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Subject: {ASSM} Tiffany <*> {Ciad Itu} (MF rom exhib)
Date: Sun, 9 Nov 2003 02:10:04 -0500
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<1st attachment, "Tiffany.txt" begin>
Dear reader,
This story is written for adults and contains graphic depictions of sex.
Do not read this text if it is not legal for you to do so with respect to
your age or location.
Have fun!
/Ciad Itu [ciad@hoakz.com]
For more stories, see http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ciad/www
For conditions on how to use this story, see
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ciad/www/usage-conditions.html
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
FROM THE TEXT:
If I had been forced to peek through a keyhole or glance into a mirror to
get a glimpse of her as she put on her clothes I would have assumed I was
the pervert and she the innocent victim. When Tiffany turned her back at me
she was standing in the middle of her room, clearly visible all the way
from the kitchen.
She dropped her towels and put her whole naked, firm body on display. I was
pretty sure she was doing this on purpose. When she bent down to put on her
panties and her blonde, furry pussy came on display between her thighs,
below her firm butt I knew she was playing me like an instrument...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
TIFFANY
By Ciad Itu
*** PART 1. ***
The first time I met Tiffany I wasn't particularly impressed by her.
I met her at a beach party in the beginning of the summer and I was
there with a couple of friends. This beach was more of a sand-covered
clearing in the forest at the shore of a smaller lake, and not what
you may expect from a "real" beach. It was a perfect place for
parties though; there were no houses for several kilometers.
Tiffany was an ex girlfriend of Ron, one of my friends, and she
came over to say hello. Or actually, she staggered halfway over and
screamed hello. She was a dead drunk and a blonde and she had no
problems at all to exceed any prejudices I ever had about blondes;
within the hour she was making out heavily with someone in her gang,
in the middle of the beach, no less.
To be honest to Tiffany, she was mostly lying on her back
giggling as the guy did most of the making out. However, the lying-
on-the-back-and-giggle part did nothing to increase my valuation of
her. After a while the guy on top of Tiffany wanted to drag her along
into the nearby forest -- no one had to guess what he wanted to do
there. Neither did Ron, and he necessarily had to check out what was
going on, and that Tiffany was okay.
It started all too well when the other guy asked Ron to go fuck
himself, or, as he put it, "even better, fuck that sucker", and "that
sucker" was me. I had followed Ron to pose as some kind of backup.
Knowing Ron and knowing the amount of beer he had already gotten down
his throat I moaned to myself, sure a fight was coming up. Tiffany
cooled the situation, however, even if I am sure Ron would have wished
for anything else than the kind of cooling she provided.
Tiffany stepped in between Ron and the other guy, loudly and
clearly -- at least clearly considering the state she was in --
declaring that what she did or didn't do was none of her ex looser
boyfriend's goddamn business. Her escort grunted, grabbed her and
dragged her into the bushes. I held Ron back until he calmed enough
to get back to our party instead of following Tiffany and her guy for
retribution.
Both before and after the incident on the beach I had heard
about Tiffany from Ron and his friends. After the first time I saw
her we met on a couple of parties, but it wasn't until several years
later that we started spending time together.
One day I bumped into her in the local grocery store. She was
basically the same as the first time I've seen her, but she'd grown
more mature and she seemed less wild -- maybe that was because she was
sober.
I said I bumped into her, but actually it was she that bumped
into me.
"Hi there," she said cheerfully.
I didn't even recognize her at first. But then I did. I
noticed the shimmer in her eyes and started feeling a bit uneasy.
"I just moved in a couple of houses away from you," she
continued before I had a chance to greet her back. "Why don't you
come over for coffee some time?"
"Uh, right." was all I managed.
"Gimme your number," she continued as she grabbed her purse and
pulled out a big address book.
She managed to bring me out of balance in a peculiar way and
before I had a chance to think she had made me give her my phone
number and promise to come over for coffee.
The first time I went over to her she answered the door dressed
in only panties and a t-shirt. At the time I strongly suspected that
she did this to gain some kind of advantage over me, and boy did she!
Tiffany was tall, almost as tall as me, and she had a slender,
lithe build with long legs, round hips and large breasts. It could
have been that her slender frame made her breasts look larger and her
butt rounder, but it was a sight for sore eyes anyway.
The fact that her t-shirt did nothing to conceal the swaying of
her breasts under it -- she wore no bra -- or the dark shape of her
nipples made it necessary for me to keep my eyes under strict control
the whole duration of my visit.
After a while I realized the conversation was forced and instead
of continuing to avoid staring at Tiffany I reached for my pack of
cigarettes, probably the fourth or fifth time since I entered her
apartment. While gazing into the glass tabletop I lit my cigarette
and took a deep breath on it.
We kept talking. She seemed to sense that I was discomforted by
her appearance and she seemingly wanted to make me feel even more
manipulated. At least that was the effect when she pushed her chair
back, placed one of her feet at the table and started painting her
toenails. You may question the manipulative quality of this action.
At first I would agree that it wasn't manipulative at all, but that
was before my focus shifted from her toenails to her panty-clad crotch
below and behind them.
She had lace panties and they were semi-transparent. I hadn't
noticed this before since only the top part of them where lace and
this part were covered behind her shirt when she was standing. Now,
however, I could see the lace part of her underwear and I could
confirm that she was indeed a true blonde. When she took a deep smoke
on her cigarette, her blue eyes watched me. I swallowed and had to
direct my gaze at a tree outside her kitchen window. The tabletop
could no longer provide any shielding from what she had placed on
display for me.
"Elm," she chuckled as she too looked at the tree.
"Interesting, huh?"
"Yeah," I managed just giving her a quick glance before I
continued staring at the tree.
While she switched to painting the toenails on her other foot
she started talking about elm trees. Apparently she had read a lot
about trees and she was more than willing to tell me. This was one of
the many paradoxes about Tiffany that I would successively discover
during the following weeks.
On the surface she was average: She worked as an assistant nurse
at the city hospital. Spent one or two Saturday's a month at the
local nightclub, usually the Saturday after she got her wage. She
preferred drinks, especially gin-tonic's, to liquor or beer and she
would usually tease but seldom bring anyone with her as she left for
home. When she didn't work she spent time with her friends, and she
smoked about a pack of cigarettes per day.
This was on the surface. Under it, she liked to read, actually
loved to read, anything she could get her hands on, the more strange
the book, the more eager she would be. She had bookshelves in her
living room and her bedroom and they were all filled with books, most
of which her mother had passed on from Tiffany's dead grandparents.
She read Kafka, and she even tried to discuss the Process with
me, but she lost me quickly. She had read most books by Dostoevsky
and she had read "The Satanic Verses" by Salman Rushdie. That was the
only one of the books she knew that I had read, or actually, I had
tried to read it and given up somewhere on page ten.
"Have you read all these?" I had gaped at her bookshelves once I
realized what kind of attitude she had toward books.
"Not even half of it," she had laughed.
Back in her kitchen I realized she had gone silent. She was
concentrating on painting her nails. Now and then she raised her eyes
and looked at me, occasionally taking a smoke on her cigarette.
Instead of meeting her gaze my eyes jumped back to the tree, then back
to her and when she was not looking my gazes slid down her shapely
thighs and fell on the round shape of her crotch.
I immediately noticed two things: somehow the slit in the
middle of her panties seemed more marked. I realized this was because
her pussy was puffier. Either she was squeezing her thighs together,
or... she had swelled. I swallowed. That was when I saw the spot;
her panties were wet. I looked up into her eyes and she was gazing at
me under heavy eyelids. Cigarette smoke was hanging between us.
Right about then I made my first real mistake. Instead of
acting on impulse, grabbing her and kissing her, I got up, mumbled
some excuse about needing to go to the toilet and headed for her
bathroom.
If I told you I was an expert on women I would be lying, as I
would if I told you I had great courage, or even that I was convinced
I was worth someone like Tiffany. I didn't believe any of these
things and of course it was no help to me, even when she practically
offered herself on a platter. I was attracted, how could I not be?
Ever since I'd seen the wet spot on her panties I had been transformed
from the casual untouched observer to the victim of her love spells.
But I was able to logically explain each of the things she did, and
none of my explanations was anywhere near the reasons my instincts
kept telling me she had.
The next time I went over to Tiffany for coffee, a couple of
days later, she must have decided to play a game with me. At least
that was how I perceived what she did, which in retrospect probably
was another great mistake. This time, when I rang her doorbell she
didn't answer at first, after a second ring and almost a minute of
waiting, the door opened and there was Tiffany wrapped in two towels,
one around her body and the other around her head in a turban.
"I'm just out of the shower," she breathed. "Sorry."
I simply nodded. She was totally naked under her towels and the
one around her chest barely reached past her hips. However, this was
nothing compared to what was to come.
"Why don't you make coffee while I get dressed?" Tiffany
continued and went into her bedroom.
Between Tiffany's kitchen and her bedroom was the hallway. Two
doors lead from each room to the hall, and when they were both open,
like they were then, it was possible to see from the kitchen all the
way into her room.
If I had been forced to peek through a keyhole or glance into a
mirror to get a glimpse of her as she put on her clothes I would have
assumed I was the pervert and she the innocent victim. When Tiffany
turned her back at me she was standing in the middle of her room,
clearly visible all the way from the kitchen.
She dropped her towels and put her whole naked, firm body on
display. I was pretty sure she was doing this on purpose. When she
bent down to put on her panties and her blonde, furry pussy came on
display between her thighs, below her firm butt I knew she was playing
me like an instrument. My instincts told me to rush her, grab her ass
and try to fuck her before she even had a chance to complain about it.
And, well, the logical part of my brain kept screaming about how
reasonably and surely innocently she was acting. I didn't do
anything.
She saw me standing in the kitchen with a filter bag in my hand
and after a quick smile she pulled on her panties, rose and half
turned to me, giving me an eyeful of her firm breasts and proud
nipples as well.
"You put the coffee in the filter bag and the filter bag in the
coffee machine," she grinned and her blue eyes shimmered.
"How many cups?" I mumbled and lowered my gaze.
"Sixty-nine?" she replied and her eyes shimmered, blue like a
lagoon, as she kept gazing at me.
"Sixty?" I started before I realized what she was saying.
I am sure my eyes grew wider and my mouth was trembling. I was
probably a really pathetic sight.
"Make it eight cups," she laughed and quickly got dressed.
I stared at her for another couple of seconds before I decided
to get going with the coffee instead of trying to figure out what was
going on. While we drank the coffee and smoked, we made small talk,
but she seemed like she wanted to say something. She didn't, however.
I knew I wanted to say something, or do something.
An opportunity had just come and passed. I was sure of it. I
had seen a woman naked and it was deliberate on her part. Surely that
must count as an opportunity? But she was so cool about it, a voice
in my head kept telling me she was just being natural; maybe she
didn't think nudity was such a big deal? There are nudists and they
don't seem to think nudity is sexually charged at all. I was at a
loss and when it was time for me to head back home I was sure she was
nothing more than innocently natural.
*** PART 2. ***
I kept visiting Tiffany for another two weeks but none of my visits
contained anything as striking as the first two. Sure, she usually
walked around in her apartment dressed in nothing more than panties
and a t-shirt, usually without a bra, but she never put herself on
display as much as she did the first two times.
I didn't reflect on this much until the day I came over to her
and a guy was sitting by her kitchen table. Tiffany and I had nothing
tangible going on between us, at least not sexually tangible, so I
shouldn't feel anything, but of course I did and I had a hard time
hiding it. Who was he? a new boyfriend? a friend? who?
"This is Dave," Tiffany answered my questions. "He's renting a
room..."
"Okay," I replied without really knowing what else to say.
"I had to get the costs down."
"I see."
"I sleep on the sofa most of the time anyway," she continued.
I nodded, took Dave's hand and shook it. He had a firm, a
little too hard, handshake. He didn't look into my eyes when we said
hi. I tried really hard not to dislike him, but the more I heard
about him the more I started to suspect that he was into more than
just renting a room from Tiffany.
"So," Dave said to me. "What do you do?"
"What do I do?" I asked not really sure what he meant.
"For a living?"
"He's in computers," Tiffany filled in before I had a chance to
answer.
"Ah," Dave nodded. "A computer wiz."
In the two minutes I had known the man, he had managed to annoy
me already. At least he didn't call me a "kid". Always something, I
told myself and sunk down by the table as Tiffany poured me coffee
with milk.
"I hear he's pretty good too," Tiffany added.
I glanced at her. She was now dressed in shirt and jeans. I
thought for probably the millionth time, I should have done something
when I had the chance.
"You don't say," Dave chuckled and grabbed his coffee cup.
I opened my mouth, about to say something rude, then I looked
over at Tiffany and realized she probably needed this asshole to help
her out with her rent or she would have to leave the apartment. I
kept my mouth shut.
From now on, whenever I was having coffee with Tiffany, Dave
would be there too. As a construction supervisor, Dave was quite well
built, no hunk but larger than me, even if I wasn't neither tall nor
particularly well built. I was in computers; most of the physical
exercise I got was from typing.
I wasn't sure what taste Tiffany had in men, but she didn't seem
to be interested in Dave. It was logical that she wouldn't end up in
bed with him, since doing that would introduce the risk of them
breaking up and that would mean she would have to pay her rent alone
again, something she apparently was unable to do.
I would have been calm about the fact that Dave was sleeping in
her apartment if it wasn't for two things. She was sleeping on the
sofa, to me that seemed like a temporary arrangement if any. Part
from that, whenever Dave and me was around she would talk and act in a
way that made us both stare at her with bulging eyes.
She didn't really say anything alluring, nor did she act
promiscuous in any way, it was just the topics she brought up, and the
way she did it, that made me think on lines I would prefer not to
thread, at least unless I could realize them. I am sure Dave was
having the same problem.
"I have a secret weapon," she said one time and with a contented
smile she leaned back in the corner of the sofa, between Dave and me.
She sipped her coffee as we stared at her.
"And?" I asked.
"Tell us what it is?" Dave broke in.
"It drives guys wild," Tiffany grinned.
"So what is it?" Dave insisted.
"I'm tight," she said softly.
I don't know Dave's reaction to this, I can only guess from my
own. I would have choked on my coffee or spitted it all over the
table, but fortunately I wasn't drinking any coffee right then. I
guess knowing Tiffany some and having instincts, I waited for her
reply before I did. However, I did choke and I wasn't sure where to
look.
From that point on the sex talk became less innocent and less
polite. When Dave started describing how he had been doing anal with
some girl, I felt I had to get some kind of break. I rose and grabbed
my pack of cigarettes.
"I'm going to smoke," I said and went out on the balcony without
waiting for Tiffany.
Dave didn't smoke. Tiffany stayed in the living room devouring
each of his words. I didn't have much to say since I had been
involved in pretty basic things, nothing like Dave's anal sex or
Tiffany's threesome -- she told me once she and another girl had
picked up a guy, but that's a totally different story. I felt pretty
left out on the sex talk, not that I wasn't an eager listener, I just
wished I had been able to make Tiffany give me the same attention she
was now giving Dave.
About a quarter of an hour later the discussion was turned to
the art of chaining people to beds and Dave once more came up with not
only good advice but a bunch of anecdotes as well.
"So," Tiffany asked curiously. "How do you do it? Rope or...?"
"No, no." Dave laughed. "Hand cuffs are the best. Ropes burn
you or hurt you. Chains too..."
"Only if you pull," Tiffany added.
"You always pull unless the other is failing miserably," Dave
grinned.
I decided I had heard enough, that the hour was late and it was
time to leave for home.
"I'm leaving," I mumbled, my words filling the quietness after
Dave's comment.
"Okay," Tiffany smiled, not even getting up from the sofa to see
me off.
I left, my goodbye echoing hollowly in her hallway. I didn't
even stay long enough to see if she would answer it. I didn't want to
know.
The following days I was assuming crash position. Even if I
didn't see Dave on any of my visits, I was sure something was going on
and I was just waiting for Tiffany to say something. Still, logic
kept telling me she wouldn't; she needed the money more than the sex,
didn't she? She said nothing the first couple of visits, and just as
I had started to calm down, a pile of her underwear on Dave's bed
informed me of the status of things quite frankly. She saw my gaze.
"Let's have a smoke," she offered and led me to the balcony.
I had underestimated the kind of feelings I had for her. I was
filled with a hollow, black emptiness, and I had no clue what to say
or do. I was surprised my hands didn't shake when I lit my cigarette.
"We went out for a beer a couple of nights ago," Tiffany begun.
"I got pretty drunk and he more or less had to carry me home."
"Okay," I replied still no emotions. As she kept speaking I
finished my cigarette, and immediately lit another.
"I woke up in the middle of the night, in the bed..."
I swallowed. Finally I felt something. Pain. I cursed my eyes
for filling with tears and I clenched my teeth to keep them from
overflowing.
"I was still drunk," she continued.
I looked at her. She was looking down at her hands. She raised
her eyes as she took another smoke. "He was there too... But he
didn't use me..." she added.
"Okay," I replied.
"I..." she hesitated then lowered her eyes again. "I just
needed something and he was there, you know..."
I wanted to scream to her to stop. "You know", her words echoed
in my head. I know? Do I? I decided I knew nothing. Tiffany kept
talking and I had to shut her voice out of my mind. When I listened
again she was talking about something else. The subject of her and
Dave was finished as far as she was concerned; I had one more thing I
needed to know.
"So," I asked. "He's your boyfriend now?"
She shook her shoulders. "I don't... No." After a couple of
seconds she continued: "It's not so smart, you know?"
"What?" I asked, a little scared that maybe she knew something
about what was going on inside me.
"This."
I swallowed. "This?" I managed after several seconds.
"Yeah, I really need help with the rent otherwise I'm fucked..."
They say black humor helps you see the light in the darkness.
Right then I thought to myself she was fucked all right. I almost
laughed about what might have happened if I had told her when she was
so concerned about her economy. I guess she brought out the mean
streak in me.
*** PART 3. ***
The next few weeks I was busy feeling sorry for myself. I avoided
Tiffany, and I ignored her phone calls. I wanted to avoid meeting her
face to face again until I had managed to get my feelings in order. I
definitely wanted to stay away from Dave until I had regained my self-
control. I was trying not to be judgmental about what Tiffany had
done, but in my eyes, Dave was a moron and far below her.
My opinion was biased of course, but still there was some part
of me that kept telling me something was seriously wrong about the
situation. I blamed my self-pity, and maybe I was right. Being in
the middle of a typhoon of feelings, like I was, and at the same time
seeing straight is almost impossible.
Since Tiffany was the kind of person she was, stubborn beyond
belief, she wouldn't let me alone for long and after one particularly
sweet and pleading voice message I decided to get back in the loop and
to hell with any remaining pain.
I went over to have coffee with her that same night and things
started to go bad from the beginning. Tiffany opened the door in her
panties and a t-shirt, like so many times before. However, this time
was different. My mind was not full of plans on how to interpret or
use the situation; my mind was full of pain and regret that the
sweetness that was Tiffany would never be mine. I was in much worse
shape than I thought, even if Dave was not there to remind me about my
defeat.
We sat on the sofa drinking coffee and smoking. She said
nothing about me not answering her phone calls, and I didn't offer any
explanation. After a while our discussion drifted on to Tiffany's
work. She was upset people were so ignorant. After some coaxing she
told me someone had died that day because his relatives didn't know
how to perform CPR.
"Everybody should know how to do CPR," she stated.
"Hey," I shook my shoulders. "I don't."
She frowned at me. "Sure?"
"I mean I know the theory, but if someone asked me to do it.
Jeez."
Tiffany suddenly put down her coffee mug and I could see in her
eyes she was up to something.
"I'm going to teach you," she simply stated.
"What?"
"Get down on the floor... On your back!"
"Well," I tried to protest but she was determined.
"Lie down!"
I did as she asked. Lying on the floor I couldn't help peeking
between her thighs. I was able to get a really good glimpse before
she kneeled beside me. I once more felt the pain of regret and I had
to blink several times or the pain might just have appeared as tears
in my eyes. She didn't seem to notice.
"First you have to take care of the breathing, okay?"
"Okay."
She placed the tip of her fingers under my chin and gently
lifted my head up while placing her palm on my forehead.
"You lift like this, then you pull down," she took my chin
between her thumb and index finger and opened my mouth. "And you
blow."
She didn't blow, even though I wouldn't have minded. She did
however bend forward and she did hesitate. Was she planning on giving
me mouth-to-mouth and backed out the last second? How about Dave? I
realized something was going on, in the room or in my head. I would
have given my right arm to find out which.
"Then you pump..."
"...The sternum," she added when she saw my expression.
"Right," I nodded.
"Take three fingers," she held up three fingers. "...from the
bottom edge of the sternum, the hole here," she placed her fingers on
my chest and I couldn't help myself. Being ticklish I started
laughing.
"I am trying to save lives here," she commented wryly trying
hard to keep from laughing as well.
"Yeah," I gasped. "Sure, I think I get it now."
I started to get on my feet.
"Oh, no," she commented. "You're not getting off that easy.
Now do it on me."
She got on her back and smiled up at me. I stood there, staring
down at her. She wanted me to do what? mouth-to-mouth? for real? I
decided definitely not. Tiffany, however, got impatient with me and
reached up, grabbed my hand and pulled me down on my knees.
"Now, please! I am dying for a smoke."
"Okay," I mumbled, not at all sure what to do, especially not
with someone as gorgeous as this woman.
"First?" Tiffany asked.
"Breathing," I managed and placed my fingertips under her chin
just like she showed me. This was crazy. I opened her mouth and I
bent forward, then I hesitated and finally stopped. If Tiffany had
any reaction to this, I didn't see one.
"Then?" she simply asked.
"Eh... Pump... Pumping," I was stuttering. I was making a total
fool out of myself and she was just lying there, looking up at me, not
smiling, but neither frowning.
"So?" she prompted.
"How do I do it?" I asked.
"Three fingers," she replied.
"Yeah, I know, but the ... pumping."
"It's called massaging," she smiled. "Heart massaging, if you
prefer that to pumping." She paused, just a second before continuing.
"You place the heel of your hand three fingers above the lower edge of
the sternum and then," she grabbed my hands and placed one between her
breasts, the other on top of it.
My hands were between her breasts; I just had to move my fingers
and I would be touching them, and I just had to move my palms and I
would be cupping them. Tiffany picked up on my thought immediately, I
could see it in her eyes, but she didn't move, not at first. We were
simply looking at each other's. Her eyes where shimmering like
sapphires, and I felt an almost painful want growing and growing until
I felt as if I was about to choke.
"Do it," she mumbled.
"Pump?" I asked.
"No, silly," she breathed.
My hands where shaking. She scared me, or to he honest, the
worst-case scenario that I painted in my mind scared me. What if
I...? What if she...? My hands slid apart and cupped a breast each,
gently, only touching, as I was afraid to do it too hard. I could
feel her stiff nipples through the thin fabric of her t-shirt and
things where immediately starting to grow in my trousers.
She suddenly sat and I pulled my hands away from her, sure I had
done something wrong and offended her. Before I had a chance to say
anything more stupid she grabbed my head and pulled me into a deep
kiss. While our tongues and lips where caressing one another I
wrapped my arms around her and pulled her as close as I could without
hurting her. She moaned into our kiss and as we broke it she gazed
into my eyes, her blue eyes jumping between mine. She stroked my hair
gently.
"We're totally forgetting about the pumping," she giggled
softly.
I couldn't answer; my mouth was too dry.
"Why don't you lay me down on my back and pump me," she
continued while brushing her lips against mine again.
I didn't need more persuasion than that, and while we kissed
again, hungrily and passionately this time, our combined efforts
quickly ridded both of us of all clothes. She smiled at me and
gracefully leaned back until she was lying on her back. I followed
her and ended up on my side beside her. We were lying on the living
room floor, actually half on the floor, half on the mat. I kissed her
while gently -- as gently as I could manage in my overheated condition
-- stroking her breasts, first one, and then the other. Tiffany
didn't bother much about foreplay though; she grabbed my cock
immediately, and stroked it firmly.
"Come on," she mumbled. "Fuck me."
She parted her legs and tried to make me lay on top of her but I
held back. I wanted to excite her more before I would get on top of
her and come before she did, making a fool out of myself. I kissed
her again and slid my hand between her legs, through her incredibly
soft pussy hairs and to her equally incredibly wet and hot slit.
"Do it," she mumbled and ground her crotch against my hand.
I explored her slippery folds, relishing in the soft wet sound
her pussy made, and I could see and hear Tiffany's reaction to my
caresses. I kept stroking her for several minutes, determined to make
her come before I would do any "pumping". However, this proved harder
than I expected.
Every time Tiffany's breathing increased and she arced her back
I was sure this time I would bring her off. She seemed to be stuck
just outside the reach of her orgasm and soon she fell back on the
floor with a frustrated sigh.
Finally she was whining and trashing her head from side to side
and I was sure she was coming. However, when she opened her eyes,
grabbed me and forcefully pulled me on top of her it wasn't to calm
down after an orgasm.
"Fuck me Goddamnit!" she hissed between clenched teeth and
before I could protest she had grabbed my cock and guided it to her
opening.
Tiffany hadn't been lying about being tight. When I pushed into
her, my cock was welcomed by the tightest grip I had ever experienced.
If it hadn't been for her being sopping wet, I am sure it would not
have been so easy to slide into her. Tiffany groaned as I worked my
way into her until our pubic bones meshed into each other.
"Oh God," she whimpered, her hands holding my arms hard. "Oh
God!"
"Are you okay?" I asked, worried that I may be hurting her.
"Oh God! Just fuck me," she hissed in reply.
I started moving and I immediately felt pleasure rushing to my
groin, threatening to make me explode right there and then. A deep
breath later, the crisis was over. Somehow I'd managed to detain
myself, and not even gorgeous Tiffany with her tight pussy could make
me come, not right away at least.
Tiffany however, was a completely different story; as soon as I
started moving in her she gasped and her thighs started shaking
uncontrollable. Her fingernails made marks in my arms -- maybe that
was what made it possible for me to keep my orgasm back. She was
arcing her back and within a dozen strokes she was screaming out what
couldn't have been anything other than an orgasm.
I, on the other hand, had ways to go still. She soon proved
that so did she. Shortly after she had calmed down she rolled on top
of me and while passionately kissing me, her hips rolled into mine
making my cock moving in her delicious grasp. She struggled into
squatting over me and suddenly I was treated to an even deeper
penetration. I moaned and she chuckled.
"You like that?" she whispered and took me deep again.
I could only moan in reply. Suddenly her grasp became even
tighter and I felt how my control was starting to give away. I
grabbed her by the knees and started pounding up at her.
Making love on a floor is something completely different from
making love in a bed. Even the hardest bed is soft and yielding
compared to a floor. On a floor you can do things that isn't as easy
to do in a bed; like grabbing a girl squatting over you and pound her
pussy full of cock, just as I did then.
"You want to make me come again?" Tiffany whined and wrapped her
hands around the back of my neck.
I didn't reply, unless keeping up what I was doing was an
answer. She hissed and gasped for air and suddenly I could feel how
her pussy got considerably wetter, and as I kept fucking her, I could
hear it as well. I looked up at her face, framed by her blonde hair
falling like a curtain around both our faces. Her mouth was half-open
and her eyes closed, she almost looked peaceful, but just for a
second, then she clenched her teeth, closed her eyes even harder and a
high pitched, whine escaped her. She pushed my hips down on the mat
as she forcefully ground into me.
Her thighs were shaking and her fingernails were digging into my
neck, and even if I couldn't feel her coming, I could see and hear how
powerful her orgasm was. As her wet heat caressed my whole length she
finally pushed me over the edge and into my own climax. I arced my
back and pushed back up at her, our bodies grinding into one another.
"Oh! Yess! Yess!" she whined. "Fill me!"
Within moments I did exactly what she wanted and in spurt after
delicious spurt I emptied myself totally in her hot depths. Our
bodies where tensed, shivering, as the moment was stretched into an
eternity. I was straining to reach her, fill her, raising my butt,
and pushing up at her. She was squatting above me, holding me in her.
We were both straining to keep the contact, keep the moment, but
finally she exhaled with a prolonged groan and collapsed on top of me.
*** PART 4. ***
I was lying on my back and savoring the delight of my diminishing
orgasm. Tiffany soft, but firm was resting against my chest. She
finally moved and planted a soft kiss on my neck. Her light blue eyes
stared into mine and just as she was about to say something we both
heard a gasp from behind us.
"What the fucking hell?" a voice whispered.
Tiffany instantly turned around and got on her feet. As she
moved out of my line of sight I could see Dave standing in the
doorframe, his eyes wide open, and filled with an insane light. He
was pissed all right, and the sanest thing for me to do would be to
grab my clothes and run for my life. I simply couldn't do that. I
couldn't just leave Tiffany in his hands, not when he looked like he
did. I got on my feet as well, grabbed my clothes and hid behind them
as well as I could. Dave's jaw was chewing in anger as he was
searching for something to say.
"Dave," Tiffany started.
"What the hell is that cocksucker doing?" Dave roared as he
pointed his shaking finger at me.
He took a step towards me and I backed off. Our gazes where
locked and I could read my instant death in his eyes. I remember
asking myself, was it worth this? They say there is only one drive
stronger than the sexual drive. Tiffany suddenly appeared between us
and I knew in my case this wasn't so. I would willingly die for this
woman, even if sex would be all she would ever give me.
"Stop this!" she commanded facing Dave. "What the hell is your
problem?"
"Him." Dave snorted and pointed at me.
His face was slowly turning red, and I remember thinking that
maybe Dave getting a heart attack would save my life.
"And?" Tiffany asked, her eyes shimmering with rage. "What
makes you think it is any of your business? You're not my boyfriend!"
"And neither will he be." Dave hissed as he tried to move past
Tiffany.
I am not sure Dave could hear or even see Tiffany; his eyes
never left me while she talked to him. She placed her palms firmly on
his shoulders and after several attempts she managed to get him to sit
in the sofa. She then turned to me.
"Leave now!" she mumbled.
I wanted to protest; I didn't want to leave her when Dave so
obviously was enraged out of control, but one stern gaze from Tiffany
made me change my mind. I silently left the living room and got
dressed enough to be decent. Tiffany joined me in the hallway and
before I left I made her promise me to call within two hours.
"If I see you two together again," Dave hissed from the doorway
to the living room. "I swear to God..."
"Leave," Tiffany mumbled to me and opened the door.
I walked back home while my mind played worst-case scenarios on
repeat and my heart pounded like crazy. I regretted leaving Dave
alone with Tiffany, but still I understood that they would never be
able to talk about what had happened, and sort it out, unless I was
gone. Tiffany didn't seemed to be scared of him, and she knew him
since long before I did. I could only hope she knew what she was
doing.
The hours waiting for her call were some of the longest of my
life. I was sitting with the phone in my lap, staring into the
opposite wall, several times a minute checking the clock. It seemed
like the minutes took forever and after one hour of waiting I had to
get up and do something. I made sandwiches. It took seven minutes to
make them and eat them. Then I was back. Sitting on my bed,
clutching the phone, again counting the minutes.
One and a half hours passed and she still hadn't called. I was
sure Dave had beaten her up, or done worse, and the big knot of
anxiety grew even larger in my belly. I had to do something.
Suddenly I realized two hours had passed. I stared at the clock
in terror. Two hours had passed and she still hadn't called! The
next fifteen minutes was hell. I was about to call her, call the
police, or run over there. I was sure she was hurt, or in desperate
need for my help, or even worse, unthinkable, things. And just as I
was about to call her, the phone finally rang. I almost had a heart
attack and I managed to drop it before I could get the handset off the
hook and answer.
"Hello?" Tiffany's wonderful voice came from the other side.
"Tiffany," I sighed in relief. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," she replied. "I'm okay."
There was a long moment of silence. The outcome of this
situation had never crossed my mind. What was she going to tell me
now? My heart stopped again. It was over, she was going to tell me
goodbye.
"Come over?" Tiffany mumbled.
"Dave?" I asked unsure what her invitation meant.
"He left... just... come over."
Two minutes later I was standing outside Tiffany's door. It
usually took four to five. I tried to catch my breath before I rang
the doorbell. Like so many times before Tiffany opened the door in
her panties and t-shirt. Somehow this was comforting. She seemed
informal, like old times.
I closed the door behind me but she didn't back away to give me
room. Our faces were close and I only had to reach a little bit to
brush my lips against hers. She beat me to it though, wrapped her
arms around my neck and pressed her lips against mine. Her slender,
thighs pressed against my legs and soon her crotch was grinding into
mine.
"Welcome back," she breathed when we broke the kiss.
She locked the door.
"Get out of you your clothes and follow me," she smiled and
disappeared around the doorframe into her bedroom.
I spent a second wondering how to exactly interpret "get out of
your clothes", before I decided to get rid of my shoes and jacket and
nothing else. As I peeked into her bedroom I immediately realized I
had made the wrong assumptions about the meaning of getting out of my
clothes. Tiffany was naked, resting on her side in her bed, a big
grin on her face.
"Like what you see?" she asked me and when I nodded, unable to
make a sound, her grin became even wider. "Then you'll love this."
She rolled over on her belly and with a lustful gaze over her
shoulder she parted her legs and revealed her pink folds. She pushed
her ass upwards; showing even more of her pussy and every thought I
had about being chivalrous disappeared in an instant.
Within fifteen seconds I was naked and in bed with her. My
intension was to start slow, kiss her and tease her even taste her,
but when I lay on top of her she moaned and started grinding her ass
up at me. My cock was pressed into the crack between her buttocks and
she moved her hips until I felt how my organ sprung free and pressed
against her hot wetness instead. She reached between her legs,
grabbed me, and before I could say or do anything, she pushed me
halfway into her. I had little, if any, choice than to finish the
work by pushing all the way. The second time in my life I managed to
hold back the instant wave of pleasure threatening to drown me and
soon it felt like I could fuck her forever, if need be.
"Bite my neck," she moaned and I brushed her hair aside and
scratched my teeth against the skin on the back of her neck.
"Bite me harder, let me feel your teeth."
I bit her even harder and she started whimpering and whining.
When I bit harder still she started to squirm. I was unable to hold
back anymore and I started to fuck her with abandon. Soon she begun
to shake and she became, if possible, even louder. Her tight embrace
became even wetter and I was suddenly close to coming; she was closer
though.
Within a dozen strokes she threw her head back -- I had
forgotten about biting her neck a long time ago -- and with a
wordless, feral scream she announced the arrival of her climax. I
kept pumping and when she twisted her neck as far to the side as she
could I bent down and kissed her passionately.
"Come in me," she whispered. "I want to feel it!"
I hugged her close, held her hard, pumping into her forcefully
but slowly, grinding deep, and pulling back far. Each time I buried
in her as deep as I could she whimpered and soon she was squirming in
my grasp once more.
"You're gonna make me come, again!" she whined. "I'm gonna
come!"
I felt my own climax gathering into a hot, tight knot. After a
couple of seconds and a few strokes, the knot was transformed into a,
seemingly, never-ending flow of pleasure and semen. Tiffany was true
to her word and while our juices mixed so did our screams of ecstasy.
I buried my face in the pillow beside her head, resting on my
elbows, knees and forehead while still comfortably buried in her hot
depths. She sighed and started softly kissing my cheek.
"You made me come," she breathed. "Twice."
I turned my head facing her a proud grin playing on my lips.
"I wanted to tell you that," Tiffany added. "Before... how...
wonderful it was..."
She kissed me, and then she pulled back a bit, looking at me.
"I'm not that special," I mumbled.
"But you are," she said seriously.
I stayed on top of her as long as I could, but finally I was
unable to support my own weight any longer. I pulled out of her and
lay beside her on the bed. Tiffany made a disappointed face when my
cock slid out of her.
"Keep up the good work," I whispered. "And I'll be back in no
time."
"You want to do it again?" she purred.
She draped her legs over mine. I placed my arm under her head
and pulled her closer until I was lying on my side and she on her
back.
"Soon," I smiled.
She looked at me for a long time, as if pondering something.
Then she bit her lower lip. "That was the first time, you know..."
"What?" I burst out. "First time? But I thought you and
Dave..."
"Not the first time I had sex, silly!" she laughed then she
became serious again. "The first time I came..."
"Really?" I asked.
She nodded.
"You are a little special after all," she mumbled. Then she
laughed. "Wanna show me how special?"
"Sure, how?"
"You can try and make me come three times," she whispered with a
wanton shimmer in her eyes.
"I can try and make you come all night long," I added and kissed
her.
"All night?" she asked.
"All night," I confirmed while continuing to kiss down the side
of her neck.
That was the first of many nights I spent with Tiffany.
~ The End ~
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