The Next Valentine’s Day
“I’m ready for my close up, Mr. DeMille,” said Monica haughtily leaning against the balustrade looking nothing like Gloria Swanson for whom she supposedly emulated. For one she was too tall and lithe, not the petite silent movie star. Secondly she was way too young. And, perhaps most importantly, she dressed in a sheer flowing robe that did little to conceal her pert tits and the small nipples that topped them and the dark hair that crowned her pussy. But somehow she still expressed the insanity and the excitement and the intensity of that formidable final shot of Sunset Boulevard. Monica could act.
And she did for the 16mm Bolex movie camera whirring in my hand.
I couldn’t pull back to reveal a throng of cops and journalists there for her arrest for murder. I didn’t have any extras. All I had was the cool balustrade, provided by the house of her parents in the Hamptons. They had the perfect timing to be vacationing in the heat of the Bahamas.
I briefly glanced at my best friend from high school clutching the boom mic to capture her words and the hard-on I could see pressing out his pants. I could relate.
But I had to hold the focus as her face filled the frame. Another shot would hopefully match it, one shot by Jill manning my camera, because when it pulled back, I would be in the scene floating on my back in a pool seemingly dead except for the erection I sported like a periscope. Monica enclosed that shaft in her mouth, rolling on a condom and squatting down on it before the scene shifted mid fuck to a waterbed.
What was I doing plunging into a woman’s hole not my true love’s? Art. Pornographic art to be specific.
I always wanted to make artistically rendered pornographic film.
We’d been working on it all that week. We’d already shot the swimming pool scene. Monica’s ridiculously wealthy parents had an indoor/outdoor heated pool in their mansion. And the fuck scene on the waterbed as well.
We included Monica and Dave, my old best friend who I had convinced to move to Manhattan for his jeweler and watch fixing career. And my other high school best friend who currently resided on Manhattan Island for his residency at Columbia Medical School. And friends of his, two nurses who shared him and each other and their formidable bodies for my art. Bob always had a knack for attracting women, often without much effort, the lucky bastard. Finding lovely and sexy and intelligent bisexuals to share his bed definitely became a peak for his streak of luck.
“That’s a wrap,” I said. It couldn’t have come soon enough.
“At last,” said my lover, reading my mind, removing the camera from my hand and filling my arms with her taut and shapely little body. I bowed down to take her lips in mine, the passion intensifying when I penetrated her mouth with my tongue, meeting hers for an electrifying battle for occupation, her mouth and mine.
When the embrace broke, she led me to our room, or at least the room we’d been staying in, passing by the embrace of Dave and Monica.
Truth be told, Dave’s decision to move had more to do with meeting Monica during a visit than any hold I might have on him or the perhaps more varied watches to fix compared to those found in Minneapolis. He shared her vision of fun, often drug fueled. Despite that and because unlike me he had two Jewish parents, her parents actually liked him (they never met me). That she stood inches above his short stature didn’t seem to bother either one of them. Jill and I had a far more extreme difference in height, nearly a foot and a half compared to a few inches. Maybe a hidden sexist attitude made me consider their height difference vis a vis their gender somewhat odd. Jill thought it cute.
Speaking of Jill, she led me into a room shuttered from the midday sun with only candlelight dissolving any gloom, albeit with quite a few candles. Their sensuous ever shifting light revealed a bed with turned down covers covered in rose petals. And no, it wasn’t a waterbed, thank god. That was the parents’.
After another lengthy kiss, our hands defining each other’s shape, including her breasts and the heat of her inner thighs and the bulge in my trousers, we separated and stared at each other as we stripped naked. Nothing fancy. There was music, the sensuality of Eno’s Discrete Music, but it wasn’t there for dancing. We simply stood in awe of each other and the revelation of our bodies. Seeing her curvaceous perfection never got old. And for some reason she loved my long lean body, nothing profoundly muscular about it. I had neither a six pack (she nearly did) nor exaggerated pecs, but muscles were there, just lean and subtle. I was actually in the best shape of my life.
Unlike me though, who loved every curve of her, from her broad thick shoulders to her taut, shapely abdomen, to the gently narrowing of her legs from powerful thighs to shapely calves, and definitely her large proud tits capped by impressive areolas and nipples and her full and awesome ass, my lover had a definite preference. Not just the lengthy narrow cock that filled her perfectly, but that entire area, including my butt. “Cute face, cute butt,” she’d tell me, often giving both sets of cheeks a rub.
My cock bouncing free of my tighty whities struck her interest as well as literally as it bounced against her chin when she knelt in front of it. “Naughty thing,” she murmured, restraining it with her petite hand and bringing it to her mouth. Those words ended our silence.
I ended mine with, “Oh fuck.” I loved the way her bee stung lips expanded wide for my glans, sliding across them as they journeyed across the edge and back. Wet heat felt even better when her tongue slathered it with spit and incredible caresses.
She played the head like a veteran musician creating exquisite tones from her instrument before pushing it deeper. The disappearing shaft got the tongue treatment as well. And when she extracted it from her oral depths using suction bringing greater pressure to it, it felt amazing. Like opening up a tight virgin, she kept the ever deepening occupation of her mouth by my cock a breathtakingly slow journey until the tip tapped at the entrance to her throat. She immediately pressed forward as if welcoming the quiet knock by flinging open the door and embracing, swallowing against the gag reflex which caressed my sensitive glans briefly before it passed the entrance and filled that tight space. Best of all, she watched me grimace as I moaned, “Fuck Jill.” Despite her well filled oral cavity and throat, I could see the smile in her eyes as they shone damply in the candlelight. In fact her eyes had never strayed from my face throughout the blow job, watching my ecstasy. She loved seeing it, knowing she gave it to me.
Bobbing into me, her lips meeting the base of my cock, the bottom one pressing into the top edge of my scrotum before withdrawing, three, four, five times she sent my cock deep. Then I felt air as she let herself breathe, her hand replacing her lips rubbing my hard yet spongy glans. Not long recovering, she let my cock once more thrust past her uvula and into her throat. And repeat.
Pleasure weakened me. I could barely stand. My legs widened for support. I never held her head though. It’s one thing she couldn’t get comfortable with.
The fourth time inside her throat she could see my face tighten and feel my cock expand. She kept it deep longer, ruffling her throat muscles across it, sending me into climax.
“Jill,” I roared. “Gonna cum!”
Pulling it out until her lips clasped the helmet edge of my glans, her hands milked my shaft with perfect pressure, milking the sperm right out of my balls. I spurted and she swallowed, gulping down mouthfuls of hot, sticky semen. The smile in her eyes never disappeared. In fact it intensified, filled with pride of accomplishment and glee for giving me such pleasure.
When her strokes became too pleasurable to stand, I eased away. Instead of letting me get too far, she gripped the base of my cock and gently licked the last of my ejaculate oozing from my pee hole as my cock slowly softened. After a final kiss of the head, she began to stand. I helped her and embraced her once on her feet and kissed her, my tongue sharing the burden of my less than flavorful essence.
“Champagne,” I grinned.
“Good idea,” she replied, returning the grin. She sat on the bed as I popped the cork with a waiter’s finesse and poured the Moet et Chandon into two fluted glasses, handing her one.
We tapped glasses. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetheart.”
“Happy Anniversary,” she returned.
We kissed softly, gently, warmly, lovingly, before sipping more of the delicious effervescent liquid.
“Keep drinking, my love,” I said, setting my own glass down after a quick swallow and kneeling between her lovely legs. Licking up her thighs, moving ever closer to her center, when I got there I tasted her own liquid, my favorite intoxicant, better than the best champagne in the world.
“Mmm,” she hummed against the edge of the glass. “Ooh,” she moaned, her pouty lips forming a delicious circle. “Yes,” she purred. “I love your tongue.”
“I love yours too,” I told her, a brief reprieve from my caresses which I made up for by intensifying them. I had been lapping up her essence from bottom to top, teasing at the end by skipping past her rigid nub. The next stroke went deeper and came out high and flat rubbing directly across that impressive clit.
“Oh fuck Joe,” she moaned.
Strokes quickened and shortened and stayed longer at her clit until my lips captured it and the tip carved letters into it. I watched her climb inexorably to ecstasy, but I eased back just in time.
“Joe,” she scolded breathlessly.
I grinned mischievously and brought my tongue further south than before, circling her bottom hole and penetrating it. Not to let her clit suffer neglect too long, I coated fingers with her natural lubricant and began to rub it.
She had been resistant to anal pleasure, but over time, after several jousts of my tongue at that spot, she started giving into it. “Naughty Boy,” she’d say, but it would sound more and more like a moan. It didn’t hurt that I tended to fill all her orifices, including a good finger fucking of her ass, when she edged towards and plummeted into orgasms. Maybe a bit of behavioral modification that, but she learned it added just that much more intensity to it.
My tongue kept on stabbing her crinkled hole while my thumb took over the clit rubbing and my finger went spelunking into her deep wet cave searching and finding the textured surface of her g-spot and began its massage. I gradually amped up the speed and the pressure, rolling her clit between rubbings until I watched her flush and shake, her lips whistling in their tense circle as they let out deeper breaths until she went rigid, eyes wide, body shivering, and I felt the muscles of the two orifices I filled spasm around my fingers and tongue. Removing my tongue, I used it to lap up the sweet flow of orgasmic liquid she let loose, swallowing as it filled my mouth.
“So good,” she purred, pulling me up with hands at my underarms. She tasted herself in my mouth and on my cheeks as I helped slide us onto the center of the bed, the rose pedals somehow aiding the effort.
“Joe,” she murmured as I lay over her, her hand grasping my completely revived cock and blindly leading the glans to her wide open pussy.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I said, adding a kiss as I leaned on my elbows, my hands turned in to caress both breasts and their rigid nipples.
“Ooh,” she groaned when my glans entered her pussy, still reverberating quietly from her orgasm. “I brought some lubricant.”
“Why…Oh,” I said, realizing her intent. “You sure?”
“Unh-hunh. I…even…I used an enema.”
“Naughty girl,” I kissed her, our moans muted by each other’s mouths as I sank all the way in.
“It’s ’cause…you’re a…naughty…boy,” she muttered as I began slow lengthy strokes. “Oh god you feel so good. Such a naughty…boy…wanting to…fuck…my dirty hole.”
“Not so dirty,” I reminded her. She chuckled within her moan.
“Fuck me good, Joe. Squeeze my titties. Make me cum. You’ll…get your reward.”
“This is my reward, my love. Loving you. Feeling you love me. It’s everything I want and everything I need.”
“Me too, Joe. I love you Joe. Go harder Joe. Fuck me harder. Yes. Suck my nipples. Bite them. Oh fuck. So fucking good. Harder Joe. Harder. Fuck me. Fuck…me!”
I pounded into her climax as she writhed in ecstasy beneath me. It always elongated them when I did, and this one, which came quicker than I expected, seemed bigger and lasted longer than any I had ever experienced with her.
I slowed as her orgasm calmed. “In the bedside table drawer,” she finally said, her breath not quite caught so I barely heard her. But I did hear and I stretched out to the drawer, keeping my cock inside her. I felt a tube of lubricant and something else. I pulled both out.
“A vibrator?” I chuckled. “Who’s naughty now?”
“Meet Little Joe,” she said. I don’t know if it was remnants of her orgasm, but it seemed her blush got deeper. “All that porno we watched, all that double penetration. It looked…interesting.”
“It’s cute,” I said of the narrow pink machine. “No dildo?”
She shook her head. “Too embarrassed. It was hard enough buying the vibrator.”
I pulled my cock from her slippery sheathe and added KY to the coating of female lubrication. “If you like this, we’ll go buy one.”
“Okay,” she smiled.
I chuckled. “You’d feel more comfortable if we bought a dildo together?”
“You’re my naughty boy,” she shrugged. “Slick up my poop chute, baby.” She took over slicking my cock with her expert hands.
Adding fingers opened up the small crinkled hole. Her moans during my work made me hopeful. But it wasn’t just my anal fucking fingers that brought them. We had shifted our bodies so that I could lap at her hot petals and the rigid stamen like pin above them.
She looked distended enough for my glans. My extremes in size luckily had to do with length rather than width at least on this occasion. Actually in all occasions for all openings my cock could penetrate since she sported a narrow passage for her pussy and I didn’t expand her throat too much when she let me in there.
Climbing between her thighs, I brought them back against her torso and added a pillow under her ass to line her up perfectly. We could have done it doggy style, but I needed to watch her expressions. I felt less concern when she smiled calmly at me and when she took hold of my cock to lead it to her last virginal hole. “I dreamed of this,” she explained. “It was like visualizing it. It made me hot. It made me ready. Press in.”
I did and through the tight sphincter.
“Fuck,” she growled.
“Too much?” I asked her.
“Almost,” she replied with a grunt. “Go slow. Oh fuck.”
I felt her sphincter tremble around my shaft. But it never really tensed up completely. I kept a slow descent into her bowels, inching in before withdrawing, each motion becoming longer.
“Shit,” she said once half of my shaft had conquered her narrow space.
“Too much?” I asked again.
Shaking her head, she suggested, “More lubricant?”
I nodded and pulled almost out, seeing the edges of my glans stretch her sphincter once more.
“Push in,” she growled.
I could tell the stretch bordered on pain and made quick work of squeezing a couple tablespoons of lubricant onto the top half of my shaft and her expanded asshole before pushing in. “Keep pushing,” she muttered. “Keep going. Don’t stop. Fuck. It’s like a fucking brick inside me. Keep going.”
“I’m all the way in,” I told her. She opened her eyes wide. We shared a chuckle, hers ruffled by the intensity of the moment. I did press a little deeper when I leaned in and kissed her. “Mmm,” she moaned into my mouth. When I threatened to separate lips from hers she pulled my head against her. Our tongues danced together as her nose brought her deep breaths in and out.
“Okay. Fuck my ass,” she finally said. “Ooh,” she moaned during the long slow withdrawal. “Oh,” she groaned when I reversed course just as slowly. “Fuck,” she growled when I reached bottom. “You’re hitting something. Go a little faster. Yes,” she added when I again reached the end. I felt the rub too. I decided to stay deep with only a couple inches of retreat before powering into her. “Yes,” she moaned at each impact.
When I saw her hands take hold of her nipples and pull them from her body, I decided she liked being anally fucked. I could add to that and grabbed the pink vibrator, turning it on low after coating it with KY. “Yes,” she gasped when the buzzing device slid against her clit. “Harder,” she growled.
I lengthened and sped up my thrusts, bouncing against that place of resistance that seemed to thrill her. “Harder,” she demanded, twisting her nipples as she pulled on them. “Harder,” she gasped.
I pounded into her as hard as I ever pounded into her pussy, squeezing KY on my shaft when it emerged just in case. Even slickened, her passage kept a tight hold. And as her face began to tighten and blush signaling approaching climax, I turned on her vibrator to highest vibration. I felt her own natural vibrations surrounding my shaft at her sphincter. She undulated beneath me in a chaotic pattern that encouraged even more friction for my thrusts.
It ended suddenly as I rammed her one last time, her whole body, both inside and out, shivering in ecstasy. Her pussy actually became a fountain of girl cum. “Fuck!” she yelled, the word tight and elongated. I erupted inside her, her exquisite climax triggering mine.
Then she became inert except for her vibrating sphincter. I lifted the vibrator from her clit and gazed at the beauty of her total bliss. Calm had replaced the tightened face, and a smile quietly curved her lips even though she had lost consciousness. I kissed those gentle, bee stung lips with softness that carried an intensity of love somehow within it.
“Mmm,” she purred, awakening, her arms slowly lifting to embrace me and continue the kiss keeping it soft and gentle and loving.
“So you like getting fucked in the ass?” I asked her, my face inches from hers as we gazed into each other’s eyes.
“It seems so, Naughty Boy. Are you pleased?”
“Pleasing you pleases me,” I told her.
“Same here,” she responded, adding another lengthy kiss as punctuation. It broke when my flaccid penis slipped out of her asshole with quite a lot of semen following. “Ooh,” she purred.
“Bath?’ I offered.
“Mmm,” she nodded. I lifted off her and onto my feet. She had a harder time getting to hers.
She squeaked when I cradled her in my arms, only her torpid condition keeping it quiet.
Kissing her grin before negotiating our way into the hallway, her hand the only free one to open the door, I asked her, “You sore?”
“Some. But it was worth it. And Joe?”
“When it happens again, after a day or two of recovery, let’s find us a nice fat dildo to bring me the full affect.”
I chuckled. “Of course, my love. Anything you desire.”
“I desire you, my naughty boy. Now put me down.” We had reached the bathroom.
As I measured the heat of the water pouring from the silver faucet, she looked for and found bath oil and bath salts and added them to the slowly filling tub. We sat on the commode, her in my lap, my hand gently dancing over her lovely tits and nipples distractedly.
“Are you happy?” I asked her.
“Of course, silly boy,” she answered kissing my cheek. “Never happier.”
“Even though I’ve corrupted you with my dirty schemes?”
She giggled. “I knew you were my naughty boy, but didn’t quite imagine how naughty. I also figured you for a poet and waiter lacking in ambition, which I didn’t care about. But when you revealed your ambition it made sense. I knew you made enough tips to get a better apartment, a safer one. If I recall, you weren’t even paying rent then, some kind of rent strike. I just never knew you were saving up to go to NYU film school and to buy film until you explained the college application to me. You had your plan and sacrificed to make it happen.”