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From: Jonathan P <jonathanbareb@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Surrender" (MF)
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Date: Wed, 18 Aug 2010 01:10:06 -0400
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   Copyright 2010 by JonathanP (jonathanbareb@hotmail.com)

   Surrender

    

   Two months after I'd first gotten into Margie's pants, she still
wouldn't let me fuck her.  It's not that we didn't have the opportunity. 
Once a week or two we'd leave work in the mid afternoon, drive to her
nearby apartment, and there we'd make out and grope each other on the sofa
or the livingroom floor, or sometimes even in her bedroom on her double bed
with her teddy bear looking on in bemused silence.  We did just about
everything else, but she said no to intercourse.

    

   It's not that she didn't like sex.  From the very beginning, from that
very first day she invited me to her place and I got her off with my
fingers, Margie seemed to have few inhibitions.  The second time, three
days later, she was on her back on the living room floor with her skirt up
to her chin and her thighs squeezing my neck, followed soon thereafter with
her lips wrapped around my cock.  But intercourse was a no-no.

    

   "It's my boyfriend," she told me one afternoon as we cuddled on her
couch.  His frequent business travels had accommodated our regular
gettogethers.  "I know it sounds silly, but it makes me feel like I'm still
being faithful to him."  Her notion of faithfulness was a little bit
puzzling to me, since at that particular moment her fragrant juices were
smeared all over my face and I had two fingers nestled inside her.  Ten
minutes earlier, my cock had been releasing my pent up tension into her
mouth.

    

   I wasn't complaining, mind you.  At least not complaining much. 
Margie's pussy was a sheer delight of a feast.  She opened her legs for me
without a hint of shyness.  Her aroma was distinct and heady, clearly
signaling her arousal even before I could slip her panties off and fling
them away.  Her outer labia were chubby and just begged for my tongue to
split them to suckle her pink inner labia that quickly swelled and parted. 
She'd hold my head between her hands and curl those short legs around my
neck and hook her ankles together, and then her hips would be in constant
motion.

    

   Margie was one of those women who wasn't very loud during her buildup. 
She signaled her pleasure with dashing accelerations in breathing and
sprints of breathy pants and a way of pulling on the back of my head with
her hands while she lifted her hips, to more tightly capture my face
against her sweet openness.

    

   Best of all, I could always tell when Margie was going to come.  Her
inner labia swelled to form a wide, firm valley.  At the top her clit stood
high and hard and called to my tongue to dance and my lips to suck.  At the
bottom that juicy valley formed an enticing gateway to the crinkly, hot
opening of her vagina, that source of seemingly endless slick juices.  When
Margie's pussy blossomed like that, I knew that all she needed was another
thirty seconds of steady lapping pressure.

    

   And then she'd pop.  Perhaps "pop" isn't the right word.  "Explode" is
more accurate.  Margie's hips would slash her pussy against my mouth and
she'd breathe so hard she seemed to hyperventilate, her moans becoming
louder and higher-pitched until she crested with a series of three or four
intense shrieks and a quivering, shuddering body that vibrated for half a
minute or more.

    

   Sometimes I could keep her going like that for more than a minute,
though I learned to stay away from her clit and just focus on those chubby
labia, with the occasional straining plunge of my tongue into her vagina. 
Then she'd rise to a second orgasm, sometimes a third, before those
rubbery-hard pussylips softened and her body became limp.

    

   Needless to say, my own body wasn't limp at this point.  Margie may have
been reluctant to fuck, but she showed no reluctance to getting me -
eventually -- to an equally limp state with her mouth.  She was
particularly adept at that particular skill.  She seemed to sense exactly
how to get me off, with just the right combination of slow, sensuous rhythm
and gentle suction that I like.  She'd lie between my legs and suck, her
breasts against my thighs, her dark brown eyes gazing upward and locked
onto mine, her wavy brown hair falling down to my body to frame her face,
humming around my cock as she felt me get closer and closer.  And when I'd
come she'd hold that eyelock, bobbing her head to greet every wet pulse,
sucking and swallowing, sucking and swallowing, until I was spent and
shriveled.

    

   It doesn't take a genius to guess that I didn't give up on the idea of
fucking her.  As far as I was concerned, she was already cheating on her
boyfriend, even if technically I wasn't boinking her.  She'd told me that
she was on the pill, so birth control wasn't an issue.  And since these
events all occurred in the pre-AIDS era, so neither of us was faced with
the issue of a fatal STD.  So I kept trying, in a low-key, gentlemanly,
albeit relentlessly persuasive way.

    

   Eventually Margie saw the logic to my argument.  Either that, or she was
as horny as I was and I just caught her on the right day.  It was a Bedroom
Day -- not a Sofa Day or a Floor Day, for reasons I can't remember today. 
We were both naked, which was becoming more and more common over the span
of the two months we'd been having our low-calorie luncheons, and I was
dawdling in my normal rush get between her legs and lick her into a
frenzy.  By the time I finally homed in on the Promised Land, Margie was
primed and ready.

    

   Twice I brought her to the precipice with my mouth, and twice I
retreated and left her teetering on the edge.  The first time I did this,
Margie groaned with frustration and tried to friction her pussy against my
mouth to get herself past the threshold, but I retreated and wouldn't play
along.  The second time she tried to use her legs and her hands to force me
back.  "Damn you," she growled at me, "Don't tease me!"

    

   I strained against her grip and slid upward to top her, nose to nose. 
Margie's legs stiffened straight, forcing my shaft between us against her
lower belly.  I rocked against her.  "I have an idea," I whispered.  "Let
me rub against you."

    

   Margie momentarily hesitated, then her legs opened and the tops of her
feet tucked in next to my calves.  Immediately my cock notched lengthwise
in her cleft between those fattened pussylips of hers, just like it
belonged there.  I began to rub against her.  "Not inside," she reminded
me.

    

   I smiled at her.  All in due time, I thought to myself.

    

   I began a steady rhythm, and Margie's hips responded.  Her mouth pursed
into an open aroused "O" and her eyes became heavy-lidded, her face
blushed.  Her labia, which had momentarily softened, had again rehardened
into their supercharged swollen state.  Her cleft had again become a
valley, and the route was obvious.  And it was obvious to both of us.

    

   When the moment was ripe, my cockhead paused at her entrance and teased
in little circles.  "Damn you," she murmured, sliding both hands down to
cup my ass.  She closed her eyes and welcomed me forward.   I didn't
object.

    

   As many times as you explore a woman's vagina with your fingers, you're
never quite sure what it will feel like to your penis.  With your penis you
discover her inner temperature, the nuances of texture and snugness of her
inner walls, whether or not you can touch her cervix, how her labia cling
to your shaft when you slide in and out, and a myriad of other things.  And
that's when you discover her reaction to your cock being there, thrusting
into her, stretching her open.  It's all a journey of discovery, that first
penetration.  And, of course, those things can all change from minute to
minute, and from afternoon to afternoon.

    

   And Margie?  That first time, that first moment, she was sopping wet and
fiery hot.  Her entrance hugged my invading shaft, and her vagina opened up
wider inside.   Her walls were a silky smooth surface.  Even when I buried
my cock as deep as I could get, with my pubic bone pressing against those
swollen inner labia, the tip of my cock still couldn't touch her cervix. 
And best of all, as I fucked her with long, lazy gliding strokes, Margie
exhaled a noisy moan to welcome each of my inward journeys.  It made me
want to repeat each slippery stroke, again and again, to hear this same
sound, this responsive applause of pleasure.

    

   Margie's familiar vocalizations and her rocking hips and her hands
cupping my ass kept me moving.  We began slow and steady, then her hands
and hips encouraged me to increase the pace, and if anything she became
noisier.  I bottomed out on each inward thrust, each pistoning drive met
with her joyful exhale and a slurpy sloppy sound of her ever increasing
juices.  "I'm going to come," I warned her, and Margie only closed her eyes
and pulled me tighter.

    

   I exploded with my own outcry, jamming strong and deep inside her with a
cock that felt a foot long.  It was then that I felt her cervix, a little
fluttery whisper against my cockhead, and a primal part of my brain saw my
white spurts bathing it, invading her ever so intimate depths that she had
until now reserved for her absent boyfriend.  Spasm after spasm, my
supercharged erection throbbed out each juicy splash.  I was in a different
universe, barely hearing Margie's announcement of her own orgasm.  I was
all-cock, all inside, filling her with my offering to her alter of lust.

    

   Afterwards we clung together, cheek to cheek, Margie's legs still
wrapped around my thighs, her creamy snatch giving little nibbles to my
deflating shaft.  She exhaled a long breath and dug her fingernails into my
back.  "Damn you," she whispered into my ear.

    

   "Sorry."  I started to pull out, and Margie's hands clutched my ass and
pulled me back.

    

   "Wait."

    

   I waited.  We were still cheek to cheek.  I wasn't sure I wanted to make
eye contact quite yet.  Margie's kegels clenched again, this time more
forcefully, which squeezed out my penis.  "Oops," she giggled.  Her legs
relaxed and her hands moved up to cup my face, and we kissed.  Then I
raised my body up and rolled to her side.  Margie rolled to face me.  She
threw her upper leg over mine.  She tapped a finger against my lips.  "You
bad, bad boy."  She seemed only half serious.  I tried not to smile.

    

   Margie reached a hand down between her legs and scrunched her face into
a funny expression.  "What a mess you've made."  The hand reappeared, and
she wiggled two wet fingers in front of my nose.  "Look what I found!"

    

   "It's not all from me.  It's your juices, too."

    

   Margie's nose scrunched up again.  "True."  Her hand descended again,
and this time it found my penis.  She nudged me onto my back, then
straddled me, pressing her pussy against my shriveled flesh.  "What am I
going to do with you?"  Margie closed her eyes and stroked her own slick
sex against mine, then answered her own question.  "I'm sure I can think of
something."

    

    

    

    

    
   

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