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Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Blowjob <*> {f. aces} (MF, Msolo, oral)
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Date: Tue, 29 Jul 2003 10:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "blowjob.txt" begin>
Blowjob
by Memory's Grace
There's a look she gets on her face when she's debating
whether or not to take off her panties. She leans a little to the
left, like she's curling up a bit, and rests her butt firmly against
her heels. Then she twitches up.
I don't know if she takes them off or not. I'm trying to relax.
``What is it?''
``I....''
``You always get like this,'' she smiles. ``You're in good hands, you
know.''
I don't know what it is about a slightly chubby brunette that lets her smile
like that. It's a warm glow of happiness.
I feel like a vampire.
Or maybe I've got the positions reversed.
``Open your legs.''
``Uh-ah.''
I don't know why I make that sound. I really don't. I'm nervous, and then
I'm nervous but enclosed by her lips. And I can't relax. And I can't
relax.
A wet noise escapes her lips. She always makes those when she gives head.
I don't remind her because she finds it horribly embarassing. As if
somehow it's unfeminine to have saliva. Cock in the mouth is fine, though.
Just fine.
She comes up, ``you're tense, again.''
Yeah, I'm tense. I'm tense.
``Just relax.''
I don't want to relax. Because when I relax....
She caresses my neck and I feel her breath on my ear. ``Fancy a kiss,
sweetie?'' She's cold. She's the love of my life. God, she's cold.
Because when I relax, this happens.
She traces a hand down my chest, my skin prickles and dies. I tense up and
jerk a little bit.
``Mmmmmm'' comes from between my thighs.
Her hand comes up and grabs my jaw in a lover's grip. ``Let's do a little
remembering, shall we?''
``Shall we?'' The atonal vowel at the end stretches on to forever and
becomes a white rain. A white glistening rain. It grips me, then caresses
me, then it bleeds the fucking life out of my ears.
And then, then we are all alone.
And I'm in the woods behind my father's house. The snow is all around me,
so bright I don't know what day it is. My jeans are rumpled around my
knees, my body screaming at me that something is definitely, definitely
wrong.
The wind blows around my erection. Yes, a scientific term. In the
interest of science, it is cold, and it is dry, and it is not friendly at
all.
I wrap my hand around the top of the shaft, and begin.
My legs twitch a little bit, trapped by the jeans.
It's hot and cold. It's about to get a lot colder.
I take out my pocketknife.
I cease masturbating, and bring up my palm, and I rest the knife blade
against it.
You really shouldn't cut the palm. It takes a lot to get much blood out of
it, and it stings for days.
Not to mention the inconveniences while jerking off.
There's a wet noise between my legs. She adjusts her hair to keep it out of
her mouth.
There's drops of blood hitting the snow.
In the movies they always make sounds like you can hear the blood hitting
the snow.
You can't.
Not really.
But you watch it and you think you can. You can see the small spatters,
and you grip your fist, and oh so much more comes out.
Dear god.
``Sweetie?''
She stops sucking for a moment, and looks up at me. She does this
sometimes and thinks I don't notice. I don't, really, my eyes are rolled
up in the back of my head, and I'm, well, I'm relaxing.
``Sweetie?''
Yes?
``Those were great times, weren't they?''
Yes.
Yes, I was so creative back then.
``You're bullshitting yourself again, sweetie. Only I found you
interesting.''
Yes, well, permit a young artist his foibles.
She's picked up her pace, now.
Most porn makes it look like when girls pick up the pace while sucking a
guy off, they get frantic. Not her, at least. She doesn't so much speed
up as coaxes. The slight smile as she tips her head back as she pulls
away, then the nod forward as she comes closer in.
``aaaah.''
At that, she stops, pulls off, and delivers a kiss.
Then she comes up and sits in my lap. She loves these armchairs as much as I
do.
She rests her head against the back, jaw against my shoulder: ``Do you mind
if I ask a personal question?''
``Heh.''
She asks anyways, ``why don't you ever come?''
I don't know. I turn and look her in the eyes. She's been with me a
while, now, and doesn't worry about meeting them.
She looks at my eyes for a moment, then grabs my left hand. She runs her
thumb along the lines on my hand. She's relaxing.
This is our quiet moment. I'm her last for the night, Tuesdays. She
leaves her hair down, and doesn't worry about being sweaty. The caressing
of my palm is more to work out the kinks in her hand than mine.
We go to bed to sleep, and in the morning she and her fourty dollars are
gone.
``Sweetie?''
Yes?
I'm fixing coffee.
``Someday, you're going to have to let me go.''
Maybe someday.
<1st attachment end>
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