Orpheus
12-26-2010, 12:51 AM
“Amanda, I’d like you to meet Ms Peady Westerly, she’s going to help you in your preparations,” Tristan said. Meanwhile, I’ll be out in the back finishing up the room.
“Hey,” said Amanda to Peady as Tristan headed for the back door. Amanda studied the woman, she guessed her age at about forty and she had an athletic and confident appearance. She had on a bikini top that showed off a well sculpted feminine musculature and sweats for bottoms.
“You’re a lucky girl, Amanda,” Peady said after Tristan was out the back door.
“How so, Ms Westerly?”
“You can call me Peady. My daughter, Beverly, was Tris’ first client, and both my daughter and I are still happy with the result.”
“So you’ve known him a while, then.”
“You could say that,” she said with a chuckle. “I was the one who suggested he make a living with his talents.”
“So, you and he were…”
“It’s complicated. We were lovers for a very short time, and then life intervened. We went our separate ways, but making love with Tris was and I imagine, is, an experience. One you’re soon to have.” Y’know, what he’s going to give you is the ability to know that what you want from the act of love is yours to obtain. It’s a standard against which you can make judgments about men in general and help the man in your life treat you the way you wish to be treated during the act of love. Since every woman is different, you need to understand that your orgasm is yours to control and that you need to guide the man, show him how to do the things that satisfy you specifically. It shouldn’t be a guessing game for him. Both men and women have limitations, which have to be respected, just remember those limits are flexible, bendable and fuzzy, a bit malleable.”
“Is this part of the preparation?”
“Yes. During the interview you gave Tris a framework from which he will act, but you must help him. If something is taking place that is, what you thought you wanted in fantasy, but decide should not happen in real life, you can easily change the direction of the session with your body and voice.”
“How?”
“Tensing your body, stop moaning, even saying that you don’t want it. These are things that occur naturally if something unwanted is occurring but many women are too concerned about the man to let these messages be received by him. Remember, men are easily aroused and arrive at climax just as easily, We’re talking a matter of seconds, minutes at the most; the woman’s needs need to come first, because her ride has more length and more depth. I can’t know for sure, I’d bet the arrival is more profound as well.”
“What about men?”
“It’s simple: The Penis Never Lies. When aroused, the man’s speech ability diminishes almost completely, but he doesn’t need to speak. His penis does the communicating; it stiffens when he likes an activity and goes limp when what’s happening isn’t to his taste. If the man loves the woman, his concern should be that he accommodates the woman, sees to her needs. That’s how he controls his climax.
“Can young men go to people the way I came to Tris to learn how to do that?”
“That’s why I’m here.” Peady said while taking off the sweats from the lower half of her body.
“So you and Tris work together.”
“Yes, we learned from each other when we were young; in fact it was our first experience together that got things rolling for the both of us. Though I was far from a virgin, Tris was my first real sexual experience. My Prima Volta.”
“Can you tell me?”
“I don’t think so. It was kind of embarrassing for Tris and I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone once we moved away from our hometown.”
“Oh, Peady, please…Wait! ‘Peady, please…’ Peady…P. D. Westerly…Pamela Drew Westerly? You’re the one who…?”
“Did he tell you?”
‘Yes, he did. Wow! I can’t believe it. Won’t you tell me what happened after you gave him his spanking in the school equipment shed?”
“Hmm…Well, if he spilled his beans about… well, spilling his beans, I guess I can spill mine…
*
Peady Continues Telling of Tristan’s first Erotic Spanking
and Its Aftermath
I spanked boys out of revenge and frustration. My first experience was in a cheep motel with a football player whom I saw eying me while I was cheering on the team as a member of the squad. I thought him so manly. He ended up cumming as soon as he broke my hymen, then he rolled off my body and started to go to sleep. I’d just started to get excited. I was so angry; I got between his legs and kneed him in the balls. While he was trying to deal with that I dragged him over my lap and beat his ass with his own belt. That ended up being the best part of the whole experience. I ended up throwing him out the motel door on his naked keister and throwing his clothes out after him.
Experiences after that weren’t much better. It seemed that the guys just wanted to poke their meat-sticks into me and say farewell. I would end up clobbering them with something, a telephone book or a Gideon Bible, or with my knee or foot in their balls. I’d get them over my lap and spank my frustrations out on their asses with my hand, my shoe, their belts, anything I could get my hands onto.
I decided to skip the sex and just do the spanking, I’d lure some macho slob, get him to pay for the room and just give him a good swift boot in the balls and blister his behind. They’d end up slinking away in shame and in anger.
I started smacking boys in the butt whenever I was near one. That’s what I was doing when I saw Tris staring at me in the senior hallway of the high school. I didn’t even know his name, and I didn’t care. I confronted him and dared him to meet me in the sports equipment shed behind the school.
I had my fellow members of the cheering squad help me clear a space in the shed. I stole a teacher’s chair. My plan was to publicly and sexually humiliate a male. I didn’t really know Tris at the time. I’d seen him and thought he was cute; he was taller than I was and he was a senior, while I was a junior. I considered that perfect. I knew I could out-smart him and event beat him up if I needed to. And I’d spank him, in front of as many people as I could gather.
And so, I did. It was easier to do than I’d thought. The problem was that when it was over, I’d realized the tables had been turned on me. I had spanked his bare ass and had made him come, with seventy or eighty people watching.
When it was over, he lay on my lap, shaking, vulnerable and sobbing his thanks to me for what I had done to him. My heart broke. I grabbed my cheerleader jacket that was hanging on the back of the chair and draped it over his reddened ass. I told the gathered students to leave, that the show was over. And after the doors closed, I let Tris just stay on my lap while I held him until he’d stopped shaking and calmed down.
Eventually, he climbed from my lap. But instead of slinking away, he knelt in front of me, took off one of my shoes and my sock and began kissing my foot. And when I say kissing, I mean really kissing. His lips and tongue traveled all over my foot, between my toes along the sole. He sucked each of my toes. When he was done with the one foot, he did the same to the other. I’d never experienced anything like that in my life. I was so turned on! It was heaven. When I looked down at him he looked as if he were involved in an act of worship.
His hands worked my ankles then my calves and my knees. He’d alternate this with a long slow series of kisses on the places he’d rubbed with his hands. He lingered on my thighs, kissing and rubbing, his hands sliding slowly up the inside of my thighs a little before they would retreat. Then glide up a little bit more. His cool kisses on the inside of my thighs drove me to shudders of pleasure. “Oh,” I sighed. “This is…this is …this is…Oh, never mind…um… what your name?”
“Tris.” He said between kisses three-quarters of the way up the tender inside of my thigh.
“Chris?” I sighed shivering with desire.
“Tris,” he said, moving closer to my, now very wet satin undies.
“Trish?” I moaned, shifting my hips and spreading my thighs, trying to get my groin closer to his mouth.
“Tris…Tristan,” he said, his nose wedging my very wet panties into my now wide open vagina. I could feel his intake of air through his nose suck some of my panties up his nostrils. It was too much. I had to find out who this boy was. So I sat straight up in the chair. He pulled his head from my crotch when he felt me move.
“Did you say your name was Crispy Christian?” I asked not caring how ridiculous such a name was,
“My Name is Tristan,” He said. “T.R.I.S.T.A.N.” he spelled.
“Tristan,” I repeated. “What a beautiful name.” As I loosened my spine and let myself sink back into the chair. I sighed, “much better than Crispy Crapshoot…”
Tris worked my panties from my bottom and slid them off my legs and feet. I opened my eyes to see him bring the slippery enclosure to his face. He is worshiping me, I thought, He’s worshiping my panties. I closed my eyes again and felt Tristan’s breath on my vagina. His kisses caressed my inner thighs so close to my opening that my brain tried to make it feel like he was actually kissing the vaginal area itself. Like his hands, (Oh, his hands!), his kisses slowly came closer to the target. When a corner of his lips finally touched my twat I moaned, when I felt his lips full on I moaned again, when I felt his tongue touching and tasting me I heard him moan. Worship. His tongue circled the outer most rim of my opening.
His tongue plunged deep. I could hear him slurping my juices, his tongue sliding on the smooth shiny surface of the spout of my vessel.
He paused.
I looked down to see what he was doing.
I watched him studying my vagina.
The look on his face was intense.
I felt his fingers spread me.
He brought his face to my crotch and his lips encircled my clit. You might call it a kiss, but it was more than that. He sucked a little and his lips squeezed together while he sucked. My head swam and I heard myself make a sound that I’d never made before: part moan, part purr and part growl.
He paused again.
I know, now, that the pause was Tris’ hearing my vocalization and considering what it meant. At that point, however, I wanted no pause, no hesitation, no waiting. I wanted more and I wanted it immediately.
He reprised the kissing of my clit.
Oh, the kissing, kissing, kissing…
Oh, the sucking, sucking, sucking….
Oh, that beautiful squeeze of his lips on my button, button, button.
Then something new: Tristan’s tongue alternately teased my clit with its tip and then dragged the surface of his tongue up and down on it. I found that I needed to touch him so I grabbed his thick head of black hair in one hand and one of his ears in the other. I pushed his face down into my crotch trying to get as much of him into me as possible, but without much success. I’d realized that I wanted him inside me. “I want you inside me,” I moaned.
He stood and scanned the stuff stored against the walls of the shed. “Ah,” he said. In short order he uncovered a plastic wrapped spare cot mattress that has yet to be opened for use in the nurse’s health office. He pulled it from the pile, flung it onto the dusty floor, tore off the plastic then almost tumbled onto it.
I rose from the chair and discarded my cheerleader uniform and climbed onto him straddling his trunk. “Wait,” he said, “I don’t have a condom or anything.”
“Puh-leaze, I said, “we’re on page twenty-six of a made-up sex story. There’s no reason to get worried about stuff like that.”
“Oh…yeah…okay.” He agreed.
So, let’s see… I climbed on top of him and lowered myself to bring my mouth to his. Since I was more or less squatting on his penis I felt it stiffen as we kissed. “You won’t come right away, will you?” I said, “Because I’ll kill you if you do!”
“I’ll do my best,” he said sincerely. “I’ll so my best.”
I raised myself enough to grab onto his penis. Tris cupped his hands at the bottom of my hips as if he were going to hold me aloft. I placed the tip of his penis to my vagina. “Slowly,” He said.
I pushed myself down a bit until I could feel my vagina engulf the rim of the head of his cock. I was wet enough that I could have dropped my ass right down and he would have slipped into me, whole and without hesitation. Instead I squeeze my vagina around his penis head, once, twice, three times. I heard Tris vocalize his pleasure. I squeezed once more and watched his face as my silky vaginal muscles played with the bulbous end of his penis. The look of ecstasy there on his face had me feeling powerful. I slid myself down a little more down his shaft squeezing as I did so. His face changed. His eyes opened and he gazed intently into my eyes. He set his jaw. I pushed down a little more and then a little more. Finally, I lowered my hips in a smooth motion until my ass cheeks made contact with his body. I could feel his testes wedge and settle between my ass-cheeks.
I squeezed my vagina around the head of his penis, once, twice, three times.
That feeling of having a boy, this boy, Tristan, inside me, was more than a physical act. As good as that was, the idea that it was my femaleness, my vagina, engulfing and holding a man in the center of my being that brought a feeling of the beauty and power of my womanhood. He wasn’t violating me, he wasn’t porking or poking me, he wasn’t fucking me. I, the young woman, was taking, acquiring, seizing, capturing Tristan Shaw’s cock, drawing it into me just the way I wanted to. I couldn’t describe the feeling I had in my tummy and be coherent. I’ll just say I felt warm and full of him, that it felt like I’d come in from a very cold day into a really warm house with the heat blowing and grabbing a cup of tea and smelling my favorite meal cooking in the oven, being fed this meal while my hands and feet warmed.
I moved up and down on him, sometimes slowly sometimes faster. I lowered my body to his and Tris wrapped his arms around me burying his face in my shoulder. I found that pumping him this way rubbed my clit in his pubic hair and on his bone below it. I rode and rode him. A rush of pleasure started building centered on my clitoris. I felt a tension that made my toes curl. Tension built and a kind of pressure built with it, until it felt like my clit would explode. I felt myself spasm and my brain seemed to flood with warm waves radiating from my groin. I voiced my release. I may have yelled, but it felt and sounded like opera to me. Tired and drained and happy, I stayed on top of Tristan until the tingling and pulsing dimmed.
*
“You make it sound so special.” Amanda observed.
“I assure you it was. On thinking about the situation, I realized that Tris, like all boys and some men making love for the first time, didn’t know what to do or how to do it, but he had a couple of things most males didn’t. First, he loved girls. He loved and care for women. He loved femaleness. It was almost worship. No, it was worship. He loved the female texture of the skin, the womanly smells, the girl-curves, the sound of the feminine voice. I could tell just by the way he treated me. Second, he paid attention to the girl he was pleasuring: he watched, he listened, he felt for messages to tell him what to do, and for how long to do it.”
“What about Tris? Did he…?”
“Oh, yeah, I lifted myself to sit on him with his cock still in me. I saw him looking at me. He looked to be amazed at what he saw. He then reached up and moved his hands over my upper torso and when his hand glided down to the swell of my hips. I lifted myself to the tip of his cock, and I slowly slid back down its length. He said one word.
“And he came.”
“One word? What word?”
“Goddess.”
“Hey,” said Amanda to Peady as Tristan headed for the back door. Amanda studied the woman, she guessed her age at about forty and she had an athletic and confident appearance. She had on a bikini top that showed off a well sculpted feminine musculature and sweats for bottoms.
“You’re a lucky girl, Amanda,” Peady said after Tristan was out the back door.
“How so, Ms Westerly?”
“You can call me Peady. My daughter, Beverly, was Tris’ first client, and both my daughter and I are still happy with the result.”
“So you’ve known him a while, then.”
“You could say that,” she said with a chuckle. “I was the one who suggested he make a living with his talents.”
“So, you and he were…”
“It’s complicated. We were lovers for a very short time, and then life intervened. We went our separate ways, but making love with Tris was and I imagine, is, an experience. One you’re soon to have.” Y’know, what he’s going to give you is the ability to know that what you want from the act of love is yours to obtain. It’s a standard against which you can make judgments about men in general and help the man in your life treat you the way you wish to be treated during the act of love. Since every woman is different, you need to understand that your orgasm is yours to control and that you need to guide the man, show him how to do the things that satisfy you specifically. It shouldn’t be a guessing game for him. Both men and women have limitations, which have to be respected, just remember those limits are flexible, bendable and fuzzy, a bit malleable.”
“Is this part of the preparation?”
“Yes. During the interview you gave Tris a framework from which he will act, but you must help him. If something is taking place that is, what you thought you wanted in fantasy, but decide should not happen in real life, you can easily change the direction of the session with your body and voice.”
“How?”
“Tensing your body, stop moaning, even saying that you don’t want it. These are things that occur naturally if something unwanted is occurring but many women are too concerned about the man to let these messages be received by him. Remember, men are easily aroused and arrive at climax just as easily, We’re talking a matter of seconds, minutes at the most; the woman’s needs need to come first, because her ride has more length and more depth. I can’t know for sure, I’d bet the arrival is more profound as well.”
“What about men?”
“It’s simple: The Penis Never Lies. When aroused, the man’s speech ability diminishes almost completely, but he doesn’t need to speak. His penis does the communicating; it stiffens when he likes an activity and goes limp when what’s happening isn’t to his taste. If the man loves the woman, his concern should be that he accommodates the woman, sees to her needs. That’s how he controls his climax.
“Can young men go to people the way I came to Tris to learn how to do that?”
“That’s why I’m here.” Peady said while taking off the sweats from the lower half of her body.
“So you and Tris work together.”
“Yes, we learned from each other when we were young; in fact it was our first experience together that got things rolling for the both of us. Though I was far from a virgin, Tris was my first real sexual experience. My Prima Volta.”
“Can you tell me?”
“I don’t think so. It was kind of embarrassing for Tris and I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone once we moved away from our hometown.”
“Oh, Peady, please…Wait! ‘Peady, please…’ Peady…P. D. Westerly…Pamela Drew Westerly? You’re the one who…?”
“Did he tell you?”
‘Yes, he did. Wow! I can’t believe it. Won’t you tell me what happened after you gave him his spanking in the school equipment shed?”
“Hmm…Well, if he spilled his beans about… well, spilling his beans, I guess I can spill mine…
*
Peady Continues Telling of Tristan’s first Erotic Spanking
and Its Aftermath
I spanked boys out of revenge and frustration. My first experience was in a cheep motel with a football player whom I saw eying me while I was cheering on the team as a member of the squad. I thought him so manly. He ended up cumming as soon as he broke my hymen, then he rolled off my body and started to go to sleep. I’d just started to get excited. I was so angry; I got between his legs and kneed him in the balls. While he was trying to deal with that I dragged him over my lap and beat his ass with his own belt. That ended up being the best part of the whole experience. I ended up throwing him out the motel door on his naked keister and throwing his clothes out after him.
Experiences after that weren’t much better. It seemed that the guys just wanted to poke their meat-sticks into me and say farewell. I would end up clobbering them with something, a telephone book or a Gideon Bible, or with my knee or foot in their balls. I’d get them over my lap and spank my frustrations out on their asses with my hand, my shoe, their belts, anything I could get my hands onto.
I decided to skip the sex and just do the spanking, I’d lure some macho slob, get him to pay for the room and just give him a good swift boot in the balls and blister his behind. They’d end up slinking away in shame and in anger.
I started smacking boys in the butt whenever I was near one. That’s what I was doing when I saw Tris staring at me in the senior hallway of the high school. I didn’t even know his name, and I didn’t care. I confronted him and dared him to meet me in the sports equipment shed behind the school.
I had my fellow members of the cheering squad help me clear a space in the shed. I stole a teacher’s chair. My plan was to publicly and sexually humiliate a male. I didn’t really know Tris at the time. I’d seen him and thought he was cute; he was taller than I was and he was a senior, while I was a junior. I considered that perfect. I knew I could out-smart him and event beat him up if I needed to. And I’d spank him, in front of as many people as I could gather.
And so, I did. It was easier to do than I’d thought. The problem was that when it was over, I’d realized the tables had been turned on me. I had spanked his bare ass and had made him come, with seventy or eighty people watching.
When it was over, he lay on my lap, shaking, vulnerable and sobbing his thanks to me for what I had done to him. My heart broke. I grabbed my cheerleader jacket that was hanging on the back of the chair and draped it over his reddened ass. I told the gathered students to leave, that the show was over. And after the doors closed, I let Tris just stay on my lap while I held him until he’d stopped shaking and calmed down.
Eventually, he climbed from my lap. But instead of slinking away, he knelt in front of me, took off one of my shoes and my sock and began kissing my foot. And when I say kissing, I mean really kissing. His lips and tongue traveled all over my foot, between my toes along the sole. He sucked each of my toes. When he was done with the one foot, he did the same to the other. I’d never experienced anything like that in my life. I was so turned on! It was heaven. When I looked down at him he looked as if he were involved in an act of worship.
His hands worked my ankles then my calves and my knees. He’d alternate this with a long slow series of kisses on the places he’d rubbed with his hands. He lingered on my thighs, kissing and rubbing, his hands sliding slowly up the inside of my thighs a little before they would retreat. Then glide up a little bit more. His cool kisses on the inside of my thighs drove me to shudders of pleasure. “Oh,” I sighed. “This is…this is …this is…Oh, never mind…um… what your name?”
“Tris.” He said between kisses three-quarters of the way up the tender inside of my thigh.
“Chris?” I sighed shivering with desire.
“Tris,” he said, moving closer to my, now very wet satin undies.
“Trish?” I moaned, shifting my hips and spreading my thighs, trying to get my groin closer to his mouth.
“Tris…Tristan,” he said, his nose wedging my very wet panties into my now wide open vagina. I could feel his intake of air through his nose suck some of my panties up his nostrils. It was too much. I had to find out who this boy was. So I sat straight up in the chair. He pulled his head from my crotch when he felt me move.
“Did you say your name was Crispy Christian?” I asked not caring how ridiculous such a name was,
“My Name is Tristan,” He said. “T.R.I.S.T.A.N.” he spelled.
“Tristan,” I repeated. “What a beautiful name.” As I loosened my spine and let myself sink back into the chair. I sighed, “much better than Crispy Crapshoot…”
Tris worked my panties from my bottom and slid them off my legs and feet. I opened my eyes to see him bring the slippery enclosure to his face. He is worshiping me, I thought, He’s worshiping my panties. I closed my eyes again and felt Tristan’s breath on my vagina. His kisses caressed my inner thighs so close to my opening that my brain tried to make it feel like he was actually kissing the vaginal area itself. Like his hands, (Oh, his hands!), his kisses slowly came closer to the target. When a corner of his lips finally touched my twat I moaned, when I felt his lips full on I moaned again, when I felt his tongue touching and tasting me I heard him moan. Worship. His tongue circled the outer most rim of my opening.
His tongue plunged deep. I could hear him slurping my juices, his tongue sliding on the smooth shiny surface of the spout of my vessel.
He paused.
I looked down to see what he was doing.
I watched him studying my vagina.
The look on his face was intense.
I felt his fingers spread me.
He brought his face to my crotch and his lips encircled my clit. You might call it a kiss, but it was more than that. He sucked a little and his lips squeezed together while he sucked. My head swam and I heard myself make a sound that I’d never made before: part moan, part purr and part growl.
He paused again.
I know, now, that the pause was Tris’ hearing my vocalization and considering what it meant. At that point, however, I wanted no pause, no hesitation, no waiting. I wanted more and I wanted it immediately.
He reprised the kissing of my clit.
Oh, the kissing, kissing, kissing…
Oh, the sucking, sucking, sucking….
Oh, that beautiful squeeze of his lips on my button, button, button.
Then something new: Tristan’s tongue alternately teased my clit with its tip and then dragged the surface of his tongue up and down on it. I found that I needed to touch him so I grabbed his thick head of black hair in one hand and one of his ears in the other. I pushed his face down into my crotch trying to get as much of him into me as possible, but without much success. I’d realized that I wanted him inside me. “I want you inside me,” I moaned.
He stood and scanned the stuff stored against the walls of the shed. “Ah,” he said. In short order he uncovered a plastic wrapped spare cot mattress that has yet to be opened for use in the nurse’s health office. He pulled it from the pile, flung it onto the dusty floor, tore off the plastic then almost tumbled onto it.
I rose from the chair and discarded my cheerleader uniform and climbed onto him straddling his trunk. “Wait,” he said, “I don’t have a condom or anything.”
“Puh-leaze, I said, “we’re on page twenty-six of a made-up sex story. There’s no reason to get worried about stuff like that.”
“Oh…yeah…okay.” He agreed.
So, let’s see… I climbed on top of him and lowered myself to bring my mouth to his. Since I was more or less squatting on his penis I felt it stiffen as we kissed. “You won’t come right away, will you?” I said, “Because I’ll kill you if you do!”
“I’ll do my best,” he said sincerely. “I’ll so my best.”
I raised myself enough to grab onto his penis. Tris cupped his hands at the bottom of my hips as if he were going to hold me aloft. I placed the tip of his penis to my vagina. “Slowly,” He said.
I pushed myself down a bit until I could feel my vagina engulf the rim of the head of his cock. I was wet enough that I could have dropped my ass right down and he would have slipped into me, whole and without hesitation. Instead I squeeze my vagina around his penis head, once, twice, three times. I heard Tris vocalize his pleasure. I squeezed once more and watched his face as my silky vaginal muscles played with the bulbous end of his penis. The look of ecstasy there on his face had me feeling powerful. I slid myself down a little more down his shaft squeezing as I did so. His face changed. His eyes opened and he gazed intently into my eyes. He set his jaw. I pushed down a little more and then a little more. Finally, I lowered my hips in a smooth motion until my ass cheeks made contact with his body. I could feel his testes wedge and settle between my ass-cheeks.
I squeezed my vagina around the head of his penis, once, twice, three times.
That feeling of having a boy, this boy, Tristan, inside me, was more than a physical act. As good as that was, the idea that it was my femaleness, my vagina, engulfing and holding a man in the center of my being that brought a feeling of the beauty and power of my womanhood. He wasn’t violating me, he wasn’t porking or poking me, he wasn’t fucking me. I, the young woman, was taking, acquiring, seizing, capturing Tristan Shaw’s cock, drawing it into me just the way I wanted to. I couldn’t describe the feeling I had in my tummy and be coherent. I’ll just say I felt warm and full of him, that it felt like I’d come in from a very cold day into a really warm house with the heat blowing and grabbing a cup of tea and smelling my favorite meal cooking in the oven, being fed this meal while my hands and feet warmed.
I moved up and down on him, sometimes slowly sometimes faster. I lowered my body to his and Tris wrapped his arms around me burying his face in my shoulder. I found that pumping him this way rubbed my clit in his pubic hair and on his bone below it. I rode and rode him. A rush of pleasure started building centered on my clitoris. I felt a tension that made my toes curl. Tension built and a kind of pressure built with it, until it felt like my clit would explode. I felt myself spasm and my brain seemed to flood with warm waves radiating from my groin. I voiced my release. I may have yelled, but it felt and sounded like opera to me. Tired and drained and happy, I stayed on top of Tristan until the tingling and pulsing dimmed.
*
“You make it sound so special.” Amanda observed.
“I assure you it was. On thinking about the situation, I realized that Tris, like all boys and some men making love for the first time, didn’t know what to do or how to do it, but he had a couple of things most males didn’t. First, he loved girls. He loved and care for women. He loved femaleness. It was almost worship. No, it was worship. He loved the female texture of the skin, the womanly smells, the girl-curves, the sound of the feminine voice. I could tell just by the way he treated me. Second, he paid attention to the girl he was pleasuring: he watched, he listened, he felt for messages to tell him what to do, and for how long to do it.”
“What about Tris? Did he…?”
“Oh, yeah, I lifted myself to sit on him with his cock still in me. I saw him looking at me. He looked to be amazed at what he saw. He then reached up and moved his hands over my upper torso and when his hand glided down to the swell of my hips. I lifted myself to the tip of his cock, and I slowly slid back down its length. He said one word.
“And he came.”
“One word? What word?”
“Goddess.”