Remember Me?

The color of his eyes was a muted hazel – sometimes brown and sometimes green. Right now they were a vivid, almost contrived green, something the colored contact manufacturers would love to have in their product cases.

"Hi. It's been a long time."

His voice was pure butter – soft, warm, and melty – and it was all she could do not to blush at the mere sound of it.

"Yeah, it sure has." Oh hell, where was her famous vocabulary now? All he had to do was say a simple sentence, and it was all she could do not to turn tail and run. For Chrissakes, she'd had this man's penis in her mouth!

"So how are you?" Nervous... nervous and already so damned turned on she could barely keep her eyes off the solid bulge beneath the buckle of his belt. She wanted to feel that silky shaft buried deeply between the moving flesh of her lips – against her tongue – sliding over the flat of her hot and hungry taste buds. She missed him, and the taste of him in her mouth and throat. Missed him terribly.

John watched her for a few moments. After all, he'd not been able to banish the memory of her head pressed tight against his crotch while he'd systematically pumped forward to feed more and more of the throbbing proof of his hunger deeper into her mouth and the entrance of her throat. Even the times he wasn't trying to remember – she was just there, along with the hunger and need she could bring out in his body and spirit.

Suddenly, a memory filled her mind and she licked her lips slowly. The projector in her mind was alive with the vision of the first time she'd taken her courage in hand and showed him how the nipple clamps worked – then several weeks later asked him if he'd like to attach them himself.. Hungry now. Hungry for him.

The movie in her mind stopped with the realization that he was also remembering – remembering something. His breath slowed and deepened, his eyes blackened, and he slowly walked toward her while releasing the buckle of his belt. He moved as if it had only been yesterday that they were parked off the dirt road that had somehow become their spot, while his cock – strong, hard, and pulsing – was working its way into the wet cove of her clinging mouth and lips.

"Fuck..." The word only an exhale as she tilted her head and opened the lips he remembered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was the texture of him that brought the first moan to her lips. Wet velvet smoothness surrounding the iron hardness beneath. It was just as she remembered, and her mouth knew exactly what to do. Pure instinct, pure enjoyment.

Her moan brought one to his lips as his hips surged forward, and she simply held him in her mouth and... suckled. It had been so long, but the taste and feeling of him was stamped on her mind – never to be erased.

You know, it's funny what the body remembers without thought – the feel of flesh, the taste of musky sex, the knowledge that pleasure is being brought to someone else, and therefore to you. It responds every time, and she felt that tingle between her legs, followed by the need to take him deeper, stronger.

She could feel the beat of his pulse against her tongue as the hardness of his cock slid tantalizingly slowly over the seal of lips. Primal beat, hungry bodies – both needing what the other could give... what the other was giving, even now.

Enough of this, time to get down to business. The thought was no more than a whiff of smoke to a mind centered on the primeval act of a woman's lips wrapped tightly around the shaft of a man's very masculinity – his cock. And she was very good at her craft.

Tiny flicks of her tongue tip over the solid ridge of skin that connected the swollen head to the straining shaft of pulsing meat. Once, twice, three times. Moans swirled through the air, but whose? His moans of being pleasured or her moans of lust at what she was doing?

It didn't matter.

The only thing there was, was the feel of him in her mouth again. The smell of him, the rush of excited heat that ran from head to cunt. That's what mattered, that's what was real.

No longer could he pump slowly and steadily into her mouth. Faster, deeper, stronger, HARDER. Yes, oh fuck yes. Trembling fingers tangled into thick hair – pulling the heat of her mouth tighter and closer. He wanted her to take everything he had, take it down her working throat until he exploded.

And that was one of the great things about her, she wanted it. She wanted every inch and every pulse. Wanted the way his body twisted. Wanted the sound of his breathing. And when it was beyond his control, she wanted to feel the thick jets of his seed filling her mouth and throat.

Almost there now. Urgent thrusts of hips that wanted... needed... demanded... that she open her throat to him and the insistent battering of his swelling cock. Yes... yes... yes... yyyeeeesssssssss.

It happened in a rush, as it always did. One minute his head fell back, and the next he was pumping spurts of thick jism into her mouth... into her throat. And she was drinking him.

Some women wouldn't let a man come in her mouth – didn't like doing this at all. DeAnne was different. She loved it. She loved everything about the look and feel of a hard cock in her mouth. Sometimes it was like she was watching – as if from a distance she could see the movements of him and even her as she coaxed his seed from deep inside of him. The tight balls against her chin, the curve of his stomach against her nose, the shiny flesh moving back and forth between suckling lips all played through her mind's eye and left their barbed spikes of hunger deep in her belly.

"I missed you." Was all he said as he lifted the tongue of the zipper and pulled it upwards.