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Winging It
They got the new chair for Ngen’s den a couple of weeks ago, but only after Ngen promised Molly she could use it too. Most nights after dinner they shared it one way or another. Typically the evening would start with Ngen sitting low, stroking his cock, and Molly sitting on the floor by his side, watching carefully and touching herself, timing the touches to Ngen’s strokes. Sometimes Molly would let Ngen take himself to completion—she loved to watch the spurts jet upwards—and sometimes she’d mount him, facing him or facing away, just in time to capture his geyser in her sex, but most often she’d finish him off in her mouth. His cream didn’t always taste the same, but it always tasted good.
Tonight they’d had steak for dinner, excellent steak, which Ngen had grilled on the little patio of their townhome while Molly had made the salad and picked out a wine for Ngen to open. They rarely ate red meat, so Molly was wondering how Ngen’s semen would taste. Yes, she was pretty sure tonight she was going to suck him.
Ngen had the largest cock Molly had ever seen, at least in real life, though she hadn’t seen that many. There was her high school boyfriend Dave and her high school boy friend Zak. Both had nice-looking cocks. They’d looked big at the time. Too big to actually do it. But their cum tasted good, though not as good as Ngen’s. Then there was her college roommate’s boyfriend. Dick, that was his name, and one time Dick and Bethy had fucked while Molly was in the room, and she saw it then, Dick’s dick, when he pulled out and spurted on Bethy’s belly. It made her want a college boyfriend of her own, and by coincidence or design, the next day at the computer lab she met Ngen, a grad student, and they’d been together ever since—six years now, the last two of them as man and wife.
Ngen was a gentle man and an excellent lover. Molly had no complaints, none whatsoever. He was very patient. Molly tended to be impetuous. But she didn’t mind that Ngen took things slow. His hand on his cock was making her wet, wet enough that if she mounted him now, he’d push in with relative ease despite his size. Oh, she wanted to feel him filling her. Maybe she wouldn’t suck him after all.
Ngen’s expression as he masturbated was bland yet implacable. Molly wondered what he was thinking. But she didn’t want to disturb him.
“Ngen, what are you thinking?”
Ngen didn’t answer right away. His hand continued its motion up and down the shaft of his cock. The pull of the downstroke would open the slit a tiny, delicious tinch. Molly imagined her tongue tip probing, seeking, slipping into that delicate gap. Then on the upstroke, a small slip of moisture would squelch up, only to be sucked back in as Ngen’s hand pulled down again. It was fascinating. Molly want to do it, to stroke Ngen’s cock just the way he was stroking it, to part that innocent penis slit so the precum could well up. Her fingers now were between her legs from the back, pushing her sex lips apart, pinching the tiny clitoris. She was so wet. She couldn’t help it: she doubled, tripled Ngen’s rhythm. A small gasp escaped her lips.
“Wasahun?”
What’s that, hun? Molly knew Ngen was asking.
Molly regained the proper rhythm. “I was just wondering. When you’re touching yourself, what do you think about?”
Some time passed. Molly’s fingers itched to go faster. To fly. Ngen kept the same slow steady pace. A bead of his sex oil seeped from the slit and coasted down the fat curve of his plum-colored penis head.
“Do you think of me? Or do you have some fantasy? Or is it higher mathematics swirling through your brain?”
Molly was sure she could detect a slight smile in Ngen now. Maybe his hand was moving infinitesimally faster. Maybe his grip was infinitesimally tighter.
“Sometimes I have fantasies,” Molly said. “Like I imagine I’m tied to a silver metal table, and bright lights are focused on me, and medical students come in and tickle me, but I’m strapped down, and they keep tickling me. My feet and under my arms, and my belly, and my breasts, my nipples til they’re hard and tight, and my anus, too, with stiff-soft feathers, until I can’t bear it any more, and I have to come, but for some reason I can’t, and they keep tickling, only they won’t touch my vagina, they won’t touch my clit. I know if they touch my clit, I’ll come, but they won’t, the meanies... Oh, Ngen, you have such a lovely cock. Just looking at your cock is almost enough to make me come.”
“Arsagin,” Ngen said, his voice soft, muffled, and yet clear.
“Okay,” Molly replied. “The steaks. See, I shouldn’t have even been home, really, but with all this heat, there was a power failure at the pre-school. We couldn’t keep the kids there. It was like a hundred degrees. So we called up all the parents, and some of them grumbled, of course, but they all eventually came to pick up their kids. For a while I thought I might have to take one home with me. Little Will. You’d love him. But at last he too was collected, and I came home, and I was soaking. I was about ready to take a shower, just to cool off more than anything, when the doorbell rang.
“It was this guy. He was maybe thirty years old, good-looking. Dark hair. Dark complexion. A big smile. He was wearing a bright yellow shirt with some kind of lettering or logo but it was so plastered to his body with sweat I couldn’t read it. And his face was just dripping with sweat and all red from the heat. For a moment we just grinned at each other. Then he began his spiel. He was in the neighborhood selling meat. He does it just once a year, really high quality meat at really low prices, like three or four dollars for a steak. I told him that we really didn’t each much red meat, and he nodded, an understanding nod, and he was still grinning at me, enough to make me a little self-conscious. ‘Okay,’ he said, but he was still grinning, wide lips, big brown eyes, sweat dripping, dripping, dripping, and I asked him if he might like a bottle of cold water.
“‘Sure,’ he said, ‘if it’s no trouble,’ and I said it was no trouble, and I left him on the porch to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I got back and handed him the water. He looked so appreciative. But still grinning. So I asked him if he wanted to come in a minute and cool off while he drank it, and he said okay and followed me into the house.
“For a moment, for several moments, we just stood in the little hallway, and he didn’t make a move to open the bottle of water. I was going to ask him if he wanted me to open it for him, but of course that would be silly, and I was going to ask him if he wanted a glass, but instead what I asked him was, ‘Do you fuck as good as you look?’
“‘Maybe better,’ he said.”
Observing the increase in Ngen’s pace, Molly said, “You like this story, don’t you? Would you like to find out what happened next?”
Ngen chuckled. He kept stroking his cock, milking it.
“Where was I?” Molly asked. “Oh, yeah, the meat man. I took half a step toward him. He took half a step toward me. And we were kissing. He was a good kisser. And I wanted to fuck him so bad. I wanted to fuck him right there in the little hallway. It would have to be a stand-up fuck. And in the back of my mind I was worried that the mailman might come and see through the little window, and watch us, and in a way that excited me, not that I wasn’t excited enough already, but I led the meat man into the living room, and right in the middle of the living room I started taking off my clothes, even though the drapes were wide open, and anyone from across the street could see it, I didn’t care, I wanted them to watch me, to see me get fucked on the living room rug.
“He was taking off his clothes, too, and we did it sort of like a little dance. Shoes, shoes, shirt, shirt, pants, pants, underpants, underpants. ‘I see you don’t wear socks,’ I said, and he smiled and said, ‘Right, no socks,’ and then we were kissing again, and his slippery chest felt so good against my breasts and his big prick felt so good against my belly, and I couldn’t wait for it to be up in me. I was thinking this and nuzzling him and liking the way he smelled, all fresh sweat and hot skin, and my arm strayed around behind and he had a lovely strong butt. My fingers found the furrow the same time his fingers found my furrow, and he was so sweaty my middle finger went easy as pie into his asshole and at the same instant his finger went almost as easily into my asshole. We stood there, tight together, finger-fucking each other’s asshole, and I could feel his penis throbbing against my belly. I wouldn’t have minded making him come that way. I could imagine him squirting up between us—it seemed fitting—but I really wanted him inside me, inside my hot wet cunt.
“‘You’re clean, aren’t you?’ I asked. It took him a second to figure out what I meant, but then he said, ‘Yes, I’m very clean, and you?’ and I said I was very clean, too, but if he wanted, we could get even cleaner. ‘That would be good,’ he said. So I led him upstairs to the master bathroom and started the shower, and we stepped in, and we didn’t step out until the water was —
“Oh yes! Oh my! Oh, Ngen! So much! So good!”
Molly lazily swirled some of the semen on Ngen’s chest and tummy. She anointed his nipples with it, and then kissed his nipples clean. Then, remembering she wanted to find out how the steak-cum tasted, she took Ngen’s softened penis in her mouth and slowly and thoroughly sucked him until he was erect again and his penis was too big for her mouth. Facing him, she mounted his cock. It slid in easily, all the way.
“Rrraugharoo,” Ngen said.
“Oh, yeah, baby,” Molly answered, “Fuck that meat man’s cum out of me.” Her first orgasm began almost immediately, the second not quite a minute later, the others one after another long into the night.
story and illustration by Mat Twassel |
