The tale of S.

It has been a while, but that is because it has been an interesting week. Perhaps I will update the rest of the week, but let me tell you about last weekend.

S. was in town to visit family and so we decided to grab a few drinks together. This was good and fun. We caught up, we gossiped, we voiced the ethereal nothingness of a successful conversation, laughing and joking and speechifying and agreeing in a way that we would not remember later, but that was entirely satisfying.

S was dressed in a seemingly simple dress, but it was hard to keep my eyes off of her. The simple curves served her virtues. I found myself, as we drank and laughed, unable to keep my hands from touching her. I placed my hand on her arm, her shoulders, her knee and there was a thrill in it that all know. We closed the bar down and made our out back to my apartment where I poured us more drinks and put on some music.

The topic stayed mostly in bounds of friendly protocol, but my hands were on a planet of their own, drawn to her like a lick of flame into the oxygen of the air, hungering. We were drunk and so the moment itself is beyond me, but I put my hand on her cheek and she protested weakly that we shouldn't. I kissed her.

I am still thinking about her kiss. S. has a way with her mouth that I have not seen before. We kissed and we grabbed at each other, straining into the other, grabbing hold of clothing and body parts to tighten our grip. We let loose of each other's lips and roamed the neck and ear, our hands still grabbing and pulling. We lost our clothing and collapsed onto the couch. She protested again that we shouldn't. But I want to, I said to her, and she said she wanted to as well. We were gloriously naked.

Yet she kept her hand over her crotch except for when my dick was near her hand. She was drawn to it, stroking it and touching it. I told her I wanted to eat her, but no, she said, just fuck me. I did. We fucked until I was tired and my poor drunk dick couldn't keep up. Oh evil alcohol! I ate her. Oh, what a fantastic pussy S. has. The trim so perfect and elegant. I ate her for what seemed an hour, my vigor restored by her soft moans and my fingers inside her. She told me to get on my back so she could blow me. The mouth again, so incredible. That is a sort of heaven. I flipped her on her knees and we screwed for another good while, my head swimming and my body rejoicing.

Eventually it came to an end, I don't know why (drunken logic, I'm sure) and I picked her up to bring her to the bedroom. We crashed into the coffee table and I thwacked her head against a wall. No permenant damage done, I we back to her pussy. The thrill eating her. We screwed some more until I was sweating and exhausted and finished an then we collapsed and slept. Somehow this sequence, including the conversation took from 2:30 to 6:30. I slept the righteous sleep of the exhausted.

But I was woken up by myself at only 8. I crawled to S. and her pussy, exploring her with my tongue until she awoke and writhed and pulled my head into her and then I climbed on top. The poor neighbors with the shudder of the floorboards.

We fell asleep again, and she woke me a few hours later. Our fun was over, she had her commitments for the day and I had mine.

Call me tonight if you're free, I told her as I dropped her off. Sadly she didn't. Our friendship will continue how it was, which is how I am happy, for that is something I cherish. I can still smell her though when I lose my train of thought and I thrill at the thought of her lips on mine, our bodies pressed together again. Oh for her to come visit her family again, is my greatest wish. This time I want her sober, so the recollection of the bliss is more straightforward and wonderful.