Claudia

Be all that as it may, the contrast was startling. First, her hair wasup, which, though rare, was not a first; she had worn it up before at work, but it was not stylishly up, just hastily pinned (or tied) up out of the way with some combination of fasteners I could not identify. She had on a pair of (not-unsexy) horn-rimmed glasses that I'd never seen before. In fact I'd never seen her in glasses at all and had no inkling that her vision was corrected. She didn't have a smidge of make-up on and it radically altered her facial features in unexpected ways. She was still cute, don't get me wrong, but her unadorned features were raw, less sensual, more girlish and strangely more...moreMexicansomehow.

The leather jacket was the only item of apparel in common between what she'd had on at work and her current ensemble. Beneath the jacket now was one of those ambiguous, loungey outfits women sometimes wear--soft cottony pastel material, matching top and bottom, drawstring ties--that could be either gym clothes or pajamas (I decided these were pajamas). Finally, she was wearing flat-soled sneakers which considerably reduced her apparent height. I was towering over her, thinking how strange it was I'd never noticed that she'd been wearing heels at the office literally every day.

I processed it all as quickly as I could and invited her in. "Please have a seat," I gestured to the couch. "Can I take your jacket? Would you like some wine?"

"I'll take a glass," she said, handing me her jacket, which I hung neatly on a chair back.

When I'd settled in beside her on the couch we made what I remember thinking was the most preposterously awkward small talk I had ever participated in, not one word of which I remember today. But if I had said, for example, "that's an interesting outfit you're wearing. What is that, like a poly-cotton blend?" it couldn't have been more absurd, banal, and inappropriate to the situation. That was the quality of material I was giving the poor girl after she drove all the way over in the middle of a cold night.

I was aware at the time how ridiculous I sounded but I couldn't seem to do anything about it. I was babbling compulsively, feeling trapped in my own stupid, nervous voice, and I remember the expression that crossed her face in the moment before she decided to rescue me. She removed her glasses and set them along with her wine glass on the coffee table in front of her, let down her hair, reached over and took my glass out of my hand and set it beside hers, and--even at this I was still talking, mind you--leaned in and interrupted me by shoving her tongue in my mouth.

Now it was on. Like a thunderclap everything changed from embarrassing inanity to raw, urgent, breathless passion. We were both breathing deeply, heavily, not so much kissing as smashing our faces into one another; once we even bumped teeth hard enough to send a momentary shooting pain through my head, but even then we didn't slow.

I reached up and found the zipper to her PJ-hoodie, already half unzipped, and started tugging it down. Immediately she responded in kind, unbuttoning my shirt, and all at once we were frantically undressing one another, matching garment for garment: off went her PJ top, away with my button shirt. The kissing was interrupted long enough for her to pull my undershirt up over my head and cast it to the floor. She wasn't wearing a bra--she had a spaghetti-strap cami that was apparently part of her PJ-ensemble. She helpfully raised her arms as I lifted it off of her and dropped it to the floor. Here the pace of the undressing paused as I took in the beauty of her lovely voluptuous breasts. Situated atop that big soft belly they were large, probably DD, light brown oblong masses with delicate, sienna colored nipples ringed by areoles the circumference of a wine glass.

I began nibbling her earlobe, darting my tongue in and out of her ear, nuzzling luscious black hair that bore the remnants of her morning's shampoo, mixed with the day's nicotine and a faintly scalpy odor of bedtime. I began kissing down her neck to her collarbone, over to her shoulder which I massaged with one hand, back across and down the center of her sternum, and finally over to her amazing left breast, from where, as I took her nipple gingerly into my mouth, I could detect the faint, salty-uric odor of her armpit. As I became aware of that aroma, and as her nipple began to swell inside my mouth, I slid my right hand up into her left armpit. I had never done anything like that before, but in the moment I wanted nothing more than to experience a hot, wet, hairy prelude to what awaited below; I even longed to experience her raw body funk on me. I was delicate so as not to tickle, but still she squirmed and let go a solitary giggle as her armpit tightened reflexively, squeezing my hand. Mercifully she did not let self-consciousness about her sweat get stop me; she let my hand remain in her (alas, shaven) armpit.

I swirled my tongue around her fast engorging nipple and then plunged it into my mouth and sucked on it hard, making her gasp. After attending to her right breast as well, I began my favorite part of the journey, slowing and working my way down inch by inch over those acres of belly, gently and lovingly kissing and caressing her mighty rolls. On the sensuous landscape of her warm tummy I paused at the valley of her navel to drop my tongue in, eliciting another squirmy giggle.

When I reached the bottom of her belly I tugged the drawstring of her pajama bottoms with my teeth and the knot fell loose. All the while I was easing my hand up her inner thigh toward the heat of her pubic triangle. With the other hand I tugged at the elastic waistband and got a waft of tangy hormonal aroma rising up from her pussy. Soon I was on my knees beside the couch and moved as though to reach around behind her and pull down her pajama pants. She inferred, correctly, that I wanted to go down on her and said: "Uh-uh. I'm doing you first."

"How come?"

"Ladies first, that's the rule."

"No." I said. You're not doing me at all. I won't make it."

"You'll just have to go twice then. I don't make the rules."

"Fuck that," I said with not unfriendly firmness and authority, standing up. "I'm making a new rule right now. I'm gonna count to five and I want you in that bedroom, naked, supine and spread wide with your ass on the edge of the bed...or else. One."

She gaped at me in bright-eyed amused surprise, never having heard me affect manly assertiveness in this way and apparently enjoying it.

"Two," I continued. And that was all it took. She sprang up from the sofa and mock-sprinted toward the bedroom, hooking her thumbs into panties and PJ bottoms together, deftly shoving them down and stepping out of them so that the last thing I saw as she disappeared through the bedroom door was her big fat bouncing ass.

I followed her into the bedroom, dropping my pants and underwear en route, and she had followed my instructions to the letter. I wasted no time, dropping to my knees on the floor at the foot of the bed and lowering my face between those big luscious thighs and deeply inhaling her rich womanly fragrance. She helpfully pulled up her belly and pubic rolls to better expose the target and I promptly attacked her pussy, shoving my nose deep past her inner lips and coating my face with her fluids before thrusting my tongue in and out. My movements were lurching, erratic; I was mouth-fucking her pussy with the same frenzied, passionate abandon of our kissing on the couch before. There was no grace, no technique--just raw animal energy as, grunting and snarling, I feasted hungrily on her hole, my nose awash in her acrid secretions and nuzzling her scratchy pubic hair. By turns sucking, licking, nibbling and face-fucking, I was like a person possessed.

And she responded instantly. No sooner was I down on her than she gasped and moaned loudly, crying "Oh my god!" not in the perfunctory sex-talk way you always hear but in a note of authentic surprise; the emphasis was on the last word: "Oh mygod!" I wrapped my arms around the undersides of her massive thighs and pulled her enormous body closer in one difficult jerk and, still hugging her thighs, I began sucking on her clit causing her to buck and thrust. Then I started lapping her hooded unami-sour button in a repeating and gradually increasing rhythm. I lapped relentlessly, picking up the pace as she grabbed my hair, pulling my face into her pubic hair, and moaned, over and over, in time with each stroke and in a loud full timbre that probably woke my neighbors, "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!"

Then her breathing changed. She became silent for moment and squeaked out one last solitary "Oh!" but in a smaller voice this time, as though her glottis were tightening. Then came a two or three more violent, unannounced upward thrusts of her pelvis, and she froze and began a low, continuous throaty moan that rose in intonation: "OooooooooooooooOOOOOOOHH!" As her breathing changed I felt mine begin to change as well. I felt flushed as a nervy tingle passed through my upper body in a wave.

I could tell she was on the verge and I took my cue, leaving her clitoris to let her slide downhill under her own momentum, careering like a juggernaut toward the ocean of orgasm that awaited her below. She was seconds away from coming and I sprung my trap, first circling and then shoving my tongue as deep as I could into her musky brown butthole, my nose smothered in her slobbery wet gash.

The pulsations came immediately and in powerful waves as she would seize, twitch, buck, writhe and seize again, and in my desperate struggle to remain attached, to keep my mouth lodged in her anus, I had to hold on with all my might. But then something changed. It was as though the shockwaves of pleasure that were rippling through her massive frame were entering me through my face, planted there at the epicenter of the storm amid her rhythmically contracting buttocks and sphincter, and suddenly the tingle I had felt in my upper body intensified and spread through me in ecstatic waves and then--could it be?!--a hot storm was gathering behind my balls. My breathing became coarse and jagged, my heart raced, my muscles started to seize. I was going to come!

I pushed away from her to breathe and sank backward, buttocks on my heels and then, grasping her knees for stability, I convulsed with a paralyzing, full-body paroxysm of painful pleasure and involuntarily thrust forward and upward into the air an instant before the first modest spurt spattered the mattress in front of me, followed by the second and third, both of which described arcs three feet into the air and came to light in spatters of varying size on belly, mons, thighs, knees, and bed sheets. There were a few more ropes left in me but none of them cleared the lip of the mattress after those two.

I began to regain control of my motor functions and I slumped forward, laying my sweaty face on the big jiggly pillow of her enormous belly, too spent to care when I realized I had lain my head into a pool of my own cum.

As I lay there catching my breath I was entranced and comforted by the gentle rise and fall of my human pillow, as she too made her gradual descent to a normal breathing rhythm. Then her belly started to shake unexpectedly in what it took me a moment to discern was laughter. It gradually grew louder and in a minute she was laughing out loud in a joyous, full-throated way.

I pulled my face off her tummy and looked up at her. "What's this? What's funny?"

"I sure can pick 'em!" More laughter.

I was confused. "What? Pick what, what do you mean?"

"Ever since you came to our team I been knowing I wanted to chat you up but I didn't know why. But there's some little part of my subconscious that had the whole thing worked out, that, like, here's a guy who don't even have no style--"

"Well, now, wait a minute--"

"Wait! Don't even have no style, just gonna grind his face in your cat like a maddog and he'll take you from zero to like seven on the Richter in--what?--five minutes all from the sheer power of his enthusiasm. I mean: ¬¬Damn!"

"No style? Really? None? Because I kind of thought I--"

"And then he's gonna bust, like, asympathy nut? Like allvicariousan' shit? That's why I had to chat you up, just didn't know that was why."

"I-I'm sorry, I've never had a premature ejaculation before, I don't know what--"

"Fool, bite your tongue, can't you I'm trying to compliment you here! That wasnotpremature! That was the best timed nut ever. But take that back about biting your tongue though. In fact, go out and get a million-dollar Lloyd's policy on your tongue 'case you bite it accidentally."

I laid my face back down on her belly, smiling now. "Dry spell's over," I mumbled to myself.

"What was that?"

"Oh, uh, nothing, really, just talking to myself."

"What did you say though?

"Just, no, just that I haven't done this in a while. On the romantic front I've been going through a bit of a, well, a really long dry spell."

"Boy, your dry spell just got a whole lot wetter."

** *