Jackson's Marvellous Melbourne: Part I - The Mail Room
******************************************************

Disclaimer:

This story is a blend of factual and fictional elements. As such none of the events described here happened as directly as described, being either amalgamations or deconstructions of real events. People and places may have been changed, fictionalized or amalgamated to ensure better readability and avoid any potential embarassment.

Naturally this story being of a sexual nature is not intended (or allowed) for persons under the age of 18, or whatever the legal age of consent is in your country. Its possession or reading my even be entirely illegal in your country. 

If you have any comments, questions, flame or fan mail for me please mail the address at the bottom of the story. Enjoy.

******************************************************

"Nice ass," said an unknown but vaguely familar voice from behind me. I wheeled around to see our company's new mail girl. By new, I mean she had just joined our company about two weeks ago. We hadn't spoken, except for words required in a quick mail grab-and-go, like: "Hi, I need to collect some mail"; "What's your name?"; "Oh, Jackson Lam"; "Here you go. Just sign here."; "Thanks".

She'd just caught me in an act of extreme laziness. Well, actually, two acts of extreme laziness. I usually keep my company ID-card-come-access-card in my pants' pocket because I, unlike others around me, don't like having a bad hair day photo swinging from my neck. If there's no-one around when I come to a card reader I normally just lift my leg to the reader, like a dog would lift his to mark a tree, to save myself the joules required to fumble in my pocket, grab the card, yank it out, hold it at an appropriate distance, wait for door to open and then clumsily put it back in my pocket while walking through. Actually, that was my second act of laziness.

My first came hours before when I was dressing myself for another boring day at my boring job in lovely Melbourne town. Our workplace has a fairly relaxed attitude to dress: if you're client-facing on a certain day you must turn up in work pants, collared shirt and be nice and presentable, otherwise anything barring shorts and sandals will suffice. It was one of my many non-client-facing days and, having come home late last night from a late movie, I was in no mood to match my pair of jeans to a belt. Without much more thinking I grabbed the closest available non-smelly tee, checked my presentability and walked out the door. Unfortunately it wasn't until I was on the tram that it dawned on me that matching one of my tighter, shorter fitting tees with jeans and no belt wasn't the best idea. Belt free days were okay with shirts that sink well below crotch level, as they would hide the fact that my jeans ride down, but today would require my vigilence to pull my pants up whenever they rode down and took the top of my underpants with them.

I guess I hadn't paid due vigilence and now I was caught red handed.

I put my leg down, as gracefully as one could in this situation, pulled my jeans up, pushed my tee down and stammered. "Oh. Hi. Uh, sorry. I was just, uhh, in a hurry, and, uhh, a bit lazy." 

I grabbed my card from my pocket, held it to open the door and walked through.

"Hey no need to be," she responded.

"Cya," I mustered as I turned down the aisle and away to my desk red, flustered and embarassed.

If I had more presence of mind I would've said something wittier, and classier, in response to being caught out, like "Hey you have a nice ass too." Alas, I'm not much cop with the ladies, especially ones I find sexy and with whom I harbour some dirty, dirty thoughts. Much less so when I'm embarassed out of my skin. 

Even though she'd only been with us for two weeks, quite a few guys around the office openly discussed, behind her back, the idea of getting into her pants. And though I wouldn't share with them my lecherous fantasies I did agree that she was quite a piece of work.

We all worked in an medium-sized IT firm, based on the fringes of Melbourne's CBD. As you can guess with an IT firm the male-to-female ratio was drastically skewed towards the male. What few females our boss deigned us to have were, in the main, quite good looking. There was Sally, our blonde-hair, blue-eyed receptionist; Wendy, my well endowed Asian programming team mate and Maya an exceptionally well endowed consultant. And, of course, we had Lucy our new mailroom chick.

She was about 155cm, with a coke-bottle figure (by that I mean not slim but not chubby, a good waist and suitably tight clothing) and nice pert little breasts. Her face was befreckled and had, what I can best describe as, mouse-like features: small nose, fullish cheeks, smallish eyes. Not beautiful in the catwalk sense but definitely cute and sexy. Often she wore her shoulder-length brown hair tied firmly back, which accentuated the mousiness and cuteness. I'd gathered, from talk around the office, that she was an Arts student at uni who was working here full time for a semester or two to pay her way through. 

My cube was sited near our floor's mailboxes and was missing a wall on the mailbox side. So, every morning and afternoon when she did her mail runs I could spend a few good minutes surrupticiously catching a view of her back and derriere. Mostly she wore fitting black pants and a coloured or striped business shirt. Given her figure, she had a butt to die for. During my watching I would try to identify what type of panties she was wearing, however I could never make out a panty line. This, I surmised, was due to the two back pockets, one for each check I gleefully noted, and her constant motion in moving letters from the trolley to their mailboxes. With no information to go on but what I saw, I imagined that she wore a g-string which seperated her full, but not at all flabby, butt cheeks. 

My day passed by rather uneventfully, as did the entire week in fact. Needless to say I was little more careful with my clothing.

At Friday on 4pm I found myself, again, at the The Well. Almost every Friday our CEO would convene the more alcoholically-inclined here for a round or two of drinks. I was just getting ready to leave; my team-mates had left, and the two guys I hung around the most, Darren and Kris, were off to the football and with their girlfriends. Having just hung up on Juri, another drinking partner, who was away "sick" today, I grabbed my jacket to leave. 

Just as I turned around, I bumped, literally, into Lucy and Sally, who'd just bought a round of drinks from the bar. 

"Oh shit sorry, I didn't see you guys there," I said, inspecting my jacket for any alcohol spillage.

"Oh that's okay. You just about to leave are you?" Sally replied.

"Uhh yeah. Just about to head. The boys left a few minutes back." Then turning to a loud whisper I added, "and all that's left are the old guys ..."

They both laughed at this. "C'mon stay for another drink or two and help us keep the average age down and the good looks up," she whispered back in response.

After obtaining another bourbon and coke, I joined them at a high table near one of the high-set windows at street level. The Well was a suitably Melbourne pub, set in one of the city's many laneways and sited about six steps below street level. As such, the window gave us a view of the passing legs and wheels. 

Even though Sally and I had been at the company for roughly the same amount of time, one-and-a-half years, we'd never really spoken, except for mundane worker-bee-to-receptionist conversations. So, after we exhausted some lines of conversation and endured a few awkward silences, Lucy suggested we give each other a quickie history of our lives, to which we all agreed.

Lucy got the ball rolling. Originally from the outer suburb of Broadmeadows, she was indeed a struggling Arts student taking a semester out to help pay her way through university. Adding to her financial burden, she had just moved out from home to live with her boyfriend, Daniel. 

I was up next. In my usual long winded manner I recounted the following: studied BIT at UNSW, moved to Melbourne two years ago to get away from the folks and, obstensibly, take up my current awesome job. 

Lastly, Sally told us how after finishing up her Commerce degree she wanted to backpack through Asia, Europe, the States and, finally, Latin America. Unfortunately, her parents were going through a messy divorce and, with that, her easy line of credit had disappeared, so in order to save for her trip she took her current receptionist job. 

We spent the next round or two discussing our future travel plans before the preparations for tonight's band began with the loud shrill of feedback.

"I think that's our sign to leave, don't you think?" Sally said picking up her handbag.

"Guess so. What have you fine ladies got planned for your Friday night?" I asked with a faint hope that they'd be free to kick on.

"Meeting Garry in about 10. We're heading down to Swansea for the weekend."

"Going with Dan to the Bombers v Carlton match tonight," Lucy said with a roll of the eyes. "You?"

"Nothing. Nada."

"What about your woman?"

"Don't have one I'm afraid."

"In between, eh?"

"Uhh yeah ... I'd be in between only if I had one before."

That did it. They didn't quite do a double take but it certainly halted our preparations for the door. 

"Really? You must be 24 or 25 now right?" Sally asked, breaking the silence.

"Yep."

"Guess you must find it hard settling down with all the women throwing themselves at you," Lucy piped in, in a somewhat joking manner.

"Surely you jest." 

One. Two. Three seconds of uncomfortable silence and then I restarted our motion towards the exit. 

We stood outside in the crisp Melbourne air. It surprises me, even to this day, that on some summer nights in Melbourne you can still feel a distinct chill in the air. 

"Well I'm off this-a-way," I said motioning towards East Melbourne.

"I'm meeting Garry back at work, so I'll see you guys next week." With that Sally blew us a kiss and headed back to the office.

"I'll walk with you for a bit," Lucy offered. "Meeting Dan at the G."

We walked in a silence for a few blocks. In all my fantasies I hadn't actually planned any conversation matter with Lucy and the chill in the air wasn't helping me think of a change of topic. 

"How do you get your satisfaction then?" she asked out of the blue.

"Huh?" I replied, turning a shade of pink.

"Man, I'd get pretty randy if I went 6 or 7 weeks without you know what."

"Ohhh ... well I guess you don't know what you're missing if you haven't had it before."

"What? You're not telling me you're a virgin are you?"

Silence.

"Sorry. I thought you meant they weren't throwing themselves at you," she continued, "but I figured you were getting some anyway. Seriously, you gotta get yourself some action." She paused. "We'll go out next week and I be your wingwoman or something."

Eyes straight ahead then a red light.

I turned to look at her. "Nah, it's alright. Seriously." Although I was tempted by her offer, I've always wanted to seem more proper than everyone else, so I hid it.

"Man, I'd even be tempted to break you in ... but ... " and then the rat-a-tat-tat of the lights changing green. It couldn't come soon enough. I was turing an even brighter shade of pink at the thought. I would've had a massive erection at that thought, had I not been so mortally embarassed.

"You've got Daniel. And anyway, I don't think I'd ever measure up to your standard."

"Oh I'm sure you'd be fine. It takes a few goes to get into the rhythm but I'm positive you'd be a fantastic shag. Anyways, I'm sure there are plenty of chicks who were into you but you just didn't realize it. You're quite good looking, you know? Not Brad Pitt hot but I'd definitely do you," she said, with her voice trailing off as she spotted her tram. "Hey, I've got to hop on this one, I'll see you next week right?"

"Yep," I replied, still rattled. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and hopped on tram. I got one final view of her fine ass as she ascended the stairs on the old-style W-class tram, then I turned and walked off home.

Surely she can't be serious. Can she? Nah, she's talking me up to make me feel better after being so incredulous earlier. That's it. What if we do go out for some bar and club hopping next week and she tries to hook me up with someone? I hope she's a good wingman, because as much as I deny it I wanted to get laid.

My mind was racing as I got home. I showered and hopped into bed hoping to drown away my silly thoughts and, after a quick night-cap or two, I fell into slumber.

The weekend passed by uneventfully, as most weekends do. A light bout of tennis here and there. Catching a crap over-priced movie at the cinema. The usual thing. I began my next working week with a sense of trepidation, rather than the raw excitement that filled my mind as I hit the hay on Friday night. I had began to fear the awkwardness between Lucy and I.

Entering our floor in the high-rise office block nothing seemed to have changed much. I exchanged a livlier than before "how was your weekend" banter with Sally but Lucy wasn't in her mail room and there was a small pile of work waiting in my inbox. 

As the week progressed I began to dismiss our talk on Friday night as nothing more than drunken plans: those that under a pall of alcohol seem like a good idea, but in the harsh light of day never get acted upon. Every day that week I missed out on my customary mailbox-filling perv as I was either in stuck in a meeting or having a relaxaing coffee down the street. At lunchtimes neither Lucy or Sally were in the reception/mail-collection area.

Come Thursday afternoon our office was agog with rumours and theories: our CEO had sent out a company-wide email saying there was to be an all-staff meeting this afternoon at 4. No other details were given out, except that we should all be in the office, if possible, at that time. 

Our company had ridden out the IT bust better than most: we only lost a few people, we'd had a pay freeze (indeed some of the senior managers and our CEO had taken pay cuts as a sign of good faith) and we weren't in the red. Most of the rumours centred around whether we were being bought out, and with most of our senior managers seemingly in the dark, it seemed to be a good enough theory. Our CEO and his family owned most of the company except for a few silent investors, that most of us never saw, and were never heard from. It wasn't impossible that our CEO wanted to cash in for a relaxing retirement. The rumour gained traction as no-one had seen nor heard from him all day.

Not long after four our CEO started walking floor, rounding up people for the meeting. As we didn't have a large enough meeting room to house everybody we all gathered loosely in the aisles, and in our cubes, as he stood on a table and set the record straight. 

"I hear there's a rumour going around that A&M IT Works has been bought out," Albert Donovan, our CEO, began. "This isn't true. The truth, in fact, is much better. I know we've all suffered because of the downturn in the market: we had to let a few people go and we're not taking home any more money than two years ago. So I'd like to thank you all by giving you all a nice healthy bonus at the end of the year. My secretary will be sending out emails with the details tomorrow morning ..." His voice trailed off as the murmur of voices grew in volume.

"Now! Now!" he proclaimed, as he banged his hand on a cubicle partition to get our attention once more. "We've all been working pretty hard, so I've arranged for us all to enjoy a week down of sun, surf and relaxation at the Stoney Point Convention Centre in Warnambool at the end of our Christmas-New Year two week shutdown period. I hope that everybody can come along with their families or significant others. An email with the details will be coming your way shortly. We'll need to know numbers by the end of next week. If you can't make it, we'll find some way of compensating you."

This had come as a surprise to us all. I was deep in discussion with a few teammates about whether we could make it and how we were going to rip it up down there when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I swung around and found myself face-to-face with Lucy. I stepped back a tad, both in a surprise and to check her out. She was wearing her hair down today and was beaming at me, obviously elated at the news we'd just heard. She was wearing her customary fitting black pants topped off with a pink business shirt with white stripes. Or was that a white business shirt with pink stripes? Anyway, it was a nice fit and she seemed to have one more button unbuttoned than usual, showing a bit of her not terribly ample clevage, but definitely drawing your eyes to the perkiness of her breasts. 

"What awesome news, eh? I've been trying to find you all week! I hope you haven't been trying to hide from me!" she blurted.

"Sorry. I've been pretty busy in meetings and whatnot. It's bloody awesome news, though."

"I hope I get to go. After all, I'm just a mailroom chick ..."

"Nah I'm sure you'll be fine. It's not like there's going to be anyone in the office to deliver mail to. I'm sure you'll get the email! Speaking of email ... you could've mailed me."

"I could've but I wanted to speak to you in person. So, are you still up for finding a lucky lady tomorrow night?"

"Uhhh, yeah, sure," I said with no great conviction. "I actually thought it was one of those plans that get drawn up when you're drunk but either get forgotten or seen as a bit of folly."

"No. What gave you that idea? I'm deadly serious and I've been giving it some thought. We need to discuss tactics and so forth."

"Tactics?"

"Yeah. How we approach a bunch of chicks. What my role will be. What your role is. Good things to say. Standard responses. Strategy. You know? That type of stuff. There's quite a bit to get through. Are you free tonight after work for some drinks and some tactical discussion?"

Like a deer in the headlights all I could muster was, "Yeah, sure. Got nothing on tonight..."

"Well I'll meet you at The Well at 5.30, okay?" and with that she walked away. I caught a glimpse of her fine ass before she melted into the crowd. She didn't quite effect a model down the catwalk but there was a little bit of side-to-side hip motion which drew your eyes to her butt and her shapely figure. With that I walked back to my cube and whiled away the time aimlessly surfing the web, wondering what on earth she had in mind, and what on earth I'd gotten myself into.

I got to The Well at 5.40, wanting to be fashionably late and to send out a "I'm not so sure about this" signal. She was sitting at a high table, by herself, nursing a Smirnoff Ice and aimlessly watching the TV when I walked in. In addition to her earlier clothing, she was wearing a business jacket with one button done up and it served to both highlight and push in her breasts. Had I not been so apprehensive and wracked with nerves I would've paused to add a chapter to my lust-filled thoughts. 

She chided me for being late and making her endure a few minutes of The Price is Right. Over a few drinks we discussed how it was going to work. We'd start off early from Friday night drinks to bar hop. We'd spend exactly one round at each location scoping out the scene and if there was nobody I found attractive, or interesting, we'd move on. If I did see someone of interest, I was go to the bathroom for a few minutes and she'd try to get into their conversation. When I came out I was to find her and order us any necessary drinks before entering the conversation. She would try to stick to people who weren't my target but we'd play it by ear, as I might well change targets during the course of a conversation. If I was no longer interested I'd tap her on the shoulder and insist that it was time to meet so-and-so at such-and-such before making a graceful exit. 

We discussed further scenarios while having a bite of bar food. For example, the acquisition of phone numbers and calling the next day to arrange a lunch, dinner, date or whatever. I admitted to Lucy that so far she had becalmed the whirlwind of apprehension that I had at the beginning of the night. Either that, or it was my good friend alcohol playing tricks on me. It wasn't until we were walking back up the office, at around 8.30 or so, to collect a few of Lucy's things that I realized how much we'd actually had to drink. 

In the mail room, I sat on the sorting bench while I waited for her to come back from the bathroom. My head was swimming a bit and began questioning why a company our size required a mailroom. I heard the door open and shut as I gazed, pondering, at some boxes stacked on the shelf opposite me. My reverie was broken when Lucy stood in front of me, a little red faced from the alcohol we'd consumed.

"You ready to go?" I asked, smelling my own alcohol reflected back at me.

"Yeah, but there's one scenario we forgot to discuss. What if your target did something like this ..." She grabbed my face and pressed our lips together. She opened her mouth but I had mine firmly closed, both in shock and as a defence mechanism. All her tongue got to taste were my alcohol stained lips. I pulled away but wasn't able to extricate myself off the sorting table, as she was standing in the vee made by my legs.

"Well, silly, you've got to open your mouth," she said as she grabbed my face again and pressed our lips together. Again, all she tasted were my lips.

"I won't stop doing this until you open your mouth," she said rather firmly and with a stern look on her face. Two thoughts raced through my head, clouded with alcohol and shock: "what's happening?" and "what about your boyfriend?". She grabbed my face again, however this time I obliged by opening my mouth. Her tongue brushed and crashed against mine; I did little but react and we broke again.

"That's good. Now, actually, put your tongue into my mouth. Your target's not going to jump your bones if you can't kiss." We did the same again but this time my tongue fought back, albeit with little dexterity or skill.

"Ooh, that's better," she cooed. "First time kissing too, eh?"

Silence.

"Say something. C'mon," she implored. "You gotta say something. If she said that to you and you said nothing, she'd be pretty disappointed, I think."

Silence.

"OK, have it your way then. But you've got to use your hands when she's got you in a lip lock." We began our tongue probing again, this time she manoeveured her hands to grab mine and place them on the small of her back, then she pulled me closer to the edge of the bench so that more than just our lips and hands were touching. My thighs were around her hips and she began feeling my back from the hips up. We broke again.

"You got to move your hands boy. I won't let you go 'til you do."

We locked lips again and I was getting rather used to the oral parrying; prior to this I'd considered the exchange of oral fluids slightly disgusting. My hands were still static, though. She ranged her hands up my back to my neck and scalp and then back down to my hips the top of my buttocks. Then, quite by surprise, one hand rubbed my inner thigh and moved up and then bingo! She had found and cupped my balls. With a start my hands reached lower to her buttocks and pulled her closer to me. When I realized what had just happened I pulled my head back and our lips broke apart.

I looked into her eyes (I think, most of this time, I had my eyes closed) and then at her face. She was flushed pink and the blood was rushing around my face too.

"I think this has gone beyond just a discussion," I stammered, removing my hands from her buttocks to hold on to the edge of the bench. "What about your boyfriend?"

"What about him? I'm just preparing you for what might happen tomorrow," she retorted, with a smirk on her face.

"No, seriously." With that she pulled our heads together and we engaged in other round of tongue wrestling. Letting go of my head, she pulled me, by my butt, closer to her and right to the edge of the table; in order not to fall off, I pulled her closer to me, but my feet were now touching the ground with my weight resting on the edge of the table.

"Mmm. You see, your target may also kiss other parts of your body," Lucy huffed into my ear before feather-kissing my neck down to my collar. In a moment of lucidity I convinced myself that we were merely petting and boldly, for me, tried nibbling her ear. I felt one hand, then another, yank my business shirt out of my pants and then clamber up and down my back.

Rather lost in the moment, it took me a little while to realize that those hands had moved over to the front and were grappling with my belt buckle. Grabbing her butt (and what I nice butt it was too, fullsome but not flabby-feeling) I got her attention.

"What are you doing?" I asked, glancing into her eyes.

"We're just exploring the possibilities of what your target might do."

"Well she just might be a little disappointed if she follows through on this hypothetical situation," I said in moment of alcohol-fuelled honesty. Considering the alcohol I had consumed earlier, it was amazing that I was flying half-mast.

"Well you can't cook any omletes without cracking some eggs open," she whispered into my ear as she dexterously freed the buckle and then loosened my fly. Nibbling on my ear she  started rubbing my cock and balls through my underwear. She ran her hand down my shaft from the head to my balls, gave them a tweak and then ran it up again. What was once half-mast was soon fully erect and throbing for more attention. 

I opened my mouth to whimper out some vain protestation but she seized this opportunity to engage in another exchange of saliva. With both her hands she hooked my briefs down, painfully catching my member as she did, so that it went from vertical to horizontal and back again. We broke our kiss. She looked at me and gave me a playful, evil smile before turning her gaze downwards.

Now standing out from a bush of pubic hair, pointing up at 45 degrees to the horizontal, was my penis. At her first glance my fully erect 4 inch member began to wither under its new found attention.

"Oh my god, it's embarassing isn't it?" I asked as I moved to pull my daks up. Lucy grabbed both my hands and forced them, and my daks, in the opposite direction, taking my pants with them. 

"No way. It's gorgeous. And unique," she replied, as she headed southwards. She ran her left hand from the head to the base of my half-limp, perpendicular penis, pushing my pubes back. "You might want to give your bush a little trim though," she said looking up before putting her lips around head and then engulfing my manhood. As her lips worked her way past my head, she ran her tongue along the underside of my circumcision mark and along my peehole, then over along the top side of my helmet with the under side of her tongue. It felt fantastic. Whacking off had always been fun but it never felt like this; so warm and wet. She began slowly, probing every bit of surface area my small schlong had to offer with her tongue then she sped up, saving most of her tongue time for my head. 

I was in ectacsy. I just couldn't believe that this girl who I'd entertained so many dirty thoughts about was going down on me, and at her own instigation too. My head was swimming and my cock was straining at being held horizontal; the skin was stretched and the insides wanted to break free. Then, in an instant, it was back at 45 degrees.

It was simply fantastic. Not only did her attentions feel wet and warm, it was erratic and unpredictable; quite unlike even the best solo sessions. Looking down the sight was quite fantastic: her eyes fixed on my member except for a few of the most erotic glances upwards; her lips formed in an O shrinking and expanding as it ran over my dick from head to base and back again; my dick, not huge nor fat, straining and glistening with saliva. Were it not for the alcohol we'd consumed the show would've been over in about ten seconds.

"Mmm ... see ... nothing to be embarassed about. And so hard too," she said before giving my head another lick. Lucy glanced up at me with the eyes of a vixen and held the base of my shaft once again with her left hand (pushing back my pubes and nearly covering my entire cock). She began massaging my small, highly wrinkled ball bag with the other. She dived in again, working her way up and down slowly with lots of tongue attention along the shaft. Looking down: her hair was shaking as she bobbed slowly on my pole; her light red lips holding only purple helmet, with her mouse-like nose balanced atop, then slowly engulfing my pole down to my hairs.

She shifted her right hand from my balls to ranging up and down legs, then my stomach and hips. I pushed her hair back behind her ears so I could get better a view of this mouse-like angel gorging herself on my shaft. She looked up, a little in surprise, at my first active engagement in our sexual act. She now kept her gaze on me; it was such a beguiling look of lust and enjoyment and filled me with such a sense of happiness that I almost didn't notice that I was getting perilously close to setting my load free.

"Oh my god, I think I'm going to ..." I blurted out, not quite able to say the word cum. This was taken as a sign to speed up. Her lips now ascended and descended on my pole with great velocity, her hair broke free of her ears and flew backwards and forwards, brushing my pelvis on every stroke. I felt my head hitting the roof of her mouth, or maybe the back of her throat, as she worked my lolipop with reckless abandon. Within a few more strokes I could hold back no more and the levy broke, letting out a torrent, then ever decreasing streams, of my seed into the warm confines of her mouth. I can remember repeating the phrases "Oh my god!" and "Luce! Luce!" several times as my head fell back and my eyes closed. When my head came to and I opened my eyes, I stared down once more and saw Lucy ever-so-slowly moving up and down my half-erect, perpendicular dick. I could feel her lips moving over my shaft and her tongue running the length of my penis, stopping at the hole to lap up a little bit more of oozing cum before flicking my head and swallowing.

I couldn't believe that she'd willing gone down on me and swallowed my first semen delivery given to another person.

As the streams came to a halt Lucy withdrew to only envelop my head and gave it a few last flicks, to which I moaned and let out one last mini-gush, which she duly swallowed. Finally my penis was naked by itself, more than half limp, glistening with her saliva, bright red around my circumcision mark and topped off with a shiny head.

Raising herself she said, "Mmm ... you're very tasty. Salty and sweet. It's been so long since I've done that."

"That was just amazing. So much better than whacking off," I gushed, adding a little bit more blush to my already red face.

"Wait until you stick your thing into some pussy tomorrow night."

She grabbed me for one final liplock. This time she tasted different. Definitely saltier and a little bit sweet too. As we engaged in the kiss her hand found my cock again and roused it slightly.

"You owe me one, by the way," she said, smiling and gazing into my eyes. "What's the time?"

"Just past nine," I said glancing at the wall clock.

"Christ, I gotta get back home. Dan will be home soon."

I redressed myself while she made sure she had all her things. As we walked to her tram stop she continued discussing more aspects about tomorrow night and how she was going to get me laid; I had my doubts about this but didn't voice them. She gave me a peck before boarding her tram and I snuck in one last look at her derriere.

I walked home, still in a daze of amazement. I couldn't believe what just happened. It wasn't the way I'd imagined losing my cherry, having always pictured it happening with my first girlfriend. An Asian girlfriend at that. 

****************************************

Please feel free to mail me a small_schlong2005 at yahoo.com