The Pussy Whisperer

It becomes clearer to me every day that I made the right decision.  

This relationship, whatever it becomes, is what matters most to me.  

I try not to compare my lovers, but simply record my experiences, perceptions, and feelings about them. But indulge me for a second. Both Mr. Jones (J. in previous posts, and not that’s not his real name, come on now 😉 ) & the Terminator can fuck me into quivering incoherence, but the paths they take to get me there are completely different. Terminator is all about conquering me, fucking me into submission. Together we’re feral and greedy. Our passion is violently intense.

Mr. Jones, on the other hand, who is also an alpha male – is all tenderness and sensuality. He’s dirty and sweet — you’d never guess, standing behind him in his dad jeans (I’m on it) at the supermarket, that he fucks the way he does. He’s made me come in ways I’ve never come before, accidentally (nipplegasms!) and on purpose.

If I ever say, oh xyz doesn’t arouse me, he’ll make it his business to drive me out of my mind orgasming (is that a word?) in exactly that way. He won’t stop, licking, sucking, kissing, fucking, stroking — until he finds the stroke or suck that leaves me quivering and incoherent.

It’s gotten to the point now that beads of sweat break out on my body the minute his cock or his tongue are inside me before we even start exerting ourselves. My body knows what’s coming. Even so, he surprises me all the time. Sometimes we’ll have a slow, intense fuck. Other times a horny acrobatic fuck, during which he flips me, turns me and spreads me to meet his pleasure. Or the fact-finding fuck — playful romps during which we try various touches, squeezes, kisses, and rhythms to see whether they work for us.

Other time’s I’ll suck his cock like it’s the last drink of water in the desert because I love to hear the low pitch of his moan when I press my tongue against his shaft as I suck him. And how his moan becomes higher-pitched when I swirl my tongue around his head, and suck it softly, like a lollipop.

I’m having the best sex of my life right here, right now smack at almost 50. When I was a kid 50 seemed like one step from the grave. Today 50 is the new 35. I feel about 28. And I’ll always be horny, no matter how old I am.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The Other Night

It had been a perfect summer day. Sunny and warm, with azure blue skies and the occasional soft breeze. We got together without any firm plans other than to enjoy the weather. One of the things I love about New York is that you can stroll around as the mood takes you and the day unfolds before you with all kinds of fun. Street performers, block parties and street fairs, art installations and galleries, and a gorgeous waterfront. It was a gorgeous day.

We’d had a few watermelon and vodka slushies at a street fair and were slightly tipsy when we got home.  The moment we were inside the door he took my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom. Before I can open my mouth he slides my dress off and scoops my boobs out of my bra. He takes one nipple in his mouth kisses it and then the other, while he undoes my bra and tosses it behind him.

Next thing I know I’m on the bed and he’s trying to tear off my panties with his teeth.

“Baby, can I take off my shoes?”

He only grunts as he tears off my panties with his teeth and spreads my thighs.

I stop talking and he dives face first into my pussy. His tongue kisses me softly, circling my clit and lightly oh-so-lightly teasing the whole area around it with liquid soft swirls of his tongue.

My pussy is melting into his mouth, my clit comes out to play and I’m pushing into his tongue, into his face, to scratch that deliciously soft itch. I’m moaning, holding on to his head, trying to get his tongue to…and then he starts softly stroking my sweet spot (I’ve told him where it is) with the tip of one finger. Holy mother of god.

He’s driving me mad, his soft wet tongue swirling around my now-popped clit, and the firm wet stroke of his finger in that spot…I start humping his face, wanting more, yes, softer, harder right there, oh YES, I’m grinding against that finger, that tongue, and when I start convulsing he pushes in harder, giving me all the pressure and all the pleasure I want. YES YES YES!  I’m shoving it in his face coming and coming when I feel my pussy squirt straight into his mouth.  

I did. I think I did. It felt like I did. Did I?

I lay there catching my breath and Mr. Jones come up from between my thighs.

“You just squirted into my mouth,” he says, smirking.

My legs are still wobbly, and I’m barely coherent. Mr. Jones  kisses me and slides his throbbing cock into my slick twitchy pussy. MMMMMmmmmm. My pussy grabs his cock immediately, and I moan helplessly because it feels so heavenly. He goes in deep and delicious and stays perfectly still. He breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes as his hands move down to my ass. He holds my ass as he pushes deeper into me. I’m groaning with the feel of it, but he stays perfectly still while my pussy grabs his cock.  I pump against him in a frenzy, thrashing in another greedy orgasm against his rock hard stillness.

“You’re so greedy,” he whispers in my ear. “So horny. So Beautiful.”
He lets me catch my breath even though the strain of keep still is making him sweat droplets onto my face and chest.

He slowly slides out of me, almost all the way. My pussy is not letting him go easily — it’s like pulling the cork ou of a wine bottle, and I’m moaning in protest. I want him (of course) to stay all the way up inside me. I want him to fuck me until he explodes inside me. He has other plans.

I feel his powerful and steady heartbeat under his skin. We gaze at each other, panting and sweating, the tip of his cock inside my pussy. I know that he’s waiting me out, taunting me into an adolescent demand that he fuck me. NOW. I have the sex drive of a 16-year-old with just a little more restraint. I smile at him and wait.

My pussy is raging with impatience. So is his cock. I can feel it. He slides in slowly again, with a strong so delicious I start whimpering. His cock plunges all the way into me and my pussy grabs him extra hard, but he methodically slowly slides out again, killing us both. His eyes mock me.

“Did you say something?” he asks.

“No.”

He slides in again, sweet mother — and I almost start to come but he slides out almost entirely, his slick head just inside me. I can feel his heartbeat throbbing in his cock, against me.

He stays there, just inside me. We’re both sweating and panting with the strain. I’m about to lose it. my entire being is focused on that pulse just inside my pussy. Ohgodplease. Please. I think to myself.

“What?” he whispers. We’re both trembling now.

“Fuck me,” I begged. Really. I begged.

“What?” he asks, kissing my neck.

“Fuck me, dammit. Please.”

I wrap my legs around him as he thrusts into me and it feels like we’re locked together. His cock feels so good I’m begging him to give it to me harder, deeper and thrusting my pussy against him like a fiend. That cock was so delicious, I thought I would die of pleasure.

Then we’re both fucking and screaming and coming in wave after wave after wave of intense pleasure. I actually saw stars. Starbursts. or color bursts. I always thought that was just an expression.

We fell asleep with him still inside me and my legs wrapped around him.

Image: painting by Delphin Enjolras, public domain.

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Pause

We finally left the house at around 10 p.m.

The night was sultry and warm, the soft breeze a sensual invitation. Terminator and I had our arms around each other’s waist as we walked down the street, partly holding each other upright and partly out of affection. I thought that if we let go, my legs would give out and I would wind up on the pavement.

“My legs feel like spaghetti,” I whispered, laughing. He tightened his grip around my waist as we made our way to the corner to hail a cab.

We fall into the back seat in content exhaustion, our eyes closed. The warm breeze feels like a whisper on my skin.  Our hands are laced together between us on the car seat.

Five minutes later the taxi pulls over and we get out. “That was quick,” I say. I’m feeling woozy from exhaustion. He holds me around the waist as we descend a short staircase leading to a restaurant. “It’s a neighborhood spot, I just couldn’t walk it,” he responds.

He leads me into the place, where they obviously knew him because very quickly we get a table in a quiet corner, a bottle of wine, and a pitcher of water on the table and waiter promising to return for our order in a moment. Impressed, I turn to him and ask, “Do you own this place or something?”

 He laughs and pours me a glass of wine. “No, the owners are friends of mine.” As if on cue, a platter of shrimp in oil and garlic is placed in front of us and a small plate is placed in front of each of us. It smells so good I feel faint. I hear the waiter say something about steak. Whatever. Food. We fall on it like ravenous dogs. We don’t say a word until the platter is empty and we’re mopping up the sauce with hunks of bread. We look up and start laughing.

“Well, that was classy. You can’t take me anywhere.” I sit back, wipe the corners of my mouth with my napkin and fold my hands in front of me, pretending to be dignified.

“Yeah we both went at it, so to speak,” he jokes.

“Oh no, did you just make a sexual reference?” I laughed. “I’m shocked. Shocked.”

“Actually, you looked beautiful eating,” he said. “You eat like you fuck — you savor every second, you taste every bite.”

I blushed. I didn’t know what to say. I took a sip of wine.

“Are you embarrassed?” he asks, amused. Really?

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

He moves closer to me, refills my wine glass and whispers “How are you feeling?

“I thought we would kill each other…but now I’m feeling much better. You?”

“Me too.”

“I need to tell you…” I started. “I need to stop seeing you. I know this is the worst time to say this, but –”

“You already said everything with that look on your face. I know you’re walking out on me.”  There was no hurt or accusation in his voice; he sounded completely neutral.

“What look?”

“When you saw how I set up the tub, the candles, you looked like you wanted to run.”

“No, no that’s not —”

“Flattering by the way,” he said ruefully.

If you missed it, that’s the notoriously contained Terminator, having feelings. Quel surprise.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you,” I explained. “It’s just that I’m in a relationship now, and I care about him.  I can’t keep lying, it’s not right and he deserves my full attention.”

“I thought that was over,” he said.

“We had a fight. We’ll reconcile. We just need some time.” I realized this as I said it. J and I would, and did reconcile.

He was silent, head lowered, listening.

“We’ve already talked about how a relationship between us isn’t possible, right?

“I can’t do it right now,” he responded.

“And ordinarily I would be fine with the way things are, but…”

“I hope it works out for you, I do,” he said. “I want to you to be happy. But I’ll miss you like hell.”

“Me too,” I said.

“Can you stay for the weekend?” he asked. “So we can bring down the rafters and so I can do some of the things I’ve been thinking about.”

“Like what?”
Why did I ask this? I know perfectly well what he wants to do. Or I have a very good idea.

He doesn’t answer, but the look he gives me floods my entire body with heat. I actually feel moist between my legs.

We look at each other for a long moment, and he touches my hair. “I want to have you to myself,” he says softly.

“And I want total control over you.”

Image: Photo Lovers in a Small Café Near the Place d’Italie by Brassai, ©Réunion des Musées Nationaux, Paris
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Reunited: Heat Advisory

He opened the door wrapped in a towel. I laughed, but his serious gaze silenced me as he pulled me inside and shut the door behind me. I was about to say something but his mouth landed on mine and crushed the words out of me.

The hot intensity of his kisses literally took my breath away. He crushed me against his bare chest with one hand and tore my dress off with the other. He was practically lifting me off the floor, as he whipped me around towards the bedroom.

“Baby — ” but his kisses burned my words away. Soft tongue…hot and tender lips conveyed his intention to fuck seriously and immediately.

I’m not sure how I landed on the bed, but suddenly his mouth left mine, and I watched, kind of stunned and increasingly excited as he ripped (and I mean ripped) my panties off (my favorite violet lace! ) and tossed them across the bedroom, then dove face first into my pussy. I screamed. His mouth landing on me like that was a shock. But then…

He melted me with his hunger and tenderness. His tongue and lips spoke to me, loved me, aroused me and caressed me. Everything he didn’t say in words he was saying with his insistent tongue, his warm and tender lips. He missed me, he was dying for me. He was drinking me in like water in the desert.

I stroked his head between my legs as his tongue brought me closer and closer to nirvana…but he held me there not letting me come until I was groaning in protest, straining against him. He slid up my trembling body and kissed me, deeply. I could taste myself on his lips, which drives me crazy. I was humping him and I felt his engorged cock against my wet pussy. I could feel his pulse against my clit.

He broke the kiss and looked at me. “What?” he whispered into my ear. He kissed my neck and started pinching one of my nipples, almost making me come again. I was rubbing against him and I was so hot that we were both wet and I could feel my distended clit pulsating. I was right on the edge and he was fucking with me, not fucking me, and not letting me come. Had he said something? “Hm?” I asked, because who could talk?

“What?” he whispered. I was practically coming already, trying to get him inside me, but he kept dodging me.

He stopped pinching my nipple and started sucking it very, very softly. Ohmygod. “Fuck me,” I moaned. “Please.”

And then he rammed his beautiful cock slowly into me, and I started coming almost immediately, grabbing his ass, because I wanted him deep, deep inside me when my pussy went into convulsions. Then he started slamming me mercilessly, savagely, hurting me, using me, claiming me, punishing me. Even in the blaze of desire I understood what he was saying. I had been absent too long.

He thrust harder and deeper than he ever had before, and every thrust made my pussy close around him like a velvet glove, driving us both wild. It was like we couldn’t fuck hard enough or deep enough. He threw my legs over his shoulders so he could hit me more deeply, and we became frenzied, (I realized I still had my heels on), thrusting at each other like beasts, screaming and grunting until we both came like tornadoes, thrusting, hitting and convulsing.

Five hours later

It’s dark. The bed looks like a storm hit, and we are tangled together in the middle of it, naked and covered in sweat.  “Don’t leave me again.” He says when he catches his breath.
“Never,” I say. I mean it. I lean in to smell the scent of his skin. Mmmmmm. I’m drunk from him, dazed and unquestionably in love.I’m speaking to, I am in bed with J. my boyfriend. The summer was full of surprises.

 

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