Gifted Grifter Ch. 13

I watched her revel in the feeling of connection. But, being the guy I am, I was distracted by her lovely tits rising and falling like the tide. I reached out to stroke one's soft, tender flesh as it passed by. Wanting to please me, she again brought her breast right to my mouth, but found that doing so forced her to ride higher such that less of my dick was inside her. That would not do, so she pulled her breast back, kissed me, and drove herself as far down onto my pole as she could go. So instead, I put my hands on her hips, feeling even more the rhythm of her lovemaking. We both just enjoyed the moment, the connection we shared emotionally and physically.

After keeping a constant rhythm for a long time, I noticed her slightly upping the tempo; she may have been happy just feeling me inside her, but the amount of lubrication she was producing indicated that another part of her was getting ready to cum. Her tempo increased to a more normal sexual rhythm, so my arousal now started to build from the level in had been maintaining.

Julie will often make noises during sex, but usually demure ones. On this occasion, however, Julie was really letting herself go, and when she ramped up the pace another minute notch, she started to become vocal. "Mmm. Oh yeah. Oh. Mmmm." She was fucking with intensity now, and every stroke brought an exclamation of delight. She had her hands on my shoulders now to maintain equilibrium, as she had her eyes closed and was arching her back to achieve the most pleasurable angle penetration.

Her tits were now not just bouncing, they were being thrown up and down with force. Her nipples stood straight out pointing at me; I was having a hard time holding on to her hips at the rate she was now going, so instead I grabbed one tit in each hand and held on. Her vocalization got louder again; "Oh. Oh yes. Yes." I could feel her contracting her muscles to close her vagina tighter around my dick. We were both getting really close to climax.

She kept on fucking, and she kept on talking, by now almost screaming. That night she had one of the hardest orgasms I ever saw her have, almost simultaneous with mine. It later struck me that during her orgasm she echoed the words she had said to me earlier, but with completely different meaning, when she called out: "Yes..... Yes.... Oh Honey.... Yes!.... Yes!!!... YES!!!!!"

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The next day I took Julie to Tiffany's on 5th Avenue; I had been fortunate to be able to get a diamond consultation the next day. Julie wore a sky blue strapless top, skinny jeans, and high-heel wedges. The sales woman was probably around 30 and dressed like a businesswoman, except with a lot more jewelry. She started out by showing us the various cuts available in one-carat sizes.

"Can we see something in the 2 to 4 carat range?" I asked.

Julie whispered to me "Honey, I don't need anything that big!"

I whispered back "You're worth it. Besides, you're supposed to spend two months salary on the engagement ring. If I did that based on the last two months, you wouldn't be able to lift your hand."

She grasped my arm in a mixture of excitement and disbelief as the saleswoman returned with samples of setting in the two to five carat range. She unconsciously brushed her hair back over her ear with her left hand before putting her finger out for sizing. Then the saleswoman put a two-carat ring on her dainty finger. The diamond was the best in color and clarity they had, and it shone as if a miniature star was floating above her hand. Julie didn't notice that she held her breath while she looked at it, but I did.

She tried a 3-carat next, but in truth it was too big for her delicate hands; it looked gaudy, and I wanted to go for impressive. The 2.5 carat was better, but there was no question that the two-carat was the right size. We then chose a diamond for her ring from an impressive number of choices and selected our wedding bands. They would make it to order and we could pick it up the next day. She asked how I would pay; I gave her $5,000 cash and put the rest on my gold card.

As the saleswoman went to process the payment, I rejoined Julie, who was window-shopping in the other cases. She was looking with interest at a case full of diamond jewelry whose function I could not immediately discern from their shape. "What are these?" I asked.

"Belly button rings, silly," she teased. Duh. I felt very old for not recognizing them, but they do look very different when they're not in a belly button. And if you're me, you pay a lot more attention to the belly button than to the ring.

But then she started speaking to me in a low but very serious tone. "Listen, you know that if I'm wearing that ring, I'll have about as much luck at getting good tips as you would."

I hadn't thought about that, but surely Julie would know those tendencies in men.

"Some girls get turned on by men with rings, but guys tend to stay away. As much as I'm excited about this, I don't want it to put us out of business," she continued.

"But Julie, I want you to wear my ring at all times," I complained.

"Shhh," she said. "And I want to wear your ring too—but what if I didn't always wear it in such an obvious location?

"Hmm?" Engagement rings went on the left ring finger. Rings that were clearly engagement rings worn on other fingers pretty much meant a failed engagement in my experience; that might have just as negative of an effect as wearing it on the correct finger.

Julie tapped on the glass. "Look at how some of these are made. Don't you think they could make me one that I could clip my rings into it when I didn't want them so visibly on my finger?"

"I get it...when you're fishing for information, you can wear your rings in your navel. When you're not, you can wear them on your finger," I said.

"Exactly," she replied. Yet again, Julie had come up with a brilliant fucking idea.

I called the sales woman over and asked to speak to a jewelry designer. Then Julie explained her idea.

"I have these wonderful rings, but I don't want them to get dirty like when I'm in the kitchen," she said. Oooh, nice cover story, I thought. "but I don't want to just put them down on the counter and not wear them at all. So I was wondering if you could make me a belly button ring that I could clip my rings to when I have to take them off my finger?"

The jewelry designer had never considered the application before, but as he thought about it, it seemed like he had a pretty good idea how to pull it off. "Interesting. We would have to set it up so that the diamond always pointed outward; we wouldn't want a beautiful gem like that pointing at the floor, now would we." He seemed to be talking to himself; he spoke with a slight French accent, although being a jeweler I suspected he was really Belgian. He asked to see Julie's current ring—I wonder if he really needed to see it and measure it like he did, or whether as I suspect he just wanted to see her taut, flat belly. But he did write some stuff down, saying it would take him a few days but he thought he could do it.

"But," he added, "it will not look very pretty if it does not have the rings attached. You would like perhaps something else to attach to it for when the rings are on the finger?"

That was a good idea. I was all set to buy more diamonds, but Julie put the kibosh on that; her engagement ring alone cost nearly 50 grand, she didn't need more diamonds. Instead she suggested a gentle waterfall of cascading silver hearts, each slightly smaller than the other. The designer smiled in appreciation, saying "Madam has excellent taste." Julie liked compliments from me, but she didn't seem to have too much use for the designer's appraisal.

We were told that we could pick up our entire order in two days. We left the jewelry store and Julie couldn't wait to get back home; she wouldn't even let us stop for dinner. As soon as we got inside, Julie got naked, helped my penis penetrate her, and insisted I remain there for the rest of the night.

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The brilliance of Julie's dual-purpose ring idea proved itself just days after we picked them up from Tiffany's. Julie was sitting on a stationary bicycle and had started chatting with a young man on the bike next to her. She quickly ascertained he knew nothing interesting, so she stopped talking to him. He, however, didn't stop talking to her—he had overinterpreted her friendly banter, and was hitting on her—hard. Julie had just sat down at the bike, she didn't feel like she could just get up two minutes later without arousing suspicion. He asked her about where she lived and that sort of thing, eying her up and down like a side of beef on a hook. There was a time when Julie would have been used to that, but she hadn't had to deal with that sort of thing for more than a year, and now she didn't like it. I moved from my elliptical machine to a treadmill in the row behind her, where I could overhear the conversation and step in if I was needed. But I wanted to give Julie a chance to handle the situation on her own.

"So what are you doing for dinner tonight?" he asked.

"I'm busy," Julie replied shortly but not rudely.

"Oh come on, baby, don't play games with me. Let me take you out to dinner, someplace nice. You'll love the view of the city from my condo," he told her.

"I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong impression," Julie replied, "but I'm engaged. I'm not interested in a date."

"Now I know you're lyin'," he told her, "You ain't engaged, you're just playin' hard to get."

"And what makes you say that?" asked Julie. This guy was a piece of work.

"You ain't wearing no ring, and ain't no way a girl what was really engaged wouldn't be wearing her ring," he said smugly.

"Oh, but I AM wearing a ring. See?" She unclipped her ring from her belly button and slipped it back onto her left ring finger, then turned the back of her hand towards him to show it to him. The guy's eyes bugged out and he was suddenly speechless; dumb as he otherwise seemed to be, he must have recognized that her ring probably cost more than his annual salary. Julie saw him freak out and smiled with excessive sweetness, adding, "It's just that it's so big and heavy, I get a sore finger if I always wear it on my hand!"

I decided that we didn't need to fish for any more tips that day; I proudly got off the treadmill and went to claim my beautiful prize. Julie, who had seen me from the corner of her eye and knew I was watching what was going on, surmised that I was coming over to get her and she didn't need to keep pretending she didn't know me.

"How's it coming honey? Almost done?" I asked as I approached.

The guy was still speechless as he glanced towards me.

Julie got off the bike, saying, "Yeah, I can be done. Let's go." We don't usually do this, but the circumstances seemed to call for it: I put my arms around her, carefully ensuring that I touched only bare skin and that he could see. She threw her arms around my neck, reached up for me, and we kissed deeply right there in the fitness room. Some people looked away; some others that had not paid attention to us suddenly did. But the guy who had been harassing Julie—he was nowhere to be seen by the time I finally, regretfully, let go.

We hit the showers and met up again at the front door, but the incident had put Julie in a sucky mood. I should clarify that I don't mean she was in a bad mood—I mean she was in the mood to suck.

Julie was wearing a denim skirt that came to mid-thigh, heels, and a white strapless top with an irregular hemline. There was subtle lining in the bust of her shirt, because the rest of it was semi-sheer—you couldn't clearly see what was there, but you could tell where what was underneath was flesh and where it was denim. We had Mexican food that night, and Julie ordered a strawberry margarita. The whole time we were in the restaurant, she was teasing me with the straw. She would slowly put her lips around the straw, her face giving the appearance that straw was the most pleasurable thing in the world. She would run her lips up and down the top inch or so of the straw, as if she was sucking a dick, purposefully leaving lipstick marks on it. She would reach her tongue out erotically to catch the straw, nestle it on her tongue, then guide the straw into her mouth. I was hard as a rock and having a hard time sitting comfortably, and she knew it. I would look away, watching the TV or something, trying to get my mind to think about something, anything other than envisioning Julie giving me a blowjob. In the corner of my eye I could see she stopped playing with the straw. As soon as I turned my attention back towards her, she would lick her lips and then gently permit the straw to enter her mouth.

Then, to make matters worse, she had ordered taquitos. If you knew Julie like I do, you'd know that, without a doubt, she had ordered them specifically because of their shape. So now she play-acting oral sex not just on her straw, but with her entrée. She didn't want to call too much attention to herself, but she would lay her tongue on the floor of her mouth like a welcome mat every time she took a bite of a taquito, and she would slowly slide it into her mouth, measuring the size of the bite with an expression reminiscent of when she was gauging just how far down her throat my dick could go.

"No, I'm not going to buy you Cannoli for dessert," I said in horny exasperation. She chuckled at the joke and eased up on the teasing; she wasn't going to get her point across any louder and clearer than she already had.

The subway home was moderately crowded. Julie could have sat somewhere else in the car, but she chose to sit on my lap; it wasn't necessary, but it was crowded enough that her doing so wasn't obviously uncalled for. She pushed her butt down onto my staff and wiggled it, slowly, so that you would have had to be staring to see the movement but which my advanced state of erection had not difficulty perceiving.

"Why are you being so cruel?" I said in a tone of voice that made it clear I didn't mean it.

Julie flipped her lustrous hair over my shoulder and bent over to whisper directly into my ear "It would only be cruel if I didn't follow through." Then she pulled back and flashed her lovely blue eyes at me with an expression that clearly indicated she had every intention of following through as soon as we got home.

The subway ride felt like it took forever after that. When finally we got back to the hotel I didn't have time to say a word and Julie was on me. I closed the door; when I turned to walk in Julie was right there in my face, pushing me back against the door. She kissed me, but pulled out in order to lick my lips with her tongue. The whole time she was busily unzipping me. When my pecker was free, she dropped to her knees, working me with her hands. She kissed my tip, followed by more kisses down the side. She then looked up at my face, made a soft warm bed with her tongue, and laid my tip on it. She sucked in the first couple inches, but then released me again, running her tongue down the bottom of my dick instead. My dick was straining at the roots, reaching for her gentle throat, but she had me literally pinned against the wall (I could have gotten away, but I'd have had to walk away from my blowjob to do it—I don't think so) and was in control.

She ran her tongue in circles around my tip, teasing me more. Gripping me with her right hand, she slowly ran her tongue all the way down the underside of my dick, right down to my balls, where she proceeded to kiss and lick my scrotum while jerking me off with her hand. It felt good, but not as good as it was going to feel when Julie started to really suck me. I felt her lick her way back up, kiss the tip, slip just the tip between her lips, then lick it some more. It was like she was experimenting to see how aroused she could get me with her tongue, but without sucking. At this point, I just wanted to feel my dick engulfed inside of any one of her soft, warm openings. I had my eyes closed and was almost wincing at all the stimulation, yet wishing I could penetrate her somewhere.

I think Julie could tell I was getting desperate for a suck. She had had her fun, now, as she said, it was time to follow through. She made her tongue into a soft bed, cradled my cock on it, the closed her mouth around the top half of my dick. Ahhh...that soft warmth, that gentle but focused pressure...I wasn't all the way in yet, but THIS was what I was waiting for. In her mouth, Julie twisted her tongue around, stroking my dick. Pressing her lips together, she slipped me out of her mouth, then took me back in, a little bit further this time. Then just like that, like someone flipped a switch, Julie started really sucking. She moved my dick in and out of her mouth at a steady rhythm, pressing with her lips, stroking with her tongue. I leaned back, hands flat against the door, eyes closed, soaking in the sucking.

Julie spit me out and ran her tongue along my tip again; I opened my eyes to look at her. She was looking up at me, waiting for me to make eye contact—and I could see she had a gleam in her eye. She was up to something, but what could she be...suddenly, she looked away from me, squarely at my dick, and swallowed me as far as she could. One second I had nine inches of dick, the next second three-fourths of it disappeared into her mouth. She caressed me inside of her mouth, slipped me out, then slipped me back in, angling her neck so that even more of my dick went in. The thought occurred to me that she was attempting to deep-throat me whole. My butt felt like it puckered up, trying to push my dick further into that wonderful space. She didn't look up at me at all; she was transfixed on my dick, determined to get it all in. She slipped me out, then opened wide and slid me down, down, down, until her face made contact with my belly. I could feel past the soft, open space of her mouth and could feel the narrowing of her throat surround the tip of my dick. It was amazing. I closed my eyes, and my knees started to get weak from how good it felt. Satisfied, she slipped me back out, sucked my lightly, and looked up at me with a look of accomplishment.

"Oh my god..." is all I could say.

Satisfied, she now changed her approach. She pursed her lips, stroked with her tongue, and sucked me with a steady cadence. She didn't take all of me in anymore, but she used her thumb and forefinger to make a circle to stroke me in synch with her sucking. Before she was playing with me; now she was sucking me off.

Julie looked up at me again, sucking, and while she did she pulled her strapless top down off of her breasts, down her torso and jammed it down like it was a belt for her skirt. It's funny, she had me going so much with her blow job that I hadn't realized that I hadn't even touched her tits yet. With her inviting mammaries now out in the open and bouncing in response to Julie's oral efforts, I made up for lost time. I held them, tweaking the nipples to get them fully erect, and just holding them and feeling them respond to her bobbing neck.

I was building towards orgasm; holding her breasts accelerated the process. She tried to swallow me whole again three or four times, then resumed sucking with the cadence that builds to climax. Without thinking, I thrust my hips forward slightly on the downstroke; Julie knew that I was getting close from that, and kicked her efforts up a notch.

I managed to spit out "I'm going to cum..." Julie suddenly stroked me quickly and firmly with her hand while caressing the tip with her tongue, inside her mouth. With both types of stimulation applied simultaneously, I felt my nuts tighten up. I grasped her breasts, winced, and pushed forward with my hips. Julie closed her mouth around me to contain the inevitable explosions. My dick twitched once, twice, three times, shooting loads of semen down her throat. A slight pause, a few smaller twitches, and I was empty.