The Move Chapter 5, Part 3 of 6

The Move
Chapter 5, Part 3 of 6

"I would unzip those pesky shorts and peel them off of you. Then, I would gently stroke that glorious cock through your underwear and let it get a taste of freedom before freeing it completely."

"Damn, Mrs. Stilson," he sighed.

My pussy was drenched as I imagined what his cock would feel and look like. To my amazement, it continued to pulse in his pants periodically. Without looking up, I continued.

"I would yank your underwear off so I could finally see that beautiful specimen. Then, I would cup your balls while my other palm slid up that huge shaft, measuring your length. Judging from the wet spot on your pants, I think there would be a good amount of pre-cum to spread on your cockhead, as I gripped you and stroked you. Feeling your lubed heat, I'd have to decide between stroking you 'til you come and watching you erupt, shooting your hot cum..."

"Oh yes, I want to come on those gorgeous tits, Mrs. Stilson."

"Okay, then," I said, smiling, knowing he was excited. "Once you got this bathing suit off me, I would let you blow your wad on my tits. But then, I'd need to taste you and find out how much of you I can take in my mouth. First, I would clean every drop of cum off your cock, licking every bit of you. Then I would suck you hard again, taking you as deep as I could." His face looked frozen, and his mouth was open, breathing audibly. I could hardly believe I was saying this out loud.

"Once you were ready, I would jump up on you with my arms around your neck and thighs around your waist. I'd push that hot, stiff dick inside me slowly as your hands gripped my ass and spread me open for you. Oh, Mark, I can almost feel you sliding into me," I sighed with my eyes closed.

"I've never had anything that big inside me, but it feels good. I would cling to you as you raised and lowered me faster and faster, and I would scream in ecstasy as your hot pole plunged into me deeper and harder each time. I would let you know I was coming and coming as you pounded me.

"Once wouldn't be enough. I would beg for more, and if you were exhausted, you could rest my ass on the counter as you fucked me harder and faster while I begged you to pound the fuck out of me until we came together in a sweaty, steaming climax."

I sat there panting, staring at his full-on boner, then looked up and smiled casually. "If I were available," I paused. "Like Momma says. There is no law against looking or thinking. I gotta say, it felt good to get that out."

He smiled and shook his head. "That was just mean. Can't a guy at least get a reach around?"

I was on a demented little roll and blurted out a response before even thinking. "I had no idea you were into pegging, Mark. I could surely accommodate that IF I were available."

"Mrs. Stilson, you are naughty. Wow, Wayne surely did pick a winner. I wouldn't have imagined you even knowing what pegging is. Have you done it?"

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell."

It's difficult to explain the exhilaration I was experiencing during this whole exchange. I loved being called naughty, as I didn't think that had ever been a word to describe me, at least since age five.

Of course, I'd never pegged anyone, but a good friend of mine from high school shared stories of fucking her husband with a strapless vibrator and raved that they both have had some of the best orgasms ever doing it.

"Let's just say 'I've heard,' with the right tools, it can be one of the most gratifying encounters a couple can have. But I digress. I told you mine, Mr. Thomas, and I want to hear yours. But I'm still determining if I can take any more today. Let's reconvene tomorrow.

"Oh no, you don't get to tease like that and just cut it off, Mrs. Stilson," he said sternly. "I get to be heard, too. It's only fair."

I stuttered, trying to come up with a response. Based on his tone, things seemed to shift quickly from playful to severe. I was already on the edge, and something told me the game needed to end before it got out of hand.

He leaned in, placing both hands on the table. His eyes locked on mine, but his naked torso and bulging shorts still begged for my attention.

"The picture in my mind that makes my cock, so 'prominent,' Mrs. Stilson, is that of a beautiful, vibrant, sexy woman who knows she's all those things. Her confidence in that allows her to proudly wear a tiny, bright-red bikini, knowing she could command any man- and a few women- to do anything she wanted.

"This fantasy woman is married to a man who has passed his sexual peak, as she is just coming into hers. His focus on their career, combined with taking her for granted after years together--has left her feeling unsatisfied and a bit lonely. Then, I happened to show up to do yard work for her. Much to my surprise, this beautiful, sexy goddess of a woman stands nearly naked in her window, watching me relentlessly, fantasizing about letting loose for just one day.

"No one is home, and she realizes she could live out every little fantasy, no matter how naughty, and no one would ever know when she discovers--I am unattached, young, hung, and in my prime. She asks me in, teasing and flirting, as she imagines pure, unbridled animal sex on the kitchen table, the floor, or any way she wants.

"The two of us feel the butterflies of unmistakable lust and desire. Loving the excitement and driven by lustful desire, the young lady lets her mind wander to her most intimate thoughts until she can no longer contain them. She shares them with me, her willing target, working us both into a heated frenzy.

"When she has second thoughts, I step closer, my fully attentive manhood, there for the taking."

My mind could no longer focus on his story. I panicked as he began acting on his words and walked around the table toward me. It seemed like the tip of his cock might burst out the top of his waistband. Without thought, I turned on my chair to face him, legs slightly spread.

"Gazed down at her, startled by the sight of her darkened bikini bottoms, drenched in her succulent juices." Then, he switched from fantasy sharing to talking directly to me. "The very thing I had been thinking about only moments earlier was removing those bottoms and tasting your sweet pussy, Mrs. Stilson."

I looked down, embarrassed by my sopping bikini bottoms, until I saw his hungry eyes. That look made my heart race and legs spread wider. Wayne was never very excited about oral, and to see Mark salivating as he stared had me gushing.

"I would taste you every chance I could, Mrs. Stilson. There is nothing so arousing as the silky softness of a woman's inner thigh caressing my cheek as my tongue explores her warm, tender succulence.

"If you were 'available,' Mrs. Stilson, I would drop to my knees between your thighs and run my hands slowly up your firm, shapely legs, caressing you from ankles to thighs. Then, I would push those cute knees together and slide those bottoms off. Before discarding them, I would breathe your scent from its crotch.

"My cock is so hard for you, Mrs. Stilson, but you know that--and you're proud of yourself for making me that way. I can tell. You should be. You are sexy and vibrant, and you work hard to keep yourself that way. I want to reward you, Mrs. Stilson.

"I want to kneel before you and push those thighs slowly apart, and kiss my way up your silken skin, then slowly part your pretty pink pussy lips with my tongue. I want to hear you sigh as I separate them and run their length with the tip of my tongue. I want to feel that rush as you spread your legs wider, giving me full, unfettered access to you.

"I imagine you pressing yourself against me, pushing my tongue deeper, allowing me to experience your full flavor as you gyrate against me, letting me know how much I'm pleasing you. I want to feel your thighs close in on me as I penetrate you before licking and sucking those tender labia until you are close to flooding me with your precious cum.

"I want to feel your tender thighs tremble against my cheeks as my lips and tongue service you. Then, as your hand grips the back of my head, guiding me to the sweet spot, I want to hear you calling my name as your climax builds and your hips roll with pleasure.

"As your orgasm takes you and you shove my face into you, I want you to come on my face and coat me with your cunt juices... while I savor every drop, Mrs. Stilson."

While he spoke, he stepped between my legs, which instinctively spread wide, letting him get dangerously close. I could smell him and see the subtle treasure trail of hair leading my focus downward. I froze there, staring at the prize, fighting the urge to reach for the button. Every part of me tingled, and I had to remind myself to breathe. My hands trembled, and I gripped my hips to keep them steady as my willpower faded.

I swallowed hard, feeling his heat, his leg touching the chair front about an inch of my wetness. My pussy, like my legs, betrayed me and pulled my ass forward, needing to touch him. At that exact moment, my hands released my hips, heading for the button; suddenly, he stepped back and looked down at me.

"If only you were available." He smiled tauntingly.

A wave of disappointment hit hard, followed by a sense of relief that he saved me from myself. I smiled back and leaned back in the chair, pushing my pussy forward.

"Very good, Mr. Thomas; I am impressed with your imagination and self-control," I said, trying to collect myself but still unable to look away from the beast held captive in his shorts.

"I've had experience with cock teases before, but high school seems so long ago now."

"Whose teasing who, Mr. Thomas?" I asked, smiling.

"It's worse for men."

I cut him off. "Please, Mr. Thomas, I see the Neanderthal coming out again. Have you ever heard a man complain about his wife or girlfriend coming too soon, cutting him short of satisfaction? Do you think because you get hard, it's any less disappointing or even painful to be aroused and left unfulfilled? You think my pussy is not aching right now?"

"I can help you with that, Mrs. Stilson," he said mockingly, softly.

"Nice try, Mr. Thomas, but I 'belong' to someone else, remember? Besides, I'm married to a pilot, who's gone a lot; I have a little plastic friend who helps me out just fine in times of need. I've never cheated on him and don't plan to today."

I felt some control coming back as I directed just a fraction of my pent-up frustration toward Mark instead of Wayne. "You call me Mrs. Stilson to remind you I belong to him, yet you offer to 'help me.' You, sir, are a pussy-tease, every bit as much as I am a cock-tease."

I broke my gaze from his boner and looked up with a victorious smile. His response took me by surprise. He looked down at me with a severe expression and stepped forward dangerously close. But with my new position on the seat, his leg touched my crotch rather than the chair, surprising us both.

I gasped, and my mouth opened. I suddenly could only breathe through my mouth. Trying not to give him the satisfaction of knowing touch's effect on me, I tried not to react. Although, the instant he touched me, I almost unconsciously pressed myself against him. His response was to thrust his pelvis forward, pushing his cockhead to the very top edge of his jeans. His black underwear waistband poked through the top and peeled back, exposing a tiny bit of his pink tip.

My hands clenched my hips again as the glistening pink cock tip taunted me. I sat frozen--wanting to hump his leg like a dog as I ripped those hateful fucking jeans off his body--but was too terrified to move.

"Since we're reliving high school, Mrs. Stilson, it was understood back then that a hand job was not considered cheating. Mouth to genitals or genitals to genitals was crossing the line. A hand job was helping out a friend. I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Let's help each other out, friend. A rub for a rub?"

His comments brought back memories from ninth grade, jacking off my neighbor's brother in his basement during a sleepover. He was older, and I had a crush on him. He came so fast and immediately ran to the bathroom to clean himself up. I waited for almost twenty minutes, and he never came out. So I snuck back into bed and always found excuses to avoid him after that.

Mark was a whole other story. He was all man, and this went far beyond teen exploration. My last semblance of common sense kicked in.

"Listen, Mark," I said, as my thighs closed, gripping his leg while my pussy pushed a little harder against him for one last feel. "It's been fun flirting, but I am happily married, and my husband was kind enough to help you. I couldn't betray him. You made me feel wanted today, and I thank you for that. It's pretty clear I've enjoyed the eye candy, so I put an extra hundred in here as a thank-you. You can return tomorrow to finish the job, but this stops here. When you finish, I'll gladly pay you another four hundred dollars tomorrow."

I thought it would be fitting to pay my eye candy like a stripper and put the money in his waistband. So my left hand gripped his waistband to the left of his cock, to hold him steady as I shoved the cash in on the right. I instantly felt his heat, and before I knew what happened, he raised his hips, and with my hands pulling his waistband out, his cock head burst out the top of his pants as his leg pressed harder against me.

I gasped, and the tingle in my aching pussy caused my thighs to clamp onto his leg, holding him against my wetness. His cock was circumcised, and I stared at his helmet, glistening with pre-cum, inches from my face. A drop of pre-cum ran down and settled into the cleft of his cock head, and I swallowed hard, repressing the thought of picking it out of his aperture with the tip of my tongue before swirling it over his cock head to lick him clean. I took a deep breath, and the scent of his sweaty body caused me to tremble as I fought for control.

Then he spoke in a soft, calming voice. "Are you going to leave me like this, Amy? I mean Mrs. Stilson. Or are you going to help a friend out? If you think about it, it's no different than what your husband did for me, rubbing a spasming appendage until it was better."

I was vaguely aware of him talking, but my eyes were locked on his round cock, head bulging out of his pants, with his pole running the entire length from his belly button to his thigh gap. He released a rush of blood, causing his head to swell and push out another half inch before settling back. The button of his jeans glared at me from just below his head, and I knew it had to go.

My hands slid together, sandwiching his cock. I sighed at the heat as my fingers touched the sides of it. My fingers worked the button and pulled down on the shorts simultaneously. They did not give at first, but when the button released, I pulled down and out on the flaps with a grip on his underwear, as well; the zipper held the shorts too tightly to pull down. He sighed heavily as I reached for the zipper.

"Oh God, thank you, Mrs. Stilson," he said, as his leg pulled away from my screaming pussy so that I could lower his pants.

I nodded as I downed the zipper and gripped his waistband at the hips. With no further thought, I yanked his shorts and underwear down and cleared his ten-inch monster. I leaned forward to push them down his legs, and his hot, hard pole thudded against my nose, slid off the side, and rested on my cheek, touching my lips. I should have stopped, but I needed those shorts off. Resisting the urge to kiss, lick, and suck his salty, sweaty cock, I told myself a hand job was not crossing the line. Touch it, stroke it, feel the brutal heat, but penetration is off-limits.

He began rocking side to side, rubbing his manhood against my face, and I leaned away from him as I pushed the shorts past his knees, wondering if I'd have to drop to my knees to get them past his ankles. Luckily, he kicked them down and off once they passed his knees, and I brought my hands up to grip him.

"Hands only, Mark. You're trying to break the rules already! Hands-only and just this once. I just had to touch it," I said, as my left hand palmed his balls and my right, the base of his shaft. His balls were so warm and seemed much more significant than Wayne's. The shaft seemed nearly twice as long and one and a half times the diameter.

With his shorts and underwear off, he pressed his knees back against my wet bottoms, and I pushed back to meet him, once again clamping him with my thighs.

"Oh fuck, your hands are so warm and soft, Mrs. Stilson. That feels so good." His moans took over as my right palm pressed against him, sliding up the length of his shaft.

Hearing him say it gave my mind the green light. "Damn, it's so fucking big, and your skin is so silky smooth; I've never felt anything like it."

"Oh!" he gasped as my palm reached his cleft, smearing his pre-cum against the sensitive area on the front of his cock head. "I like that dirty little mouth, Mrs. Stilson."

He had me so revved up that I had used the F-word. I only recall using it once. Wayne went down on me for the first time, and I let out a screaming "Fuck!" as he made me come. We were in his apartment alone at the time. The next time he did it, he tossed me a pillow to muffle the screams before he began. It pissed me off, and there was no orgasm that night.

I call that sensitive spot below the aperture the 'man-clit'. I discovered it during that first-hand job in junior high, and it's proved true on every cock I've ever touched. I coined the phrase in high school with Michael Roberts at the library when I made him come in his pants with my foot under the table. Once again, it proved true.

Now, I pressed harder, moving my palm in small circles on the magic spot, loving the complete rush of feeling Mark's giant cock and knowing I could make him come so quickly. But I stopped myself. This was a one-time thing, and I wanted to enjoy his exceptional cock while I had the chance.

I slid my hand over his cock head, coating it with pre-cum; then, I gripped his pole and, for the first time, was unable to get my fingertips to meet my thumb around a cock. I stroked slowly up and down his length, marveling at its size and heat. It may have been my imagination, as our minds sometimes exaggerate things in those few moments in life that remain etched forever. The feel of Mark Thomas' hard-as-steel-yet-smooth-as-silk shaft was one of those moments. It was beyond etched in stone; it was carved in granite in the forefront of my mind. I had never felt a cock so hard with such heat. I wanted it inside me, and I felt like I'd never wanted anything so much.




To be continued