Pruning

He knelt between her legs, put her ankles on his shoulders, spread her wide. "Beautiful!" He parted her outer lips to reveal the creped inners and the hidden brilliant pink bulls-eye. Her clit was blindingly obvious, the pink tip peeking out of its nearly-black surround.

"Nicole, you have the most gorgeous pussy! Lordy, all these textures for me to investigate, everything from completely smooth to crinkly, solid to fluid. Thirty shades of brown and black. And the pink at the center is enough to make me drool... this is a pussy Georgia O'Keefe should have painted!"

He spent a minute investigating all the surfaces, then concentrated on the clit – but carefully, gently, exploring, seeking resonances and feedback as he varied locations, pressures, speed. Nicole purred until an onset of abrupt gasps told him he'd gotten this moment's combination exactly right. The outer left underside seemed to be today's special point. He concentrated on it, carefully, wetly.

Through her sudden breathing difficulties she muttered "No, Glenn, O'Keefe wouldn't have painted my pussy, she always pretended to be painting flowers and there are no black flowers! Any biologist knows that. A black rose would make you instantly rich and famous!"

Then, suddenly, she was bucking up towards his mouth, gasping. She banged gently on his head, said in a near growl "Don't you DARE stop or slow down, but I need something to bite on! I'm about to come and I'm a screamer, and you do NOT want me setting that loose – your neighbors will think someone's being murdered in here!"

He didn't slow, just reached sideways to the towel rack, handed her a washcloth.

Seconds later, with her teeth clamped down hard onto the folded terrycloth, Nicole came. Violently, repeatedly, her whole body in a vise-like spasm that seemed to release her for a second every now and then only to return ever-stronger. Her hands balled up and pounded the counter; deep in her throat she was making odd noises, almost roaring as her head whipped back and forth. Glenn's thumb went up into her pussy to give it something to clamp on – her vagina was thoroughly warmed now, tented up with orgasm. He made almost no contact with the walls, but her cervix was pulsing in and out, kissing the tip of his thumb twice a second. He added one, then two and finally three fingers full-depth in her bottom, curled them forward, found her G-spot, parsed its special needs and administered to them, adding those sensations to the mélange.

She howled into the washcloth, the intensity and tone rising with each major spasm, then abruptly went limp, collapsed backwards with her head against the wall, ordered him in a long gasp "Stop, please, for the love of god stop now! I haven't come anything like that way for years and years and years! Good GOD, you've made your point, thank you thank you!"

He stood, leaned forward and every so slowly entered her: she wrapped her thighs around him and pulled him towards her until he bottomed out. After all the intensity, this was almost calming: they stayed that way, soaking, enjoying, perfectly still except for internal wrigglings. "Oh, yes, welcome, Doctor VB, your cock in there is nice nicer nicest!" Then, her breathing under control again, she smiled at him and said "You in a hurry, or can I suggest something? This isn't the most comfortable spot in the house, I'm sure!"

He told her "Suggest away!"

She pushed him back: he slid out slowly, finally breaking contact with an audible plop. She stood, patted the counter where her butt had just been. "Sit!" she ordered. She pushed his knees wide apart, knelt, looked up at him. "Sauce for the goose, Doctor." Her head dipped and in one long slide she swallowed him completely, stopping only when the tip of her nose fitted into the dimple at the base of his cock.

He shivered as she did three complete cycles, paused. He sighed, said "I love that. You're superb. Magnificent. I'll happily give you thirty minutes to stop... but I very, very seldom come from mouth games. You're free – please! – to try, though... but better wait 'til later. First we have this showering..."

Nicole agreed. They stepped into the shower. He set it hot, knowing how most women preferred it. "How about we each lather the other, but do it with our eyes closed the whole time?"

She nodded, giggled, her nipples hugely erect, the whole of each breast solid and taut. "A nice idea... good game. Who gets lathered first?" She went first - ten minutes worth, his hands superlatively inquisitive, then possessive in the best possible way, lather everywhere, literally every square inch of her body, the touch always something in between an erotic exploration and a gentle massage.

Halfway through she muttered "Glenn, coming like that always fills my bladder. Do you mind if I just pee standing here? By the way, for the record, I'm blushing again!"

Glenn slipped his hand between her thighs, cupped her mons and lips, and said "Do it now!" She sputtered, strained, told him "It's embarrassing... I don't know if I can..." But she managed, laughing the entire time. The yellow swirled, mixed, and was gone.

She was squirming continually when he finished washing her, rinsed her down, teased her with the hand-spray against her clit for several long moments. She sighed: "Damn it, you're almost too good at this. And..." gripping his apparently permanent erection, "...there's this amazing perpetual hardon! Jesus! Nice idea, though! So long as it doesn't deprive your brain of oxygen! You're so totally right about the stuff between the ears being the most important of all."

Nicole returned the lathering, full-body. Then, when she had his back and legs soaped, he spread his legs wide, leaned forward to rest his forehead on the wall. She seemed not to understand the invitation, exuded an air of puzzlement: he reached back for her hand, took her fingertips and slid them gently down his soap-slippery buttocks-crack until her index fingertip rested atop his pucker. Still he got no action from her, just that sense of puzzlement, of not understanding.

He pressed the fingertip upwards until it actually began to enter, told her "Go up inside. I like it – a lot!" She leaned forward, letting her breasts hang against his back and whispered into his ear "Glenn, lover-man, I've never done that. Never ever. I don't know what I'm doing!"

He pressed the finger farther inside, replied "Go ahead, then... go slow, explore. You can't hurt me – just think about my fingers inside your butt a minute ago. Same thing exactly. I don't believe you wound up injured, did you? All you can do is give me pleasure."

Glenn seemed to simply melt around her, sagging downwards as the finger entered and probed gently, his bottom was welcoming, enveloping. She was flooded with a profound sense of intimacy, of receiving a huge offering of trust. And Glenn was so obviously enjoying it! After a few seconds, she could feel his bottom expand and relax, just the way hers always had when a properly-handled hardon did its slow invasion. Parallels, man-woman?

He reached back, set her middle fingertip alongside the first just where it was encircled by his sphincter: this time she understood the invitation, and the second slithered gently inside to join its partner. As she fondled him, as he gasped and pressed back against her seeking more and deeper, she had a minor revelation. None of her men, not one, had ever invited any such touching... to explore the hairy cleft with this interesting, immensely erotic secret hidden in its depths. Occasionally they would allow, sometimes encourage, fondling of upper buttocks, inner thighs, but never, ever any closer approach.

Homophobes all, she realized... not that they overtly feared or disliked gays, but they certainly feared any possible tinge of gayness in themselves – and the anus was the focus of that fear. Any inkling of interest in, or good (sexual?) feelings about, that part was deeply and forever verboten. They could no more have invited this sort of contact, much less reveled openly in it, than they could have eaten a live rat. How wonderfully nice it was to find a man like this! And to think of what both she and all those other men had missed through their irrationalities!

On her own initiative, she added a third finger, slid a hand around his hips to slowly stroke his cock in concert. Glenn was instructing through tight-throated gasps: "Forward - press and wiggle. The big bump is the prostate, you'll know when you get it right!" He was correct, she did know, for his body couldn't have announced it more explicitly, going nearly rigid while his bottom seemed intent on depriving her fingers of blood. She found the whole business of being actually inside a man insanely erotic - it was absolutely delightful to feel the contractions move through him, knowing she was responsible.

Both were reluctant to quit, but eventually Glenn said "Whew! More later, perhaps? Shampoo time, though, right now." They did one another, rinsed, toweled each other dry.

Wordlessly she twanged his hardon again, shaking her head as if in wonder.

"Table time, madam?" he asked.

She kissed him hard: "Yes, indeed! Thought we'd never get around to it!" As they started for the door, she reached out and picked up her gag-washcloth, saying "I have a VERY strong impression I'm going to need this, and more than once. Aren't I?"

He squeezed her breast gently and thumbed a nipple: "Oh, yes, you betcha, if I do my little bit properly!"

They stood naked and damp looking down at the table. "Well, Doctor VB, it's your table, so you get to lie down on it first. After all it might just collapse, who can say? Scoot on up there and hold up that May Pole for me... I'm assuming you won't object to your woman – that's ME by the way – being on top for a while?"

He grinned at her: "MY WOMAN? Interesting concept. I like it! But only if it's reciprocal. And hell no, I don't mind you being on top! Indulge yourself. It would indulge ME as well!"

There were to be no further preliminaries: her pussy now dribbling wet, she straddled him, and sat down firmly, taking possession. As she settled, she savored the sensations, muttering several times "Oh, lovely!" A few exploratory seconds and she found the right angles and rhythm, muttered "Mind if I just fuck myself silly enroute to making love?"

Glenn didn't mind.

She was a rarity, able to come seated that way – with the non-stop help of Glenn's thumb adjacent to her clit, and his lips and fingers on her nipples. A great many linked comings later, she finally settled down atop him, all sweaty again, her breasts flowing onto his chest as she slowly collapsed.

"And you STILL haven't come, VB! What, pray tell, would be your personal pleasure? I feel a big need for reciprocity."

He patted her bottom, investigated where their bodies still came together, now thoroughly greasy with her secretions and new sweat, slid a finger gently down her crack to rest lovingly on the precise center of her anal dimple.

She eyed him, then said softly "You seem to be inordinately interested in my bottom, Sir Glenn. What if I invited you to try it on for size – could you, would you, just perhaps be interested in coming inside there? Way up deep, that is? I used to love it that way, years ago, when it was done properly. That's a HINT, Doctor!"

His look signaled high enthusiasm. Moments later she was on her chest and widespread knees, with him fully embedded. She looked back over her shoulder, demanded "Pound me! Go get one for yourself, please. You don't mind, do you, if I play with my clit a little in the meanwhile?"

He allowed as how having her come while he was buried in her bottom might be the best thing since sliced bread. Holding her between his widespread thighs all a-quiver with the strain, he let himself entirely loose – his ultimate favorite way to finish, pile-driving anal.

He brayed loudly, spasmed hard inside her over and over again, his finale conveniently triggering hers. They collapsed atop the table with him still buried and solid. She looked over her shoulder as he leaned forward and caught her mouth with his.

Long, long kissing, slithering of cock out of bottom, careful rotation, and they were in a powerful hug that went on and on. More companionable silence. Finally she initiated a break and whispered "I do believe you enjoyed that! I certainly did."

Glenn took her head in his hands, kissed her lusciously, with an incredible tenderness that brought sudden tears to her eyes. "So you have no kid at home tonight. That's nice, and could be convenient. Suppose I were to offer to cook dinner? There would be lots of time for an encore, lots of other nifty things to do to and for and with each other. What do you say?"

Nicole exclaimed "What do I SAY? I say, God almighty, you cook too?"

She kissed him hard and told him "I'll have you know that you're the finest pussy-eating machine I have ever encountered – got my pretty-boy ex-husband beat all hollow. And here's that damned amazing Mister Doctor VB Homeowner teenage hardon, come back to haunt us again, just like you said."

"YES! I accept, including this miraculous dinner you are going to fix. Who knows, maybe it'll become an all-nighter, wouldn't that be a hoot? You do the cooking, and I'll provide the dessert – assuming your lovely, lovely cock is still at full stand after dinner – you can guess what the dessert might be, can't you? But before any of that, we are right now going to see if you can really keep it up some more and come again – Little old Nicole is taking you up on your "I don't come from mouths" dare, which I find to be a direct personal challenge. By golly I am one GOOD deep throat artist! I am going to give you the blowjob of all time, and we'll just see if I can't suck something out of your balls again that-a-way. Lie back, Doctor. Big one coming!"

Glenn did fix dinner, and Nicole did spend the night, leaving at the last possible minute to pick up Nikky. A comparison of calendars let them schedule a rematch a mere ten days hence. And another event just one week later.