"Thrice" (Part 2)

"Thrice" Part 2

(Also by Julius of course

& Copyright April 2008 too)

They sat and ate their lunch. Paul’s eyes seldom left

her breasts and Marsha deliberately displayed them for

him. She sat with them resting on the table with their

nipples very much in view. When she went to get them

more coffee, she was rewarded with a view of his cock,

fully erect and jutting up from his groin. He was

ready again and Marsha marvelled at the resilience of

youth.

As she poured his coffee she said, “I think it’s my

turn to be pleasured; you’re getting behind on your

payments.”

Her right breast was inches from his face. “I’d like

to pleasure you some more,” he paused, then added,

with a grin, “Ms. Sims.”

She made him kneel in front of her. She caught the hem

of her skirt and slowly pulled it up. It was

everything he’d hoped for and more.

Her stockings proved to be hold-ups, with black lacy

tops, her panties were simple, white cotton. The

latter were brief, but not the frilly black things

he’d imagined. She moved closer and dropped the skirt

over his head.

He was under her skirt! His cock was hard to the point

of hurting. It was almost instinct to slip his hands

round behind her and up the soft backs of her thighs

until he was holding her ass, his spread fingers

pressing into her softness. Her hands went behind his

head and pulled him against her, against those

panties.

She was so wet. She smelled of honey on hot toast he

thought, yes, honey on hot toast. He nuzzled her, his

nose and mouth against the soaked cotton. She moaned

as he squeezed her ass and she writhed like an animal.

This was like nothing Paul had ever done before.

There was a delicious wickedness about the moment. His

head was up a woman’s skirt, his face against her most

intimate area. ‘This time yesterday I’d never

even...,’ Paul lost track of his thoughts.

Marsha pressed back against him he felt her buttocks

tense as she thrust. Then she was struggling to get

away. Paul emerged from under her skirt looking

confused, wondering if he’d done something wrong.

He watched as she pushed dishes and mugs to the other

end of the table.

She turned back to face him. “Pull my panties down

Paul.”

He edged closer on his knees and reached up under her

skirt, fumbled for a moment and then drew them slowly

off her hips, down her thighs. She stepped out of them

and backed away a little and perched her ass on the

edge of the table.

“Would you like me for dessert?” She didn’t wait for

an answer but said, “Bring the chair closer so you can

sit between my knees and I can rest my feet on the

arms.”

With her skirt hiked up and her knees wide apart, Paul

could see everything. It was like no sex-ed class he’d

ever been to. And now she wanted him to go down on

her. He’d seen it all in porn movies, knew what he was

supposed to do. But this was a real pussy; it was

slightly open and glistened wetly. She wasn’t shaved,

although he guessed she kept herself trimmed.

Nervous excitement and uncertainty had robbed Paul of

his erection and he sat staring, first at her face and

then between her legs. Nylon clad legs, white thighs

and that fur fringed opening into this amazing woman.

“Do you want to pleasure me Paul?”

His nod and a mumbled “Yes,” showed his nervousness.

“Heard bad things about pussies?”

“No!” he replied too quickly.

“They bite and smell bad and give you diseases?”

He shook his head, gulped and said, “I think yours

smells like honey on toast.”

She chuckled softly, “That’s awfully sweet Paul. Well

I promise she doesn’t bite and she hasn’t got anything

nasty to give you.”

Paul shifted uncomfortably on the chair, very aware of

her nylon-clad knees on either side of him.

‘Would you like to touch?” When he nodded she added.

“Touch and look. Explore me. Maybe you’ll let me look

at you later. I should like to do that; you have a

lovely cock.”

Reassured a little he edged closer and reached out a

hand, touching her pubic hair with his fingertips.

Surprised at the soft springiness, he stroked her

carefully and glanced up at her.

She looked down at him between her breasts and smiled.

“That feels nice.”

Marsha reached down with both hands and gently peeled

herself open. Paul gazed at the display of glistening

shades of pink.

“Do you really want to pleasure me Paul?”

He swallowed and said, “Yes I do.“

“One thing Paul?”

“Yes?”

“Please do it soon, I’m probably every bit as horny as

you.”

She guessed that Paul’s knowledge might be limited to

sex-ed classes in school and porn on the web. Maybe

too, some clumsy fooling around with a few girls.

Getting himself off had been a simple business but

faced with what she was offering must be a bit

daunting.

Marsha knew all too well what was going on in his

head. He wasn’t her first young seduction. Trouble

was, she needed what he had so much of and, she needed

it badly.

“Just bend forward and kiss me Paul. Do things you

think I’d like and I’ll tell you …”

She didn’t finish the sentence. He’d kissed the top of

her slit. She’d felt his face between her fingers. Her

legs defensively tried to close but his shoulders were

between them. Marsha lay back on the table and waited.

Paul didn’t really know what to do. He knew he was

supposed to go down on her. This was cunnilingus he

knew, that strange word for oral sex with a pussy. Was

he supposed to lick or kiss or what? He had teeth and

tongue and lips. He tried to remember the porn he’d

watched, it looked easy enough in the movies. He‘d

listened to others tell all about their talents when

eating hair pie. He raised his head and looked. All

that pink wetness, the trimmed hair. She still held

herself open and Paul could see the hole where his

cock was supposed to go and above it what he was sure

was her clit. The thing that was supposed to make

women freak out.

He heard himself say, “I don’t know…,” His voice

tailed off.

“Just kiss me Paul, everywhere and then go back and

lick each spot you kissed. Listen to what I say and

what noises I make while you do it. Bite me here and

there, little nibbles. Save my clit for last. You know

about clits do you?”

Paul said he did and watched as she moved a finger and

said, “This little guy here.”

“I see,” he croaked. He’d been right.

“Save that for last Paul.”

God, he was wonderful, Marsha thought. Clumsy and

hopelessly inexperienced. But he tried and he was

patient and learned fast. She encouraged him, guided

him. Her cries and moans of delight were genuine and

Paul responded just the way she’d hoped he would.

It took a while and there was no quick orgasm for her.

But he learned, and his tongue and lips were soon

doing exactly what she wanted. Her pussy got its

kissing and licking. His hands replaced hers.

Her arousal mounted slowly. She became more vocal. Her

hips and ass were never still on the table. Paul just

lost himself in his efforts. His face was wet, wet

from her juices, wet from his saliva. Somehow, his own

urgent needs seemed to move aside and the excitement

of pleasing her gained in importance.

He knew she needed him. He realized he could supply

that need. It felt good, a sort of power thing maybe,

but more than that.

Her wetness spread. She seemed to open like a flower.

He could, and did bury his face between her thighs.

They were wet and slippery thighs, wet so that his

ears slipped easily against them. Her trimmed pubic

hair was wet. His face was wet. This was like nothing

he’d imagined.

He lifted his face for a moment and looked at Marsha’s

pussy. Every shade of pink surely? It glistened. She

moaned and squirmed on the table, her legs opened,

wider, he could see into her.

Paul slid his hand down the backs of her thighs, to

beginning curves of her buttocks. He took a deep

breath and pressed his face back into all that

pinkness, thrusting his tongue into her.

She gripped his head with her thighs and humped her

pussy urgently against his mouth. His hands gripped

her ass and he fought her bucking hips as she began

her orgasm.

She screamed that she was coming and come she did as

he tongue-fucked her with an eager hunger of his own.

Marsha lay exhausted. She remembered nothing, yet she

remembered everything. How long since she’d come like

that? She’d seemed to flow out through her own cunt, a

river bursting its banks. This boy -turned-man had

done it. His clumsiness, his sweet ignorance and his

wonderful persistence.

With a moan she lifted her head and looked down. He

was looking back at her, a worried expression on his

face.

“Are you alright? He asked.

“I never felt better, never, never,” she said with

total sincerity.

“You came didn’t you?”

“Oh yes, I came, I mind-blowingly came.”

“I did that to you? Made you come?”

“Yes Paul, you made me come.”

He sat up. “Again?”

“Again Paul? No not yet.”

He lifted her right leg up onto his shoulder. She

tried to resist but she felt as weak as a kitten. He

did the same with her other leg and wrapped his arms

round them.

“You said three of yours for one of mine.”

With that his head slid down between her wet thighs

and he was at her pussy again.

“Paul no! Not yet. I have to pee. Noooooo!”

His tongue slid over her clit and Marsha’s protests

stopped.

In seconds, it seemed, she was coming again, coming

against that wonderful pussy eating mouth.

And he didn’t stop, those lips, that tongue kept

kissing and tormenting. He lapped and sucked until she

turned inside out. Until she knew she’d die of coming.

Marsha became all cunt.

Somehow she squirmed away from him, across the table.

She fought and struggled and brought a leg over his

head and curled up, wrapping herself around her

spasming, clutching pussy. If anything touched her

clit again she’d die. Tears flooded her eyes. She felt

herself slide into blackness.

She awoke. God she had to pee! Paul’s very

worried-looking face was inches from hers. He was sat

with his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his

hands.

“You OK?”

“Yes I think so. I thought I’d die.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry! Don’t you be sorry. That was wonderful. I’ve

never come like that Paul.”

“You were amazing,” he said, awe in his voice, “You

just came and came. I didn’t know it happened like

that.”

She laughed. “It doesn’t Paul, not very often.” She

reached out and touched his lips. His face was still

wet. “Thank you, sweet, wonderful Paul.”

She struggled up onto an elbow. “Now, I’ve got to pee

before I burst. Help me up.”

She rested her hand on the table, bent over as the

need nearly overwhelmed her. She clamped a hand

between her legs and said “Ooooh!” through clenched

teeth.

“Can I watch?” asked Paul.

“If you want to.” How sweet, she thought. Back to

being a boy, with a boy’s curiosity. She looked up at

him and smiled. “If you’ll let me hold you when you

go.”

“I’d like that.”

She made it, accident free, to the bathroom. Unbidden

he knelt in front of her.

“Give me your hand.” She guided it between her open

legs. “Cup my pussy, hold me tight.” The delay was

costing her dear; she needed to let go so very badly.

“Ready?”

He nodded. Nothing happened, of course at that moment

she couldn’t let go. How crazy is the human body?

This was so weird, she thought. Sitting here trying to

pee, hunched over the pain, needing to go so badly and

this young man’s hand on her pussy.

Finally she started.

“Oh my God!” His surprised words made her open her

eyes. He looked back a broad grin on his face. “It

tickles. This is so very sexy.

She felt his fingers playing in her stream, teasing,

exploring.

“I can feel where it’s coming out. It’s so hot too.”

His hand tightened as if to stop her flow. Now she

felt it heat as her whole pussy was flooded. Suddenly

the whole thing became very sexy to her as well, to

her great surprise. She looked down, he’d not been

erect in the kitchen but now he was now, fully erect.

“This is turning you on isn’t it?” She asked him.

“Yes it is. Do you mind?” he looked embarrassed. “I

should never have asked, you’ll think I’m weird.”

“No Paul, you’re not weird. There’s nothing weird

about enjoying your body or someone else’s.” Her

stream slowed to a trickle. “Stand up and let me enjoy

you for a moment.”

His hand left her pussy and he got to his feet. He

looked at his wet hand uncertainly and half turned and

rinsed it under the washbasin tap. Marsha picked up

the hand cream dispenser, squirted some cream into her

palm and reached for his cock.

“Your poor cock’s been quite neglected hasn‘t it?”

It looked huge in her small hand. It was so hard, so

wonderfully hard. She began to pump him slowly. Marsha

watched the muscles in his thighs move as he his body

tensed and he had to focus on keeping his balance.

“Oh yes, that feels so good. Marsha that feels

perfect.”

She smiled at his first use of her name. Now, with two

climaxes behind him, his youthful hair trigger was

gone and she could enjoy him.

How she loved his cock, its length, its strength. She

wanted to pump it like this and then she’d get it in

her mouth. Keep him wanting, keep him near the edge.

Just love his cock until he begged to get it inside

her. She wanted it inside her now. Oh, how she wanted

it up inside her, up, deep, deep inside her.

She pumped, alternating slowly with quickly, tight

with loose. How he loved it, how she loved his

reaction. If she stopped he tried to fuck her hand.

And all the time, that play of his muscles in his

strong legs as he tried to stay upright.

Finally she stopped. Paul protested, “No, please don’t

stop, don’t stop now.”

Gently she pushed him away. She grabbed a handful of

tissue and dried herself and stood up and flushed the

toilet.

“Don’t worry, we haven’t finished yet. Anyway, isn’t

it nice to go to the edge like that and then stop?

There are all sorts of games to play with cocks and

pussies.” She’d love to tease him and his cock

forever but it really was time they fucked she

decided.

She looked down at his cock, still delightfully erect.

“Will you wash off that cream, or shall I do it? I

imagine it tastes terrible.”

“Tastes?” he asked, looking puzzled, then grinned,

“Oh, right, yes I see?”

She ran the cold tap into the washbasin and picked up

the facecloth. “Come on, let me wash your lovely

cock.”

He stepped up to the vanity and Marsha took hold of

him and began to wash him.

He sucked air through his teeth. “It’s cold,” he

protested.

She put a squirt of hand-soap onto the cloth and

bathed him carefully. Cold water or not his cock

stayed firm.

“No steady girlfriend yet?” she asked him. She was

enjoying herself.

“No, I never seem able to keep them. I guess I’m too

shy and boring.”

“You weren’t shy and boring with me today, Paul. With

that tongue of yours and that lovely cock I’d never

let you go.” She turned off the tap and gently dried

him with a towel.

“Well then,” Marsha said in a tone that seemed to say

that the time had come.

Paul looked expectantly at her. She undid the zipper

down the side of her skirt, undid the snap on the

waistband and let the skirt fall. She turned and

walked out of the bathroom clearly expecting him to

follow.

He did follow, his eyes intent on her buttocks. All

she wore now were the stockings. He supposed it was a

beautiful ass. The asses on girls he tended to watch

were tight, little things. Marsha’s was wide and

round. If Paul had had the word Rubenesque he’d

doubtless have used it.

“Like this old lady’s fat ass Paul?”

“I wish you wouldn’t keep saying you’re old.”

“Very diplomatic,” she said. Reaching the centre of

the living room she stopped and turned. “Maybe I’ll

teach you to appreciate my ass some time.”

Paul’s eyes moved up to her heavy breasts and big

nipples.

She gestured at the sofa, “Sit down and let me

pleasure you for a while.”

Paul sat and she knelt in front of him. “Would Paul

like his cock sucked?”

Paul gulped and nodded.

“Well, ask nicely.” She moved forward and nudged his

knees apart and waited.

They both looked at his half erect cock. “Well.” she

said.

“What?”

“Ask me nicely if you want me to do it.”

He swallowed loudly and his face flushed red. “Please

suck my cock.”

“Again.”

“Please suck my cock Marsha.” His cock was fully

erect, Marsha smiled and looked down at his soaring

erection.

“I think perhaps I will.”

She bent her head and kissed the very tip of his cock

then parted her lips and took him in.

This wasn’t Paul’s first blow job. It was his third.

The earlier two had been strange affairs, both by the

same girl. Both had been marked by nervousness, fear

of discovery and hopeless inexperience. It had been in

the dark and cold and uncomfortable. The first time

he’d not come. The second time he had and the girl had

thrown up over his shoes.

This time? Warm and very comfortable and he could see

the action. Best of all Marsha seemed to know very

well what she was doing. Paul relaxed and let it all

happen.

She looked up at him, her eyes very round and very

big. She spoke with her lips moving against the head

of his cock, “Has anybody done this for you before?”

He nodded, “It was a disaster.” Paul almost laughed at

the memory.

“This won’t be, I promise. You’ve a lovely cock and

you’re going to love what I do to it.”

Her left hand held the root of his cock and her right

lay on his thigh. He was very aware of her big soft

breasts moving gently between his thighs.

Her mouth began to work on him. Its heat enveloped

him. Her lips were a clinging ’O’ that slid up and

down him while her tongue swirled and caressed him

inside her mouth. Her eyes never seemed to stop

staring up at him, watching, seeming to be checking if

he was enjoying her efforts.

His comments were made up of “yeses” and “Oh Gods” and

incoherent sounds; all very positive.

Marsha said nothing of course, her mouth being very

cock-full. But she slurped and sucked and swallowed,

just like they did on the porno movies he watched. But

this was his cock and his very own cocksucker. Paul

was in a very special heaven.

She took it slow and easy. After two comings Paul was

easier to control. Earlier he’d have gushed like a

fountain within seconds of her mouth engulfing him.

Now he was as horny as ever but able to savour

Marsha’s efforts.

It was wonderful. She sucked, hollow-cheeked, up the

length of him until he almost slipped out. After a

teasing pause she slid down him again, down and down

until her lips reached her curled fingers. No deep

throating, no gagging, just a slow and steady, suck

and slide. Almost imperceptibly his arousal grew, his

balls seemed to buzz with energy and he knew he could

come again. He lay back in the cushions and watched

this gorgeous woman seem to devour him. His cock

glistened with her saliva, the tracery of veins, blue

and purple stood out on his shaft.

Would she let him come in her mouth? Would she swallow

his come? Somehow he knew she’d do anything and

everything to and with his cock if it took her fancy.

He wanted to grab her hair and fuck her face. He

wanted to jam her head down on him, force himself down

her throat. He didn’t, he couldn’t. He didn’t know why

but somehow it would demean him and disgust her. So he

just let her suck at him and work her magic on his

swollen, desperate cock.

Then, with an awful suddenness, his climax took hold

in the very pit of his groin and he knew he must come.

Marsha knew it too, it seemed. Her mouth was gone and

her fist squeezed his cock at its base with a painful

fierceness. His muscles clenched and squeezed, his

come seem about to boil out of him. But it didn’t,

somehow she’d choked him off. When she finally eased

her grip, one drool of his come poured gently out of

his cock-tip. Marsha lapped it up with a dainty pink

tongue. She looked him in the eye and swallowed.

Sweat broke out on Paul’s forehead and he stared at

her hand and the cock it encircled.

“Nearly,” she said. “You taste good by the way.”

She played gently with his cock and asked, “Want to

try that again?”

They did try it again. Twice more and each time she

managed the same trick; drawing him and his cock to

the brink and somehow stopping him from happening.

Twice more the trickle. Twice more her tongue sampled

him.

Paul felt helpless in this woman’s mouth and hands.

She was playing with him. He was loving it but the

torment was beyond belief.

She sat up and moved to his right and leaned forward

to rest her elbows on the sofa. Her ass was up and

out, two beautiful hemispheres.

“Now fuck me Paul, just come around behind me and fuck

me the way you’ve wanted to all afternoon. Fuck me

doggy style.”

Stunned as much by the crudity of her words as by the

sudden arrival of what he most wanted, he struggled to

get up. He practically fell when he stood, his legs

were wobbly and he felt unsteady. She’d drained him of

energy it seemed.

The idea of fucking her to death now seemed a more

difficult proposition.

“Hurry Paul,” she said her voice urgent, “I need that

lovely cock.”

Paul got to his knees behind her. He was again unsure

of himself now the moment had arrived.

She was so exposed. Her out-thrust ass so naked. Her

anus peeped at him from between the soft-looking

swells of her buttocks. Her pussy was there too, He

always thought of the vagina as being at the front but

now it seemed to be at the back, where her pubic curls

all but hid her.

“Paul!”

He edged forward on his knees and bent his erection

down, trying to aim it.

Her hand appeared between her thighs and grabbed his

cock and guided it and him forward. He felt himself

being positioned. She thrust herself back at him.

Paul’s virginity was gone; gone in a hot, almost

sucking moment. By instinct he thrust too and his cock

speared up deep inside Marsha.

“Oh God! Yes! Sweet Jesus, yes,” her words rushed out

of her in one breath.

They both seemed to freeze in that instant with Paul

buried deep, deep in her.

“I’ve wanted your cock ever since I saw you in the

store today,“ Marsha told him.

“It feels so good, so hot, so, so…,” he had no words.

“Doesn’t it?” said Marsha.

“Oh God!” he exclaimed as she clenched the walls of

her vagina seemed to suck him.

“No, Paul, now fuck me, hard as you like, hard as you

can.”

Fuck her he did. Hard as he could, hard as he wanted.

Perhaps nearly as hard as she wanted. When his climax

neared he stopped and waited; Paul had learned that

afternoon.

She came before he did, violently and loud. Paul

crouched over her while she came, his hands squeezing

her lovely breasts, thumbs and forefingers pinching

and pulling at her nipples. Her orgasm seemed to roll

on and on, her pussy kept trying to pull his cock into

her.

Afterwards she cried into the sofa’s cushion. He asked

if she was all right and she said she’d never felt

better. “Now do me some more.”

Paul sat up again and grabbed at her waist, his

fingers digging into her softness, finding her

hipbones. He began to fuck her again, staring down

watching his cock going in and out of her. Watching

the brown pucker of her anus. Seeing the white-blonde,

downy hairs in the valley of her spine. Wanting to

fuck her forever.

His chest heaved; he heard his breathing, felt the

hammer of his heart and slammed mercilessly against

the softness of her ass. Slamming, slamming, fucking,

fucking, determined to make her beg him to stop.

But Marsha didn’t beg for mercy she just urged him on.

Asked for more, more cock, harder cock.

At last his body surrendered, his balls tightened, an

awful contraction happened deep inside him and he was

coming. Coming and coming, a desperate attempt to

empty his entire self into her cunt.

Spent at last he lay over her. His trembling hands

found and cupped her pendulous breasts. He heard her

crying again and knew it was all right. He could have

cried himself he felt so happy.

“I’m still alive,” she murmured.

“What?”

“You didn’t fuck me to death did you?” There was

laughter in her voice.

“I guess not.” Paul’s lungs and heart were back near

to normal but he knew he was changed.

They stood by her front door. Paul was dressed but

Marsha was still in only her stockings. She was aware

of a slow trickle down the inside of her left thigh.

She went up on tiptoe and kissed him.

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” disbelief was in his voice. She wanted

more? Maybe after he’d slept. He needed sleep now.

“I’d like that.” He knew he’d like it but right now he

needed to rest a while.

“We could do other things,” she said.

He wondered what other things there were; they’d far

exceeded the span of his knowledge that afternoon.

“Mind you, the three for one rule would no longer

apply.”

“It wouldn’t?” He’d thought it too much for her.

“No, you’ve passed your beginner’s course now.” She

lifted her right breast with her hand and gave the

nipples a slow sucking kiss. Paul’s cock stirred at

the sight.

She released the nipple. “I’ve always thought five for

one about right.”