add to the delicious sensations as they tickle my lips and cheeks. I think I must possess some kind of superpower to have detected this perfect pussy on a perfect stranger who would end up so willing. I spread her lips apart with both hands and dive in deep. She moans quietly.

He’s
not
doing
a
thing
wrong
.
This
,
in
fact
,
is
the
best
damn
licking
I’ve
had
by
man
or
beast
.
He
has
my
clit
between
his
lips
and
is
tugging
and
sucking
,
like
he’s
blowing
a
tiny
little
cock
.
It’s
having
a
similar
effect
;
I
feel
the
heat
of
blood
rushing
to
the
tiny
area
,
swelling
my
clit
like
a
mini
hard
-
on
.
Between
his
saliva
and
my
juices
,
a
pool
of
wetness
has
gathered
in
the
crack
of
my
ass
,
soaking
the
fabric
of
my
skirt
where
my
tailbone
presses
into
the
seat
-
cushion
of
the
chair
.
Should
I
warn
him
when
I
am
about
to
gush
?
No
.
If
he
doesn’t
know
how
to
respond
with
appreciation
,
it’s
time
he
learned
.
How
many
times
have
I
had
to
handle
a
load
of
bitter
come
suddenly
filling
my
mouth
?
Then
I
realize
I
can’t
even
picture
what
he
looks
like
,
so
I
reach
down
and
weave
my
fingers
through
his
hair
in
the
hopes
that
the
feel
of
it
will
help
me
recall
his
face
.

She has her fingers in my hair, pulling my face into her. I love her insistence, and the way she is grinding into me. She seems to be really into it, and her juices are soaking my chin as I work her clit hard with my teeth and lips. Never tried this technique before, but it seems to be working well.

Seriously
,
isn’t
he
going
to
want
to
get
off
My
mind
fl
to
the
weirdness
of
this
situation
.
How
in
hell
did
I
end
up
with
such
…
service
?
Again
I
remind
myself
to
lie
back
and
just
enjoy
,
wondering
why
it
is
so
hard
for
me
to
be
selfish.
I
turn
to
my
usual
technique
for
dealing
with
the
distraction
of
my
thoughts
:
I
take
a
slow
,
deep
breath
into
my
core
,
in
the
hope
of
shifting
my
energy
from
my
mind
back
down
to
my
cunt
where
it
belongs
.
I
pant
lightly
,
making
my
diaphragm
and
pelvis
pulse
with
each
inhale
/
exhale
.
His
tongue
is
now
full
-
on
inside
me
;
this
guy
seems
eager
to
bring
it
home
.
Despite
those
moments
of
wandering
thoughts
,
my
body
knows
what’s
good
,
and
responds
with
hot
,
hungry
desire
.
I
want
to
be
fucked
so
badly
—
if
he’d
just
give
it
to
me
with
his
fingers,
four
,
or
…
mmm
…
oh
God
…
his
fists!
Are
his
hands
big
?
I
don’t
remember
.
I
just
want
to
be
filled.
Fuck
me! I
am
screaming
in
my
head
.