Suzanne Portnoy

‘Was that my Christmas present,’ he said. ‘Because if it was, it was fantastic.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It was mine.’

Tom worships my pussy. There are many men that say that they worship pussy but there are only two, perhaps three men I know that do. WHM is one. He could go down on me forever. He likes me to cum on his mouth so he can drink the fluid pouring out of me. The man that fisted me the other week was another. And Tom is the third and perhaps the most worshipful. I like having my pussy worshiped. What woman wouldn’t?

He treats my pussy like a science experiment, opening the lips gently with his fingers and examining me. He gets his face right up close while I’m a running a small vibrator under and over and around my clit. ‘Wow,’ he says in his soft Irish accent. ‘That’s so beautiful.’

I’m sure he says that to all the women he meets but it works for me. I feel his mouth so close to me and that makes me wet. Then his tongue as he runs it around the entrance. I’m even wetter. Then he pulls his face back to examine me some more, his fingers tracing the line from my clit to my slit and then back again. I temporarily stop playing with myself. ‘Don’t stop,’ he says. I can feel my clit engorge, feel all the blood pumping to my cunt.

He watches as this is happening. Then he bends down, taking my clit in his mouth like it is a small penis. It’s so red, so ripe, so ready for him. I want to fuck him so badly.

‘I want to suck your cock,’ I say.

He laughs and stands up. He is not a handsome man. Not ‘my type.’ He’s a big, burly Irish man with a rounded belly from drinking too much beer, a gold chain with a charm of a Saint hanging from his thick neck, a short beard and a mustache. In his late forties, I have no idea of his relationship status, his job, know almost nothing about him. In the past year we have met maybe half a dozen times, maybe more. I have lost count of when we first met each other and how many times we have shared a room together. It doesn’t really matter. His cock is enormous. As thick as a baby’s arm, about eight inches long, we have fucked only once. It is one of the idiosyncrasies of our relationship that we don’t have penetrative sex.

He knows my buttons. Often I have said that I don’t come quickly but with Tom I come too quickly.

He stands up and quickly I put his thick cock in my mouth. I can only take in the head. My mouth is stretched and for a brief second I feel a vein pulse in the shaft. ‘That looks so good,’ he says. ‘Sit on my face.’

I don’t want to. Not yet. Enjoying the feeling of his cock in my mouth, I temporarily resist his order. Then I pull out and laugh. This is the way it always goes. He knows the routine.

‘Bend over first,’ he says. ‘I want to get the back view.’

I get on all fours and he stands behind me, bending over me and running his cock between my legs. I want him to push into me, stretch me open.

‘That’s beautiful,’ he says.

Then we move into our favourite position. I’m on his face and starring down at his big hard cock. By now I’m dripping wet. I’m so close to coming, I feel my orgasm building up. I stare down at his cock, grabbing it with my hand and rub my clit again his mouth, jerking him off as I come. I moan loudly and he moans in rhythm with me. I look down and see his cum on his chest and I’m temporarily surprised. I hadn’t noticed him come, hadn’t felt the throbbing in his cock; I’m too lost in my own orgasm.

I get up, we hug each other and open the door. I turn right and he turns left.

‘Catch you later,’ I say and then I’m gone.