Acting on a further impulse, I separated our faces slightly. I stared into stunning blue eyes. “You are perfect,” I said, and separated further, but only so that I could kiss her neck. Then her breasts, swirling my tongue around each delicious brown areola in turn. A part of my brain noted in passing that there was no trace of surgical scars – this flesh, this glorious flesh, was all natural. Then down to her stomach. My tongue probed the indent of her navel, and she gave a little giggle.
Then I moved further, and there it was, inches from my eyes, framed against the gentle pink valley of her cleavage. I thought I would hesitate, but I did not. My lips enveloped the bulbous end, my tongue swirled the skin around the glans, and I was rewarded with a high, long, feminine groan.
I was actually doing it! I was sucking a cock!
I had asked myself about my sexuality. Of course I had. If you haven’t, ever, then I have sour news for you, pal: you are repressing something. Back when I was a teenager, I had forced myself to honestly consider the question. And especially later, when I made gay friends, and went to gay clubs with them, and got propositioned by guys. A couple of times I had even reciprocated a bit, just to try it out, although I had never taken it further than a long kiss and embrace.
I had thought about male bodies, and female bodies, pressed myself against each, and I knew which of them turned me on. Sexuality isn’t a matter of choice; I am what I am, and what I am is pretty much straight.
Of course, I don’t believe people are 100% straight. Or at least, very few people. It’s a spectrum. It takes a real super-hetero not to look at the hunks of the day – for my generation, it was the likes of Brad Pitt and George Clooney – and feel a tingle that is more than just a recognition of objective beauty. But I thought of myself as maybe 90% or 95%, and confident enough about it not to feel challenged or threatened by other people expressing their own sexuality in front of me.
Well, let me tell you, as a result of that night, I have moved myself along the spectrum a few pegs. Notches. You know what I mean.
There was no doubt, I was fully sexually aroused by this situation and this woman (or whatever she was). And it was not ‘despite’ her girl-cock. It was because, just like it was because of her womanly hips, and slim waist, and round breasts, and long golden hair, and great big blue eyes, and the feminine scent that wafted about her.
She shifted back a bit, and I followed her, latching back onto that proud phallus like a baby seeking its mother’s nipple. She had her legs bent at the knees, trailing off the side of the bed, and sat up with her tits gyrating just above my head, but she turned to lie on her side, swinging her legs up to the other side. Her penis rotated in my mouth.
She kept moving back, inch by inch, and I followed her, resting my hands on the bed, then my knees. I had to stay close to this beautiful creature and her aura of raging eroticism.
Then suddenly she span, pivoting around the unmoving centre of my suckling mouth on her erect shaft. Grabbing at my legs, she pulled herself forward, and enveloped my own cock-head in her own pink, pouting, kissable lips. The sensation was amazing. Before I had even realized it, we were 69ing! Lying on our sides, each with our heads bobbing on each other’s penises.
I can’t say I have a great deal of experience in licking pussy, although I am no novice either. I have always tried to give as much pleasure as I would ask for, but I am not a mind-reader, and always feared that I was not doing it in quite the way she would have wanted.
With Hermy, it was different. She had a cock and balls, just like I did. I know what gets me off, so I just had to reproduce that on her, and surely it would have the same effect, right?
It did, judging by the sounds she was making. As I alternated between bobbing on the end of her cock and trying to open my throat to take her deep inside, she kept up a constant stream of porn-star sighs, gasps and moans. When she groaned in particular, the rumble vibrated her throat, giving my penis the most incredible sensations.
And here’s a funny thing: her dick tasted just like a pussy! Maybe all dicks do – I don’t have the experience to know. Perhaps all our secretions and pheromones are the same, whether we are male or female… or anything in between. All I know is that it was wonderful.
We lay there for some minutes, revelling in each other’s bodies – my hands around her slender waist, my head between her smooth, toned legs, suckling on her rigid, womanly-tasting penis.
Then, as I was starting to build to an incredible climax, she rolled over to rest on top of me and swung her leg over. Surprised, I heard the pop as her schlong left the pursing seal of my lips. Now she was resting beside me. She moved over to hold my face in her hands, and kissed me on the lips. Her eyes looked deep into mine, shining with pure sincerity and devotion. And then she said something that made my heart cartwheel.
“I want you inside me.”
Those five words, in her high, girlish voice. I had not known until just now, but those were the five words that I wanted to hear most in the world.
But there was a problem. “I can’t,” I said. You don’t have… the equipment, you know? I’ve just been down there, I saw!”
She smiled a lascivious smile, and hugged me. Then she whispered into my ear, “I have another hole.”
Was she saying what I thought? I leaned back, and looked into her face again. She took my hand, and put it between her legs. Singling out my middle finger, she brought it down, past her hanging girl-scrotum, to the pale brown pucker of her butthole. She nodded, giving me a stunning, cheeky smile.
The surprised delight must have shown on her face, because she giggled, then hurried excitedly out of bed to the bathroom.
This was incredible! The most beautiful woman I had ever seen – possibly the most beautiful woman ever to have existed – was going to let me have anal sex with her. She wanted me to! She had asked me to!
She came back, holding a bottle of some clear liquid. In her excitement, her step had a bounce to it that had both her breasts and cock jiggling mesmerizingly.
I looked at the bottle. “Lube?” I asked.
She nodded, that cheeky smile showing again.
“You carry a bottle of lube with you when you travel?”
She looked at me reproachfully, but with a teasing smile underlying it that made clear she was joking. “You carry a couple of condoms in your wallet all the time, right?”
I smiled wryly and nodded.
“So do I?” she whispered again. “Lube and condoms both. We live in hope. And I am so glad I do. Now lie on your back.”
I did as I was told.
First she squirted out a generous dollop of lubricant into her palm, and applied it to my cock. The initial coolness soon changed as the gel was warmed between her hand and my penis. If it had softened at all in her absence, her gentle ministrations restored it to steel-rod rigidity. Just her soft hand lightly polishing my genitals was bliss in itself, but that paled into insignificance when I knew what was to come.