Fay Flywright

Sky-High Seduction

Chapter 1

Gabriel

My name is Gabriel Du Champe. I am twenty-eight years old and a Libra. I am an airline stewardess and work for World International Airways. I've been with the company for almost seven years and since I am usually senior I bid for the New York-London flight and almost always get it. This is important to me because I have a fiancй in New York and a fiancй in London. I usually have a fiancй in New York and a fiancй in London even though they might not always be the same two men. A "fiancй" usually lasts for about two years-if he's good, that is. They're very exciting when new, but after a year or so they've run through their bags of tricks and funny stories and their biographies begin to fade. It's at this point that they begin to insist that I finally quit my job, which is important to me, to marry them and settle down to a life of quiet contemplation, weekly sex and daily diapers, which is important to them. That's when I start looking for another fiancй!

Currently I have the best parley of my career, with Bob in New York and Noel in London. Two beautiful men, both inexhaustable fuckers, both devoted to me. It works this way: My flight is 602, leaving Kennedy at 8 PM EST, arriving Heathrow, London at 8:35 AM, GMT. Since I try to avoid jet-lag, I leave my watch set to New York time, which makes it 3:35 AM at London touchdown. I'm usually in bed with Noel, fucking his brains out, by 5:30 AM, NY time. Then after about six hours sleep I awaken to an evening at home with Noel, or an occasional night out on the town, starting at about 12 noon, according to my New York watch. We're back in bed by 8 PM, NY time and after four or five orgasms and about five hours of deep sleep, I'm ready to leave for Heathrow and the return to NY. My return flight is 609, scheduled for 11:15 AM London time. At take off, my watch tells me it is 6:15 AM in the Big Apple. By 3 PM EST I am in bed with Bob, fucking his brains out. He has to take a break from his photo studio in order to do this, but I insist on being fucked at the end of each run… it's kind of a good luck charm.

Of course there are many exceptions to the routine I've outlined. Quite often, I'll spend time shopping or sightseeing or "adventuring" in London, and quite often Bob is too busy at the studio to meet me for our afternoon fuck. Then too, there is the occasional extra-curricular sex session… but more about that a little later. It boils down to a twenty-four hour (plus) turn around in London and a forty-eight hour (plus) turn-around in New York. I've succeeded in making the whole thing a series of pleasure trips! The beauty of this arrangement is that neither of my two "fiancй's" knows about the other!

I think I might be in love with Bob… I mean, no one has lasted as long as he has… three years! A world record with me. He is my fifth New York "fiancй," so you can gather how long the others lasted. Three years and I still feel as if I'm cuming every time he so much as kisses me! He excites me more than any other man ever has! He makes me laugh and he knows my moods and he even brings me breakfast in bed. He's funny, intelligent, creative (both in bed and out), and he loves me for something other than my body… a demand I've never even considered making.

As for Noel, he's new, only about five months old. A lovely chap with upper class breeding and a wry sense of humor. He's a writer of spy and intrigue novels and is currently in fashion. He's made a fortune from his last two books, both of which are soon to be filmed. Of course, I'm the perfect thing for him-I don't make demands of any kind, particularly demands on his time. He knows to expect me "home" every third day and I serve as a kind of holiday from his writing. Underneath it all, Noel has a lovely romantic soul. He professes to love me and surprisingly I think I am falling in love with him. Actually, I am ideal for him. With me he can have his cake… me, and eat it too… which he does, with gusto! He is beyond doubt the best male eater of pussy I've ever experienced. I hope he lasts.

The reason for all this is that it's nice to have something to come home to and it's even nicer to have some one on both sides of the Atlantic. Unlike most of the other stews of my acquaintance, I'm not forced to live in a plastic hotel room on one side of the pond and a stews-nest shared with two or three other girls on the other side. During my first year as a stewardess I lived exactly that way, sharing a two bedroom apartment with two other stewardesses. I very shortly got tired of the panty hose hanging in the bathroom and the bitchiness of one of the girls, Fran, her name was. It just wasn't home, I mean there wasn't even enough closet space. I was really more comfortable on the other end in a hotel room in London. At least there I had privacy.

Because I'm French, Parisian by birth, privacy is quite important to me. I value it highly. Even though I've been an American citizen for almost four years now, I am still possessed of a sensuous French soul. This inspite of the fact that I speak in the American idiom and sometimes come on like an American. These are habit patterns picked up since I started flying for World International, almost seven years ago. I'm French from head to toe and that includes all that lovely stuff in-between! Two facts: my accent is barely discernable and I make love like a Frenchwoman. You'll soon see what I mean.

I'm beautiful, with very long, shiny, jet black hair and full breasts tipped by two sensitive, pink nipples that when aroused are almost half an inch long. And, all it really takes to arouse me is the delicious, gratifying knowledge that a man, even one single man on the street, is developing an erection while looking at me. Then my juices start flowing! Sweet, pungent juice gushing to such an extent that by the time I arrive home I have to change but of my wet panties! That's because my lovely little pussy is shaven and there is no pubic hair to catch and absorb the moisture.

And while I'm on the subject, I really have to admit that I have a beautiful cunt. I know it may sound immodest but I've heard it from so many men, so often that I've come to believe it myself. Of course, the proof is in the pudding, so to speak; I mean, I get sucked almost as much as I get fucked. Something is attracting the men down there! At first I thought it was my Calendre… that's the perfume I use, very sexy stuff, it seems to react fantastically with cunt juice, which I'm certain is a catalyst for the perfume. The hornier I get, the more spicy and sweet the Calendre!

As I said, I thought it was the perfume, so for a period of almost a year I stopped wearing it, but the compliments continued as did my batting average with cunnilingus. So I'm convinced I have one of the prettiest pussies in the western world… I'm just being honest. You know, when you've got it, flaunt it! Right? And I take good care of my beautiful pussy. I exercise muscle control every day. I've reached the point where I have enough control to project a ping-pong ball across the room! In fact, even when I'm wet and juicy I have the ability to tighten up to where my cuntal muscles can offer considerable resistance to the withdrawal of even a tiny finger! You really have to pull to get it out and then when it finally emerges it does so with an audible pop!

My clitoris is not quite an inch long but I'm working on it. Exercise can work wonders! Bob says it's like a juicy little cock and he loves to watch it come erect. He usually brings about this phenomenon just by blowing on it two or three times.

Well, as you've no doubt guessed by now, my cunt is my pride and joy. My delicious little educated pussy! I'm even proud of its taste! I mean I've never used those flavored douches that have become so popular or attempted to disguise its taste in any way. I want to taste like me and the most I've ever done was to use, on rare occasions, a douche of rose water which applies more of a scent than a taste, although it primarily just enhances the natural scent. As for perfume… hmmm! The idea of perfuming one's cuntal area with expensive magic is to me the height of sensuous cosmetology… how about that?

Of course, the reason I'm shaven is because I want my soft, warm, pretty pussy to be seen and not hidden behind a wiry black bush.

As you've no doubt surmised, I'm somewhat of an exhibitionist and… well, when I'm standing there, naked in front of a man, my legs together, my eyes locked onto his cock, savoring the sight of it as it grows thicker and longer? I can usually feel his eyes gliding erotically down the curves of my body. Then, when I'm certain that his discerning view has finally descended to the inevitable hairless triangle, I part my legs slowly… ever so slowly, opening my cunt lips… spreading them to reveal just a hint of wet coral flesh. Then my impudent little clitoris comes erect as his cock comes erect, gradually making itself known. Try that with a hairy cunt! Impossible, right? Anyway, that's when the guy generally grabs me and buries his head between my legs! My Shick Injector is the best investment I ever made! And I keep everything soft and nice with Johnson's baby oil and powder (I'd be happy to give the Johnson people a testimonial to that effect, if there are any of them out there). I realize that ladies with pubic hair get sucked also, but certainly not as consistently arid as well as I do.

I've a firm ass and long, well-shaped legs. My ass is also one of my pride and joys. Two firm balloons, not too large, not too small, not too hard, not too soft; squeezable, with a long, deep valley separating the two pneumatic cheeks. I love to feel fingers or tongues gliding back and forth across it… and oh! to be diddled lightly between the cheeks with a wet tongue daintily passing over my asshole! Or better yet a long, hard cock fucking in the deep furrow, rubbing back and forth across the little puckered opening! Noel, my London fiancй, cums that way sometimes.

At times I believe my ass is even more sensitive than my breasts. I'm speaking from limited experience really, because I've never been fucked in the ass, not even by a finger. However it's nice to know that I still have some virginity to lose.

Actually, the fact that I'm an anal virgin is somewhat strange since most of the men I meet are very attracted to my ass. Bob has tried once or twice, but his cock goes soft before it can be inserted. He maintains that he hurt a girl very badly once in trying to fuck her ass and he can't seem to get it out of his mind. (Bob has a horror of inflicting pain that dates back to some Korean War incident that he refuses to talk about.)

Well, anyway, I've yet to be fucked in the ass, which is somewhat unusual considering the fact that most of the groovy men I feel attracted to usually turn out to be leg-and-ass-men as opposed to tit-men. I'm pleased at this, because men who are more attracted to a pretty ass then they are to big breasts are usually better men. They are, more often than not, more sophisticated, more intellectual, more witty and in general better lovers than those guys who are looking for a tit to suck on. At least that's been my experience.

All of this goes to prove that I love sex… love it! The feel of a big, hard, juicy cock! The voluptuous feeling of grabbing a man's hard ass-cheeks as he pumps his juice into me! The bitter-sweet taste of gism on my tongue! The tender thrill of a rock-hard cock as it parts my cunt lips and enters slowly, slowly! The electricity of a wet tongue across my naked clit! All of it; the thrusting, the hardness, the softness, the flowing juices; nibbling and licking and fucking and sucking… I love it all! All! And then the cuming, the overpowering spasm of a giant cock spewing wonderful white cream! In my cunt, on my face, between my breasts, over my buttocks, in my mouth! I want to feel it, to drink it all in, to wallow in it!

Chapter 2

So, back to that day six years ago when I decided that the "stews nest" was not for me and that what I really needed were men to live with, preferably in something at least approaching luxury. The particular month I speak of had me flying New York-St Thomas. It was nice, I'd been a stew for about two years and St. Thomas was the best run I'd gotten so far-it was winter in New York. Also the company was expanding that year and taking on new stewardesses and because of that I had enough seniority on the St. Thomas run to finally get out of Tourist Class galley for the first time and find myself in First Class cabin, an improvement resulting in less work and more intimate relationships with the customers (there are fewer of them in first class). Incidentally, I don't mean sexually intimate-that came quite a bit later.

Well, one morning our flight didn't get off because of weather in the Caribbean. It seems as if there is a peculiar type of clear air turbulence at low altitudes which occasionally plagues the American and British Virgin Island area. Because of the extremely short runway at Harry S. Truman Field on St. Thomas, landing becomes impossible, or almost so in the buffeting, invisible winds which have been known to switch direction almost 180 degrees in thirty seconds! All of this, on perfectly clear sunny days. At the best of times, the cockpit crews and the more sophisticated passengers consider H.S.T., which is just barely adequate for the equipment we use, one of the hairiest landing approaches in the business. The landing-abort-line is painted on the runway just a short distance from the end and since the approach is over water onto a runway right can be somewhat of an optical problem. Of the nine trips I made there, all were pleasant except the first. We encountered violent turbulence during the approach, overshot the abort line, touching down about 25 yards beyond it, and took off again into even more violent air directly toward a large hill at the other end. The Captain fought her around again in a steep bank and attempted another approach, but was waved off about a quarter of a mile from touchdown by the tower who informed us that the wind had shifted and now we were landing in a very off-again on-again erratic cross-wind. We diverted to St. Croix which doesn't have the problem and it was four hours before the phenomenon cleared up on St. Thomas. Fortunately, this strange turbulence doesn't occur very often and the pilots, who are totally aware of the approach and runway problem, exercise extra caution when coming into HST. It helps to explain why there have been very few landing or take-off fiascos.

Since these periods of turbulence can last for many hours in that part of the Caribbean, and since our Captain had recently experienced the results of such turbulence it's easy to understand why flight 312 was postponed. It was eight-thirty in the morning and to be safe the flight was rescheduled for two-thirty that afternoon. That totaled up to six hours and I'd be damned if I'd spend them sitting around the airport. I decided to go home, back to the "stews nest," which was twenty minutes away in Queens, and wash out a few things.

I parked the Mustang in front of our apartment building. It always reminded me of a prison somehow, a stark, unadorned and functional five-story pile of new brick. We lived on four, about halfway down the hall, between the incinerator chute and the two elevators. I went in quietly because Ellen, one of my two roomates had just returned from her Mexico flight and was probably sleeping. Fran, my other roomate, was standing-down for a few days, but had been out when I left at six that morning… probably shacking up with some creep… I really hated that bitch.

As I entered the living room, I heard a buzzing sound coming through the slightly opened door leading to the bedroom I had been sharing with Ellen for about two weeks. She was new, replacing another stew who quit a month earlier to get married. Well, the buzzing continued and I kind of took it for granted Ellen was shaving her legs or drying her hair or some such, and was awake, so I just barged on in. She didn't hear me. She didn't hear me because she was too busy. She was too busy to hear me because she was stretched out on the bed with a vibrator shoved halfway up her cute little snatch!

I watched, fascinated. She was in the process of fucking herself with it, one hand shoving it in and out, the other toying with her clit. I could see the lovely gleaming pearls of cunt juice, clinging to the shaft of the electrified dildo. It was the first time for me. I mean, I had always figured myself for a voyeur, but had never experienced an actual live performance. Outside of a few situations in which there were conveniently placed mirrors, I'd never viewed a sex act of any kind… well, movies, stag reels as they were called, but here was the real thing!

As I watched, Ellen withdrew the vibrator and placed it on her clit, drawing it slowly back and forth. My juices started to run as she threw her head back and cupped one of her firm, pouting breasts. She was cuming! By this time I was standing there rubbing my own cunt through my dress. Quickly, I raised the skirt, and through the sheer nylon of my panties began to stroke my clit. I remember the sudden aberrant thought which flashed momentarily through my feverish brain; I was being stimulated by a woman… just watching her was enough to set me off! I'd never had any kind of a dyke experience, except of course in fantasy, and there was a moment of guilt-panic. The feeling vanished as quickly as it had come and I was left with the tantalizing knowledge of my hungry pussy. I rubbed delicately as Ellen, her red mouth wide open in erotic urgency, shoved the white electric cock deep into her cunt and grasped her throbbing clit between two fingers, squeezed it hard, jerking her hand at the same time in a rotary motion, pulling at her clitoris and distending it like some pendulous bit of agonized flesh.

By this time, the juices were literally running down my inner thighs and I was digging in with a vengeance. My right hand was fucking my bright red panties right into my soaking pussy while my left titillated my hard clit, fingers pressing and rubbing up and down. Ellen suddenly pulled the vibrator out of her gaping cunt and started sucking on it, lapping her juices off its hard white plastic surface. I gazed into her pouting pink pussy which seemed to have a life of its own. I could actually see it throbbing! She licked and sucked on the buzzing vibrator, moaning in a hoarse, faraway voice as she came.

And as she came, I came, my entire body shaking in the grips of a delicious exaltation. I held tight to my cunt as the orgasm diminished, slowly, slowly,… I must have sighed audibly in the midst of my passion because suddenly Ellen expression replacing the passion of just a moment before. I removed my hand from my soaking pussy, shivering slightly in the orgasmic afterglow as a drop or two of love juice trickled down my leg. Ellen, crimson with embarrassment, attempted to raise the sheet over her nudity.

"Gabriel!…" She was totally non-plussed, her hands frantically pulling at the tangled sheet. "You left over an hour ago… " she said, her voice a harsh whisper, her breasts heaving from the activity of just a moment before.

"My flight was postponed till two-thirty." I explained, smoothing the front of my skirt over still-twitching thighs.

"Oh… I'm so embarrassed! I mean, I don't know what to say to you!"

"Don't be… really, Ellen. If it will make you feel any better about it, I do the same thing myself… quite often, actually."

"You do?"

"Of course, silly, most girls do. Surely you know that."

"But I always thought you had such an active sex life… with men, I mean."

"I do, but the more you get, the more you want. At least that's the way it is with me. If I'm getting fucked regularly, I masturbate a lot. When I've gone without it for awhile I'm not stimulated enough to masturbate. Aren't you the same way?… C'mon, I'll bet you had a hell of a sex scene last night. Am I right? It turned you on thinking about it so you tossed off… correct?

"It wasn't last night, it was the night before in Mexico City, but you're right."

"It must have been a terrific fuck."

"Oh, it was, Gabriel, the best, the very best. We fucked for hours."

"Tell me more," I said, walking over to the bed and placing my hand on her shoulder.

She closed her eyes and asked, "You really want to hear about it, Gabriel?"

"Yes, tell me everything, baby."

"Well, I met him on the flight, his name was Frank, Frank Harris. He was tall, about six feet or more, not very handsome though, kind of rugged… like a tall Bogart, know what I mean?"

"Yes," I answered as I pulled the sheet slowly, ever so slowly, from off her heaving breasts. "I get a perfect picture of him." Ellen's nipples were two hard, pink peas, surrounded by dark, lush aureoles. I found myself staring at them and wondering why I was being so affected by the sight of the cream-colored rotundity, the softness, the firmness of her twin love mounds! It was really getting to me, as was the warm wet sound of her droning, erotic voice. I couldn't understand it! She was a woman… I was panting after her as if she were a big-balled, hard-cocked male stud! Something I didn't know about myself was surfacing.

She was saying, "… and then we went to a lovely place for dinner. There was dancing, latin at first, but then another band came on and we were dancing close, very close… people don't do that much anymore. Ohhh… Gabriel, it was so romantic! The group was playing old romantic tunes, like 'Our Love Is Here To Stay' and, 'Quiet Nights'… Bossa-novas and ballads, it was so nice and slow and warm. And then at one point I felt the bulge up against me… his cock, his big lovely cock, pressing up against me… I ground my body into it and he placed both hands on my buttocks. God! my ass seemed to have a mind of its own! That's a funny place to have a brain, isn't it? But my ass was rolling and humping in five different directions, slowly… all by itself, causing my groin to rub and rub and rub against the cock-lump in his pants! Ohhh… then we stopped moving and just stood there swaying. I don't know how this affected the other customers in the place, but I really didn't care at that point! I mean his cock was throbbing against me in time to the music! Did that ever happen to you? I mean a cock in rhythm to the music?"

"Yes. It's a real turn on, isn't it?" I looked down at Ellen and smiled and then very gently rested my right hand on her breast. She glanced down at it and then back up into my face, returning my smile and closing her eyes. I reached under my skirt, to find my pussy still wet through my sopping panties. I rubbed gently over my extended clit Ellen's eyes opened wide and she watched fascinated as I began to masturbate again.

"Ahhh… Gabriel, you weren't kidding me to makes me feel better, you do jerk off, just like I do. How nice, how sweet."

"Of course," I panted, "I even own a vibrator just like yours."

"The vibrator wasn't mine, Gabriel, I borrowed it… it's yours. I was looking for a safety pin and ran across it in your top drawer. Hope you don't mind, darling." She squirmed on the bed, pressing her breast up into my hand.

"With any one else I would, baby… I mean a vibrator is a personal thing, like a toothbrush, you can use it any time, any time… Ohhh, feels good… " I had gotten under the panty leg and holding my cunt lips open with two fingers, I was frigging my throbbing clit with my thumb. Meanwhile with my right hand I cupped Ellen's breast, delighting in the smooth pneumatic feel of it. Her distended nipple was punching a sweet hole in my palm.

"Ohhh, that's so nice," she moaned. "How does it feels it feel for you?"

"It feels wet, juicy," I answered, "It's crying out for a stiff cock or a soft tongue. My whole body feels ready to erupt through my juicy fuck it nice… fuck your sweet, wet cunt nice, nice!"

"Ohhhh, yes… I'm fucking it, baby… " Gently I pinched her nipple and I could feel the tremor pass through her body.

"Do you still want to hear the rest of the story?"

"I do, Ellen, but first… " I released her turgid nipple and reaching down, pulled the sheet completely off her quivering body, exposing her luscious flat belly and her cute little blond bush which glistened with pearls of love.

Gently I took her hand in mine and placed it on her pussy. "Now," I said, "continue your story."

"Ahhh, I'm so wet, Gabriel… I'm soaking!"

"The story, Ellen." I watched fascinated as two of her fingers seemed to disappear.

"Well," she said, her voice quivering, "We went to his hotel, The Presidente. He, Frank I mean, had a suite… I think it might have even been the Bridal Suite, it had mirrors in the ceiling over the bed. He kissed me as we entered and it seemed as if the kiss must have lasted for an hour… because when I awoke from it we were naked on the bed… naked, pressed close."

While Ellen talked I removed my clothes. Her hand was making slow circles, with two "missing" fingers, submerged deep into her hungry cunt. Her hips made lazy eights on the bed.

"I reached down," she continued, "and grabbed his cock. It was made of stone flesh… so hard… ahhhh my cunt tingles when I think of it! That beautiful, long, thick, throbbing cock! Look, look Gabriel, how my cunt is fluttering!" She removed her fingers and pressing outward on her sodden labia, spread open her pussy. I could see a faint palpitation of succulent cunt tissue. She ran her wet fingers over and under her pussy lips, rolling them back and forth. "Ahhhh, Gabriel… it feels so good!"

"Did he fuck you, baby?" I asked, removing the last vestige of my clothing, my sopping wet, red panties.

"Oh yessss!" She was rubbing her clit furiously now. "He fucked me for hours… hours! First he fucked me doggie fashion and I thought I'd go nuts! I mean, he had my ass raised up high and my legs spread and his balls were beating against my clitoris! It was amazing… the sensation!" At this point, Ellen opened her eyes again and looked up at me. I was completely nude, my hand buried in my hairless crotch. "Ohhhh Gabriel, you're beautiful!" She cried. "Look at you… Ohhh Gabriel!"

I stood over her, gazing down on her wriggling curves, my cunt less than a foot from her passion-stricken face. Her eyes darted downward, stared fascinated at my hand as each individual finger jerked and slithered and undulated against a separate portion of my love box. "Tell me, tell me more… then what did he do?"

"Oh, Gabriel, darling! You really want to know, don't you? It thrills you to hear about it… me and Frank fucking and fucking and fucking!"

"Yes it does!" I cried and I knew that I was lost in her sex. I realized that. I was identifying with every throb, every tantalizing sensation Frank's, prick had created in her! With a shock I also realized that I was identifying with Frank too! I was momentarily shocked at my reaction to his girl, this soft, creamy love symbol that was Ellen.

"Tell me the rest!" I cried.

She closed her eyes, and continued; "He fucked me on a chair. I sat on him with my legs straddling him. It was marvelous… I could look down and watch his thick cock going in and out, in and out. It was such a delicious sight. And I was in control. I sat on his lap, with back to him and he was pinching and tweaking and squeezing my nipples while I rode him. Ahhhhh my cunt, it's so fucking wet." She moved her hand from her pussy, and with a pink tongue proceeded to lick her own love from her fingers. Then, looking up at me, a fucking into her mouth like a small prick, she "Let me taste yours… please."

I inserted two fingers deep into my dripping pussy and then with a thrill I can't describe, placed them gently on her watched fascinated as her tongue emerged curled itself around my slimy index finger, lapping hungrily.

"Ahhhh," she sighed, "Delicious, lovely cunt juice… you taste beautiful!" She took three of my fingers into her mouth and began sucking oil them. It was almost as if my fantasy of a moment before had come true!

"Fuck my cock fingers with your mouth Ellen!" I cried. "Suck my prick fingers… suck… suck!" It was amazing! For the first time I was getting a strong feeling of what it must be like for a man! My fingers had literally become an extension of my cunt… a prick, a hard, stiff prick pumping in and out of Ellen's cunt mouth! My fingers were throbbing, jerking spasmodically like a cock getting set to spew out hot globs of creamy gism! My fingers were cuming!

"Ohhhh baby… suck!" I screamed out as it happened. It was an orgasm which rocked me by it's suddenness. I fucked my fingers furiously into her mouth feeling the soft lips caressing them and a hot, wet tongue curling around and flicking against my fingertips.

"Gabriel, Gabriel!" Her voice broke through the veil of my sensual afterglow; I smiled down at her as she squeezed, gently, my now flaccid fingers, "You came," she said, "You came in my mouth with your fingers! I've never experienced anything so erotic."

"Neither have I."

"Come here, Gabriel, on the bed. I want your body to touch mine. Come, and I'll tell you the rest of my story. My adventure with Frank Harris." She moved, making room for me as I lay next to her, my head cradled on her arm, our hips touching. I could feel the ardent warmth of her body.

"He came in me twice," she stated. "He had a funny way of cuming, he twitched and shivered a lot, you know? Most guys come in big spasms, but Frank drew it out. Instead of a few seconds, his orgasms were longer… almost five minutes. It was great to cum with him because each little twitch, and there were hundreds, would push me a little further over the edge."

"Sounds delightful."

"And then he did something I've never heard of before. I was sucking his cock and just as he was ready to cum, he pulled out. I remember telling him that I wanted him to shoot off in my mouth, but he didn't pay any attention to me. He held his cock in one hand and spread the opening… the tiny little opening at the tip… Ohhh God! Every time I think of what he did next, I feel like my whole fucking body is one huge tit! He placed his opened cock… that little opening right over my nipple! His cock was grabbing my nipple! I was fucking his cock with my long hard nipple! And then he came. I could feel it squirting all over my breast but the wildest thing of all was the sensation, in my fucking nipple, Gabriel! It was like a wet pressure building up behind his pinching cock head. And then the cream just oozed out from around the sides. Have you ever heard anything so exciting?"

The bed was rolling gently due to the rotary motion of Ellen's hips as I looked at her and asked, "Which breast, baby? Which nipple did he swallow with his prick? Show me where he came."

"The right one, this one," she said, cupping it. It was an offering. I leaned forward, and for the first time in my life placed my lips around the soft aureole of a womans breast. My tongue skimmed lightly over the hard protuberance and I felt her body jerk spasmodically.

"I wish his cum juice were still there," I muttered, my tongue fluttering gently over the small bit of erectile tissue. "Ohhh, I'd love to taste gism on your breast!"

"Suck it, Gabriel… ahhhh, suck, suck… "

"Your nipple is like a tiny cock, baby!"