Carrie Minberg, Female, 22

	- Narrator, Bitterwood graduate

	- Beige, freckled skin, 5'6, 130lbs, curly back-length dark-red hair

Lacy, Female, 22

	- Junior at UC-Santa Cruz, sister of Donnie

	- Rich-tanned beige skin, 5'7, 145lbs, back-length bleached-blonde hair

Harrison, Male, late-30s

	- Post-Grad at UC-Santa Cruz, Lacy's boyfriend

	- Pale skin, 5'4, 155lbs, short medium-brown hair

Andre Williamstone, Male, early-40s

	- Professor at UC-Santa Cruz

	- Dark-brown skin, 6'1, 215lbs, shaved bald head

Lacy and Harrison were spending the day on the beach, and I planned to join them after I went to a doctor's appointment. When I'd let Donnie cum in me, I knew in the back of my mind that I was not protected. I don't know what I'd have done if I'd become pregnant. Thankfully, it had happened just a couple of days before my period, so my fertility was at its lowest. I knew that it was just a matter of time before I wanted that feeling again, and I didn't want to take the chance of becoming pregnant.

My doctor gave me a Depo-Provera shot and told me that it would be effective within a week. I practically skipped out the door and caught a bus down to the waterfront, soon joining Lacy and Harrison to soak up the sun.

- - -

I spent the next couple of weeks working a lot and hanging out on the beach near the pier. I turned 22 and Lacy had taken me out for a night on the town. She had not invited me again into their relationship, and that was okay. Even if we never had a threesome again, it was clear it had only made them grow closer, and I was thrilled to have been the one to share that night with them. I cared about Lacy greatly, and not just because I enjoyed sharing a bed with her. I wanted her to be happy, and so far, Harrison had been a great boyfriend.

I talked to a few people through the rest of July and into August. I wasn't looking to jump into bed with anyone, though there were a couple of nights where I considered it. The timing was off, and it didn't happen, but I was content to wait and pick my next partner.

I'd been invited, along with Lacy and Harrison, to a beach party happening somewhere south of Monterey on a Friday night during the first week of August. People I'd met near the pier had mentioned it casually, then asked me to come. They were an attractive group of men and women in their late-30s or early-40s, and there were several who showed a polite interest in me. They'd said to bring any friends I cared to, and I'd invited Lacy and Harrison a few days before they left for Vancouver.

The party was raging by the time we arrived. A couple of fire pits were roaring on the sand in front of a groovy house with steps running down onto the beach. We'd brought chairs and mixers, and quickly settled in around one of the fires and poured cosmos for anyone who wanted one.

I chatted with a woman and her husband who were clearly drunk and clearly interested in doing more than chatting. I wore a summer skirt in the warm August evening, and I couldn't help that it regularly rose up with the breeze blowing in off the surf. The woman's eyes were drawn to my briefly-exposed underwear as often as were her husband's.

But I wasn't really there to get picked up, though I knew another drink or two might change my mind. Mostly, I was enjoying the company of Lacy and Harrison since they would leave for Canada in a few days and be gone for two weeks. I knew I would miss Lacy's friendship. She and I had bonded really well that year, and she'd been a really understanding friend when I was a mess.

I thought again about whether I was interested in a threesome with husband and wife who were clearly flirting with me. I was aroused, as always, but it wasn't what I wanted. I politely ignored the woman's comment that my panties “didn't cover much, and why should they!” She was attractive, to be sure, but I didn't feel like being led off to play with them so early in the night. I excused myself and walked down to the surf, cosmo in hand as I felt my buzz growing.

A tall black man was nearby. I'd seen him before near the pier in Santa Cruz. I couldn't recall his name, but he was well built, probably early-40s, and carried himself with a casual ease that suggested he was both confident and easy to approach. He smiled at me a moment, then strode off down the beach away from me.

In the darkness, I hadn't realized he was pissing until I saw his silhouette turn towards the surf well down the sand from where I was. While I couldn't see anything detailed, it was obvious he was urinating into the surf.

I found myself surprisingly turned on to watch. He finished quickly and I saw him run his hands into the water a moment before walking slowly back in my direction. I found myself needing to go suddenly, and as my buzz got a bit stronger, I found myself approaching him with a question.

“So... is that where the ladies go, too?”

He stopped and looked a bit embarrassed. “Oh? Uh, I suppose. Sorry, didn't know you could see me...”

I waved my hand to dismiss his concerns. “Didn't see a thing. Just realized I need to do the same.”

It was the strangest conversation starter I'd tried to that point in my life.

He chuckled, his voice deep and smooth. “Gotcha. Be sure to flush.”

I laughed, said, “I'm Carrie. Think we've met a time or two at the pier.”

“Of course. Carrie. I remember you. Andre. Nice to see you again.”

I was squirming by then, said, “I'll... be right back,” and rushed down the beach to where I thought he wouldn't see me drop down and lower my panties, quickly urinating along the edge of the surf. I felt greatly relieved to see that he had walked back up to the party instead of watching me piss, although part of me kinda wished he'd stayed to watch my dark silhouette doing something naughty.

I let my urine drip as best I could and pulled up my panties, wishing I had some tissue with me. I righted my skirt and picked up my drink, returning to the fire.

I spotted Andre nearby and I thought he looked very handsome. His skin was even and dark-brown. His head was shaved bald and he wore a thin beard and mustache on his face. I was reminded briefly of my high school boyfriend Michael, and stopped myself before I started reliving old memories again.

I chatted with Lacy, Harrison, and a group of people I had met earlier for a time, my eyes regularly drawn to where Andre spoke with a few others. His glass was empty, and mine was as well.

I grabbed the liquor and mixers and headed over to him.

“Andre, hey.” I said, trying not to seem overly eager. “Noticed you were dry, care for a cosmo?”

He smiled and turned towards me, his broad shoulders obvious in better light. “I'd love one.” His body language suggested he was open to a conversation about more than pissing.

“So what do you do, Andre?” I asked as I handed him a glass.

“I teach Literature at UCSC.”

“Literature... that was my major...” I stopped before I started rattling off the usual excuses I gave for dropping out of school. “What specifically?”

“Undergrads mostly, so it is a mix. Victorian, French works, some Russian classics.” Andre sipped from his glass. “You studied Literature?”

“Yes. I had courses which included Victorian and Russian. I especially enjoyed Nabokov and Radishchev. At Bitterwood, they encouraged us to be widely read, so I took in a lot from all over.”

“You're a Bitterwood graduate, then? Few better places in the world to prepare for university. My son is attending the Amsterdam campus in a couple of years. Did you go there? Did you study under Jonn Magisun, by chance?”

I nearly choked on my drink. I'd spent one night with Jonn outside of courses where we shared more than just a love for literature. “Ah... yes. Professor Magisun was one of my favorites. It's where I learned to love Russian works.”

“And are you now in school?”

“I...” It was hard to admit to this beautiful, intellectual man that I was not. “No... not currently.” He stared at me a moment, waiting for me to continue. “It's complicated. I went to Harvard for a while, but some things happened... in my family... I don't want to talk about it.”

He nodded his head. “Of course. You must be quite talented in your field. Bitterwood and Harvard. That's world class, Carrie. Will you return to study? I hope you don't let that all be wasted.”

“I will. I want to go back. I came out here to get away from... things.” I came to California to run away from the damage I'd done to Elise and to my academic standing, but I told Andre none of that truth. “My friend Donnie is a grad student at Berkley, he's a Lit major as well. He wants me to go there when I'm ready.”

“Berkley is a fine place, but as you might expect, I have to suggest you consider Santa Cruz, as well. A world-class university in its own right. We're more known for the Physics and Astronomy department, but, if you don't mind me saying, we have some of the best and brightest professors you'll find anywhere. At least consider it. When you are ready to return.”

I was already considering it. I had unconsciously taken a step forward. I'd noticed the man wore no ring on his left hand, and I couldn't help being stimulated by a man so perfect in so many ways.

There was a brief lull in our conversation, and I tried to fill it quickly. “Do you think Nabokov was writing a love story?” We'd had that discussion both in and out of class at Bitterwood, and it was something I hoped I could sound half-way intelligent about.

Andre smiled and I melted a little. I'd hit on something he enjoyed talking about. “Walk with me, let's discuss Nabokov.”

He excused himself from the group and we slowly strolled to the water as he shared his thoughts on the famous book about a man narrating memories of his obsessive relationship with a twelve-year old girl. I couldn't help feeling a young girl myself as the older man talking with me made me tingle and grow excited by his presence. My puss was becoming very wet.

We moved from Nabokov to Radishchev and eventually back to my college career. He showed a real interest in my life, and though I didn't share most of the details with him, I tried to be honest when I could.

“If you do decide to return to your studies, I can help you at UCSC. I'd love for you to come study with me. You have a sharp mind, Carrie, and I suspect that, in the right situation, you can be an exceptional student. I'd love to have you,” there was just the briefest of pauses, “in my class.”

He stopped walking and I felt my heart skip as he turned towards me. I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, he said, “I should go back, I... I don't want you to think this is anything more than a shared interest in great authors. You're a lovely young woman, Carrie, and I'm... more intoxicated than is usual for me. I'm sorry if I've said or done anything untoward.”

I was crushed, but I didn't let it show. “Oh, no. Not at all. I really enjoyed this. I don't have many chances to talk to someone with such knowledge of Nabokov and Tolstoy. I miss that a lot.”

He stared at me just a second, then nodded. “Good. Well... shall we?”

Andre led the way back to the party and I felt disappointment grow that he'd cut off so abruptly what might have been growing between us.

I shared a tent with Lacy and Harrison that night, the two of them passed out near me long before I felt myself begin to relax. Andre was perfect in so many ways, and it was more than just his beautiful brown skin and tall frame that drew me to him. He was experienced, knowledgeable about literature, and he spoke to me in a way that made me feel like my interest in that subject was something which made me special. I wanted him very strongly in those moments.

The young woman in me struggled to be okay with that. Despite my ability to hold back from being drawn into other intimate relationships that night, I found that I wanted badly to kiss Andre and show him just how much I'd enjoyed our conversation. I'd already been fantasizing about spending a couple of weeks with the man while Lacy and Harrison were away. I knew it was silly, that he had his work, and I had nothing but a relatively brief interaction with him, but I'd started to dream again, and I couldn't help that I latched hard onto something which had so many things right, at least on the surface.

- - -

“There was a message for you earlier,” Lacy told me when I got home from work the night before she and Harrison were to leave for Vancouver. “I left the details by the phone.”

I thought nothing of it immediately and went upstairs to take a shower and change clothes. Back down in the kitchen, I took the note and read it. Lacy's handwriting was delicate and easy to read.

“Andre Williamstone – for Carrie – phone number...”

I stood still a moment before I let it sink in that Andre wanted me to call him back. I felt giddy a second before I realized it might have less to do with a personal connection and likely meant he wanted to sell me again on going to UCSC. I shrugged, the moments days before in his company had faded a bit, though I certainly had not let go completely the man's charm.

I called the number and he answered immediately, “hello?”

“Mr. Willi-- uh... Andre. Hi. It's Carrie.”

“Carrie. Wonderful to hear from you. Look, I'm sorry I called without asking first. I got your number from your friend Donovan. It turns out that he has been in a shared course of which I am one of the professors, and I asked him if he knew you. Again, I'm sorry for being so forward.”

“Donovan? Oh, Donnie. Not a problem, Andre. How are you?”

He went right to his reason for calling. “UCSC is hosting a reading from the works of Alexander Pushkin. Do you know his work?”

“The poet? I've heard of him, but I don't know that I've read him.”

“He's one of the very best Russian poets, well, really, one of the best poets period. One of my favorites. I thought you might enjoy attending?” It was a question rather than a statement, and Carrie wondered which level of their relationship this represented.

“When?”

“Tomorrow night, 8pm. It's on campus. Closed to the public, but you can attend as my guest, if you wish.”

“Sure. I'd love to. Uh...” I had no car but I had gotten to know the bus schedule quite well. “I'll have to catch a bus down to campus. Where can I meet you?”

“If it isn't too forward... perhaps I can pick you up? Save us time trying to find each other later.”

I smiled to myself. “That would be great. Thanks for thinking of me, Andre. Sounds fun.”

“Fantastic. I'll need your address.” I gave him my location in Boulder Creek. “Ah,” he said, “I am only a couple of miles south of you. I'll see you around 7:30, then?”

“I'll be ready. Thanks again.”

“My pleasure. Take care, Carrie.”

“You too.”

I raced outside to where Lacy was sipping tea and swinging on the porch swing. “I called Andre, we have a date tomorrow.” It sounded rather silly as I said it. Nothing we'd spoken about suggested it was really a date.

“That's great! Andre... Andre...”

“I met him at the beach party in Monterrey. Tall black guy, professor at Santa Cruz.”

Her eyes sparkled as she said, “oh, I remember him. Very distinguished in his collared shirt and slacks at a beach party... so... first date?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe it's not a date. I'm not sure. He invited me to a poetry recital. He knows I love Russian lit and he thought of me. I dunno, Lacy. I thought we were connecting that night, but he did kinda shut it down at one point. I think maybe it's not a date.”

Lacy tilted her head and looked at me like I was a sad puppy. “Think you kinda like him, though. Don't get your heart broken Carrie. I'll have to go kick him in the nuts if he does that to you.”

I laughed, replied, “oh, I know. I know. I just... I do like him, but I barely know him. We just kinda... connected, I dunno. He's beautiful, don't you think?”

Lacy pursed her lips, then nodded.

“And he a Lit professor who loves Russian authors, which you know are my favorites.”

Lacy rolled her eyes. I'd probably mentioned Russian authors far too many times over the months and it showed on her face.

“Anyway... maybe it was just the alcohol and the setting, but... you know how it goes. He was too perfect.” I shrugged, said, “whatever. He's picking me up tomorrow night.”

“Well, good. Bout time you got out and did something. Listening to you masturbating makes it hard to keep my promise of exclusivity with Harrison.”

I laughed again, “yeah, I know. Sorry about that...”

“Whatever. Still giving us a ride in the morning?”

“Yep.”

“Harrison is coming over early. Need to leave here by eight.”

I nodded and stepped inside, trying not to get myself worked up too much about Andre.

- - -

He picked me up promptly, and after a quick greeting, I rode in silence as he wound the Mercedes down the mountain towards campus. I felt a great deal of nervous tension, and I believed his silence meant he was feeling the same. I tried small talk.

“How long have you been a professor?”

“Twelve years. I spent several years doing post-grad work in Moscow and Kiev and Seoul before I got a position at the University of Minnesota. After five years, I was hired here in Santa Cruz.”

“That's great. So... Moscow, was it great?”

He shrugged. “I enjoyed my time there, sure, but it was a lot of days spent digging through other people's thoughts on the role of pamphleteers during the various revolutions. Interesting stuff, to be sure, but tedious. And then there were the papers on top of it. I didn't get to enjoy much there.”

He grew silent and didn't continue.

“So... you have a son? A junior in high school?”

“Yes, Nelson. My only.”

“You had him before you went to study overseas?”

“He was born before I left. His mother and I... didn't last. She didn't have any interest in literature, and we split up not long after Nelson was born. He's been with me ever since. That was another reason I didn't get to enjoy much of Moscow or elsewhere, I had a young son to keep an eye on.”

“Sorry...” I didn't really know what to say.

“Oh, no. Nothing sorry about it. I love my son, very proud of him. It has just left little time for anything other than my family and my work.”

“So... you're single.” I hated that I'd let that slip in such an obvious manner. I bit my tongue.

He glanced at me a moment, his expression unreadable. “I am. But... I'm starting to want to change that...”

I couldn't know if he meant 'in general' or if that comment was referring to me. I really hoped it was the latter.

We arrived at campus and the reading went on for nearly two hours before the event broke apart. It had been an interesting survey of Pushkin's poems, and various readers, including Andre, had stepped up to the mic and read aloud the poet's words. Each was read first in Russian, and then translated to English. I couldn't believe how Andre's voice changed to wrap around the different languages.

We walked back to his car, discussing the poems. While I'd never found poetry as compelling as other types of writing, I couldn't help feeling moved when he'd read aloud Pushkin's thoughts on dreams and the Georgian hills.

We rode back to my place, never stopping our conversation as it drifted from Pushkin to English poets, such as Robert Browning and Tennyson. Andre was clearly excited to share his joy of the works with someone new.

He pulled up in the driveway and I thanked him for the evening. Despite how we seemed to have connected, my mind had already allowed that it was an intellectual pursuit only, and I thought that would be good enough.

“You're very welcome, Carrie.” He paused, then said, “there is a biopic of Robert Burns showing at the art theater downtown on Friday night. Would you like to join me?”

I didn't respond immediately, but I felt compelled to know if this was more than just intellectual company he was seeking. “Andre... I like you. I don't want to be too forward,” I said, borrowing his words, “but... are you asking me on a date?”

He hesitated. “I'm sorry. I... I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry.”

I didn't know if that meant “sorry, it's not a date,” or “sorry, I wanted a date and you probably don't.”

“Why be sorry? I enjoyed tonight, and I think I'd have a good time going with you to see the film. I just... I just want to know what to expect, ok? I like you, Andre. I need to know what you think about me first...”

He relaxed and smiled, “ok. I fear that maybe there are bounds over which I'd stepped. I'm... not too good at this sort of thing, Carrie. Never was. I was sincere that I wanted you to come study with me and I was sincere when I thought of you for Pushkin. And... I like you as well. Perhaps... you'll join me for dinner before the film? Call it a date?”

I smiled and leaned towards him, planting my lips on his cheek. “I'd love that, Andre.”

I stepped out of the car and watched from the porch as he slowly pulled off and disappeared down the road.

- - -

I was quite nervous as I left work early on Friday afternoon before my date with Andre. I rushed home and showered, spending extra time trimming my pubic hairs, laughing at myself that, given Andre's slow build towards asking me out, I was probably days or weeks ahead of needing that. Still, a girl likes to be prepared for anything, and I left a small triangle above my slit and cleared away the rest of the curly hairs between my legs.

I put on a bit of makeup, not much. I've never been one to wear many cosmetics. But I drew a rosy lipstick across my lips and highlighted my eyes with liner, then put in a couple of dangling silver earrings I hadn't worn in a long time.

I chose a semi-elegant dress I'd bought second hand for the night. It was a light gold and I accented it with a strand of faux pearls I'd picked up at the same store. The dress rode just below my knee, and I slipped on a pair of short heels to complete the outfit.

I braided my dark-red hair quickly and, satisfied that I was looking my best, slipped a pair of white silk panties under my dress.

Andre pulled up and stepped out of the car. He was beautiful, his dark brown skin accented by his light-blue collared shirt and a golden-yellow tie which almost matched my dress. He wore dark slacks and had freshly shaved his head. He looked delicious, and I creamed my panties just a bit as I hugged him warmly.

In the car, I could smell his cologne which was spicy and not too heavy. I kept wishing I could lick his neck.

We made small talk all the way to dinner, and it was clear Andre was allowing himself to actually date me. While our conversations were similar to our previous ones, he leaned into me across the table, stared into my eyes more, let his glances move lower on my body.

I ate it up, and by the time we left the restaurant, I was holding his hand and letting him kiss my cheek.

The film was actually quite boring despite the interesting man being profiled. Half-way through, Andre leaned to me and whispered, “do you find this as dull as I do?”

“Yes.”

“Let's go do something more fun.”

My puss hummed at what that might mean.

We approached his car and I took a chance. Instead of going to the passenger side, I stepped to the driver's door and leaned back against it, legs dancing in anticipation. Andre took the bait.

He kissed me deeply, passionately. The longer we stayed locked together, the more it was clear he'd been holding this back a long time. His hands moved over my neck and shoulders, and when they started to move lower, I didn't stop him.

Andre ran his fingers across the front of my dress, teasing my nipples, and I moaned into his mouth. He responded by cupping them firmly, caressing them through the fabric as my hands began to slide over his smooth head and down his back.

I whispered in his ear, “would you like to go to my place?”

He smiled his reply.

I did my best to keep my hands off of him as he drove faster than before. Andre was as excited as I was at what we were about to do, and that just turned me on even more. He kept telling me, “I'm so attracted to you, Carrie. You are so beautiful.” I replied in kind, and the eternal drive home, which took only minutes in reality, finally ended as he pulled into the driveway.

We locked in a kiss immediately before we finally broke away and I led him into the house. Inside, he pressed me against the kitchen counter before I could offer him a drink. Our mouths locked again, and I could feel his erection pressing against me from under his pants.

My hands moved on their own to his zipper and in seconds, I had Andre's penis in my hands.

He was big, easily seven inches long, and thick as well. I stroked him as we moaned together, his hands sliding down to caress my inner thighs.

I pulled us up the stairs and into my bedroom which, thankfully, I'd straightened up just the night before.

Andre pushed me back onto the bed and slid down my body, pulling the top of my dress below my breasts. He sucked one tit, then the other, and I knew I was drooling thick cream into my panties. My puss was on fire, wanting his touch there.

It wasn't long before he moved down further. I pulled my dress up as he slid my panties down. I could smell myself immediately, my arousal thick and heady. I watched him inhale and shudder, his brown skin so warm where it touched my legs and thighs. I saw him stare at my cunt a moment, then he said, “Carrie... so beautiful...”

His face moved quickly and before I could do anything more, his tongue slid along my labia. I writhed and moaned as he lapped me expertly. Whatever experience Andre had in the past, he knew how to use his tongue like a pro. He licked my clit, circling it, before sliding down to probe my leaking vagina. Up and down he worked, never missing a beat as he brought me to a shuddering climax.

I wanted to taste him and pulled him from between my legs. I kissed his lips, tasted my cream in his mouth. He moaned as I pushed him onto the bed then pulled his slacks and underwear from his body.

Andre's cock looked even larger like that. It laid back against his stomach, pulsing, precum dripping from the tip, his heavy balls heaving below. He'd shaved his pubic hairs as cleanly as his head, no hair could be seen in either place.

I stroked his wonderful penis a moment, smiling as he moaned. I parted my lips and took the head of his dick into my mouth.

He tasted salty and meaty, the rich flavors of his flesh exploding in my mouth. I hummed as I tried to take him deeper. I ran my tongue along his length and sucked as I moved my lips along his shaft. He ran fingers across my forehead and along my cheek as I felt the tip of his penis hit the back of my throat.

I gagged lightly but didn't stop. I tried again to deep throat him, but found his girth was too much for me. I sucked him slowly at first, then moved faster as I felt him swell. I debated whether I should make him cum with my mouth, but then thought that I might not get to feel him in my pussy, and I stood up quickly.

I reached for the drawer to grab a condom, but he stopped me, said, “there are some in my slacks. They fit me well.” I should have expected that his size required the magnums which I did not have. I was glad he was prepared.

I fished one out and ripped the wrapper, then slid the condom over his long cock. I swung a leg over his body, letting my labia part to sit along his shaft, teasing his length while I leaned down to kiss him.

I rose up and held his penis in my hand, the brown flesh on his shaft visibly flexing, then pressed the tip against my opening. I slowly sat down, felt him stretching my vagina as I took him inside. My breath caught in my throat. “Oh... Andre... oh...” I started to ride him with only half of his cock in my body. I creamed all over the condom and soon had it coated with wetness.

He watched my face as his big penis was slowly worked into me. His hands were magic on my tits as he caressed and fondled them, licking his fingers and teasing my nipples at times. More and more of his large cock sank into me as my puss stretched to take him. I felt so full, and for the first time in a long time, when I finally had him fully inside my body, I felt a cock press against my cervix.

It made me cum hard. My fingers balled into fists against his stomach as I climaxed loudly. He humped up into me faster and faster, holding my hips as he thrust. My climax rushed from my clit to the rest of me, filling me with euphoria, the hard, thick cock inside me continuing to pound my hole.

In one movement, Andre spun me onto my back, his penis never leaving my puss. He started to fuck me, and I drew my knees up and put them over his shoulders. He drove deeper into me, pushing my cervix back, widening my opening with his thrusts. Andre grunted as one of his hands moved to my clit.

I came again as he humped my vagina, the amazing fullness of his penis making it easy and powerful. He started to buck wildly, slamming his body against mine. I loved it, loved how he pounded me. Andre started to grunt and shudder, and I knew when he clenched his teeth and let out a long growl that he was ejaculating in his condom in my pussy.

I writhed as he came, moving my hips with his motions, slowing down as he began to relax. My legs drew down and I squeezed him with my thighs, then reached to his face and brought him to me for a deep, breathless kiss.

Goddamn, he'd been a great lover. It wasn't just the size of his cock. As I've said before, I love all cocks so long as they are hard and the guy attached knows how to use it. But Andre was passionate, and his timing was nearly perfect. He was attentive and beautiful and seeing his brown skin on my pale flesh was an extra-special thrill.

He didn't pull out of me for a long time. I thought maybe he was going to fuck me again, and I was fully supportive. But he eventually pulled back and ensured his condom came with him. I couldn't believe how much semen was in the tip. He rolled it off and I took it from him, smiling at the contents before tossing it into the trash can.

He slid next to me and I couldn't help taking his half-hard cock into my hands again. It was a rare treat to be able to use both hands to hold a man's penis, and I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. He groaned and shifted, moving onto his back. I purred as I realized he wanted me to suck him again.

I knelt beside his thigh and took his penis into my mouth. It tasted of both cum and the rubber, but soon it was his dark flesh which teased my taste buds. Andre groaned loudly as I sucked him back to hardness, and it took only a few moments to hear him breathe, “almost there...” I didn't back away, concentrating on matching his hips as the humped against my face.

He groaned again, louder and longer, and his back arched up from the bed. Warm, salty fluid flooded my mouth quickly and I struggled to hold on, struggled to breath. It filled my throat and overflowed. I couldn't believe he had so much cum after his orgasm moments before. I felt five, six strong jets of his semen splash against my tongue, maybe more. Despite my best efforts, some of the sperm ran out of my lips and drooled onto his stomach.

The rest I swallowed, his jism pungent and creamy, slightly sweet and a little bitter. I loved swallowing cum, and Andre had just given me a mouthful. I leaned down and licked up the mess from where it had spilled out of my mouth, then slid beside him where his arms wrapped around my body and he kissed me deeply.

He broke away after moments shared buzzing and warm together. “Carrie... amazing... you... are... amazing...”

“You as well... mmm... you're a gifted lover...”

He rocked with me a while and we kissed a lot. At some point, he asked quietly, “should I... head out?”

“Please stay,” I responded, “stay the weekend if you can.”

“I'd love that, Carrie. I'd love that...”