Sexual Healing

By: Largent C. Lange

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 by Largent C. Lange

Smashwords Edition License Notes: This ebook is free. Go ahead and share it. Reverse Engineer it. Read it to your loved one as he or she pleasures you. Just don’t blame me if some prude gives you a dirty look.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

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I drew the tip of my tongue slowly across the creamy skin of Tanna’s breast until it touched her nipple, which stood up, hard and pert, the second I made contact. After licking around her nipple for a second I gave it a good suck. She moaned softly, her breath deepening as I lazily traced my fingertips along the inside of her thigh, just to the hem of her panties, where I stopped and took them on a return trip. No sense in rushing things; we had all night.

I continued sucking on her nipple long enough to elicit a squeal of delight, before tilting my head to give her other tit some attention.

“Oh, wait,” she gasped, using the hand she’d run through my hair to stop me. “My cat scratched me there this morning. it’s really sore.”

“On your boobie?” I asked, which put Tanna into a giggling fit.

“I know it sounds stupid,” she admitted, her sapphire eyes gleaming in flickering candlelight, “but he’d climbed up the bookshelf, and I had to... oooah!”

It’s not that I didn’t want to hear about her cat. My fingertips had decided on their own that they were done with her thigh—silky and sinuous as it was—and had migrated up to somewhere warmer. She was already wet, and as I shoved the little patch of silk aside and slipped my middle finger inside her lips, she gasped again, pesky house pet and the wound it had inflicted forgotten.

I couldn’t see that well in the candlelight, but as I caressed her clit I sneaked a glance across at the nipple she didn’t want me to sample. Sure enough, three scratch-marks had been raked across the choicest territory, catching the top of her aureole. Of course, this didn’t keep her nipple from standing at attention just like its twin. I turned my head to suck the closest one again before I got any ideas.

She moaned softly, then, out of nowhere, came, her hips bucking against my hand, her back arching, tugging her nipple against the suction of my lips. She squealed again, gave me a few oh’s, and then before I knew it she’d shoved me over on my back to ride me. Her orgasm had the O of her Kagel muscles gripping against the sides of my cock as it slid past. She used that control to the utmost, sensing when I was about to blow my load and clamping down before I did. She’d dip down far enough for those nipples—still at stiff attention—to brush against my chest, and for her flowing auburn hair to tickle my nose, and then she’d rear up again and wring my dick around with a bootylicious shake until I once again got to the verge of jizzing.

Tanna toyed with me like this for about twenty minutes before, after giving me one too many thrusts, I tried telling her I was about to come. She must have seen it on my face—or maybe she’s a mind-reader. She did a little backward-and-up hop and the next thing I knew, she’d slipped off of my dick and began jacking it. With my shaft still slick from her juices, she stroked up and down with ease, and it only took a few seconds for everything to go out of focus as I shot my load.

By the time I got a hold of myself, my grunts still reverberating off the walls, she sat astride me laughing.

“What?” I croaked.

She answered by looking up at the ceiling. “Nope, none up there—but I thought for sure you’d hit it.”

“Huh?” I’m at my wittiest right after I get off.

She smeared a handful of jizz across her chest. “It was only a few gallons. I’m going to start calling you ‘Old Faithful’.”

“It’s all this healthy stuff you’ve been making me—hey!”

She dove on top of me, rubbing my gooze between our bodies.

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Tanna and I showered together. While I wasn’t all that familiar with her place yet, she’d fallen in love with my bathroom. It’s not that I had post-coital cleansing in mind when I’d built my shower; it’s just that I thought it’d be a good place to set up a little sauna room while I was installing stuff. So I lounged on a cedar-plank bench and watched as she finished washing her hair.

With her arms above her head, Tanna’s breasts hung out over her flat belly, just the right amount of curve, her nipples in just the right spot—

“Hey, wait a minute.”

She froze her hands in her hair, blinking water out of her eyes. “What?”

I stood, and cupped a palm on her tit.

“Careful,” she said, backing away from me. “That’s where—”

Then she looked down and her jaw dropped.

I’d seen the scratches on her not more than five minutes before. I’d kept the bathroom lights dim, but... No, there was no mistaking it.

“It’s gone.”

“I noticed that.” With a finger I wiped the water that had beaded up on her skin—something that normally would have had me sprung back up and ready for action—looking for a scar, or any sign that there had been an injury there.

“I’ve never seen anything like that happen before,” she said.

“Maybe you’ve got some sort of super power.” I was only half kidding.

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I should have been sleeping in the next morning, especially since it was Saturday. Tanna, still bewildered about her magical disappearing scratches, had left not too long before three.

But I kept trying to figure out how she did it. She was a lawyer, not an actress who could call up a makeup whiz friend or special-effects wizard who could make authentic-looking wounds.

That thought led to wondering why she’d want to pull a parlor trick like that—if it was a parlor trick.

Which, of course, had me wondering that if she did have a friend put fake scratch-marks on her tit for her, and whether or not this theoretical friend was hot, and whether or not playing with Tanna’s absolutely awesome gravity-defying cleavage might have gotten the two of them excited...

You can see how I had trouble getting more than a few hours’ sleep.

With the daylight came normalcy, and the real, believable, world shoved my imagination back in the corner where it belonged. We had another date that night, and the potential for more incredible sex reasserted itself as the most important memory from our prior encounter.

I thought she’d bring it up over dinner, but she didn’t. By the time we hit a nightclub for a couple of drinks and (as much as I hate to admit it) some dancing, I’d forgotten all about it.

We decided on my place again, which was a good thing because I lived ten minutes closer to the club than she did. With the air in my Charger swarming with her perfume, I fought to keep my eyes on the road as she leaned over and began nuzzling against my neck, brushing the tip of her nose against the more sensitive parts of my skin, breathing warmly. Her hand slithered between my thighs, and, since I only needed my left hand to drive, I used my right to thread under her hair and tickle her neck.

I barely managed to get my car into the garage. Thankfully, it was a lot less tight of a fit than my cock was in her pussy. A thought which, as the hand on my crotch that kept me from focusing on my park job indicated, I’d get to confirm soon.

We made out in the car as I fumbled to shut the ignition off, Tanna’s tongue darting across mine and then exploring around inside my mouth before she drew back, sucking hard on my lower lip. I thought we’d do it right there in my car when she took her hand off my zipper, smacked me in the chest with her palm, and grabbed a fistful of my shirt.

“You,” she growled. “Me. Inside. Now.”

I thought she was going to pull me out the passenger side with my shirt, but she let go and let me get out. I had no sooner shut the door behind me when she met me by the side of my car, her eyes narrowed like a predator’s. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around my hips.

“Can you make it inside with me on you, big boy?”

“I’ll do better than that,” I said, grabbing a handful of ass with my left hand while my right undid my zipper. She’d worn a light, silky skirt, easy to reach under, and once again she’d worn the smallest of thongs, easy to push out of the way.

Tanna breathed huskily as I walked, both hands full of tight, smooth butt, my dick inside her, through the door and into my kitchen. She whipped her head around, her hair brushing me as she looked at my countertops. Seeing they were too high, she commanded: “Dining room.”

I obliged. We fuck-walked off of tile and onto carpet, and as she pulled my shirt over my head she moaned: “Table.”

I parked her on it, glad I’d sprung for something more substantial than a card table. Immediately after her cheeks rested on the wood, she dug her heels into the back of my thighs and leaned back, thrusting down hard onto me, getting leverage against my hands on the small of her back.

Then she was up, sucking hard on my neck, thrusting down hard, pressing herself into me, fingertips pressing on my back.

Honestly, I didn’t know what I’d done that night to get her all riled up, but I’d have to think hard in the morning to make sure I repeated it.

Bucking hard into me, Tanna leaned back and let me suck on her tits. “Oh,” she said, then moaned, then screamed. She arched her back, then sat up, her body shuddering with an immense orgasm, and she let her voice go so loud I was glad the neighbors were on vacation. She dug her fingernails into my back and, if I wasn’t about ready to pop a nut, the scratches would have hurt like hell.

Her screams toned down into moans, then into gasping, when suddenly she hopped off my dick and did a nifty little half-spin on my dining room table, a little like you’d see a break dancer end their street routine except instead of on one elbow, she ended up belly-down on its surface and in one slick move enveloped my meat-pipe in her mouth.

I didn’t have time to warn her. Her lips were halfway down my shaft when I took my turn. I hoped it wasn’t “gallons” like the prior night. She stayed on it until I finished, then licked her tongue around my little guy’s head as she let it out.

“Whoa,” I said, and staggered to the nearest chair.

She did a little spin-whip with her legs and hopped off the table, then spat into her hand. I was a little disappointed, even if I hadn’t thought I cared if a woman spat or swallowed.

“Careful,” she said, “You might get blood on your nice chair.”

I shrugged, the fresh claw-marks burning a bit, but I was too spent to care. “It’s all wood. It’ll wipe off.”

She put her dry hand on my shoulder and sat on my lap.

“Uh...” I couldn’t finish the question. What’s a good way to ask a girl what she’s about to do with your jizz?

I found out soon enough. She reached around before I could recoil and smeared it on my back.

“Eww.” Rough I could handle. Twisted was okay, I guess, but Tanna seemed to get off on rubbing my spunk on me. I was too much of a gentleman to kick her off my lap...and she had technically just given me a blow job.

“Here,” she said as she hopped off, the growl completely gone from her voice and replaced with...curiosity? “Get up and turn around.”

I shrugged again and did it. She was out of stuff to rub on me.

“Huh. It’s you.”

I looked over my shoulder at her. “What’s me?”

“Scratches are gone,” she said. “And I got you good. Thanks for not smacking me for doing that, be-tee-dubs. You can look in the mirror if you want.”

I didn’t have to. My back didn’t hurt anymore.

“So,” she said, before I had a chance to get freaked out. “What do you think about going into business with someone you fuck?”