Without preamble;

She walked into the room. He was lying on the bed, the room dimly lit from the bathroom light. She stood silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, and he rose to meet her. He was taller than she was, and wearing only his tank top and a pair of micro fiber work pants as she approached him. He did not swallow her in a bear hug, but rather placed his hands each on her waist, and leaned in half way to her upturned face. She did not turn away, so he kissed her on the cheek, and whispered in her ear, "This is going to take a while. Take a minute and empty your bladder."

She laughed a quiet laugh and stepped back. As she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, she watched his expression with each successive button. His face betrayed little, but his breathing gave him away. She dropped her blouse, and undid the button on her jeans quickly. The fly was unzipped in a single movement, and she stepped on her left pants leg with her right foot and stepped back. In another moment her jeans lay on the floor, and his gaze followed her legs up, lingering at their confluence, then taking in the bare midriff between the top of her panties and her belly button. His eyes soon roamed upward, taking in the twin mounds of her unabashedly aroused breasts, finally meeting her gaze. She held his focus for a moment, and turned toward the bathroom. He watched the crease where her thighs met her cheeks, each step of the way. "I love your ass," he said in unvarnished arousal.

At the door of the bathroom, she looked over her shoulder, and shook out her hair. Her arms made a contortion that guys rarely get to see, and she undid the hook from her bra. His eyes did not follow the garment to the floor, but rather remained trained on her shoulder expectantly. She did not reward him that way. Instead she placed her hands on each side of her panties, and bent over, making sure her pudendum showed clearly thru her back turned legs, for a long second, before she stepped out of them and vanished around the doorway. She made him wait while she took a short shower, but did not linger. She did not want him start without her… guys never lasted long enough anyway, right?

Upon her return, he was standing naked, tearing open a box of condoms with his teeth. In her turn, she looked him up and down, her eyes devouring his pliant manhood. "Do you like it in the dark, or can I enjoy your pleasures unveiled by the night?" he asked, expectantly.

"It's a full moon tonight. That should do," she replied playfully. She had not turned out the light in the bathroom, and made no move to do so. "I use the Nuva-ring," she rewarded him. "The condoms won't be necessary." She was aroused. His eyes had watched her, every step she had taken from the bathroom door, and she vaguely wondered if his gaze was any clue to how much he wanted her. "You're a natural blond," he said. She blushed a little, and enjoyed the little thrill as it ran thru her.

He could wait no longer, and swept her into his arms, with a fierce kiss. His breath was sweet, slightly minty, but not from a last minute lozenge. His lower lip traversed between her lips as he finished, giving her a feeling she had been touched somewhere else. He had maneuvered her to stand with her back to the bed, and he pushed her over onto the bed as though he had planned it. She relaxed, her feet dangling above the carpet, as he lowered himself down beside her. He kissed her again, this time more deeply, as his tongue searched more gently for delight. She became aware that his right hand was stroking up her right leg from the knee upward. His kisses began to travel down her neck, and his breath cooled her newly showered skin. He didn't go around the world, but rather began to gratify her left nipple very quickly. His skill was soon evident, his teeth quickly raising it taut with satisfaction. His hand had found her vulva, and he stroked her pubic hair twice before he skillfully separated her moistened external labia. He did not force the issue, but rather stroked her inner labia, applying a gentle pressure to her clitoris as it filled with blood. His mouth left her left nipple and moved to her right, his left hand taking its place, rubbing and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. There is no other way to say it: she was wet. She stroked the back of his left hand, and whispered his name. As his right hand began to masturbate her, she brought her ankles together and spread her thighs, her lower body beginning to assist his efforts.

She began to moan softly, not out of any unbearable need, but to instruct him when he did well. He responded to her encouragements with pressure at the EXACT right place, and her breathing lost its rhythm as her first orgasm of the evening surprised her. His began to speak to her. "Your pleasure excites me," he said. "My whole body responds to you. You have no idea how you affect me." He had not stopped stimulating her, and her eyes rolled back with pleasure.

From some deep instinct she had an idea, and her right hand sought his groin. He was telling the truth. He had been erect, and his cock was returning to its flaccid state. Reciprocation was in order, and she rose up on her elbows and murmured "My turn." She opened her eyes reluctantly, but such generosity had to be rewarded. His fingers went to his mouth, and he turned over on his back, wondering what her skills would be. Her hand was already working, reinvigorating his erection. He kept his wits about him, as he asked, "Do you swallow?" "You'll find out," she said, with no intention of soiling the sheets. Her mouth enveloped him, and his first remark was "Your mouth is cool." She sucked him and showed that deep-throating was something she could do without a problem. She made mental note to tell him that she usually put a condom on with her mouth. That would let him know that he was special, but right now her mouth was full.

When his hard was covered with wetness, she moved her mouth back, and used her hand to stimulate the nerve on the back of his penis that sends men into transports of delight. She had positioned herself on his right, and the corner of her mouth was on his sweet spot as her hand ran the loose skin of his penis back and forth. "Did you know that men and women masturbate with the same rhythm?" he asked. "Mm mm," she responded her mouth otherwise engaged. Her left hand wandered through his chest hair, and his hand went to the back of her head. "That feels good," he said in an undertone. His cock tasted dry, and she enjoyed her acquired taste for tube steak. His breathing became ragged and he choked out "…gonna cum…"

He came in a rush, and she relished the surprise he was about to get. He pushed her down, and shivered, with a groan of "God." She was ready for him, and collected his cum in her mouth. It came in two or three rushes, and she did not break her rhythm until he relaxed. With her hand she tightened a ring at the base of his erection, and ran it up the length of his penis, collecting all his cum in her mouth. Then she KISSED him.

She had the curve of her left elbow behind his neck, and he struggled and wrestled to get away. "If it's good enough for me, it's good enough for you," she thought, as he un-enthusiastically accepted his fate. "Goddamn girl, you could've told me," was his first remark. "How did it taste?" she coquettishly demanded. "I don't know. It's not fucking mayonnaise."

"Did you notice how the live sperm make the soft palette at the back of your throat tingle?"

He was pissed, but he knew that now was not the time to get in a fight about it, or he would get no pussy.

"Do you know how many times a guy has asked me how it tastes?" she queried him. She knew he wouldn't be hard again for a minute, and she had nothing to lose.

"No, but I damned well know why you wouldn't tell me if you swallow or spit now." His sense of humor overcame his disgust. "God," he said again, but with a different inflection."

"Eat me," she said aware of the double entendre.

She lay back again, lengthwise in the bed, and he looked over her. With her arms behind her head her breasts took a different shape. He enjoyed the view for a second, letting himself appreciate the shape of her aureole and the size of her erect nipples. He bent across her body, breathing on her left flank, and following the curve of her leanness down to her pussy. He nuzzled her there, and stroked her left thigh this time. After a moment, he took his place between her legs, and began to search her fur pie for the delicate flower that was her clitoris. "Tell me when you are about to cum," he said, and went down.

His tongue had its own lubrication, so he started with a thrust into the crevice of her cervix. He followed her labia up to the clitoris, and began to flick it side to side. She marveled at his dexterity, and he began to stroke it erect from between the labia rising to the top, over and over again. He moaned experimentally, and she answered him unbidden. She found his interactions infectious, and began to play with her own nipples.

It was useless to thrust with her hips, and so she lay there, making noises and wishing she hadn't been so mean. She felt his teeth gently toy with her tender flesh, and then he went back to work with his tongue. She didn't know why he wanted warning of her orgasm, but when it came, she verbalized as best she could that the event was imminent. To her surprise, his right hand came up to her vagina, penetrating her admittedly well prepared entryway. His left hand was across her belly, between her belly button and her hairline, and all at once, she felt pleasure in an area that was not her clitoris at all. Remarkably his hand seemed to know what he had found, and in two seconds she was writhing in pleasure, trapped between his left hand on the outside, and a cunning thrust from the two fingers within. It was her turn to say "God." Not just once either. She felt like he had her by the soul, and was sending wave after wave of pleasure over her until she no longer thrust and struggled, but relaxed. Then like any orgasm, it was gone, leaving her panting and winded. "How did you DO that?" she asked.

He laughed deep in his throat like he was embarrassed, and mounted her. She thought she was spent, but when the hair at the base of his cock found her clitoris, she found that it was ready like a forgotten treat, set aside for a special occasion. "When was the last time you were used for a woman?" he asked, expecting no answer. He merely wanted to compete in her dreams with her last lover. He was skillful and did not tire easily, but he came before she did, and she was left wanting more.

It is a fact that the French have high regard for the mutual orgasm. That being said, it must be inferred that most of the time one partner or the other is left hanging between orgasms. Since the man responds to orgasm with loss of erection, it may be concluded that the woman is the partner most often left in the lurch. She reflected on this philosophically as he lay beside her quietly. Before long, he was whispering in her ear, "Want to ride a cock horse?"

She giggled and rolled him over. She showed that she was experienced in her turn, by arranging for his erection with her hand. When he was ready, she sank down onto him, enfolding an enthusiastic cock, ready, willing and able. "This time is for your pleasure," he quietly intoned. "Do you like it fast, or slow?" She responded physically, and as she looked down at his face, she found he was admiring her boobs. She took his hands in hers, and placed them on the objects of his desire. He did not pinch, and she enjoyed his dual attentions. "Did you know that a man's orgasm in a vagina is four times as strong as his orgasm from masturbation?" he asked. She laughed and began to talk dirty. She managed to get off before he came, and was pleasantly surprised. Her arms went up to fix her hair… it was sticking to her sweaty back. He was really getting all the mileage he could out of her boobs, watching the way they moved as she raised her arms, and the direction her nipples pointed, as she prepared to dismount. She made a mental note, you've gotta respect a guy who love's boobs this much for ever meeting your eye.

He kissed her again as she lay down. This time it was a lingering, sensitive invitation to flirt. He whispered in her ear, "Sex is not an Olympic sport, but if it was I'd pity the Frenchman who sees you coming." His double entendre made her smile weakly. She was comfortable enough with him that she could admit she was tired. He was getting his second wind. "What about doggy style?" he asked. "I'll make it worth your while." For the first time, she moved to kiss him, instead of waiting for his aggressive attentions. She took her position by the edge of the bed.

She couldn't watch him ready himself, but he soon applied a little KY from the coffee table, and made his presence felt. "This time is for my pleasure," he said, and began to establish the rhythm that he liked best. "Do me a favor," he whispered. "Use your left hand to stroke my balls as we do it. It makes me last longer." He placed his hands on her waist to co-ordinate their efforts, and she felt affection for him that she could not put into words. She began to mew. She knew by now that he got off on her pleasure, and beside, it let him know when it felt good. "The most sensitive part of my dick is rubbing directly against the most sensitive part of your vagina," he told her. It reminded her of the inner orgasm he had given her with his hand, and she started to get into it herself. His strokes became longer, and he said "I'm starting to come. Use your other hand to find your clit."

She obediently began to pleasure herself, and her kittenish cries were no longer feigned. And then she simply came. He gave her two more strokes and then plunged himself deep within her and quivered. His hands reached around in front of her, and he fondled her breasts. He was already limp when he withdrew.

He asked if she would cuddle, and she agreed without reservation. "I'm spent," was his next remark. Go to sleep now, or we will be up all night. Want to be at the mercy of my hand till dawn?"

It was tempting.