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Two months after I’d first gotten into Margie’s pants, she still wouldn’t let me fuck her. It’s not that we didn’t have the opportunity. Once a week or two we’d leave work in the mid afternoon, drive to her nearby apartment, and there we’d make out and grope each other on the sofa or the livingroom floor, or sometimes even in her bedroom on her double bed with her teddy bear looking on in bemused silence. We did just about everything else, but she said no to intercourse.

It’s not that she didn’t like sex. From the very beginning, from that very first day she invited me to her place and I got her off with my fingers, Margie seemed to have few inhibitions. The second time, three days later, she was on her back on the living room floor with her skirt up to her chin and her thighs squeezing my neck, followed soon thereafter with her lips wrapped around my cock. But intercourse was a no-no.

“It’s my boyfriend,” she told me one afternoon as we cuddled on her couch. His frequent business travels had accommodated our regular get-togethers. “I know it sounds silly, but it makes me feel like I’m still being faithful to him.” Her notion of faithfulness was a little bit puzzling to me, since at that particular moment her fragrant juices were smeared all over my face and I had two fingers curled inside her, pressing a rhythm against her roughened g-spot. Ten minutes earlier, my cock had been releasing my pent up tension into her mouth.

I wasn’t complaining, mind you. At least I wasn’t complaining much. Margie’s pussy was a sheer delight of a feast. She opened her legs for me without a hint of shyness. Her aroma was distinct and heady, clearly signaling her arousal even before I could slip her panties off and fling them away. Her outer labia were chubby and just begged for my tongue to split them and suckle her pink inner labia that quickly swelled and parted. She’d hold my head between her hands and curl those short legs around my neck and hook her ankles together, and then her hips would be in constant motion.

Margie was one of those women who wasn’t very loud during her buildup. She signaled her pleasure with dashing accelerations in breathing and sprints of breathy pants and a way of pulling on the back of my head with her hands while she lifted her hips, to more tightly capture my face against her sweet openness.

Best of all, I could always tell when Margie was going to come. Her inner labia swelled to form a wide, firm valley. At the top, her clit stood high and hard and called for my tongue to dance and my lips to suck. At the bottom, that juicy valley formed an enticing gateway to the crinkly, hot opening of her vagina, that source of seemingly canlı bahis şirketaleri endless slick juices. When Margie’s pussy blossomed like that, I knew that all she needed was another thirty seconds of steady lapping pressure.

And then she’d pop. Perhaps “pop” isn’t the right word. “Explode” is more accurate. Margie’s hips would slash her pussy against my mouth and she’d breathe so hard she seemed to hyperventilate, her moans becoming louder and higher-pitched until she crested with a series of three or four intense shrieks and a shuddering body that vibrated for half a minute or more.

Sometimes I could keep her going like that for more than a minute, though I learned to stay away from her clit and just focus on those chubby labia, combined with the occasional plunge of my tongue into her vagina. Then she’d rise to a second orgasm, sometimes a third, before those rubbery-hard pussylips softened and her body became limp.

Needless to say, my own body wasn’t limp at this point. Margie may have been reluctant to fuck, but she showed no reluctance to getting me – eventually – to an equally limp state with her mouth. She was particularly adept at that particular skill. She seemed to sense exactly how to get me off, using just the right combination of slow, sensuous rhythm and gentle suction that I like. She’d lie between my legs and suck, her breasts against my thighs, her dark brown eyes gazing upward and locked onto mine, her wavy brown hair falling down to my body to frame her face, humming around my cock as she felt me get closer and closer. And when I’d come she’d hold that eyelock, bobbing her head to greet every wet pulse, sucking and swallowing, sucking and swallowing, until I was spent and shriveled.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess that I didn’t give up on the idea of fucking her. As far as I was concerned, she was already cheating on her boyfriend, even if technically I wasn’t boinking her. She’d told me that she was on the pill, so birth control wasn’t an issue. And since these events all occurred in the pre-AIDS era, so neither of us was faced with the issue of a fatal STD. So I kept trying, in a low-key, gentlemanly, albeit relentlessly persuasive way.

Eventually Margie saw the logic to my argument. Either that, or she was as horny as I was and I just caught her on the right day. It was a Bedroom Day – not a Sofa Day or a Floor Day, for reasons I can’t remember today. We were both naked, which was becoming more and more common over the span of the two months we’d been having our low-calorie luncheons, and I was dawdling in my normal rush get between her legs and lick her into a frenzy. By the time I finally homed canlı kaçak iddaa in on the Promised Land, Margie was primed and ready.

Twice I brought her to the precipice with my mouth, and twice I retreated and left her teetering on the edge. The first time I did this, Margie groaned with frustration and tried to friction her pussy against my mouth to get herself past the threshold, but I retreated and wouldn’t play along. The second time she tried to use her legs and her hands to force me back. “Damn you,” she growled at me, “Don’t tease me!”

I strained against her grip and slid upward to top her, nose to nose. Margie’s legs stiffened straight, forcing my shaft between us against her lower belly. I rocked against her. “I have an idea,” I whispered. “Let me rub against you.”

Margie momentarily hesitated, then her legs opened and the tops of her feet tucked in next to my calves. Immediately my cock notched lengthwise in her cleft between those fattened pussylips of hers, just like it belonged there. I began to rub against her. “Not inside,” she reminded me.

I smiled at her. All in due time, I thought to myself.

I began a steady rhythm, and Margie’s hips responded. Her mouth pursed into an open aroused “O” and her eyes became heavy-lidded, her face blushed. Her labia, which had momentarily softened, had again rehardened into their supercharged swollen state. Her cleft had again become a valley, and the route was obvious. And it was obvious to both of us.

When the moment was ripe, my cockhead paused at her entrance and teased in little circles. “Damn you,” she murmured, sliding both hands down to cup my ass. She closed her eyes and welcomed me forward. I didn’t object.

As many times as you explore a woman’s vagina with your fingers, you’re never quite sure what it will feel like to your penis. With your penis you discover her inner temperature, the nuances of texture and snugness and lubrication of her inner walls, whether or not you can touch her cervix, how her labia cling to your shaft when you slide in and out, and a myriad of other things. And that’s when you discover her reaction to your cock being there, thrusting into her, stretching her open. It’s all a journey of discovery, that first penetration. And, of course, any and all those things can all change from minute to minute, and from afternoon to afternoon.

And Margie? That first time, that first moment, she was sopping wet and fiery hot. Her entrance hugged my invading shaft, and her vagina opened up wider inside. Her walls were a silky smooth surface. Even when I buried my cock as deep as I could get, with my pubic bone pressing against those swollen inner canlı kaçak bahis labia, the tip of my cock still couldn’t touch her cervix. And best of all, as I fucked her with long, lazy gliding strokes, Margie exhaled a noisy moan to welcome each of my inward journeys. It made me want to repeat each slippery stroke, again and again, to hear this same sound, this responsive applause of pleasure.

Margie’s familiar vocalizations and her rocking hips and her hands cupping my ass kept me moving. We began slow and steady, then her hands and hips encouraged me to increase the pace, and if anything she became noisier. I bottomed out on each inward thrust, each pistoning drive met with her joyful exhale and a slurpy sloppy sound of her ever increasing juices. “I’m going to come,” I warned her, and Margie only closed her eyes and pulled me tighter.

I exploded with my own cry of pleasure, jamming strong and deep inside her with a cock that felt a foot long. It was then that I felt her cervix, a little fluttery whisper against my cockhead, and a primal part of my brain saw my white spurts bathing it, invading her ever so intimate depths that she had until now reserved for her absent boyfriend. Spasm after spasm, my supercharged erection flung out each juicy splash. I was in a different universe, barely hearing Margie’s announcement of her own orgasm. I was all-cock, all inside, filling her with my offering to her alter of lust.

Afterwards we clung together, cheek to cheek, Margie’s legs still wrapped around my thighs, her creamy snatch giving little nibbles to my deflating shaft. She exhaled a long breath and dug her fingernails into my back. “Damn you,” she whispered into my ear.

“Sorry.” I started to pull out, and Margie’s hands clutched my ass and pulled me back.


I waited. We were still cheek to cheek. I wasn’t sure I wanted to make eye contact quite yet. Margie’s kegels clenched again, this time more forcefully, which squeezed out my penis. “Oops,” she giggled. Her legs relaxed and her hands moved up to cup my face, and we kissed.

Then I raised my body up and rolled to her side, and Margie rolled to face me. She threw her upper leg over mine. She tapped a finger against my lips. “You bad, bad boy.” She seemed only half serious. I tried not to smile.

Margie reached a hand down between her legs and scrunched her face into a funny expression. “What a mess you’ve made.” The hand reappeared, and she wiggled two wet fingers in front of my nose. “Look what I found!”

“It’s not all from me. It’s your juices, too.”

Margie’s nose scrunched up again. “True.” Her hand descended again, and this time it found my penis. She nudged me onto my back, then straddled me, pressing her pussy against my shriveled flesh. “What am I going to do with you?” Margie closed her eyes and stroked her own slick sex against mine, then answered her own question. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

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