No Longer The Getty Ball: Oral Sex

May 1, 2020

Tiffany’s kisses are surprisingly tender, her lips softer than any other I’ve kissed, light like morning dew, brief brushes of lips against each other leading to short pauses as we regard one another, each thinking of how impossible this would have seemed just a month ago, our lips coming together again, her body against mine, so tense, my hand running over the folds of her dress, wondering to myself where this will lead.

I let her set the pace. She’s nervous. Pressure is the last thing she needs in this moment.

We kiss for a while longer, hands slowly exploring each other’s bodies, the buttons on my shirt gradually coming undone, until the credits on screen roll to a stop, and the screen abruptly grows dark.

We kiss for a second in the dark, before she pulls away and looks at me with shining eyes.

“Good movie,” I say, projecting my voice somewhat. “Shall we put on another?”

I want her now, but some things are more important.

“How about Birdman?” she offers.

“I’ll take care of it. I think I can figure it out on my own,” I say, getting off the couch, my hand lingering on hers for a moment.

All this acting for these darned phones.

I return a couple minutes later, the title sequence of the film beginning to play on the big screen. From the speakers come some polyrhythmic drum beat, and soft jazz fills the room.

AND DID YOU GET WHAT YOU WANTED FROM THIS LIFE, EVEN SO?

The letters assemble themselves on the screen, stark and bold, emerging from the darkness.

Tiffany lounges with her breasts pressed against the couch, her dress a rumpled mess on the ground. She’s only in a light blue bra and boyshorts, the fabric designed to match the color of her dress. She arches back, catlike, her fine ass rising in the air, and I step towards her, entranced.

I throw my shirt off to the side. The buttons were all undone anyways. She reaches a hand out, touches my chest, seems to drag me in on the point of her nail. Her lips meet mine and there’s fire this time.

On the screen, the rejoinder: I DID

I practically flip her over, peppering her face, her neck, the smooth of her cleavage with kisses, her tousled hair flying every which way as she returns the favour, her kisses leaving red traces of lipstick across my arms, my chest, my stomach…

“I want to do this the right way,” she says, pulling my pants open.

Her breath is hot on my crotch, that small tent in my silk boxers.

“What’s the right way?”

She says nothing, instead pulling off my last trace of clothing.

She runs a hand over my now naked cock, hand gripping the rising pillar, eyes wide. She’s laying down on the couch, her eyes glued to my rod, as she lowers her head to the base of my cock. Her tongue darts over one ball, then the other, and then she licks my cock from base to tip, slow and luxurious.

She smiles up at me, licking her lips. She laps at my bulbous head, my member fully erect now, trembling ever so slightly in anticipation.

“My way is the right way,” she breathes.

Her mouth finds the head of my cock, and then the rest of it a moment later, the blowjob a full on head-bobbing motion that has her inching lower and lower down my erection. The movie starlet’s perfect face gazes up at me, her mouth stuffed full with my cock, and something deep stirs within me, my loins burning and already aching for release…

How could this be so hot?

My head rolls back and catches the flashing lights of the theatre screen, a mirror of my mind, pleasure rollicking in as she sucks me off, her mouth so tight around my cock. She spits into her hand, and proceeds to jack me off as her mouth descends over my head again.

“Fuck Tiffany…” I gasp. “Who taught you to be such a naughty girl?”

She lifts off my cock for a moment, giving me a twinkling smile.

“It’s so much more fun when the guy doesn’t just insist on your ramming your throat open,” she says.

A moment later, she’s back at it, tongue swirling over my length, a hand fondling my balls, her head rising and falling like waves cresting on a beach, motion after motion, incessant, so wet, so hot…

“So much more fun,” I agree, hands gripping the couch so tightly I’m scared I’ll rip the fabric out.

“Cum for me,” she whispers, her mouth hot on my length.

“I want to save it for you,” I say. “I’m not so young that I can guarantee another round…”

She freezes for a second, something like fear crossing her eyes, before they return to normal.

“Not that,” she whispers. “Not today.”

“Not today,” I agree, not skipping a beat.

“Good. Now cum for me,” she says, sounding confident, as much for herself as for me.

Her mouth surrounds me once more, bringing me into her totality, and I, so close to the brink from the onset, lose myself in the sensation. She bobs, fast, and I let go, my cock firing a long jet of cum into her mouth, my orgasm sweeping me to the sky, the dancing lights behind me a canvas for my emotions as I feel that high, cock firing another jet of semen, Tiffany’s mouth still wrapped around my cock. I exhale, wanting to hold on to that sensation for as long as I can, and then I laugh, scooping her up into my arms.

“It tasted better than Eric’s too,” she says, opening her mouth to show me that she swallowed.

“You didn’t have to,” I say, ruffling a hand through her long locks.

“I’m serious, it does,” she says. “I thought it had to taste like shit.”

“Probably this new diet that I’m on,” I reply, thinking about all the fruit my trainer’s made me start eating.

“Whatever it is, you’d better stick with it,” Tiffany laughs.

“Well, there’s one thing I still haven’t gotten my fill of today,” I say, looking at her.

“Want me to call the chef up?” she asks. “We’ll have to… get modest first, but…”

“I’m sure your chef is great, but I doubt he can whip up what I’m looking for,” I say, and my hand reaches down and feels the dampness across her boyshorts.

She tenses for a second, again.

“I don’t know…” she says. “I’ve never done it before.”

“Eric was that much of a prick?” I ask.

“He never offered and I never asked,” she says, but I get the sense that something’s still missing. She holds my hand, breathing in to steady herself, and then says: “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I won’t,” I promise, confused.

Her hand tightens around mine, another second passing in silence.

The nervousness on her face is palpable, she’s shaking slightly, she’s scared… but why?

“You can take my panties off,” she whispers.

“I’ll do it slowly,” I say, reassuringly squeezing her hand before letting go.

I hook one thumb around the front, another around the back, and begin to pull downwards, the light blue fabric coming away with ease. I can see the fear in her eyes, the way she’s looking at me, and then I see it a moment later.

The birthmark is a dark, angry, splotchy thing that stretches across her left ass cheek, a blemish upon her otherwise flawless skin. I look up into her eyes, see her looking at me.

I continue pulling her panties down.

“You were scared of me seeing this?” I ask.

“Anybody seeing it,” she breathes. “But I trust you not to tell anyone…”

“I won’t,” I say, giving her a smile.

“I don’t want anyone to ever find out,” she murmurs. “But it means I can never go out in a swimsuit, never wear anything too revealing, never get intimate with somebody who I don’t completely trust…”

“I think it’s beautiful,” I say.

She only softly shakes her head in denial.

A finger of mine finds its way amidst the folds of her pussy, playing with the soft opening. I slick a finger into her, exploring the tunnel within.

She’s got her eyes closed, her hand clinging tightly to my arm.

I work my way around, probing gently, finding the walls, seeing her shiver slightly whenever I make contact.

“It’s so much thicker than my own fingers,” she whispers.

“Then this might just blow your mind,” I say as I insert another.

“Fuck,” she moans softly. “I want to be filled up so badly…”

I fit another finger in, but it’s a stretch, her virgin pussy so tight that I can’t make much headway. It’s enough, though, as I slowly rub inside of her, fingering her in a way that she must never have felt before.

Gradually, she relaxes a little more, granting me access to her depths, another finger of mine finding her clit, her eyes squeezing shut tighter as I do so.

That seems to be the trick.

I keep a gentle pace, fingers flexing within her, and then my mouth comes down, blowing on the hood of her clit, watching the way she shivers, before I bring my tongue in, light touches across the surface each drawing out a fresh moan. I suckle softly, rocking back and forth as her hips begin to sway into my face, the two of us building up a rhythm together.

My tongue goes in small, tight circles, stimulating her clit, eyes flicking up to meet hers every once in a while—she’s opened her eyes now, watching me in loving fascination, mouth an ‘O’, her breaths coming up short.

I keep doing what I’m doing, adjusting my fingers just a fraction, slowly curling them until they hit just the right spot, making her hands on my arms tighten that much more, and I know I’ve got her then. G-spot, clit, one after the other, alternating the pleasure centres until she’s moaning into the pillow on the couch, her legs suddenly loosening around my head, her body thrashing the next second, the moan now a scream heard muffled through that pillow, her chest heaving, body heaving, and I watch her mind depart for those precious seconds of orgasm.

I don’t stop, continuing, and a second later there’s a fresh wave of moans, the “oh! Oh! OH!” all the motivation I need to keep going, legs shuddering, pussy quivering, body letting go…

I gradually slow down, and she pants, looking at me wildly, leaning down, kissing me hard on the mouth.

“Holy shit!” she exclaims a second later. “I can’t believe that just happened, it felt so good, and I showed you…”

“Nothing more than your skin,” I say, laughing and kissing her again, and we float away in our mutual ecstasy, watching the rest of the movie play out before our tired eyes.