Wednesday, October 25, 2006


Stereotypical surfer boy, Sean was bleached-blond, freckled, and tasted of salt. He had beautiful blue eyes with an ever-present mischievous twinkle. Our families had been friends for years, and as I got older, he came around more often. A blossoming master in the art of engagement, I’d flirt with him shamelessly: shy coquette one visit, oblivious exhibitionist the next.

He’d pick me up on his motorcycle, and adrenaline would course through my veins as we’d thread and weave our way through traffic on PCH. We’d camp on windswept bluffs, picnicking on bagged chips and champagne, shyly and hesitatingly brushing each other’s hands, legs, faces with our own.

A gentleman to the last, Sean let me pick my pace, and I chose to move excruciatingly slowly, like Pele’s flow. The great goddess is on one hand benevolent, the other, diabolical. Although there is plenty of warning, and the direction of the flow is clear, the wait is an exquisite torture. I can almost hear the frantic begging for release, and I revel in it. This young, I know where my power is. And I recognize the shrewdness in working to develop it as quickly as possible.

After several months, I’m surprised to find that Sean hasn’t given up. Although I’m sure he’s fucked other girls since we began our dance, he keeps coming back. I don’t mind the others; I’m not a hypocrite. Finally, I decide to let him take me. I’m drunk on the salt water of ocean spray and Mexican beer. He invites me to stay with him. He knows it’s time too.

We lay down together on his living room floor, a ghostly view of the Pacific Ocean visible from the floor-length windows lit by a fat Harvest Moon. We kiss deeply. He touches me gently, carefully, as if I may break. I am impressed with his reserve, as I can sense his urgency playing out beneath his smooth exterior appearance. The usual twinkle in his eyes has been replaced by a hint of unedited lust, the pain of pent-up desire.

He slides me out of my clothes and lays me out before him. My nipples stiffen as I look at him staring thoughtfully at my moonlit nakedness. He runs his fingers from my throat to my belly. I feel exposed. He rolls me over onto my stomach and asks after my comfort. He takes off his shirt and slides it under my cheek. It smells of his strong masculinity and the ocean. I feel my pussy fast becoming slick and starting to twitch. I feel his hot breath on my neck and in my ear.

For the next half hour, he torments me with his tongue. It is everywhere, flicking, tasting, probing, testing. When I try to move, he holds my arms down, still gently, to keep me where he wants me. This is payback for the months I have made him wait. Any sense I had of being in control is now long gone. I realize this, and I smile. I smile, and I moan, shudder, arch, gnash my teeth, and squirm. He has licked and sucked at every part of my neck, shoulders, back, ass cheeks, and legs. The room is growing thick with the scent of my flowing juices, and he hasn’t even gotten to that part yet.

Coming up for air, he asks if I have had enough. “Please…” I gasp, my heart is in my throat. He smiles, and rolls me back onto my back, and my legs, as if on automatic pilot, spread for him, as wide as I can possibly manage. He smiles again, this time at my submission, shakes his head. “No.”

He pushes my legs closed, and then has to hold them there, because like the top end of a clothespin, they attempt to spring back open again. I moan in frustration, form impassioned pleas, find myself speechless. He removes the rest of his clothes, and lies on top of me, kissing me deeply, more urgently, enjoys torturing me.

He props up on one elbow and makes light strokes down my body, causing all of my hair to stand on end, and my nipples further harden under his gaze. I let out a loud sigh of relief when his hand finally moves to gently push open my legs exposing my pussy, and moan appreciatively when his fingers slide over my swollen clit and across my opening.

He dips into me and covers his fingers in my scented juices and breathes them in, tastes them. He offers his fingers to me, and I have to catch my breath before I can greedily lap my own offering off of his hand. He smiles approvingly, then moves down to place himself between my legs. He pops up for a split second to make sure I am watching before he disappears again, and all I can see is blond mophair and the tip of his nose as he expertly slides his thumbs up each side of my slit, spreading it wide, and begins darting his tongue in and out of my streaming cunt and over my engorged and pulsing clit. I grind into his face, thrashing, moaning, begging him to take me, pleading with him to fuck me so we can cum together.

I express undying gratitude when he gets up onto his knees and grabs me by my hips to position his thick hard cock at the opening of my steaming hole. His hands slide down to the tops of my inner thighs, push them down toward the floor so he can see every fold and crevice of my spasming cunt splayed out and stretched as he slowly pushes himself into me. I gasp as I take him in and my back involuntarily arches up off of the floor.

He takes that opportunity to reach around and grab me by the nape of my neck, supporting my weight with that hand while pushing my thigh open and rubbing my clit with the other. My head buzzes with impending climax and I feel every nerve ending activated as I strain to fuck him faster, harder.

He maintains his maddeningly slow and steady rhythm no matter what I try. I beg him to fuck me harder, don’t you want to fuck me harder? Don’t you want me to scream for you? “You already are.” And he’s right, I shudder through orgasm after orgasm, I scream, sob, beg, and moan until I am hoarse. All the while, he maintains his steady slow rhythm while I feel as if I am wobbling around the brink of insanity.

Finally, when the room is spinning, and I feel faint, I feel a change. He knows I am done; in the game of patience, I may have won the long game, but he is certainly savoring his victory in the short battle. He pulls from me and lets go of my hair so I fall back to the floor.

He presents me with his cock, hard and covered in me, with a ring of aerated frothy cunt juice around the base. I bring my eyes to his and take him into my mouth. I hold his gaze as I lick him completely clean. I gently lick and suck each of his balls into my mouth and graze them with my fingernails as I make long wet laps round his thick shaft and then swallow him completely, gagging as he taps the back of my throat.

I feel his orgasm building deep within him, and when he is ready, he pulls his pulsating cock from my mouth and holding me by the nape again, shoots his hot creamy load across my face and over my tits. He lets out a long sigh and shudders briefly as I flick my tongue across the tip and into the opening of his gorgeous prick, coaxing out just a little more cum, and then let it move across my lips and over my face, through the deposit he has already given me.

At that, we decide that there is a time and a place for patience, and that this is not it. It is the beginning of a long weekend designed to make up for lost time, with an eternally memorable kickoff. In the end, I learned that I prefer the fiery and eruptive aspect of Pele over the peaceful and orderly one, and it was the former I have endeavored to cultivate, especially in matters of sex.


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