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The Womanizer, Chapter 2 (MF oral)
This is part of chapter 2 of a novel-length piece called "The Womanizer." Unfortunately, since this is not the beginning of the story, you miss out on a lot of the character introduction.
This story contains explicit descriptions of sex between consenting adults.
I meet Lydia at her apartment before dinner. She lives in a large building, eleven floors high. Her apartment is on the tenth floor, and when I ring her at the front of the building, she buzzes me in.
I bought flowers, and she is delighted when I present them to her. "They are beautiful," she beams. She is not dressed yet, and she is prancing around in a short, colorful, silk robe. Her feet and legs are bare, and the way her body jiggles, I imagine she is naked under the robe. Her hair is pinned up elegantly and her lips are painted a deep red.
She walks around the kitchen so casually, finding a vase for the flowers, and I know her bare hips are rubbing against the silk of her robe. I tremble with excitement. She looks at me and smiles. "Thank you so much for the beautiful flowers," she says. "Now don't you go away. I'll be right back." She touches my shoulder, and her touch burns.
She disappears into the bedroom. I cannot sit still. Images of what she is doing in the bedroom stir my imagination to a froth. I imagine her shedding her robe and sauntering about the room, maybe naked, maybe in her panties, fitting herself into her clothes, pulling on hose, maybe using a finger to wedge her round heel into the cup of her shoe.
I am so distracted that I cannot even explore her apartment. When I am left alone in a woman's room, I love to poke around and see what I can find. More out of habit than design, I spread out the magazines on Lydia's coffee table, but I cannot sit still to look through them. I hear a toilet flush, and I need to put that out of my mind.
The sound of heels on hardwood floors alerts me to her imminent return.
She comes out dressed in a black, clingy dress, and I swear my knees almost buckle. The neckline is low and revealing, showing an impressive cleavage, and a little locket dangles down against her chest. The locket is tiny and gold and nestles so lovely between her breasts. I cannot take my eyes off it.
"You see this?" she says, lifting the locket up. "This was my aunt's. She gave it to me when I turned twelve. My aunt kept a picture of her husband in it, but they got divorced. She didn't want the locket any more, so she gave it to me." She hooks a curved painted nail and opens it. "I used to keep a picture of our old family dog in it, but that seemed weird. So now I keep a picture of my mom." She shows it to me, a tiny picture of her mother, a lovely woman in her own right.
And for the first time, I understand the wonder of lockets. Oh, how I wish my picture were inside that little jewel, so my image could dangle between Lydia's warm breasts!
This is a woman I need to fuck!
She puts on a coat that temporarily hides her lovely frame, and I am beside myself with anticipation. Knowing what treasures lie beneath her coat is almost more pleasurable than seeing the treasures themselves! I cannot wait to get to the restaurant so I can watch her slip out of that coat again! As we drive to the restaurant, she casts me sweet smiles and bats her lashes.
We leave my car with a valet and walk up the stairs to the restaurant's front door. As Lydia slithers out of her coat, her round, bare shoulders are exposed, and the plunging neckline, and true to form, my heart melts all over again. She touches my arm. "This is nice," she says.
We have an excellent table, quiet and out of the way and not too dark. Lydia glances quickly through the menu and sets it aside. My leg bounces with excitement. I am so enthralled that I do not even notice if our waiter is a man or a woman!
She leans forward, and I look right between her breasts. Her locket dangles down from her neck. "I don't fuck on the first date," she says in a low voice.
I am thrilled! Not only is the sight of her breasts intoxicating, but I love the fact that she used the word "fuck."
"What are you staring at?" she says.
I blush. "I'm sorry, it's just ..."
"That's OK. I don't mind if you look." She turns her head to the side and pushes her chest out. "I wouldn't wear a dress like this if I didn't want you to look."
She looks back and stares me dead in the eye, her eyes sparkle, and she smiles. "I love sex," she says. "I love everything about it. I love thinking about it, I love talking about it, and I love doing it." Her smile widens. My cock is so hard I can't speak.
"I lost my virginity when I was fifteen. But I didn't like sex then. My boyfriend was a clod. I did it with him a few times, but I wouldn't let another boy fuck me until I got out of high school."
"I was nineteen years old and his name was Lawrence. I thought I was in love with him, and he wanted to fuck me so badly! Every day, he would beg. It was pathetic, really. I felt sorry for him, so I finally gave in. I was so tense and nervous, I'm surprised he was able to penetrate me. I thought for sure I would hate it, but I was wrong! I couldn't believe how good it felt!"
She leans forward conspiratorially. "How often do you masturbate?" she says in a low voice.
I am sure I blush; my face feels hot. "Um, I don't know. It depends on how busy I am, I guess. Two or three times a week?"
"I try to masturbate at least once a day. I usually do it at night before I go to bed. It's funny. When I'm with a man, I like to be touched different than when I jerk myself off. When I do myself, I use two fingers." She holds her index and middle finger together and shows them to me. "And I rub all around. I don't actually touch my clit, I just rub near it."
"When I'm with a man, I like to be felt up first. You know, all that romantic foreplay stuff. But when I'm by myself, I just go for my clit. I don't touch my breasts or anything. I just go straight between my legs. Bam!
"I once bought a vibrator in one of those sex shops. I think it was called The Sex Kitchen, or something like that. I waltzed right in and there were all these men standing around looking at porno magazines, and I asked the clerk if they had vibrators. You've never seen such a bunch of scaredy cats! Even the clerk couldn't talk straight. It's like they'd never seen a real woman in the flesh in their entire lives!
"But I didn't like it. The vibrator, I mean. I like using my fingers better. I like to lie down on my belly and put my fingers between my legs and think about kinky sex. You know, the things I've never done before but wish I could?"
The rest of the meal passes by in a beautiful, dreamy haze. I watch her mouth move but I no longer need to hear the words. I know everything I need to know.
We eat and drink wine and I tell her a few jokes and she laughs. Lydia has my full attention. I do not even feel compelled to strike up a friendly conversation with the waitress, a habit I have indulged in for many years in spite of the fact that every woman I've ever dated has hated it.
When the meal is over, Lydia and I share a dessert. She feeds me cheesecake from her fork. The meal is a smashing success.
We leave the restaurant, but I don't want the evening to end. "Do you want to come over to my place for a drink?" I offer.
"Sure. Maybe we can split a bottle of wine," she smiles.
I am in heaven, but it is a tortured heaven. The drive home feels frantic and uncontrolled. The traffic lights are an annoyance, and all the other cars on the road seem to drive five miles per hour below the posted speed limit. And when we finally park in front of my house, I dash to my front door, but Lydia follows me at a saunter, her little black purse swinging slowly from her hand. Her heels click along the sidewalk at an agonizingly slow pace. I stand at the doorway, waiting like a nervous groom as his bride steps up the aisle.
She brushes past me into my house and hands me her coat. While I'm hanging it up, she strolls into the living room and settles herself down on my couch, the same one she fell asleep on the week before. She spreads her arms out along the back of the couch and crosses her lovely legs.
"Wine?" I ask.
"Please," she says. "Bring the bottle."
I quickly fetch two wineglasses and a chilled Chardonnay and bring them back into the living room. I fill the glasses and hand her one. She takes it with her beautiful, shapely hand, her fingers brushing mine, and she smiles. I sit down beside her.
"Here's to fun times," I say, clinking my glass against hers.
"To fun times," she says. Her dark eyes sparkle.
We each take a sip of wine.
"Do you know what I like to do?" she says.
"No," I say, but, in fact, I think I could say yes, I know what Lydia likes to do. Perhaps not in the minute details, but I am fully aware of the kinds of things Lydia likes.
"I like to take a drink of wine and kiss." She takes a quick swallow of wine and leans forward, her deep red lips slightly parted. Oh, lordy, this is what I have dreamt about! I am eager, almost too eager, I force myself to pause and take a breath. And then, when I finally get my wits about me, I lean forward, and I meet her lips, and her lips are warm and soft and lovely. As we part, her tongue flicks lightly across my lower lip.
She pulls back. "See? Tastes like wine."
Honestly, I had not noticed. My cock is as hard as steel.
I nervously drain my glass and she laughs. And she drinks hers down, slowly, I watch the little swallows swell down her neck. We put down our wineglasses and we kiss again, and I open my mouth and put my hands on her shoulders and she holds my head with her hands and we kiss hard.
We hug and kiss and roll about on the couch like school kids. Her hands are in constant motion, grabbing my waist, my legs, feeling my chest. She is way ahead of me, it's all I can do to keep up with her. When I finally get my hand over her breast, her hand is already between my legs.
"Do you want to fuck?" she whispers in my ear. She rubs my cock through my pants.
"Uh-huh." I can barely get the noises out of my mouth.
"Too bad," she says. She pries herself out of my grasp and leans back on the couch and smiles, a savage, voluptuous smile. The sudden loss of physical contact leaves me speechless. It takes a moment to realize what she means.
"Too bad?" I say.
"I don't fuck on the first date."
She had told me that before. But was this a first date? "First date? What about last weekend?" and the words come out like a plea.
Lydia laughs. "Last weekend wasn't really a date. You lose on a technicality."
"What do you mean?" But I know exactly what she means. She means she won't fuck me.
She laughs again. "You look like a poor ol' dog."
I am sure. A horny poor ol' dog.
I want her badly, and I move closer and kiss her mouth and her arms come up around me again, and I pull her close, her body presses up against me, I feel her lovely breasts smashing against my chest and we kiss open-mouthed.
She stops kissing me, pulls away with a smack. "Whew!" she says. She breathes noisily, and she chuckles. "You do that well, Robert."
I am on a mission. I kiss her again, sucking on her upper lip, and Lydia responds again, she squeezes me close, her legs come apart and we slide up into each other and she grabs my butt and pulls me up against her.
"I won't fuck you," she pants. Her eyes dart from side to side. "But maybe we can explore a little."
I find the zipper at the back of her dress and pull it all the way down. I will take this as far as she'll let me. "Let's go to bed," I say.
I grab her hand and pull her towards my bedroom. Once we're in the hallway, she leads the way. "Just so we have this straight," she says, "no intercourse. Right?"
"Right," I say.
"I am serious."
"OK. No intercourse."
With the zipper undone, the back of her dress opens to a large "V", and I run my hand over her bare back. When we get to the bedroom door, I gently urge her through and into my room. She steps forward and takes a quick glance around. Then she turns to face me, her eyes flickering in the light. With the zipper undone, her dress doesn't fit her so well. I can practically see a nipple tip in the gaping neckline.
And she shrugs out of her dress.
Oh Lordy! Lydia has gorgeous breasts, beautiful, full, and firm. Her fleshy nipples are drawn up to tight points. The dress hits the floor, and she's wearing black garters and sheer, dark stockings. And lacy black panties. And sexy black pumps. Oh, she is a vision!
I cannot believe the ensemble, all the complicated lingerie. I've never seen anything like it. "Did you wear this for me?" I ask.
"Mmmmm, not telling."
I fall to my knees and run my fingers along the lace-trimmed garter straps. I have never seen a real woman wear garters before. I try to figure out how they attach to the stocking tops.
"Why don't you let me get that," she says, and she removes my hand from her thigh. I hunch down and watch as she carefully detaches the stockings and rolls them off her long, smooth legs.
I am shaking. And I find myself looking up between her thighs at her lacy panties, and I imagine what is waiting for me underneath. The urge to pounce nearly overwhelms me.
I put my hands out on her bare knees and gently urge them apart.
"Whoa, not so fast, boy!" She throws my hands off. "It's your turn now." She waves her hands at me. "Get `em off."
I stand up and quickly slip off my tie. My fingers feel fat and I have a hard time with the buttons and cuffs, but I finally whip off my shirt. Lydia's eyes drop down to bare chest, and she licks her lips. I kick off my shoes and unbuckle my belt. She licks her fingers, then rolls her dark nipple between her wet fingers. It peaks up beautifully.
Fuck! I can't get my goddamned pants unzipped!
But I get them, finally, and down they go and off go my shorts, and my cock springs free. Lydia gazes at my erect state, and she giggles. "Lord Almighty!" she says.
She slips out of her panties and hops up on the bed. There is a glimpse of curly black hair between her thighs, but just a glimpse. I jump on the bed, and we fall together.
My hand goes to her breast, and for the first time I touch her naked tit, the soft, silky skin. I stroke her breasts, along the bottoms and the sides. We kiss again, deep, open kisses. I draw my hands towards her nipples but stop just short. I circle slowly around, trying to avoid the areola.
And she finds my nipples, and she pinches them, hard.
"Ow!" I say.
She giggles. "Don't tease. Touch my nipples."
I continue to circle the areola with my fingertip, and I kiss her neck and lick my way up towards the shell of her ear. I nibble her ear and squeeze her tits and her hand circles my erection, and she slowly jacks me. She breathes slow and loud, and when I suck on her earlobe, she arches and groans.
I draw my hand down her belly until I touch the edge of her kinky pussy hair. I use my fingertips to swirl the hair around. I suck harder on her ear, and her hand on my cock falters. "Jesus," she says.
I kiss her again, and she tickles my lips with her tongue tip. I move one finger on either side of her clitoris. I break the kiss, look into her eyes, and she's panting.
"You have lipstick on your face," she gasps.
"So do you. I don't care."
"You look a sight."
"Sit on my face," I tell her.
Her nipples are impossibly hard and her skin is flushed. Her eyes have that dazed look of a woman who wants to surrender. I roll onto my back. "Come on," I say, waving her forward.
She swings up and straddles my head. I look right up into her cunt, that kinky black hair, the scarlet inside. I hug her hips and bring her down. Her deep, thick scent fills my nostrils. I pull on her velvety labia with my lips, slip my tongue through the slick folds.
She flops down across my belly and grabs my cock. I feel her moist breath on me. I try to stick my tongue into her vagina, and she sucks the head of my cock into her mouth.
I nearly come on the spot, and she sucks me aggressively. I try to distract myself, concentrate my attention on her pussy. I caress her thighs and slurp and kiss and lick all over her cunt. She grinds down and her smell is all over my face, and I go for her clitoris and lick it with the tip of my tongue. She takes her mouth off my cock. "Touch my asshole," she sighs. "I used to have a boyfriend, Jimmy, he used to love to play with my asshole." And her mouth goes back down on my cock, warm and wet, and she sucks hard, her tongue presses against the glans, and I can't stop, I can't hold back, and I explode in her mouth.
She pulls her mouth off, and my semen pulses hard, several powerful blasts. She massages my cock as my come flies through the air, and she strokes me in time as my orgasm dwindles. She squeezes hard to milk the last few drops, I am done, and she lets my cock drop.
"Well, that was a surprise," she announces. "Next time, I'd appreciate a little warning."
She flips around and kisses me. "But still, I'm glad you liked it."
She drapes an arm and a leg across me and nuzzles against my chest. My breathing returns to normal and her leg begins to move up and down my thigh.
"I want to fuck you," I say.
"No, not this time," she says. "But you were doing very well, Robert. I want you to finish me off now." She rolls to the side and her legs fall apart, the sweaty inner thighs, and that beautiful red cunt, all open and ready, framed by matted black hair. "Use the flat of your tongue on my clitoris. And fuck me with your fingers."
I am up between her legs in a flash. It is such a lovely pussy.
She holds my head with one hand as I blanket her stiff little clitoris with my tongue, and I wiggle one finger up into her sticky warm vagina.
"Use your spit," she whispers, "keep my clit real wet."
I let the saliva build up in my mouth and go back down, I'll drown that little sucker, by golly, and around and around I go, smothering it with my tongue. I hold two fingers together and push in and out, moving as slow as I dare.
"Yes, Robert, that's good, just like that."
Her hips take on a rhythm, synchronized with my fingers. I know persistence is rewarded in this endeavor. Slowly in and out with my fingers, slowly around and around with my tongue.
She rocks a little harder and she begins to sigh with each breath. I keep going, slow and steady. Her thighs squeeze around my head and she humps up against my face and she grabs my hair and pulls my head up into her soft pussy and she is smothering me, I can't even breathe, it's all I can do to keep my tongue on her and she groans, her thighs tense, and for a moment she freezes, a tiny cry. Her body remains on edge for several heartbeats.
And then the slackening.
And then she lets me free.
I look up at her and her forehead and upper lip is beaded with sweat. Her lips are a deep red. Her eyes are half closed, her long black lashes a-flutter. Her nipples are impossibly hard.
I lie down beside her and put my hand over her lovely round breast, I kiss her shoulder. She looks at me and smiles.
"That was nice," she whispers. She takes hold of my hand and kisses my fingers. "I didn't expect us to go so far. But I'm glad we did. I liked it." She nuzzles her face into the palm of my hand and kisses my wrist. She releases my hand and I put it back over her breast.
"Can we fuck next time?" I ask.
She laughs. "Sure. Next time."
She rolls out of bed. Unlike most women, I notice, Lydia is comfortable naked. She walks about picking her clothes off the floor. "Bathroom?" she points towards the bathroom door. With the bundle in her arms, she opens the door and in a moment, the spray of the shower starts.
I cannot believe it. Although we stopped short of intercourse, this was the most intense night of my life! I hold my head and try to make sense of it all. And the most amazing thing, I am still horny!
Lydia comes out of the bathroom dressed again in her black dress, holding her shoes and stockings. I get out of bed and walk her to the door. She stuffs the stockings in her purse and slips on her shoes. We kiss long, slowly, at the door. I love the way her body feels against me, the way my hands fit on her hips. She pats my bare bottom and gives me a devilish smile. "I like you, Robert," she says.
She leaves, and I go back to bed and masturbate furiously, twice. And at night, I dream Lydia is on top of me, straddling my hips, my cock buried in her slippery cunt.