Just Like a Woman

Marla and I were both feeling very well sexed when she left on Saturday.

Mindful that I still had the weekend to myself, I called Jessica. She wanted a sleepover, and we haven’t been able to arrange that for a while. She’s free Sunday night, so we make a date.

I returned from some errands to find a package from Anna. A Christmas gift for the kids! I called to thank her.

After a few moments, she asked what I was doing after the holiday. Monday night? Busy. Tuesday? Busy.

“What are you doing tonight?” I ask. She’s got plans, but offers to come by around 10pm.

She finally shows up after 11:30. She might have called to say she was late, but I don’t mind: a lack of concern with punctuality generally works to my advantage in the long run.

I was watching “Saturday Night Live” when she arrived, and she’s into an easy night of relaxing in front of television. We talk afterwards. It’s late. We’re tired. We get naked, kiss and fall asleep, all snuggled.

I am awakened before dawn by her body on mine. She is sitting on my hard on, sliding it between her wet lips. Her hands fall on my shoulders as she thrusts back and forth, her hair in her eyes. I put my hands on her tits; she sees I am awake.

I thrust up, rubbing on her slippery clit. She cums, and falls on me.

“All better?” I ask. She nods into my neck. We drift off.

We awake early, embraced, kissing. We spend the morning in bed. It’s very tender, as I get her off, and fuck her, in a tightly embraced missionary position, through a few orgasms.

She likes vanilla, and that can be served hot.

She decides that she wants to get me off. She starts sucking me, alternating a tight, rhythmic hand job. She knows this works. “Give yourself over,” she tells me. “Let it go.”

I try. I release my body to her. My cock is hers.

Mentally, I hit a block: she is so intent on getting me off. I want to give her my orgasm. But I also just want to feel this . . .

My body takes over. It hits me, a wave of intense warmth . . . another . . . my legs tremble, my back twists . . .

. . . but no money shot.

“You came didn’t you,” she asks. Uh huh. “But you didn’t cum?” Nuh huh. She’s seen this before.

“Your body behaves just like a woman’s sometimes,” she says, kissing me. “That’s how it feels.”

I make her bacon, eggs and toast, with tea. I head to the shower afterwards; she comes in to kiss me goodbye.

I’ve got shopping to do.