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DISCLAIMER:
The following story contains graphic depictions of sexual activity the exact nature of which is indicated by the codes in the subject and is meant for ADULTS ONLY. If you are offended by such material, or it is illegal where you are, then read no further. I neither advocate nor condone the activities depicted herein. This story is a fantasy and should be judged as such.

I did not write this story and don{t know who did, other than what is indicated by the text itself. I'm just posting it because I liked it and thought others might too.

=========================
Elly 

by Frair Dave



This gets pretty explicit, folks. Names have been changed to protect
those who had a helluva good time and maybe learned something, too. If
explicit language describing the consensual activities of healthy human
adults bothers you in any way, please -- read no farther. And note: This
is not for kids!


ELLY ONE 

"David!" I opened my eyes wider and scanned the crowded Sunday-morning
sidewalk. Sunday morning in a neighborhood that's almost all Polish,
Italian, Irish and Latino means the sidewalks are Mass confusion, if you
get my drift. And I was not all that fully awake anyhow, having finished
Saturday night only six hours before. "David!" The voice was right in
front of me now. I looked down. Recognition came slowly. I blinked.
"Elly?" She smiled prettily and hoisted herself up and gave a little
jump to plant a light kiss on my beard, catching me by surprise. I
stared at her. "You look unbelievable," i said, with complete sincerity.
And her appearance was more than half the reason I hadn't recognized
her. I hadn't seen Elly in about 18 months. She'd just turned 19 a few
weeks before we'd last bumped into each other. She'd been pretty much as
she'd been the first time I'd met her, three years before. Elly was very
short -- four-foot-seven, I learned later -- but not petite by about
twenty pounds. Elly could have stood to lose that much and maybe a
couple of pounds more, because a great deal of baby fat still clung to
an otherwise fine-boned frame. She had a pretty, round face and Big Hair
and seemed determined to dress as unattractively as possible. The last
time I'd seen her, she was still just the plump, sweet, smart kid who
sometimes needed someone with whom to talk. Elly had made some serious
changes. Make that Changes, with a capital "C." The change that was
unavoidably obvious was her figure. She'd done away with most of the
weight; the rest had been redistributed. She'd always been buxom; now
she'd melted the baby fat and what was left was just busty. Even dressed
to deemphasize it, she had an astonishing bust, the more so for her
otherwise-slender frame. She was dressed to deemphasize it, but nothing
could hide it. Elly had a figure designed by the feverish imagination of
a 14-year-old acne farm. She was very slim-hipped. She had no waist at
all; the way she cinched her fashionably cut loose jeans betrayed that.
Her waist couldn't have measured more than 18 or 19 inches. But even the
oversized flannel shirt (it was spring, but the Weather Gods had left
some nip in the air to remind us that winter wasn't very long gone) and
the oversized vest, unbuttoned, couldn't hide her the swell of her
breasts. Words like "massive," "huge" and "coconuts" came to mind. I
probably could have worn the shirt she had on and I'm a size 42; she
still couldn't button the top three buttons over those tits. But as
fabulous as her figure was, as radiant as her newly slimmed and well
made-up face was, it was her vivacity that commanded attention. She was
glowing and vibrant and gushing with news. She'd just signed on for a
co-op in Flushing and then she'd lost her job -- at Shearson Lehman --
but it didn't bother her. She was looking for work as an administrative
assistant and was sure she could find it quickly. I agreed. Best of all,
she'd done something I'd nagged her about in most of our last
conversation -- she'd had the doctor do a biopsy of the cyst in her
uterus -- and it had been removed early enough to insure that she was
healthy and free from The Bastard That Kills. Damn, she looked good! Her
jeans clung to slim hips and legs that were just a shade to short for
her diminutive height. She'd had her hair cut differently, a bit longer
and fuller. Her eyes sparkled and her lips and nose were perfect for her
face. Elly had turned into a little beauty. But she wasn't happy. She'd
been taken with this fella for the past couple of months, an Afghan
refugee, and she had the distinct feeling that he wouldn't be devastated
if she left him. That, to her, meant he didn't care much. We talked and
she told me she had a job interview for Tuesday morning and she was
tickled at the idea of meeting me for lunch when she was done. I sensed
a tingly tension with her. She'd gone from a pudgy sixteen-year-old to a
devastatingly sexy twenty-year-old and I wanted to explore it more. She
called at noon and I had her come to my office, in the Village. I
brought my company's job listing with me and took her to a good
neighborhood restaurant, China Bowl. Their prices were reasonable, the
ambience was unhurried and a sign in the window proudly proclaimed that
they never used MSG. Our waitress, who went by the name of Alice, was
familiar to me. Alice and I had played trade smiles and
try-to-catch-the-other-one- looking games for about three months. Alice,
who was about Elly's height, came over for our order, took one look at
Elly's preposterous bust not-too-effectively hidden by a very
conservatively cut neck-high collar and gave me a look that said she was
sure she could never compete with THOSE. Elly and I had a pleasant lunch
and she thought my suggestion was nice -- that she stop by my place
later in the week and see what I'd done with it. She rang my bell at
8:03 on Friday and I buzzed her in. She was wearing jeans again and a
simple, plum blouse under a loose cardigan. The blouse was tucked into
her waistband and when the cardigan came off, it looked like she'd
stuffed a pair of cantaloupes into her blouse. I gave her a glass of
white wine -- her choice -- and the two-bit tour. She thought my alleged
cat was cute. She admired the photo montages of friends and family and
the cat. She enjoyed the stereo -- choosing a recording by Kitaro, much
to my surprise and pleasure -- and ooohed and ahhed at the little study
I created; it's the place where I write. In the living room, she admired
the nude torso framed on one wall. She asked; I told her: "Yes, that's
her. It was taken by one of her former lovers." But what got her was the
opposite wall: "Did you READ all of these?" I am always surprised when
someone is impressed by Library Wall in the living room. I explained to
her that if you read for an hour a day, you read a couple of books a
week. In thirty years, that's around three thousand books. If you save
some books -- well, you pretty quickly end up with the Library Wall. My
living room is only twenty feet long, so a wall of books isn't that big
a deal. But Elly was impressed. We sat, drinking wine and talked. I
asked after some of her friends. One was dying of AIDS. "I'm glad I got
out of that crowd," she said. "When they started getting into stuff past
a few joints, I got scared. He was doing needles, so I guess that's
where he got it." "There's lots of ways to get it." She drained her
glass. "Don't I know it! When I went to get tested for it -- " "You
did?" She nodded, eyes wide, as I poured more wine for her. Of course
she did, she said -- as if there were no other reasonable course. She
was crazy about her Afghan refugee. "You think I want to take a chance
on killing him? No way!" Which was, I told her, exactly the way my
Significant Other and I felt and why we'd gotten tested. The talk moved
on to cheerier subjects and later, after more chatting and catching up
- -- and her doing in two-thirds of a bottle of wine -- she started
examining the titles of the books. She asked if she could look at one on
a high shelf. I started to get up from the couch. "I'll get it. I just
wanted to know if it was okay to look at it." "Sure, help yourself." She
got the little folding step-stool from the corner and set it up. It's
only a four-step job, so she had to stand on the top. I went to steady
her -- remember that wine -- and as soon as I got there, she turned
half-way and started toppling. I caught her, with my hands at her trim
waist. Her cheeks were flushed and the redness was spreading down her
neck and throat and into the vee of pale flesh exposed by the three
unfastened buttons. She put her hands on either side of my face, bent
and kissed me. Her breath was sweetly tinged with the wine and her lips
were taut and urgent. They opened immediately and her tongue danced with
mine, teasing, then searching and demanding. Her tongue was rather long,
too, she seemed to have no difficulty running it over the roof of my
mouth and I know it reached farther than any other I'd encountered. It
was somehow making me even more aroused. Without breaking the kiss or
moving my hands from her waist, I lifted her off the step-stool. She
wrapped her arms around my neck and I had to bend to maintain the kiss
as I stood her on the floor. I put my arms all the way around her and
pressed her up and against me. Her breasts, so huge and full, were
crushed against me. She was arching her back deeply to catch my leg
between her thighs and rub her denim-clad crotch against my leg. I ran
my hands up and down her back, then reached down and covered her ass,
one hand to a cheek. Her hips were so narrow and her butt so tight and
hard that I was momentarily taken aback; it was almost like squeezing a
preteen girl's ass. But there was nothing kid-like in the heat or
experience in her hungry kiss or the way she was writhing against me.
And there sure as hell was nothing childlike in the massive pressure of
her firm, bounteous breasts against me. When she finally broke the kiss,
she leaned back in my arms, otherwise remaining pressed against me and
letting me support most of her weight. Her eyes were closed and there
was a small smile on her flushed face. "I have wanted to do that for
four years," she said. "And I've wanted you to do that, too." Her eyes
opened. "Did you know that?" I shook my head. "And you don't remember
the time I told you that one of the things I liked best about you was
that you'd never tried to come on to me." Again, I shook my head. "And
you don't remember telling me that you liked me and thought I was cute,
but that I felt bad about myself and that was why I was overweight and I
felt bad about myself because I was overweight." I was starting to
remember something, now .... "And do you remember telling me that if I
was a few years older and about 20 percent thinner, then you'd have more
of a problem not making a pass at me?" "Uhhhh --- Well -- " Her smile
widened. "I'm a few years older and a lot thinner -- mostly -- and just
like you said, you're making a pass at me. And guess what?" "What?"
"Pass received." She brought one hand up and quickly unbuttoned her
blouse. The bra she wore wasn't meant to be sexy. It was meant to
contain and support breasts that belonged on an over-endowed woman a
foot taller and thirty pounds heavier. It wasn't containing them,
though. Her tits swelled up and around the edges of the cotton, creamy
swells of billowy pale flesh that was just tinged with a flush of
arousal. And that made it a sexy damn bra I swallowed. Her fingers went
to the clasp between the two overflowing cups. Her fingers moved. The
clasp released. The bra slid back partly, unable to deal with the
pressure of her large breasts. "Did you ever suspect that sometimes when
I called you and asked about relationships and how they could be, I was
sitting in my bathrobe?" "No, I never -- " She was shimmying her
shoulders and the bra was opening wider and wider. "Or that sometimes,
when we were talking, I was getting wet and starting to touch myself,
imagining what it would be like to have you making love to me?" "Not
even once." She shimmied and the cups fell back from her breasts. They
wee magnificent. The bra hadn't been able to contain them and judging by
the firmness of the twenty-year-old tits jutting up at me, it hadn't
been absolutely necessary for support, either. "I used to imagine you
kissing and licking my breasts -- not like the grabby guys my own age or
the dirty old pigs that were always copping feels -- but just sweetly,
lovingly, hungrily devouring my tits ... Would you like to do that?"
"Guess what, Elly?" She frowned. "What?" "Pass received." I lifted her
easily and turned, setting her tiny butt on the arm of the loveseat,
then I bent slightly and began kissing and licking her magnificently
excessive tits, trying furiously to live up to the lurid imaginings of
the pudgy sixteen-year-old who'd encased this gloriously sexy
twenty-year-old. I tried to guess what she'd fantasized, planning to
live up to it -- if biologically possible -- but abandoned that effort
in, oh, five- sixteenths of a second. So I just went with instinct and
Me. I bent and licked her shoulders, then down her arm. I trilled my
tongue in the hollow of her elbow and watched the goosebumps rise and
felt her shiver. Then I went to work on her breasts. Twenty years old or
not, tits that big are required by Gravity to have some sag to them and
hers weren't lawbreakers -- but they were bending the rules pretty good.
I licked the underswells of each gorgeously curved mound and then kissed
along the outer edge. Then I moved my tongue around and around, slowly,
on each breast, working closer to each nipple and never ... quite...
reaching it. My saliva had coated the pale flesh of her mountainous
boobies and her nipples swelled huge in response to being left out of
the treatment. Her aureoles were no larger than twenty-five-cent pieces,
making them oddly tiny in proportion to the her tits, but the nozzles
themselves were outstanding. They swelled up and out, stretching easily
three-quarters of an inch and as thick as pencil erasers. Her hands had
come up to either side of my head and she was trying to force my mouth
onto her nipples. I let her -- but my mouth draped over each one, open,
and I withheld my tongue, so no matter how much she pressed my face into
the firm, fragrant abundance, her nipples were untouched. She was
moaning for me to attend to them, but I had another idea. I figured a
girl with such huge, gorgeous breasts probably had her nipples grabbed
by every moron who got his digits near them. I also figured that absence
makes the frond grow harder. So I stayed completely away from touching
her nipples. It made her crazy. But while my lips and tongue were busy
with her abundant upper attractions, my hands had been steadily
caressing and stroking her curvy, slim legs. My right hand was gently
moving up and down over the denim-clad chub of her mons. I could feel
the heat through the fabric of her jeans and whatever else she was or
wasn't wearing beneath them. I unsnapped the waistband of her jeans and
lowered the zipper. I could almost feel the humid heat rising in waves
from the v-opening. I began kissing below her breasts, working my way
down over her abdomen. That's what you call that part of the torso on a
woman in her condition: "abdomen."  "Belly" is too soft a word. From the
definition of the muscles crisscrossing her tummy, it was obvious that
she'd been burning calories with serious exercise. I could easily find
the ridges of hard muscle beneath the smooth, minimal layer of normal,
healthy human fat by tracing and exploring with my tongue. That's just
what I did: explore with my tongue. I traced and delineated every smooth
ripple of firm abdominal muscle, always working lower, and as my tongue
finally found and reached the limits of her opened zipper, her hands
came down to either side of my head, pushing me lower, always lower. As
deep as the V went, it didn't reach deep enough. I couldn't even touch
pubic hair with my tongue and had no choice but finally to halt and
stand. "Put your arms around my neck," I whispered -- mostly because my
voice wasn't working quite right at that moment -- and she complied
willingly. My plan was to stand with her hanging on me and push the
jeans down off her narrow hips. Would've worked, too. But she also put
her legs around me, just above my hips, hooking her ankles behind my
back. "Bed?" she breathed and pulled her mouth close to my ear. Her
tongue, wet and serpentine, wriggled into my ear. "Bed?" Her breath was
fire on me. "Buh," was all I could say. I cupped her tight little
jeans-clad ass in my hands, one paw under and covering each cheek, and
walked through my home office, down the hall and into the bedroom. She
was kissing my beard and ears all the way. I bent at the foot of the bed
and braced myself with my hands. She released her leglock on my waist
and brought her hands down over the front of my shirt, undoing buttons
as she went. When I straightened, she rolled lithely to her knees and
pushed my shirt back. Her blouse and bra were in complete disarray, her
lush breasts exposed and quivering. Her nipples -- I can't stop thinking
about how her nipples looked with those nubbly aureoles and the
immensely swollen nozzles turning almost purple. Her hands were busy,
unsnapping the waist of my slacks and dragging down the zipper. She
pushed the jeans down and then my briefs and my dick popped free,
standing straight out and pointing at her face like some turret gun
tracking its target. She grabbed my penis and for the first time, after
knowing her for something like four years, I realized how small her
hands were. True, my dick is a bit on the thick side -- about an inch
and three-quarters in diameter -- but that's within the standard
variation. No one has ever swooned at the sight. And her fingers barely
reached around it. She rolled onto her side at the foot of the bed,
putting my dick almost exactly on the same level as her face. Her mouth,
to be precise. She ducked her head forward and began moving her tongue
around my glans, swirling. That's something you may have heard of, but
let me tell you: I've been with a few women and the awkwardness of the
movement usually restricts it to something that's really pleasant, but
not accurately described as "swirling." She swirled. Her tongue was
agile, experienced, limber and long enough to do the job. Not to
mention, tireless. She moved it around and around my fat dick head, all
the time moving her lips closer and closer to my glans. Her slim little
fingers were gripping the base of my cock, her tongue was swirling, her
lips were nearing, and from time to time she'd glance up at me and her
eyes would sparkle. Her other hand? She was playing with her breasts,
caressing them briefly and spending a lot of time pinching and twisting
her nipples a lot more vigorously than I would have. Even laying
crossways on the bed, she could almost have straightened her lithe legs.
I reached down and caressed her face. She closed her eyes dreamily and
pushed her head forward a little more and fastened her lips around the
head of my dick. She let go of the base of my cock and reached up to
rest her delicate hand on my hip. She guided me toward her a little bit,
then back. As I pressed forward, she took about half my cock into her
mouth. Her tongue did amazing things to the underside of my shaft, and
her cheeks were drawn inward with the force of her sucking. I caressed
her face again and she shivered slightly. I traced my finger around the
side of her mouth, up her jaw to her ear, then back down to where my
dick was outlined through her concaved cheeks. Her flush had spread to
her fabulous breasts. My hand went farther. I caressed the beautiful
swells, using just my fingertips to glide over the silken, full flesh of
the undercurves -- or what would have been the undercurves. They were
already firm; aroused and laying on her back, the stood up like pale
hills. Still, when I touched her like that, she sucked even harder and
her tongue did amazing and mysterious things. I brushed my fingertips
across her hard little belly, then began pushing her jeans down over her
hips. She wriggled, sinuous and smooth as an eel, and then she wore only
pale blue -- sodden -- panties, cut high across her thighs. I pushed
them down, too, and then she was naked before me on my bed. In the dim
glow that filtered through the blinds, I saw that her pussy was topped
with a small tuft of fine sparse curls, but the border was too uneven
for it to have been trimmed. I knelt astride her head and slid my hands
under her butt. I couldn't believe how tight her asscheeks were! It was
exactly like holding two little mounds of hard foam rubber...but
considerably more pleasant. I began kissing and licking just above her
knees. When I slid my hands to the back of her knees and pulled her legs
open, her sucking hesitated. When I pressed my lips to the taut flesh on
the inside of one shapely thigh, I felt her groaning around my turgid
dong. The vibrations were excruciating on my swollen, over-sensitized
cockflesh. My balls were starting to tighten ominously. I licked higher
on her thighs, forced by the disparity in our heights to slide back
until my dick as threatening to pop out of her mouth -- which was the
idea at the moment: I didn't want to cum so quickly. But Elly had other
ideas. She arched back and up, maintaining her lip-grip on my glans as
long as possible. And she was clamping her thighs back together as my
tongue approached her barely furred cunt. I slid back a little farther
and my dick popped out of her mouth. I licked around the edges of her
pubic hair and then pressed my tongue down between her tightly clamped
thighs to brush as much of her labia as I could. Her musk was almost
dizzying in fresh sweetness. She gasped and her hands came down to push
my head away. "Stop!" she hissed. "You're starting to lick me...down
there." "I know," I said. "I'm trying to." This seemed to stun her. "You
mean -- you want to lick me down there?" "You betcha. Or don't you like
it?" "Well, sure, but -- you really want to?" I knelt upright and locked
down, past my throbbing cock, at her. "Been craving it." "But then I
can't suck you! I'm too short to -- " "I know, but if you keep doing
those lovely things, I'm going to cum in your mouth ." "Ooooo...I hope
so!" Her hands were back on my hips, anchoring her so she could pull
herself up and get my dick back in her mouth from underneath. "I want
you to cum in my mouth," she breathed hotly onto my glans, her tongue
flickering onto the underside of my shaft for unnecessary emphasis. She
used her hands to urge me to lay back. She rolled to her hands and knees
on the bed. "I want you to lay back and let me suck you and -- " Who was
I to refuse a lady? Especially since as she talked about it and as her
tongue touched my cock, her hips began to move as if she were being
soundly fucked. She was, I realized with a dull thud, one of those women
who gets off on sucking cock. Heh. I sprawled crossways on the bed, with
my legs hanging off at the knees. She scrambled over me, brushing me
with her luscious tits in the process, and arranged herself
perpendicular to me. Her face was at my groin. She took my cock into her
hot mouth again and this time she moaned as she sucked it slowly into
her face. My dick hit the back of her throat and she groaned, backed
off, then shifted her angle a bit. She took it slowly back in and kept
gulping until she had her lips into the coppery hair around the base of
my cock and her nose was pressed flat against my abdomen. This time I
was the one who groaned. She sucked powerfully on me. She began to back
my dick out of her throat. When only the head remained between her lips,
she slowly pushed her face down again. I reached down with one hand and
caressed her hair and her shoulders, then slid my hand over her torso
and squeezed her cute little butt. I brought my hand under and around to
cup one big tit. She quickened her pace slowly, inexorably. As she came
down, my hand was pressed between her breast and my abdomen. I could
feel her swollen nipple grinding hot and pebble-hard into my palm. I
rubbed a little bit and she groaned. Her groan vibrated my dick,
eliciting an answering groan from me -- which seemed to excite her still
more. Her hips were hunching slowly, almost grinding at the empty air.
She was sucking harder and bobbing a little faster. I felt the tingling
buzz through me and whispered, "I'm cumming now, Elly." She moaned
loudly and her hips pumped rapidly, demandingly. She sucked hard and her
hand came up between my shaking thighs. Her fingertips grazed my balls
and I could hear and feel her gasp as her ass lurched and then she got
my cream in her mouth. I came like a newly released convict. The stuff
erupted out of me into her mouth and when the first spurt splashed into
the back of her throat, she started to shaking all over. She sucked
harder, almost frantically, and a second geyser flooded her mouth. She
swallowed and dived her head down and back up halfway, working her
throat and lips and tongue over my pulsing shaft, milking my dick and
balls. I had the presence of mind -- barely -- to pinch her nipple
sharply and her hips jerked sharply, rapidly, as she drank my cum and
had an orgasm. When she got the last of my cum, she slowly relinquished
my limpening dick by pulling her still-sucking mouth backward, her
tongue all the time working wildly on my shaft and finally on my glans.
When my shriveled dick finally popped out of her mouth, she used her
tiny fingers to raise it. She lapped at my cock like a kitten getting
the last of the milk from a saucer. When her tongue rasped over my
glans, I almost screamed from the sensation; my dick was much too
sensitive at that point. She flopped on her side with her cheek on my
abdomen and her face toward me. Her hips still moved, but now
languorously. I rested my hand on the side of her face and caressed her.
"C'mere." She frowned. "Why?" I pulled her up to me and forced her to
sprawl across me. Her breasts were crushed -- but not nearly flattened
- -- against my chest. I moved to kiss her, but she jerked her head away.
"I've still got some of your stuff in my mouth!" I took her head in my
hands and forced her face toward me. I kissed her as sweetly and gently
as I could, on the eyes and nose and finally on the lips. She kept her
mouth tightly closed for a moment. I pulled back. "I want to kiss you,
Elly." She looked bewildered, but relented. Our tongues danced for a few
moments. She was telling the truth; she still had some of my semen in
her mouth. It didn't bother me in the least, but she seemed to get
uncomfortable and I was beginning to have a suspicion of why. I let her
back away from the kiss. She looked at me strangely for a moment, then:
"Can I ask you really personal question?" I grinned like a damn fool.
"Gee, I'm not sure we know each other that well, Elly. A personal
question? Gosh, I dunno. I mean, it's not like we've ever shared any
intimate moments." "Is that your sarcastic way of saying I can ask?"
"Exactly." "Are you bisexual?" I stared at her. She had honestly stunned
me with that one. I just shook my head, numbly. Finally, I managed to
ask: "Why?" "Well, you just came in my mouth and wanted to kiss me and
it's like you don't mind the taste of, uh -- " "Semen. The word is
`semen.' Or `cum.'" "Well?" "It's not my favorite taste, but I don't
mind it -- at least, not my own. I don't think I'd be so tolerant of
another guy's semen." I ran my hands down her back and pulled her
closer. "But, Elly, you don't seem to mind the taste; why should I?"
"That's different." She said it as if it was something that was
self-evident. "I'm a girl." "A woman." "Whatever." "There's a
difference." "I had big tits when I was thirteen, and I'd already
started to have my period." "And you were still a girl, then. Did you
always like the taste of semen?" "Well, sure, it's okay. I guess." "Do
you like it?" I put the emphasis on "like." "Not particularly," she
said, "but I really don't mind it." "But you had an orgasm when I came
in your mouth." Her eyes got suddenly heavy-lidded. "Oh, yeah, well, I
really like feeling that in my mouth, all that stuff spurting so hot and
thick, and feeling you moving and hearing you groan and knowing that I'm
doing that to you, making you feel like that while you give me the cum
right out of you, like you're feeding me and -- " She shivered and I
could feel her nipples hardening against my chest. Her legs had parted;
her thighs were opened to either side of my left thigh and she was
slowly rubbing her mons up and down against my leg. Thinking and talking
about sucking me off was turning her on. I had the brains to realize it
wasn't me, in particular, but the mere idea. Now, let me set the record
straight here on something. It may sound like she's some not-too-bright
young Polack bimbo with big boobs and a bottomless throat. Yes, she's
Polish, young, has big breasts and a bottomless throat. But she wasn't
and isn't some bimbo. She was a bright kid and she's a smart young
woman. She's always been -- at least, for the four years I've known her
- -- smart and sensitive and sometimes startlingly perceptive and
introspective. She'd graduated high school with her peers after being
left back twice in grade school (parochial, of course) for something
called "defiant and insubordinate behavior" and dropping out of high
school for a year. Yet she was bright enough to catch up on the earlier
stuff and return to high school and graduate on schedule. But she had
the idea that it was dirty to have a man give her pleasure with his
tongue and mouth. At the same time, just the thought of swallowing semen
had her hot and ready to rock again. 

ELLY TWO 

She'd been playing with my dick while I pondered and my cock, which has
no conscience, was stiffening and my balls were tightening. Her fingers
were tantalizing my prick now, barely touching it as they moved up and
down and then sliding lower, between my legs, where she trailed her
fingernails lightly over my balls. I almost had a seizure from the
intense lightness of the touch. She squirmed against me, her breasts
massaging my belly as her cunt drooled wetly on my leg. She started
kissing her way down toward my cock, but I stopped her with a hand under
her chin. "I want to give you pleasure in my way," I whispered. "This
gives me pleasure," she murmured, pressing her lips against my abdomen.
"It makes me, you know, get over when you shoot your -- your cum in my
mouth." "I know, but I want to taste you, too. Please?" She looked
really troubled by that. "Trust me?" She bit her lower lip and then
nodded. With my hands under her arms, I pulled her up to me and kissed
her lovely mouth. After a few moments of hesitation, her lips parted and
our tongues danced. I was running my hands over her naked loveliness,
savoring the taut, tiny waist and hard little mounds of her flawless
ass. Occasionally I let one hand wander down between her legs to barely
touch her pussy. Her buttocks would flex at the contact. I rolled her
onto her back and started kissing my way down her torso. I lingered over
her tits again, Magellan-like, circumnavigating those amazing
hemispheres. The undercurves had -- as with too many women, I've found
- -- been neglected and my tongue there made her shiver with pleasure. It
wasn't a long journey down her petite frame from her outrageous breasts
to her naval, but I took a leisurely, meandering route, making the most
of it. Then I headed for paradise. All the time, I was running my hands
up and down her firm torso and legs and by the time I had kissed the
hollows just inside each hipbone, she was sighing and occasionally
gasping with pleasure. I slid lower, forcing her legs apart, and then
began kissing and licking the insides of her thighs. Her knees, wide to
either side of my broad shoulders, were bent and I could even lick the
backs of her lean thighs. I slid my hands beneath her and took one cheek
in each palm. She tensed more and more, the closer I got to my target.
Again I had to suppress the mental association with a prepubescent girl
- -- it was really disturbing -- and I began savoring the morsel of her
cunt. As narrow-hipped as she was, there was space between the top of
her thighs and the outer edges of her labia majora. Her bush was more of
a tuft -- and a sparse, blonde tuft, at that. Her pussy lips were very
thin and her pussy seemed almost truncated. I grazed the outer lips with
my mouth. She stiffened and her thighs trembled, as if she were fighting
a battle with herself to keep them apart. I grazed again and she gasped
that my beard tickled. I looked up from my tasty treat. "Does it
scratch?" I couldn't see her face; her breasts were too large and firm.
"No, no, it's soft but ... I'm just not used to it." "Get used to it," I
ordered. "I like this!" I went back to licking. I tried to catch her
cunt lips, one at a time, in my lips and play with them, but they were
too thin and tight. They were beautifully engorged and she was almost
drooling. I tried parting them with my tongue. The tongue is,
ounce-for-ounce, the most powerful muscle in the body. I could not part
her outer labia with mine. Bringing my hands forward, I used my thumbs
to pry those clamshell tight lips open and expose the pink tenderness
within. I licked and laved and trilled and teased and let my breath fall
on her little clit. I didn't need to hear her gasps to know she was
enjoying it; her clit was swelling. Her legs had clamped on my head and
her hands rested in my hair. They trembled as if in isometric exercise.
She was fighting the impulse to push me away because I'd told her I
wanted this and at the same time she was enjoying it immensely. Then I
started flattening my tongue in her thumb-parted cunt and slowly
wriggling it up to her clitoris. By the time I reached it -- and it took
a good ten seconds, even for that short a trip -- her clit had swollen
considerably. When I pointed my tongue and began slowly tracing circles
around the nub, she began to cum. I slowed my circlings and took her
clit in a lip-grip. She seemed to go catatonic. She stiffened, taut as a
catgut string, and shook. She made barely any noise at all. I moved one
thumb over, finally found the tiny vestibule and carefully worked the
tip into the spasming constriction of her cunt. When I pulled my lips
off her clit, she sank her hips down -- and in the process forced half
my thumb into her cunt. She groaned, long and low. I wriggled the digit
until she came again, this time with her hips rocking. Her juices were
coating my fingers and matting my beard. My cock, hard to begin with,
was aching -- no matter that she'd drained me less than twenty minutes
before. I slowly licked her again and she arched and came again -- and
then again. When I pulled my face away, she collapsed back onto the bed,
sobbing and gasping. I crawled up and rolled her into my arms. She began
weeping uncontrollably. I was getting scared, now. I held her, gently
caressing her till she calmed. Then I asked and she said, "I just feel
so -- so unworthy of cumming so much that way! Over and over and over --
it must be bad!" She started to sob again. I kissed her eyes and her
tear-stained cheeks as she caught her breath and relaxed. "I never knew
I could get over so often so fast," she murmured against my shoulder.
"But I want you inside me -- no matter what!" "I want that, too." No
matter what? I wondered what she meant. "I don't have to worry about
getting pregnant, David." I understood: the cyst removal had meant
hysterectomy. I still didn't understand about the No Matter What. She
squeezed my aching erection. "I want this inside me." "Wanna get on top,
shorty?" She giggled, then calmed. "Mmmmm, I don't think that would
work. I'm kind of...small down there." She pecked me on the lips.
"Besides, I'd rather be under you, 'kay?" I rolled her onto her back and
her legs came up around my hips. "Maybe. Will you still respect me
afterward?" "Not at all." "Fine." I rubbed the head of my raging rigid
richard (well, that's the long form of "dick" and it preserves the
alliteration) up and down her sweet, syrupy slit. She moaned softly when
my glans brushed her engorged clit -- but for the life of me, I could
not feel her opening. Her little hand insinuated itself between us and
she took over the guidance. I felt no difference, but she was satisfied,
evidently, because she locked her legs around me and began pressing up
at me. I can take a hint. I began pushing slowly down at her and felt a
tiny opening at the tip of my glans. A grimace flickered across her face
and I hesitated. Her eyes, squeezed shut, opened wide. "No! Don't stop!"
Okay, I didn't. I swiveled my hips and she swiveled hers and only the
fact that she'd vacuum-dried my balls less than a half-hour before kept
me from blasting my cum into her the moment my glans was inside the
incredibly small hole and her cunt was vise-gripping just behind the
little raised flange of my knob. Guys with three-inch thick "tubesteaks"
(an attractive expression, if I ever heard one) are probably familiar
with what I was experiencing -- and judging by the letters columns in
Certain Magazines and the postings on some BBSs, 85 percent of America's
men have dicks that require Commercial Plates in most states. But for
me, with my (apparently) sub-normal six inches by
one-and-three-quarters, this was a first. I had never been in such a
tight opening -- not with the slim- hipped seventeen-year-old Homecoming
Queen-cum-love child, not in the ass of the sex-mad Singaporean lovely
I'd known in Greenwich Village, not even in the sweet and willing cunt
of the little German blonde who was afflicted with vaginismus. Never. I
stopped there. Her expression said she was in pain and her twat was
spasming slightly looser occasionally -- but then clenching right back
down. I moved to withdraw but she tightened her legs around my back.
"Don't stop!" she grunted. "I have to have it in more!" I slid my hands
down to her ass, so tiny and tight. I pulled her toward me as I pushed
down. Bit...by...grudging...bit...my cock burrowed into her, as she
humped hungrily up at me. She was wet all the way down and tight all the
way down and spasming all the way down. And when I finally felt her
pubis grind into mine and knew I was all the way inside, I could feel
her cervix against the tip of my cock. Putting my hands under her butt
had caused my upper body to fall forward onto her. I raised myself up on
my hands again and looked down into her face. It was slack and darkened
with a deep flush -- and she'd bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
Her eyes fluttered open and the concern must have shown on my face. "I'm
okay. I want to you to cum in me." "It's hurting you -- " "I want you to
... fuck me! Fuck me!" Each time she said it, she shivered. "Fuck me and
cum inside me! Do it to me! I need it!" I pulled back a little -- maybe
an inch -- and pushed slowly into her. Sucked off or not, I wasn't going
to last long, not the way this felt. "Fuck me -- fuck me hard! I want to
feel it! Fucking do me!" I pulled back half-way and then pressed slowly
and steadily into her. She groaned and her legs fell away from my hips.
Her feet must have been flat on the bed, because her slim hips were
angled up at me. I did it again and she gasped again and she started
with "Unnnnnh!" each time my dick pounded into her. She loosened a
little, but not much. I took her hand and led it between us. When I put
her fingertips at her clitoris, she jerked her hand back. "Do it!" I
hissed. She shook her head wildly. "It'll make me cum!" "That's the
idea!" She shook her head again and grabbed her nipples, twisting and
pinching them, pulling the nozzles till they were supporting the full
weight of her large breasts, distending the abundant hemispheres. "See?"
she demanded. "See? Now fuck the living shit out of me -- hard so I can
feel it like this!" And she tugged her nipples again. I saw and
understood. I pulled my legs up and knelt, my hands under the small of
her small back supporting her so she was arched back. I held her with
one hand and moved the other around to her front and pushed my thumbed
down over her clit and started rubbing light and persistently. Her
abdomen twitched wildly and then -- and then she came and the spasms of
her cunt felt like they were going to hold my dick in her forever. She
squeezed her tits viciously, as if trying to compress them. I kept
working at her clit and her hands fell away from her tits. ""No, don't
make me cum like that -- don't make it feel so good to fuck -- fuck me
hard! Make it hurt!" "No way..." I murmured and started pistoning inside
her slightly loosened little cunt. I kept on toying with her clit and
she started cumming again. I just concentrated on holding off as long as
I could and didn't stop messing with her trigger until her hips were
starting to roll with her orgasms. After a few minutes, she started
gasping my name and "Yes!" in a little chant and arching up for her
orgasms. Her cunt had loosened enough that when she came, it contracted
around me and milked at my dick -- not like it was trying to keep me
out. I leaned forward and starting driving into her faster, harder,
using longer strokes. She was cumming easily, now, and giving herself
over to the pleasures. At one point, she wrapped her legs around my hips
and her arms around my neck and glued herself to me and I damn near came
right then and there -- but she couldn't maintain the position through
more than one orgasm. Then she was raising her shapely legs, folding
them higher. I put an arm under each of her knees and pushed her legs up
and back when I pressed into her this time, she made a little "Eeeee"
noise and came very hard. "Yes!" she gasped. "YES! DEEP!" Her legs went
back farther and farther and then she shifted her arms so that her knees
were hooked behind her triceps, almost behind her shoulders. I looked
down and saw her belly bulge each time I pushed down and deep into her.
"More!" I did the best I could, enjoying every second of it, but I
wasn't long in cumming, myself. When the time came, I told her so, with
my usual eloquence: "Cumming! CUmming now!" "YES!" I poured my jism into
her, interrupted only by the clenchings of her cunt -- which tightened
so much that it repeatedly stemmed the flow, which only prolonged and
intensified my orgasm. My dick lengthened and thickened inside of her
when that happened and she made a little squeaky noise as she came and
she bit the back of her own LEG in her wildness. When my dick deflated
- -- this happens, you know -- her pussy was so tight that it wouldn't let
the erection-producing blood escape right away; a cock ring does that,
too. Only slowly did my cock soften enough for me to try pulling out of
her. Her legs straightened as my dick came free with an audible POP! and
I rolled onto my back, pulling her into my arms. Her tits were pressed
against me like fists and she shook against me. I felt dampness on my
chest, from her face. "Are you okay?" "Why do you have to make something
so dirty feel good? It just makes me want to do it more -- just so I'll
feel good." "There's something wrong with that?" "Then I just want to
feel good and I'll be a slut!" She dropped her head back to my chest. I
caressed her back until she seemed calm. When she snored I realized just
how calm she'd become. I rolled her off me and arranged her in the bed,
pulling the sheet and a light blanket around her, then crawled in with
her and rolled her into my arms.

ELLY THREE 

When I awoke, I lay there for a few minutes trying to sort things out.
The clock said 9:08. After reminding myself that this was a Saturday and
I did not have to go into the place I laughingly refer to as "work," I
began to wonder: Had I dreamed it? No; there was a wet spot where she'd
lain. And I became aware of the aroma of fresh coffee (half- Sumatra,
quarter-pound each of French-roasted Mexican Altura and French- roasted
Colombian, dripped in a Braun Melitta-filter pot) I rolled to my feet,
pulled on my faded blue terrycloth robe, slipped into my slippers
(clever name for them, eh?) and thwap-thwapped into the living room.
Elly had opened the shutters and glorious sunshine was pouring in
through the fourth-floor windows of my tenement apartment. She was doing
wonderful things for my old, blue Dior robe (the tattered one that came
halfway to my calves). A cup of The Good Stuff was on the battered old
oak table next to the love seat and she'd switched the stereo to play
through the living room speakers, the ones in the books shelves. It was
something called "LITE FM" and I hated it. "LITE" means no calories and
calories are a measure of heat; no-one was ever going to accuse Ann
Murray or Kansas of generating heat with their music. On Elly's lap was
the three-ring binder in which I keep photocopies of my published
stories. She looked up as I entered. Her eyes were red-rimmed; she'd
been weeping. "Oh, David," she said, "I can't believe you wrote these!"
"Why not?" I already knew which one had elicited that response. "Because
I like to fuck?" Her expression collapsed. "Why do you have to spoil
it?" "I'm a package deal. With the beautiful story comes the guy who
supported himself for a couple of years by writing brilliant, sensitive
stuff like `Lezzy Bitch' and `Mom, Sis And Every Body'. And if that
disappoints you, think what it does for me, okay?" She looked down and
pursed her lips. I tried to ignore the Parting of the Robe. She
murmured, "I guess that's fair. I mean, you'll take me as a package
deal, I guess I have to do the same. You don't mind being with a slutty
bimbo who loves being fucked and cumming all the time." She looked up at
me, beautiful blue eyes wide and bright. "I don't mind and I don't think
you're slutty." She closed the binder and set it aside. I was
disappointed that She wasn't compelled to finish what She was reading.
She leaned forward and I got a good view all the way down the front of
her robe. She opened mind and sucked my cock, still coated with our
juices from the night before, completely into her mouth and began using
her tongue to wash it. The inevitable happened quickly. She pulled back
and released it and looked up at me. "I get off sucking cock. Drinking
semen makes me get over." "I know. So does being licked or having a cock
inside you -- " "That's different. Then I can't stop cumming and I don't
want to. But drinking it, getting off that way -- then it's just once
and I'm in control." "And the other way you're being controlled." "No --
no, the other way I'm out of control, I can't control myself. That's why
I started studying Yoga when I was fifteen -- to help me learn to
control myself. I controlled my eating and stopped smoking and never do
drugs anymore and hardly ever even drink. And I never, ever masturbate.
That way nothing controls me but me and no one can control me or hurt me
or take advantage of me." "That's why you want it to hurt you when you
fuck." She nodded gravely. "If it doesn't hurt -- well, you saw what
happened." She was blushing. "I just keep getting over..." She dropped
her eyes. "It's not natural to be such a slut. That's why you're the
first man I ever let lick me and that was just because I like you so
much." I frowned, pulled my robe closed and sat down in the rocker
facing the couch. "Last night you told me you liked it -- before I
licked you." "No, I didn't -- " "You're not a good liar." "But you are
the first -- " She stopped and tears welled up. "How old were you when
you let a woman lick you?" "A year before I met you, my cousin and I, we
- -- we --" "You liked it." "Yes, dammit!" She shouted and then looked
away. Softly: "I used to masturbate and get over every night before I
went to sleep. But when Adele licked me, I went nuts. I licked her, too,
and she went nuts, too. That's when I realized what a slut I am, because
she was the biggest slut you ever saw and I was getting over just like
her." "How do you know she was a slut?" "I'd seen her doing it with guys
and men. She'd do it with any guy she saw, sometimes whole bunches of
them. It was like she couldn't get enough, like she was an addict."
"Sounds like she was a sex addict, alright. And a slut. But you're no
slut." "How can you say that? Only a slut would get over the way I do --
" "You're saying that every woman I ever cared about is a slut?" I
growled, as menacingly as I could. It must have been pretty effective
because her eyes widened, she jerked back on the couch and cringed,
holding the robe closed. I'm terrific at terrifying insecure women under
five feet tall. "No! I just meant -- " "The hell! You said a
multiorgasmic woman is a slut and every woman I've ever cared about has
been multiorgasmic." "But -- " I pointed at the frame photo of a nude
torso on the wall. "You've met her. Is she a slut?" "Her?" Disbelief.
"What about Livinia?" "Who?" "The Filipino woman who used to work in the
laundromat. Is she a slut?" "But she was always nice and pleasant and
polite and never -- " "That's two. You've met both of them, talked with
them. By your definition, they're sluts -- because they're
multiorgasmic." "I don't understand," she whispered. "You read a lot,
Elly. There've been hundreds of articles in women's magazines about
women being naturally multiorgasmic." "I don't read those articles. They
start me thinking and then I want to get over too much." She blushed.
"Even just talking about it, now, makes me -- you know." "Horny." "I can
probably get over just by thinking about it and imagining it, I think."
I stared at her for a long time. "Elly, I know women who'd kill to be
able to do that." "Really? Are they slutty?" "Nope. Elly, what do you do
when your sweetheart wants you? Make him hurt you?" "He can't help it.
He's so, you know, big that it always hurts to have him inside. We
hardly ever do that, because he likes to have me suck him off. I like
that." "I know." Her eyes were open, but she wasn't seeing me at the
moment. Pornographic images were in her field of vision. Her nipples
were swollen points jabbing the front of the tautly held robe.
Considering that the robe is terrycloth, that's pretty impressive. "And
I like you," she said suddenly. "You listen to me and talk to me. But
you're telling me to take a chance and give in to being a slut." "When
you wanted to lose weight, you didn't stop eating completely, did you?"
She shook her head. "I just learned to eat regular meals and eat the
right stuff." "Same thing. Get crazy only when it's right for you and do
what feels good with the right people. Use your head the way you did
when you were dieting. You're acting like an anorexic -- someone who's
compulsive about not eating so he can avoid being fat." "So you're
telling me that you don't think I'm a slut, that it's natural for a
woman to get over so much and that the way I'm doing it isn't really
healthy for me." "In my humble opinion." She looked up at the Library
Wall. I watched the robe, to see if the nipples were going poke holes in
it. I didn't think so, but I wasn't willing to put money on it. "I don't
know," she mumbled. "Think about that while I get some coffee." "Mm-hm."
I stood and went over to stand before her. She refocused her eyes on me.
She was slightly flushed and her breathing was shallow. "And one other
thing," I said. "What?" "While I'm drinking my coffee in the dining
room..." I took her hand put it over her cunt and squeezed. She gasped
- -- but didn't try to stop. "I want you to touch yourself." "I don't know
- -- " "Please, as a favor." I didn't have to wait for a reply, because
her fingers were already moving of their own accord. I would have
preferred to stay and watch, but I wanted my coffee -- and to keep the
conditions I'd set. I fed to so-called cat and sat down to drink my
coffee. I did not look at the clock and tried not to scald myself with
haste. I also tried not to visualize what was going on in the living
room. I remembered Elly as I'd met her. She was mentally rather mature
for her age -- 16 -- and sold donuts at a local store, over near the
subway. Her poise and perception and literacy had impressed me. Becoming
acquaintances and even friends was odd. Odd because I am truly repulsed,
physically, by overweight females. (Don't take this as sexist, please; I
suppose that the vast majority of women are repulsed by overweight
males, too.) That made it easy to be a friend to her, to be a confident
and, occasionally, an advisor -- because I knew I'd never be tempted to
hit on her and she could sense that I was safe. As time passed, she
would sometimes call me late at night, after her strict (Old Country
Polish) mother had already turned in. She knew that I stayed up late and
l encouraged her to call. There was something fragile about her. She
needed a friend, a man whose interests weren't confined to fucking her,
or who -- like me -- wasn't at all interested in fucking her.
Considering her weight, that was no problem for me. After she left the
donut store, sometimes we'd bump into each other. More often than not,
it was at the local video store. We'd chat a bit while we walked as far
as my corner (she lived much farther east, in the old end of the
neighborhood) and one night we stood and talked for almost an hour.
Neither of us wanted to stop sharing of ourselves. She'd ask about my
girlfriend -- though "main squeeze" was more like it, since my girl and
I had sort of an open relationship -- and I'd ask what new love was in
her life. She was a hopeless romantic, falling in and out of love
weekly, but usually had to worship from afar. Eventually, we simply lost
touch with each other. Her footsteps in the hallway snapped me back to
the moment. I finished my coffee and looked up, expecting to see her
come into the dining room. Instead, the steps changed direction and then
I heard her bump into the door jamb -- she is Polish, after all -- and
then heard her hit the bed. I heard sheets rustle. Then: "David, please
come here." Her voice had a quaver in it. Being not nearly as dumb a I
look, I immediately went to her. When I got there, she had the covers
pulled up to her neck. Only her flushed face, framed by disheveled hair,
was visible. Her hands wee moving beneath the covers, though, clearly
cupping and gliding over her breasts, then sliding down her torso to
move at the juncture of her thighs. I closed the door and looked down at
her from the foot of the bed. My cock was already throbbing hard beneath
my robe. "I just kept getting over until I had to have you. Oooo... What
would make you hot?" she breathed. Her eyes were half-closed. The
heaving of her breasts beneath the light blanket increased. "C'mon --
tell me." I walked around to stand beside the bed next to her head. She
started to reach for me. "No -- keep touching yourself." "Does that turn
you on?" I opened my robe. "What do you think?" She licked her lips.
"Whatever you like ..." "I want you to -- " I stopped, watching her
reach between her legs under the covers. Her legs parted wider and she
hunched her shoulders. Her breathing deepened. "You want me to what?"
"It turns you on having me watch you, doesn't it?" "Yeah!" "I want you
to cum for me while I watch you." "I can't -- " "Yes, you can." "But I
want you inside me, where it aches -- " She kneaded her cunt
frantically. "I need it so baaaaad inside me..." I reached behind me and
into the top drawer of the dresser. When she opened her eyes, they
widened. "I want to watch you using this." "I couldn't -- " "That's what
would get me really turned on." "I can't -- " But even as she objected,
her eyes were locked on the very realistic eight-inch dildo. I pulled
back the bedcovers, exposing that magnificent young body. She started to
remove her hand from her soaked pussy, but I covered her hand with mine
and then kissed her slippery fingers. She barely hesitated in her
furious masturbation. She was holding her labia apart with the fingers
of one hand and furiously rubbing her clit with the other thumb while
trying to force two fingers deeper into that sweet, syrupy little slit.
I stood and took the K-Y from the same drawer and smeared a liberal dose
on the dildo. She focused on it like a bird watching a cobra as I
brought it slowly down between her thighs. When I put the tip against
her exposed cunt, she jerked. "Cold," she said. "It'll get warm fast."
She rolled her hips and pressed her pelvis down and toward the dildo. I
pushed it a little and she gasped as it began to slide in. Her fingering
of her clit speeded up. I worked the latex head back and forth a few
times, watching her rhythm alter. When her cunt was reaching for it all
the time, I pushed the head all the way in. She gasped and then groaned
and began revolving her hips around it. She took the labia parting hand
away and began caressing her breasts. I was jealous. "It feels so big in
there, so good and big and stretching me so muuuuu..." I led the
tit-fondling hand down and placed it on the shaft, then took my fingers
away. She worked it back and forth experimentally a few times, then
began slowly pumping herself with it, taking the inch-and-a- half thick
dildo deeper each time. "Oh, yeah, this feels so good, feels so good,
feels so good," she breathed, chanting in time to her thrusts. Her hips
were taut, now, and she was starting to arch her ass from the bed.
Suddenly, she arched higher and rolled slowly over onto her belly. She
pulled her knees up, leaving her shoulders and face flat on the bed, and
began pushing that latex prick deeper. Whatever she was muttering was
lost in the pillow. I looked at her in profile. Her face was turned
toward me and was totally slack with pleasure. Her hair was a singular,
disheveled mess. Her position was crushing her over-sized tits so they
bulged out to either side of her. She had her knees pulled up so far
that her kneecaps were pushing against her breasts. Her sleek little ass
was outthrust beautifully. And her hand, still gripping the base of the
dildo, occasionally appeared briefly between her taut thighs before
disappearing back between. I reached out and began lightly caressing her
back. After about twenty seconds, she was cumming -- hard. She kept
pumping her pussy with the indefatigable dildo and her pussy kept
pumping right back: She kept cumming. I took my fingers from her back
and she moaned, "Touch me! Please!" She was cumming faster now and I
didn't want to spoil the mood or anything, so I accommodated her. It was
a great sacrifice. I traced my fingertips on the overflow swell of her
left breast and she continued pumping, now with less regularity. She was
starting to lose her coordination and all self-control. I leaned forward
and kissed her hot cheek gently and whispered, "You are so beautiful and
wonderful. You're turning me on beyond belief!" She just moaned and
continued getting off on what she was doing. I went to the foot of the
bed and bent and began kissing and licking the small of her back. Inches
beneath my chin, she was thrusting the dildo harder and harder into
herself. I grabbed her buttocks and gave them a squeeze, then spent so
time nibbling lightly on them, then kissed and licked them. My hands
stayed busy on her hips and thighs, caressing. She was moaning softly
and continuously now and her whole body was shaking. I licked down the
sweet, narrow furrow of her tiny, taut ass and when I got to the
opening, kept right on licking. She was quivering all over, cumming
without pause, now, and with growing intensity. I located the K-Y, and
lubed up a finger while rimming her teeny little asshole. I thrust my
tongue against pinpoint opening, then licked up and down and kissed the
inner swells of her cheeks again. Then I put my slippery fingertip
against her anus and slowly massaged the K-Y into it. "Yessssss...." she
hissed loudly. I pressed the fingertip in to the first knuckle. I could
feel the dildo pumping through that thin membrane separating the
channels. Her ass clamped down on my finger and spasmed powerfully as
she continued cumming. I worked it in farther and then carefully moved
it in and out. I thought of how it would feel to have my prick in there
and regretted that she was so tiny that my dick would hurt her too much.
Doubly regretted it, because she was obviously enjoying what I was doing
back there and she moaned when I removed the finger. I went back to the
side of the bed and rolled her onto her side. She slowed her pumping and
looked up at me. Her eyes focused for a moment and she said in a
distant, amazed voice: "I just can't stop getting over, David! I just
keep cumming!" "It's so wonderful," I answered. I rolled her over the
rest of the way. She reached up with one shaking, juice-soaked hand and
grabbed my stiff prick. "Please?" she said, pulled me toward her face.
"Please?" I straddled her and felt the her huge breasts brushed the
backs of my thighs. Her nipples were stiff as spikes. I lowered my cock
to her eager mouth and that long, limber tongue flickered out to guide
it the rest of the way to her welcoming lips. She locked on to my dick
about halfway down. I leaned forward, onto my outstretched arms, and
looked down to watch as I slowly, carefully, pump my dick in and out of
her mouth. Beyond that, her wondrous tits thrust upward, capped by
outrageously swollen nipples. And beyond those, I could see her hips
canted up, her knees wide and feet flat on the bed. She was holding the
dildo almost motionless and fucking it with urgent thrusts. Every half-
minute or so, she would hold herself still and catgut taut and cum in
shuddering waves. The room was ripe with the smell of hot pussy. It was
too much for me and very quickly I was pulsing in her mouth. I didn't
have to tell her I was cumming; she knew it was imminent. She sucked
maniacally, cumming constantly as she did. When I finally began spurting
in her mouth, she gobbled my cock to the back of her throat and gulped
me right down and in. I felt like all my semen was exploding out of me
in one long, uninterrupted stream -- and she was drinking it all and
cumming so hard that she was arching on the bed beneath me. She drained
me dry and kept sucking. I pulled my spent dick from her lips and rolled
to one side. She continued cumming, her hand a blur as she rubbed her
clitoris, her hips chattering up at the dildo held in fast by the other
hand. She was gasping a word. I put my ear close and finally made it
out: "More...more...more..." Each time it was a little explosion of
barely modulated breath. I leaned down on the bed and began licking her
breasts and then suckled her. I ran my hands lightly all over her. She
was cumming constantly now, without interruption. I licked lower, over
her abdomen and then around her mons. I caressed her thighs and reached
beneath the lightly cup and squeeze her ass. Her buttocks wee in
constant spasm as she came. I leaned farther and she grabbed my hair and
forced my mouth down to her clitoris. As she kept grinding her cunt on
the dildo, I sucked her clit carefully into my lips and began lightly
running my tongue around -- but as fast as I could: swirling. I wrapped
my arms around her slim hips and grabbed her ass and bore her back down
to the bed. "YES!" she screamed suddenly, loud enough to scare the
neighbors dog into barking. Her body began writhing, serpentine, beneath
me. She wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled herself to me so
tightly, I thought one of us was going to break. Her mouth was against
my abdomen and I felt her screaming nonstop against me as she came. She
came harder and harder and then, abruptly, went silent. Her hips hunched
and then relaxed and she fell shiveringly limp. The dildo was pushed
ever so slowly out of her cunt, followed by an enormous accumulation of
Elly juices that seemed to pour out of her. Even as I rolled away,
hearing her panting slow, she shuddered and came again. I sat up with my
back to the wall and looked at her. Elly's body continued, slowly, to
shake with pleasure, as if echoes of the orgasms were still bouncing
around in there. The flush was just beginning to fade from her chest. I
stretched out beside her and took her into my arms. The bedside clock
said noon. I nestled her, spoon-fashion, against me and kiss the side of
her neck. She smiled in her sleep. I smiled back, anyhow. When she woke
I would tell her that she had helped me realize a fantasy I've had since
I was eighteen: To be with a woman and help her cum so hard and so much
that she passes out from the sheer pleasure of it. Forty-five minutes
later, I was awakened by the sound of the shower running. I donned the
ratty old robe, creaked out of the bedroom and knocked. "Come on in!" I
heard her drawing the curtain. She had drawn it open. Elly stood there
with her hair in the incredibly stupid pink showercap I keep for guests,
with water sluicing off her incredible little body. I had great fun
watching her use the Ivory Soap on the astonishing curves, and my cock
had even more fun in mind. She spotted the growth and her eyes
half-closed and her nipples began to swell. Her hands dipped between her
legs and started moving, then withdrew. I started to pull off the robe.
"Don't," she said softly. "I have to get going." "Don't you want me
anymore?" She grabbed my hand and put it between her legs. I slid a
finger deep inside her. The hot moisture in there wasn't from any
shower. "Desperately," she said softly, putting a kiss on beard and
pushing my hand away from her cunt. "But I have to run some errands and
do some housekeeping." "Still think of yourself as a slut?" I whispered.
She laughed and straightened, completing her rinsing. As I watched her
towel herself dry, she said, "Right now? No. But when I want to, I'll be
a slut, alright. Like before." She shook her head in amazement and
wrapped the towel around herself. "I never would have imagined I could
ever cum so much! I actually passed out from it!" I walked her to the
bedroom and watched her dress while I told her about the fantasy.
"That's the kind of fantasy I would've thought you had, David." She was
wearing her jeans and had her bra on, but not clasped. She leaned up to
kiss my chin. "It's too bad that once you do something, it can't be a
fantasy anymore." "Naaaah. I'd like to do it again -- lots." "Really?"
"You betcha." "Me, too. The same goes for my fantasy." I frowned as she
hooked the bra and reached for her plum-colored blouse. "What's that?"
"The one I've had since I was sixteen -- about you." "I'm ready." She
gave my stiff dick a squeeze. "So I noticed." She button her blouse,
saying, "And I've had other fantasies, but I've always suppressed them."
"I'd love to hear them." "I'll tell you mine if you'll tell me yours --
that is, if you've got any left." "Don't worry. I've one or two left,
maybe even three." She cocked an eyebrow at me. "`Lezzy Bitch' was it?
How many of those books did you write?" I made a face. She laughed as
she bent limberly and straight-legged -- as if to taunt me with her body
- -- to pull on her sandals. She straightened and said, "You know, I
really would like to see that book." "`Lezzy Bitch'?" "No, the one on
the shelf -- `Fear of Flying'." We went into the living room. She
retrieved her handbag (which is what they call a canvas steamer trunk
with a strap on it) and I gave her the book. At the door, I asked, "Can
I count on getting this book back?" "Hand-delivered," she said and
started down the stairs. She waved from the third-floor landing.

END

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Date: Thu Nov 27 13:21:59 1997 GMT
From: apollo@nym.alias.net

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