Gratitude

With Cyndi still impaled on my cock, I walked us towards the shallow end of the pool. I gently laid her on the steps, and she started twisting and pushing as if she expected me to start fucking her again right there.

"DAMN, Cyn, we just finished!!"

"I'm sorry, Mike. Ever since I found out it was you who saved me, I look at you and all I want is you buried in my pussy." She held me close and kissed me on my neck, but allowed me to withdraw my cock. "Not for long, though, baby, okay?"

I sighed. "Soon as I can get it up again."

We dressed, dried off and headed back to our room. The bed felt cool and comfortable as we climbed back in. Cyndi held me close and threw a leg over me, occasionally kissing or licking my neck, as we drifted off to sleep.

I awoke a few hours later, sunlight filtering in through the curtains. Cyndi was in the exact same position she had been. She was also awake, but I saw tears on her face. She looked right at me, and despite the tears, she was smiling broadly.

"Why, Mike? Why?"

"Why what, Cyn?"

"Why did this happen? Why did you save me? Why did I fall in love with you so fast? Why is it that my pussy gets soaking wet if I even just think about you?"

"The one question is easy – because I was closest, and nobody else knew you were in trouble. For the rest, it's like asking how the universe was created. Why sunsets look so pretty. Why birds fly. Don't ask. Just be happy that you're here. Do you think I want to know why such a beautiful woman desires me so much? I accept it. It just is. It's a wonderful dream that I don't ever want to wake up from."

She started to cry again, then leaned over and gave me one of her deep, tongue-filled kisses. She also reached down to see if my cock was awake. It was, partially, and she grabbed hold and started jerking me off.

"Ooooh, GOD, Cyn, haven't you had enough?"

"Of THIS? Never." She pushed her tongue even deeper into my mouth, then climbed on top of me and pushed her soaking pussy onto me.

"Stick it to me hard, baby!!! You KNOW how much I love your hard cock!!! Let me ride you until you come!! I want to ride your cock FOREVER!!!" She pushed one of her firm, round tits at my face and began bouncing on me with abandon. I sucked hard on her nipple and felt the juicy wetness of her pussy sucking on my manhood as it grew inside her.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, which drove my cock even deeper into her. She put her head back, grinning with lust, and moaned out a satisfied AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH while I held her around the waist and slurped on her tits. She then panted, "Lie back. Play with my tits while I ride you." I gently kneaded and rolled her massive globes with my hands, while she fervently slammed on my cock with her pelvis. "OHYESYESYESYESFUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKME" she cried in rhythm with her thrusts. She gasped out "OOOOOOHHHHHHH" as I felt the hot wetness increase and her muscles tightly enveloped my cock. She slowed her pace only slightly, and I grabbed her ass and pushed her against me. She shook again as another tide of orgasmic bliss overtook her, and screamed "MIIIIIIIIKKKKKKEEEE!!!!" as her bucking rhythm increased again.

I felt the boiling in my loins, pulled her close one last time, and screamed "CYYYYYYYYYYNNNNN!!!!!" as eight massive eruptions filled her love cave. She looked down on me as I finished pumping, leaned in, kissed me wetly on the cheek, then laughed.

"You looked like you were in pain when you came, baby."

"I don't know. I've never seen myself come. That felt pretty gigantic, though. I always come harder when I'm on the bottom." I was out of breath and gasping.

There was an ornate mirror behind the bed, and she caught a glimpse of herself in it. "Oh, my God, I look a MESS." Her hair was unkempt and she was covered in perspiration.

I reached up to her. She let me take her face in my hands and give her a soft kiss on the lips. "If that's what I wake up to and see every morning for the rest of my life, I could live with it. Even as messy as you think you are, I think you're amazingly beautiful." She lay her head on my shoulder again, her body still lying on me. We stayed there, wordlessly, for over an hour.

When we finally rose for the day, it was past noon. We ordered room service – deli sandwiches, fresh carrots and celery, and a 2-liter Diet Coke to split between us. While we waited, we luxuriated together in the deep double bathtub/Jacuzzi. We fired up the whirlpool bath, and as luck would have it, one of the jets was aimed right at Cyndi's clit. She lay in my arms, lost in rapturous bliss, her tongue alive in my mouth, as she came multiple times. At least I got a bit of a rest. When we came out, our meal was on a tray in the living room part of our suite. We munched away on our food, laughing and telling each other jokes.

"More than anything, Cyn, I've gotten to know you as a person these past few days. I'm past the idea of you as someone I had a crush on, or someone I might like to be with. And I'm glad of that. I really am."

"Are you saying that just because I've been throwing myself at you sexually?"

"Oh, please God, no. I felt that way after our phone conversations on Thursday. It's FAR more than just a physical attraction now."

She smiled, moved in close and kissed my forehead. "Sweet, sweet, darling guy. We're just getting started here. I LOVE the person I've discovered you are. Even more than the fact that you saved me. You're a guy I could imagine myself with for the rest of my life."

"Me too, babe, me too." I really had fallen for her.

We dressed – me in a polo, cargo shorts and sandals, her in a short blue Mets t-shirt that showed a considerable portion of her midriff, the skimpiest of cutoffs and wedges that accented her muscular calves. I could see her nipples poking against the shirt, and the outline of her pussy lips as her shorts hugged her. I looked at her as she demurely modeled for me, and said "Do you really think that anybody in our section is going to be paying the slightest bit of attention to the game once they see you in that?"

"I couldn't care less who's looking at me," she sniffed as she waved her head. "I don't often think of myself as beautiful or sexy, but tonight I want to broadcast to the whole world 'Yes, this is me, but only one man gets to see this up close!' I want every fucking guy in the ballpark who sees us to be jealous of you!!!"

How do you think I felt at that moment? Does Leo DiCraprio screaming "I'm the king of the world!" pop into anyone's head?

At 4:30, we received a call from the front desk saying that Lawrence was there with the limo to drive us to Shea Stadium. With a bit of traffic, we arrived at the ballpark at about 5:20. We were ushered through a special entrance, walked to the Stadium Club, and were presented with special bracelets that showed that our meal was pre-paid. We slowly sampled the buffet, which consisted of hand-carved meats, sushi, pasta, and deli. I'm not much of a drinker, but this night I had a screwdriver, while Cynthia had the first of several beers. I was surprised that nobody asked for ID.

We were sitting in a box only a few rows off the Mets' dugout. Before the lineups were posted, Cyndi quickly demonstrated her knowledge of the game by saying "Delgado (the Mets' first baseman) has been on a hot streak of late. Bat him third or fourth tonight?"

"He's been batting third of late. What do you think?"

"Fourth. He'll protect David Wright, who will get better pitches to hit."

In addition to her many other qualities, Cyndi should've been a manager. Delgado batted fourth. He and Wright each hit two home runs. Carlos Beltran hit another. The Mets absolutely destroyed the Giants.

And frequently, Cyndi would stand up, just looking around and, I think, showing off for the crowd. Nobody yelled at her to sit down. She just looked too good.

In the middle of the 6th inning, a video of the news coverage from earlier in the week began playing on the Diamond Vision scoreboard in left field. The stadium announcer intoned, "This past Tuesday, a selfless act of heroism was performed in the Bronx. A woman was drowning in a swimming pool, and a friend of hers dived in, rescued her and revived her with CPR. It warmed the heart of the city to know that there are still some heroes – even modest ones – who walk among us. Let's give a big Shea Stadium welcome to MIKE ALLEN, and the woman he saved, CYNDI LANDAU!!!" A camera then focused in on us as the applause of a packed house surrounded us.

I caught a glimpse of our names up on the right field scoreboard as Cyndi grabbed me, as she had done so many times, and thrust her tongue into my mouth. I was then aware of a presence hovering over us, and I saw the unmistakable # 5 jersey of David Wright, the Mets' star third baseman. He held a wireless microphone. Cyndi and I stood up, but she held me in her embrace as Wright spoke.

"Mike, we as ballplayers are often called heroes. But what you did is the true embodiment of heroism. On behalf of the Mets organization, please accept these two season tickets for the 2007 season as our gift. We hope to see you and Cyndi at the ballpark often, and hope to bring you a world's championship for your great deed." Two photographers snapped away as Wright handed me the tickets and shook my hand as Cyndi, to my right, looked proudly on. He then kissed Cyndi on the cheek and walked back to the field.

All around us, people were slapping me on the back and saying "Way to go!" and "Great job!" and "Saw it on the news. You're the MAN!" Some of the girls were saying to Cyndi, "Nice to have a man like that around. I don't know if MY boyfriend would save me like that!"

I was completely embarrassed by it all.

"Your father's fingerprints are all over this, Cyn."

She grinned broadly. "He told me he was going to do this. He's friends with the Mets' owner, Fred Wilpon. I'm sorry, I don't want you to be self-conscious. I TOLD you Daddy goes overboard." She grabbed my right arm and lay her head on my shoulder as we finished the game.

As we were crossing the Triboro Bridge on our way back into Manhattan, Cyndi, who had been quiet ever since we left the ballpark suddenly gave me a lascivious leer, and picked up the intercom phone.

"Lawrence, how long do you think it's going to take us to get back to the hotel?"

"About 20 minutes, Miss Cynthia."

"Make it 30, please. Drive slowly. If we reach the hotel before that time, circle the block a few times. And put up the partition."

"Yes, Miss Cynthia." The partition came up.

I looked at Cyndi, who was now on her knees in front of me on the floor of the limo, looking up at me with her unmistakable eff-me eyes and licking her lips.

"Right here?"

"Mmm-hmm," she purred.

"Right now?" I asked as she started pulling on my belt.

"Mmm-hmm," she said more insistently as she yanked my zipper open.

I helped her get my shorts and underwear off, and yelped slightly as she suddenly engulfed my semi-erect penis with her warm, wet, wonderful mouth. She wrapped her arms around my legs so I couldn't move. I lay back and closed my eyes, reaching out to stroke her hair as her head quickly bobbed up and down on my cock. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive underside, and as I grew in her mouth she took the shaft and slowly, seductively kneaded it in her left hand. I heard her humming "Mmmm! Mmmmm! Mmmmm!" as she sucked, the wet slurping sound as music from heaven in my ears.

I was trying not to cry out, uncertain of what Lawrence might actually hear, but I did manage a throaty whisper, "Damn, Cyn, you are fucking GOOD!!!" She looked up at me, smiling with her eyes, then went back to attacking my cock with her mouth.

I saw that with her free hand, she was massaging her tits through her shirt and occasionally stroking herself in her crotch area. I could only imagine how wet her pussy must be, and was envisaging what it would be like to screw her on the limo seat, when I suddenly felt the all-consuming rush. My breath came long and deep as I thrust myself forward into Cyndi's mouth and squeezed the first of five long, hard spurts down her throat. She looked up with huge, loving blue eyes as I squirted into her mouth, and managed to swallow it without spilling. As my flow dwindled she continued sucking, trying to drain every drop of semen from my rapidly deflating member.

I saw a box of tissues within arm's reach, and grabbed a few so that we could clean ourselves up. I handed Cyndi a couple so that she could wipe her mouth, and after using them she crawled over to the limo's refrigerator and grabbed two cans of Coke. I wiped my penis and pulled my pants back up. She sat back down next to me and held my arm. Except for swishing the Coke around in her mouth as she drank, it was as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Not that it wasn't great, Cyn, but couldn't that have waited until we got back to the hotel?"

"I told you, the very sight of you makes me horny. It was all I could do to stop myself from doing that at the ballpark. I hope you understand that was just a warm-up for when we get back to the room. Don't plan on being vertical very long."

The intercom crackled. "We have arrived at the hotel, Miss Cynthia and Master Michael."

"Thank you, Lawrence," Cyndi said, demurely, confidently, as if she had done anything but just given a blowjob in the back of a limousine. We walked arm-in-arm to the elevator, and then to our suite.

So it began – a night of passion I thought existed only in dreams – or on Literotica. Cyndi was naked within 45 seconds of locking the door, tearing at me in her mad desire to remove my clothing. Within two minutes of that, she had wrestled me to the floor. For a normally quiet, sheltered, mellow girl, she was much stronger than she looked and impassioned to the extreme. We made love anywhere we could find space: on the floor, on the couch in the living room, on the leather chair in the bedroom where I'd originally planned on sleeping, on the bed, at the foot of the bed, on the bathroom floor, in the tub. I would blast shot after shot of cum into her, and fifteen minutes later she would be jerking me off or sucking on me, trying to get me hard again. We explored every inch of each other's bodies intimately, lovingly. Although Cyndi seemed to like it somewhat on the rough side, there were moments of great tenderness, times where, even in the throes of our mutual passion, we just simply held each other, kissed deeply, and stared into each other's eyes, knowing that at that moment and perhaps for many moments thereafter, this was the only place we were meant to be... entangled in each other's embrace... and certainly the only place we WANTED to be.

The morning found us wrapped around each other on the bed. I was breathing in ragged gasps and utterly exhausted... but that's what happens when your girlfriend has made you come eight times in less than 36 hours. I lost count of how many orgasms Cyndi had... it seemed like she was continually screaming, moaning and twisting in pleasure.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave me the warmest smile I had ever seen.

"Did you enjoy last night?"

I sighed. "I'm completely wiped; do you know that? How do you think I'm going to survive to the end of the week if we keep doing that? My cock is absolutely numb."

She took me in her arms. "Just rest now, sweetie. I know I've given you a workout. I was just so excited to finally be alone with you. Do you want to stop having sex, at least for a while? I could be happy just being with you, if I'm wearing you out."

I lay with my head on her shoulder. "Have you always been insatiable like that?"

"You're the only guy I've ever wanted that much. And still do, by the way. Just so you know, you're going to get a LITTLE bit of a respite. I have an appointment early tomorrow in the hotel's beauty shop before we go to the concert. Just to get my hair and nails done."

"But we still have tonight. Do you think you can keep yourself under control?"

She licked my nose. "It's tough, but I'll try. It's partly that I desire you so much. The fact is, Mike, you're an INCREDIBLE lover besides. But if you're that worn out, we don't have to have sex tonight – unless you let me know you want it."

I should mention that the outfit she wore to Mamma Mia! – a tight black micro-mini-dress and black pumps – was not in any way designed to cool whatever desire I could still muster for her. The outfit screamed fuck me - hard. In fact, she told me later, almost every bit of clothing she brought with her was of the fuck me variety. She told me she wanted to keep me, if she could, in a perpetual state of horniness.

Despite my fatigue and overuse of the equipment, it was working. We came back from the matinee, and within a minute of entering our suite, I had pulled down her thong, pulled up her dress over her thighs, and was enthusiastically ramming her from behind. Since she was wearing high heels, her legs were that much longer, which made her pussy an easy target while we were both standing. It took me less than five minutes of work to bring her to screaming orgasm and then blow an enormous load into her.

We ate dinner, took a late swim in the pool, and made love once more that night. I had no idea how I was managing it. Yeah, I was a virile, young stud, and man, this girl loved sex. But by all rights the tank should've been empty by this point.

I awoke the next morning at about 11. Cyndi was off to her "day of beauty" – not that she in any way needed to look any more beautiful to me than she already did. I took a long bath and relaxed in the whirlpool. Cyndi came back just before noon to show off. Her hair had been fluffed out and slightly trimmed, but what she really wanted to show me were the acrylic decals on her toenails and fingernails. On her two pinkies and pinkie toes she had little Union Jacks. On her thumbs and big toes there were American flags. And her middle fingers and toes spelled out THE WHO. "Do you like this, babe? I did this for you!"

"Of course I like it. If you painted your toenails green, I would STILL like it!"

"That's for Wednesday, before we go to see Wicked. I'm having my nails done to match what I'm wearing that day. Oh, by the way, we're meeting my friends Becky and Lauren for lunch tomorrow at Junior's. Is that okay? Please say it is."

Becky, the aspiring model, six feet one inch, every pore of her body oozing sex? Lauren, equally tall, an Amazonian workout fiend and athlete who could probably body-slam me and not think twice about it? Say no? I'd be a fool. Besides, they were her friends, but I thought they were cool too.

Lawrence drove us down to the Garden, and dropped us in front of an unfamiliar ramp-way. Cyndi talked briefly with the security man there, who while yapping on a walkie-talkie led us down the ramp to a door. We were greeted by another security man, who handed us two plastic passes on lanyards – reading ALL ACCESS. I looked at Cyndi, who once again grinned broadly.

"Daddy knows Bill Curbishley, the Who's manager. We're on a special list. How would you like to meet Roger and Pete?"

Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend. The last two members of the classic lineup still living. My idols for years. "Are you kidding? Of course!!!"

"We're having dinner with them before the show."

I nearly shit a brick right there.

I don't usually get star-struck, but for the first half of dinner with the two legends I could barely speak. Pete was sardonic but without being condescending or mean. Roger was gracious and kind. "I read about what you did in the paper earlier this week. You like this girl, huh?"

I laughed. "I'd have done it for anyone who was in trouble."