Lisa

I was nineteen, in the midst of my first sexual experience, and with a willing and eager and simply beautiful woman. Damn right I was rock-hard again! I know it’s a cliché: guys blows wad; is miraculously hard within five minutes – repeat as often as needed. But it was true this time and we fucked again, my cock spearing and parting her cunt, her hips thrusting up against mine, meeting every stroke and holding it there until we once again engaged in a mirrored rhythm of sexual movement. Then, in the midst of a deep, probing kiss, Lisa, still firmly impaled on my shiny shaft, suddenly rolled me over onto my back and, placing her hands on my chest, rode me like a living allusion to Lady Godiva.

“Jesus, that feels good,” I gasped. It did, too. Her weight and angle made her that much tighter and I found I could reach behind her and cup her ass in both hands and control her movements that way. I could also feel the wet, living union of our sexes, and the piston-like movement of my cock pumping in and out of her hairy and lubricated crotch. It was bliss. It was pure sexual ecstasy. It was free-form passion - -her lips on mine, her cunt enveloping my cock, her breasts brushing my chest as she bent over to kiss me, her long, blond hair cascading and rippling onto and around my face like a shimmering, living waterfall of scent and silk. It was only a matter of time before all these feelings combined to bring me over the edge once again.

For the second time I thrust as deep into her as I could, pressing her down on my cock as it buried itself in her. My balls tightened, contracted, raised, and emptied. My semen coursed through my cock from root to tip and exploded out in great white, viscous sprays, coating her walls again. My cock spasmed, contracted, and spasmed again, emptying its load in a staccato symphony of release and sensation. I felt as if my spine and soul were being jerked out through my cock, to be shot deep in Lisa’s welcoming womb. The pleasure was intense, like camping, and only increased when Lisa suddenly tightened in my arms. Her nails raked through my hair and she buried her face in my neck, muffling her cries of passion and pleasure as she came on and with me. For a few seconds, we were one sexual creature. Melded and molded, in tune with each other as only two lovers in synchronous passion can be.

We subsided, sweated, panted, weakly kissed. After a length of time immeasurable, my cock softened enough so that she could remove herself from me without too much pleasure/pain. My cock was red, pulsing, and coated with a mixture of sperm and her juices. As she moved over me to once again cuddle at my side, sperm dripped from her swollen pussy, landing on my legs, thighs, chest. She silently licked up each drop, her tongue suddenly rough and cool against my damp skin. We lay akimbo, rumpled sheets, Dylan thankfully having exhausted himself some time before, limbs entwined. We dozed. The room was a little brighter; like another cliché, we had made love ‘til the break of dawn.

We even made love again, but this time without completion. My pump was working, but the well was dry, and she and I laughed. And then it was time to leave, to quietly walk out the back door, and back to my flat and then onto a train to catch my ferry to Dublin and from there to Cairo, whence I would return four months later to find Lisa shacked up with her fiancée and understandably, yet depressingly, cool towards me and my immature plans of us traveling the Lake District. And so I returned to the States, back to what would become a staid college life bereft, for the most part, of the exotic and fey encounters like Lisa. Until I met my wife.