WARNING!

This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this

erotic literature (or you are under the tender age of 18),  PLEASE, move on to something 

more appropriate for you.

   _________________________________________

An email request.

File name: Melissa-Airline.txt  (M Tg rom)

Authors name: nalatogg (nalatogg@yahoo.com)

Story title: An Airline Ride with Melissa

   My name is Alan and I'm a junior investment research analyst flying to the Far East on an harebrained scouting endeavor cooked up by my superiors. They feel that an obscure Korean chip manufacturing company (no, it's not Samsung!) will boost attractability or at least offset market fluctuations. Whatever. I'm here and I'm stuck on a 22 hour(?) flight to nowhere. At least the company provided this nice private jet for me. What is it? A Gulfstream? A DeHaviland? As far as I know, it could be a turbocharged Cherokee. Seems quiet enough inside. But I'm all alone, except for a stewardess that I rarely see. Well, might as well read my novel. Plenty of time for preparation later. Besides, disseminating financial reports puts me to sleep and I don't want to sleep yet. Ah, in my lap I have a a Nelson Demille novel, one of my favorite writers. I settle in and "break the book's spine" (read it for the first time).

  "Good Morning, Mr. Smith," I hear from above my head. I look up from my book into a pair sparkling, brown eyes surrounded by a mature, genuinely intelligent expression. This is no dummy. How nice! It is awkward and difficult for me not to sweep my eyes over the rest of you. For some reason I am drawn to do this. I relent helplessly. After my split-second journey I return to your eyes. But the trip wasn't wasted as I catalogue your charms: long, firm legs, narrow waist, trim bodice, uplifting breasts. I think I detect a half smile on your face. Ah, shit. I do this all the time and consequently, turn off whomever I meet for the first time.

  "My name is Melissa and I am your flight attendant for this trip. May I get you something before we take off?" You have dazzling teeth and thankfully I find this is easy to focus on.

  "Yes, please. Uhhhhmmmm."

  "May I suggest a small Champagne?"

  "Why, that would be nice, thanks. Uh, thank you, Melissa." You smile again and move away. What a face. What nice lips. Mmmm. I return to my book. You're back momentarily with a plastic stemmed wine goblet, filled over half way with an effervescent liquid.

  "Thanks." I sip from the cool liquid and its cold tartness briefly puckers my mouth. Well, it wasn't what I was expecting so early in the morning, but I feel myself loosening for the trip. I take another. You're watching me as I do this, but funny I don't feel unnerved by it at all. I think you're as bored as I and I attempt to strike up a conversation. The jet isn't moving yet.

  "I guess you're a veteran at all this. I've never done a flight this long. Hope I don't go stir crazy."

  "We have onboard movies for your pleasure, an incredible selection of music, and I do a killer tap dance routine half way through the flight." After a moment or two, I realize that you are kidding and I laugh at your dry humor. Yes, this flight is going to be above average. Thank you, God. You're laughing with me and I like the timbre of your voice. Melodic and strong. You're definitely all woman. Ooooweee. The pilot's voice interrupts my appreciation and you become businesslike again.

  "Time to buckle up, Mr. Smith." I belt back the rest of the Champagne and prepare for the takeoff. You retrieve the plastic stem glass and swish away from me to the kitchen area. I watch you as you recede, taking in your molded buttocks moving under your uniform. They are firm like the rest of you. I wish I was your underwear, feeling your smooth asscheeks glide over me. Stop it, stop it, Alan. I always stare at a stewardess's ass as she walks away from me. I guess it's because I can't get caught, yet. I enjoy the surety and efficiency of your movements as you practice your preparation for takeoff. I wonder if you are as accomplished in other matters as well. I shake my head to clear these thoughts. It's not good to think like this. All too often I broadcast my intentions and this kills any future promise. I lean back into the headrest as you have now disappeared from sight and I presume have tied yourself in. The jet rolls forward and taxis itself to the designated spot. I look out through a ridiculously sparse window and ready myself for the plane's acceleration down the runway. I hear the roar of the engines, feel a slight g-force, and we are airborne, so much swifter than commercial airlines. I return to my book and wait out the climb. It's nice not to have to hear the chatter from the cockpit about cruising speeds and ceilings and thank-yous for flying with their airlines. I detect the jet leveling off and find myself anxious for your bright countenance. Actually, I want the whole package. I want to see you striding toward me so that I can take in your superb chest, firm, flat tummy and your womanly hips as they work those luscious legs of yours. Forget this book. There are more interesting things on this flight. Ah, I spy you heading my way. I am not disappointed by your approaching demeanor. I try not to be obvious, but it is fruitless. I look away. I have too.

  "Are you doing fine, Mr. Smith? May I get you something else now?" My mind touches upon a few items not listed on standard airline amenities offerings.

  "No thanks, Melissa. Melissa, it is only the two of us here and I have a dreadfully long flight ahead of me. Please call me Alan."

  "Ok. It's nice meet you, Alan." You strike out your hand to shake and I take it. It is warm and soft, but firm. This is an unorthodox way to begin a flight, but I see you visibly relax and hope the flight will prove to be friendly. Hehehe.

  We find many commonalties and thoroughly enjoy each other's humor. Seems that you engage in reading a lot and some writing. Me too. As we delve into that area, we touch upon the Internet and the vast plethora of resources. Pornography cannot be avoided and we explore that subject and its effect on writing, erotica in particular. You are not as forthcoming with your opinion on it as with other aspects about what we talked. I shrug it off as my being too pushy. I love the stuff and have to keep myself in check from sharing that thought. You had a funny reaction, though, when we started discussing it. I think you actually like it. I can't be sure. Not important. You finally drift off to attend to flight matters. It gives me a chance to rev down for awhile. I return to my book and try to get into it, but to no avail. I am thinking of you and I find you filling my mind. I like that. I love the uncertain beginnings of something new. It is exciting not knowing what direction a contact will take or what new things will come out of it. It is late morning and I find myself ringing for another Champagne, my third. I had better stop or I will arrive in Soule as a typical Westerner, inebriated or worse, a screaming hangover headache. One more for the road. I usually hate Champagne, too. In reality, I am seeking any excuse to have you around me. I see you dutifully winding your way back to me. I feel like a pest, but cannot help it.

  "May I have another refill, Melissa?"

  "Sure." You whisk yourself and my glass away. I wait. Suddenly, I have a time-inappropriate urge. Nature is calling. It must be from all the Champagne I am consuming. You haven't yet returned from the galley and so I decide this may be a good time to relieve myself. I get up and stagger a little to the rear of the plane toward the lavatory. I make it and enter the tiny cubicle. Seat is up and I'm ready. Oh, oh. My zipper has snagged on the material surrounding the fly, and it is embedded into the zipper jaw. Shit! Shit! Double shit! I can't manipulate it past the fabric. Help! I think to myself. It least I am not desperate to go. Oh God! It occurs to me that I'm going to need help. I resign myself to asking you. I sheepishly open the lavatory door and peer out around the corner to seek you. You are heading toward my seat with my third refill. I wave to you down the aisle. I smile stupidly at you. You are the consummate professional, but you can't hide a puzzled look on your face.

  "Yes, Alan? Something wrong?"

  "I-I-I...I...my zipper is stuck and I cannot undo it. Uh,...I need...can you help me? I can't do this by myself." You just look at me. I can hear the wheels in your head turning. We have known each other for 4 hours now which is why I guess you had the liberty to ask,

  "Are you kidding? Is it really stuck?" All this said with a smile on your face. I blush and nod.

  "Ok." You pull me out of the water closet, into the sunny portion of the cabin. You squat (very femininely, I might add) and inspect the damage I have wreaked on my clothing. You have grasped the fly flap in your finger and are twisting this way and that while manipulating the zipper with your other. I feel your fingers through the material, or more accurately, my dormant penis feels your fingers. And like a child when awakened, it is curious as to whom awoke it. It is a reaction that I am powerless over. You are not timid about your actions as you struggle against the fly and the zipper. Your fingers do not attempt to avoid contact with any of my interior baggage. I know you feel me and you must be feeling me expand inside my underwear. Still you are persistent in freeing me. You shift your position and are now kneeling before me, your face inches from my erecting organ. This picture is not lost on me and I experience further social discomfort at being unable to prevent my sexual bone from pushing my pant leg outward. I look like a lopsided tripod with a short leg. Your hand is brushing against my rigidity. I speak softly to you in earnest.

  "I'm sorry. I can't help myself. Your hands are driving me crazy. Please forgive me."

  "It's ok," you smile. "I almost have it free. You certainly have a nice specimen there." And I feel your fingers slide down my length softly, smoothly, knowingly like a carnal woman.

  "Ohhhhh." My breath escapes.

  "There. It's free." Your hand illustrates this by zipping my fly down to its bottom limit, while your other hand clasps my hardness which is prevented from arching upward due to the cloth. I now look like a damaged tripod, as the third leg is angled awkwardly outward from the other two. You stand up and look at me with those eyes of yours. You are no more than two inches from me. I am very aware of your fragrance, your femaleness, your sexuality. I feel that familiar faraway sensation of being disassociated from my body as your ambiance takes over me. You breathe the next words at me,

  "You look so uncomfortable like that. Do you need any further assistance?" Your eyes never leave mine. I'm being mentally undressed. The rush of blood is deafening in my ears as my heart, deciding on the longer cranial route, continues to fill my thickening shaft with its rich, red sustenance.

  "I haven't heard your answer. Did you say something? Hmmm?" You're having your way with me and I know you're loving it. You're soooo woman.

  "Ahhh, I, ahhh...yes," I manage, having no idea what I was supposed to say, but Yes sounded like a good choice to me. Your head now is an inch from mine. You whisper into my ear,

  "How can I help you, Alan? You must tell me." Your breath, as it sounds out the consonants, tickles my smooth sensitive skin just inside the ear structure, and my cock lurches.

  "Do you know what I can do for you to relieve that tightness you are feeling in your pants, Alan?" you persist in your breathy voice.

  You emphasize your point with your hand, as it travels down, down to the straining, now wet material housing my weapon of sex. You once again clasp it and squeeze and release, squeeze and release, squeeze and release. Fuck! I can't take it anymore. I look into your sultry eyes. I think you're more wired than I am.

  "Suck me, please, Melissa. Take me into your mouth and suck my cum out. Please? I can't take this anymore." Your eyes slit over and your mouth parts suggestively when I talk to you about emptying myself into your mouth. Your tongue darts out and licks the fleshy part of your lips.

  "Shall I use this when I am helping you, honey?" you playfully suggest. "Or do you want just my pouting lips? Hmmmm? Or do you want them both?" 

   I feel your lips on mine and we crush ourselves to each other. Desire has invaded us. Our tongues are dueling and swirling around each other's mouths as we hungrily explore and release our lust. My pants will need to go into the dumpster. With the amount of precum that has exited my body over the last 10 minutes, it will be impossible to clean them. I seriously entertain whether I have any cum left. We break for fresh air. My pants are a mess, but I'm past the point of caring. I look at you again and my need cannot be delayed. I push you to your knees and tell you to take me into your mouth. You begin by unbuckling and unbuttoning me. Nothing is holding them up and so my trousers drop like a dead weight. My underwear is saturated but you look at them, brush your face up against them. And off they go, joining my pants on the floor. My cock arches to the ceiling missing your cheek on its onward climb, magnificent in its architecture. I feel the cool air from the cabin like a caressing breath. My shaft is hard with anticipation. The head glistens with the copious discharge from your mental teasing. You paint your face with the end, leaving a weave of snail trails all over. You grip the muscled appendage and coax more prenuptial fluid forth and wipe its residue on your lips like lipstick. Your tongue scoops up the excess and you lick the tip for more. You are a cum slut, I can tell. The answer to whether you like erotica is clear. You love it.

   With your one hand on the shaft guiding me and the other cupping my testicles, I feel myself being enveloped into a wet, warm oral vagina. I'm not a large man and now appreciate the good fortune of my heritage, for I want to be swallowed by you. I feel you lips clench my muscle and your tongue bathe and prepare my cock for your pistoning mouth. I want so much to erupt in there, to send forth my fertile seed deep into your tummy. I push slightly and feel the tip bounce off the entrance to your throat. You gag slightly and I hold still. I let you adjust to my invasion. I suspect you're a very good cocksucker and I won't be disappointed. I just love your mouth and its promise. You look up at me and attempt to grin. I love the look of this. You see my reaction and respond by opening your mouth just enough for me to see my cockstalk disappearing toward your throat. It's so sexy and my cock lurches, hitting your roof. While allowing me this view, you waggle your tongue back and forth underneath, drumming the cockshute, and my cock bobs. I know I'm leaking into you. You fasten your lips once again and start to mouth me while you push forward. You pull back. You push forward. Back, forward, back, forward, back, forward. Your hands have gripped my ass cheeks as you assault my dagger. You are fucking my cock with your throat, and I am all the way inside of you. I feel my cocktip enter a tight ring on each down thrust and I realize you are throating me.

  "Ohhhhhhhhh, Melissa. Ohhhhhhhhhh, God, honey. Uhhhhnnnnnnnn. Fuck my cock, honey. Ohhhhhhhhh! It feel so good!"

  You reach up and grab my hands and place them on the sides of your head. I understand and grip your head to facilitate my mission. Your hands resume their place on my ass and together we stroke for the cum. I am no longer gentle with my urge, and you have given me permission to use you as my cumslut, my sperm receptacle, my scum bitch. I am no longer mindful of your discomfort and I hump up into your mouth and throat, stroking for maximum pleasure, greatest penetration. My asshole begins its familiar twitching and my balls are receding into me to prepare for the huge demand placed on them. My libido is calling for an enormous display of sperm production and I will not be denied. I'm too far gone to stop. I know your mouth and throat must be suffering but just a little bit longer. I'm almost there! 

  "I'm almost there, Melissa!" I hear the wet sounds of a blowjob, the slurping and gagging, and it just makes me harder. I love those submissive surrenderings. It is enough to take me over the top.

  "Ahhhhh! Melissa! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I'm cumming! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

  My asshole hurts as a wave of euphoria washes over me. I feel a gigantic column of sperm travel the length of my cock tube and erupt out into your mouth. It feels big and frothy. Another travels up me like a freight train crashing into a terminal, nothing's gonna stop it. My eyes roll back into my head, the feeling is so good, so intense. I have locked your head in place with my hands and have thrust my hips as far forward as they will go. My cock is truly buried in your oral sleeve, and I am filling it up as fast as I can. There is so much cum coming out of me that the idea of drowning you is spurring me to make more and I let it happen. I hear you choking and sputtering, and yet I continue to feed you the precious elixir. Everybody should have my jizz. It is good for you and it will make your tits grow. My brain chuckles at the thought. All too quickly, the gush slows and I'm beginning to wilt inside your mouth. I release your head from my deathgrip and allow you your first breath. You take it. I look down at you and realize I must have been mad to do what I did. On wobbly legs I squat and look at you in the face.

  "I'm so sorry, Melissa. You're the hottest woman I have ever been with and I couldn't help myself. You suck so incredibly. What can I do to make it up to you? Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. You are a love goddess to me." And I kiss you gently, barely touching your lips with mine. A kiss of gratitude and sincerity. I think you kissed me back, for you look very tired and, frankly, battered. I stroke your cheek and forehead, chastising myself for getting carried away. I pull you to your feet and sit you into a nearby seat. I watch you as you begin to pull yourself together. I run and get a moist paper towel from the bathroom and carefully dab your forehead and cheeks, staying away from your lips. They looked sore. You tip your head back against the headrest and close your eyes. I am overwhelmed with guilt and something else, puppy love? I don't know. I kiss your neck lightly and the curve of your jaw. You sigh and open your eyes to me.

  "Ok?" I inquire. You nod and close your eyes again. I hear you for the first time since all this began.

  "I'm ok, Alan. Don't worry. That was the most incredible amount of cum I have ever experienced. I think I came in my panties from that experience. You were rough, but I could handle it. I love your cock. And your cum, so sweet tasting. Next time let's do it my way, ok?" My jaw bounced off the floor. What?! What did she just...Did I hear her right?

  "You're ok with what happened?" I asked incredulously.

  "Yeah, but I'm not into the rough stuff, though. Just next time let me blow you my way."

  "Oh, Melissa, I'm not into rough play either, and I promise to let you do it your way. Just being in your mouth is so exciting. God, you blow so good! Too much cum, huh?" You nod.

  "But I like it that way. It's so thick and syrupy. I love the texture. Maybe sometime you'll drip it on me?" You smile and gaze into my eyes. Everything is ok again.

  "I have to get dressed, before I'm caught by the pilot wandering back," I realize.

   Later after having dressed and cleaned the cum stain from my trousers, and taken a leak, I slept softly in my airline seat, buckled up by recommendation from you. You regain your professional stewardess demeanor (as far as I was concerned, you never lost it), and we kept to our selves for awhile. I think you slept too. I know what you did for me was grueling at best. I couldn't stop thinking about you. You have the touch of an angel and the charm of a princess. I am hooked and I am glad. Half the trip has passed and I am far from being bored. As a matter of fact, I am sorry the trip will end. Flying by myself has a new twist to it. It was late in the afternoon when I awoke and I saw you about your business doing what I do not know. The captain made his appearance shortly after that, and I chatted with him about our destination and arrival times and any potential weather fronts looming on the horizon. He left me after a lull in the conversation and I saw you heading toward me and I perked up.

  "Hi! Are you hungry? It is getting near dinner but I thought we could sneak a snack. I have Brie and crackers with a very nice Pouilley Fuisse."

  "Wow, would I! Let's break bread together, shall we?" You saunter back up the aisle to get our midafternoon distraction and I don't hide my interest this time in your walk or you. I don't care whether you turned around or not. Surprisingly, I am hoping you will. I want you to know how much I want you, how much I care for you. I wait patiently and am rewarded with a angelic persona carrying our treat. For me you are the treat. Your face seems more alive than since 5 minutes ago, and I am glad. Maybe it is the promise of food and company. You sort it all out and sit next to me. God, I love being near to you. We feel comfortable chatting again and this time the subject of erotica emerges faster than expected. I'm sure I had something to do with it. You finally confess that you are an avid reader of it and when I question your preferences, you you smile knowingly like a cat that has eaten the canary. I never really learn what you like other than standard stuff, like blowjobs and fucking. I shrug. Hey, how many women even admit to liking erotica? Who's complaining. We flirt and play with each other, never crossing that boundary that leads to the heavy side of teasing. But we are heating up in our playfulness. Soon the food is gone and you clear it all away, leaving me alone. I feel alone with you gone, and frustrated that we have to play this cat and mouse game. I resign myself once again to less than what I want.

  You saunter down the aisle and bend over to me.

  "Looks like I need YOUR help this time," You say with a half smile on your face. I'm the one to perk up now and I clamor out of my seat to assist you. This is great, I think to myself.

  "The latch to the cabinet is stuck and I need to get all this put away before we have an accident." You are standing next to a simple hideaway utility cabinet that is used for storage of large, bulky items. I get down on my hands and knees and investigate the latch. It IS stuck. Why would I expect anything differently? You are still standing next to it and me and have a funny look on your face. Your eyes are intense and your face is still. I read you loud and clear, my love. Look straight across at your abdomen behind the officious uniform. It is flat and firm and hides unimaginable treasures. It is my turn to bring you pleasure and orgasm. I look up at your face as my hand snakes its way up your nylon-clad leg. I stop at your knee and caress and stroke the delicate structure of your leg joint. It is dainty but strong. Nice. My hand continues upward and my cock awakens to the journey. You have two individuals interested in you now. I stop this time at the bottom of your ass. It is full, ripe, and firm, confirming my assessment. I am jealous of your underwear that gets to hug it all day, everyday. I stroke all around, front, back, sides, drinking in the sensation of your heavenly hot body. Your eyes are closed as you are gripping the countertop for balance.

  "Here, take your shoes off, Melissa. Relax while I love your body," I suggest tactfully. You allow me to remove your shoes. An idea comes to me.

  "Come on with me." I suddenly pull you after me and sit you down in the most comfortable chair I spy. I crawl between your legs, sitting. Your legs are sprawled out before me. I take each foot and massage it carefully, lovingly, thoroughly. Your head has disappeared from sight as you fling it over the back of the chair you're sitting in. And I hear,

  "Ohhhhhhhhhhh, Alan, that feels soooo gooooood! Ohhhhhhh, God! That's heaven! Mmmmmmmmm!"

  I know what women want. That I do. I mold and manipulate your foot into another shape, careful to not bend the bones the wrong way. Your head flops around as you struggle to keep it upright. God, I love doing this to you. I start up your legs and you let me maul you, stroking, kneading, manipulating your muscles until they are like jelly. Your legs are spread apart and I can see your pantyhose-clad underwear. It is very feminine with that high cut style, the kind that gets my engine all worked up. I gaze at it, making up sorted fantasies to go along with my stare. My hands have reached your upper thighs and I haven't relinquished any territory back to you. I methodically work your muscles being careful not to tickle you. I am in a forbidden area, but you don't seem to care. I span my fingers across your abdomen and stroke your firm tummy. It feels so nice to my touch. I look at you and decide to be bold. I reach up and clasp the waist band to your pantyhose. Your eyes open and you intensely look at me. There is much going on behind that face, decisions being made and evaluated, feelings being sorted and categorized.

  "May I?" I venture. We wait an eternity. You nod, but your eyes never leave my face. I carefully peel off the outerskin of your garment covering. I am very careful to not let your underwear follow its route. The nylon across the legs goes faster and they are finally off. I turn back to look upon your legs and they are as golden brown from the sunshine as the pantyhose was designed to embellish.

  "Wow, Melissa. What nice legs you have." My hands follow my eyes, but with no intention of massaging you into submission like the first time. It now is a highway of appreciation to be followed as my fingers trace every contour leading to your junction of intimacy. Your skin is smooth and silky to my touch. I allow my palms to follow the same path, relishing in the youthful texture that your legs seem to possess. I dip in with my cheek and lips and swirl my countenance around and around your thighs (as far as I can reach). It is glorious. I want these magnificent specimens around my face sucking me into your center. My hands travel higher and I am in your lap, my fingers spreading out like a spider web, trapping your skin and the underwear under my palms. The skin is so soft here. I boldly sit up and kiss your abdomen on top of your underwear and let my lips trail down to the beginnings of your thighs, where they meet with your treasure. I breathe in your femininity. It is strong with desire and sex.

  "Alan," I hear. I'm too busy with my feelings to heed your call. I kiss your vagina behind the cloth. It is soft and yielding to my lips. I kiss it again. Mmmmm, I love your intimate parts.

  "Alan." I'm in heaven communing with your erogenous zone. I run my hands up and down your thighs, stroking and feeling your sexiness. I gaze again at your private mound. You have an extended vulva. Wow.

  "Alan." I reach over and stroke it gently, using only the tips of my fingers to coax it into a wet condition, so that I may lather my tongue all over it, sipping up your juices.

  "Alan." Your vulva is larger now, firmer. Something doesn't twig but still it is exciting to see you react to me. I watch it intently. A small thought emerges on the outer perimeter of my mind. I can't quite formulate it, so I continue to stroke your legs as I play with this elusive thought. I look up at you and then back down at your special spot. Then back up to you. You watch my actions. I bend down and kiss you gently there. It's firmer than before, more aromatic. I'm curiously attracted to it.

  "Alan. We need to talk." I look up at you one more time, and the thought crystallizes before me, and I am swept away as the full implication washes over me.

  "Alan, I need to talk to you about something before you go any further."

  "Shhhh! No, you don't," I answer. I reach under the leg band and wriggle my fingers into your kept area. I feel your clamped shaft between your legs. It is as I had suspected. You're a woman with nature's wonderful blessing. My hand has now disappeared under the leg band and is stroking your burgeoning penis. I look up at you and ask,

  "Let me."

   And I remove your panties, freeing your secret into the air. Your cock is pale pink, medium sized, and shaven, clean. It is thick with life and desire, bobbing in front of my lips. It is beautiful to gaze upon. I capture it between my palms and hold it, relishing its vibrant life and warmth. You are my first. I squeeze, feeling the dense muscle pack grow beneath its skin which is so heavenly soft. I want my face right next to it, and I lean in and let it glance off my cheek like a knight's lance. I press the hard shaft against me and love the heat it generates. I can almost hear the blood pumping into your member as it continues to thicken and lengthen into an efficient life giving miracle. I blow on it in attempt to tease it. It grows more under my fingers. Your muscle is almost as hard as one of those Louisville Sluggers, the infamous baseball bat. I pinch the shaft between my forefinger and thumb for my inspection and visual gratification. I kiss the under ridge, running my lips across and up and down. I hear you sigh. Nothing more needs to be said.

  "I never told you the type of erotica I write. It is about women like you and all the wonderful things I do with them. And yet I have never done any of the things I describe. You're my first," I confess to you. I speak to your cock tip straight on like a microphone, my lips just barely brushing the slit as I further confess,

  "I have never even given a blowjob and yet I want to put you into my mouth and blow you, make you ejaculate into my mouth, force you to shoot your hot, tasty cum into my mouth." With that said, I gobble your length in one swoop, feeling it plow across my tongue, bumping the back of my throat.

  "Ohhhhh, Alan. Ohhhhhhhh, I don't believe you."

   Your mouth is open and your eyes are shut. I think you are happy. My lips and the insides of my mouth have captured your stalk. I allow myself the luxury of your presence as I swirl my tongue around and around your flesh, swallowing spit and precum. You fill my mouth very nicely. I wish I could take you further, but this is my first time. I can feel the contours and muscles of your stiffness. I don't want this moment to end. I back off slightly so that I can feel out your head, touch your corona with my tongue, feel the flared ridge, burrow my tongue into your slit. I hear moaning above me. I truly hope you are enjoying my contribution. I decide to blow you and emulate what I think I would like done to me. I rhythm my mouth to a soft, steady, sucking beat, trying to stimulate as much of your shaft as I can reach. I've retracted my teeth and have compressed my lips. My tongue is continuously washing the underside. I hope this is working for you. My palms are on your thighs as I piston my face over you repeatedly. I decide to tickle your testicles to speed up your release.

  "Oh, oh, oh, ohhhhhhhhhhhhh. Mmmmmmmmmmm. Ugnnnnnnnnnnnn. Oh, Alan, keep doing that. Mmmmmmmmmmmm. That's good. Mmm. Mmm. More! Mmmmmmmmmm. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm."

   You're starting to lift your hips off the seat and pump my mouth. I realize that you are enjoying my ministrations and your ejaculation could be imminent. I keep my blowjob steady and focused. I hum a little. I read that somewhere.

  "Ohhhhh! Alan! Ohhhhh! Ohhhhh! I'm cumming! I'm cumming, sweetheart! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Fuck!"

  My mouth suddenly experiences a burning, tart taste and a warm, slimy wash bathes my tongue. You're sperming into my mouth! I feel another warm, gooey spurt as you empty your balls into me.

  "Ohhhhh, Alan! It feels so good! Oh, honey, suck me! Suck me! Suck my cum! Ohhhhhhh!" 

   My mouth is sloshing in your syrup and I'm in heaven as I continue to fuck your cock with my mouth. My tongue is plowing through the stuff as I waggle it back and forth across your rigid clitty. I haven't swallowed yet. I don't want to risk losing the rhythm. I am tasting you over and over and drowning in your heavenly goo. You're humping me in your urgency to release your tension, your seed. Your muscle is so hard, so demanding, so invasive as you spear me hungrily. You're spilling more juice into me, and it is copious. Wow! There is no mistaking the taste, the aroma, the essence of your nectar.

   Suddenly you slow in your humping and your moaning diminishes. I feel your body go slack into the chair. I think you're done. I let you remain in my mouth, but I don't move as I know it can be irritating to overstimulate you after cumming. I feel your cock shrinking in hardness, but remain thickly fluffed so it is still a nice weighty mass of flesh in my mouth. I flutter my tongue into your slimy semen and feel its texture of lumps and oily cords. There is quite a bit. I'm so happy you emptied yourself into me. I pull away as I want now to acclimate to your taste. I want to swallow your scum. I swish it around my teeth. My spit is neutralizing the tartness. I venture a first swallow. Mmmm. Not bad. I swallow the rest. I like your essence. I look forward to doing this more with you on a regular basis.