As I ring her doorbell

by Nick (UK - MAY 99)

As I ring her doorbell, I take in the sights and sounds of suburbia.
It is a quiet, everyday English street, the time is somewhere between lunch time and mid-afternoon.
The sun is bright and high in the sky.
For some reason, this time of day is important.

Before she answers, I already know much about her.
She is slim, attractive and in her mid-forties - and at the peak of her sexuality.

I know she will be wearing only three garments.
A tight and revealing white T-shirt, and a criminally short mini-skirt which barely conceals an uncomfortably tight pair of thin, white cotton knickers beneath.
She has been wearing them constantly for the past 24 hours.

Another instruction she will have carried out is to start playing with herself for the hour prior to my arrival.
She has been strictly instructed NOT to bring herself to orgasm, and only to massage herself through her clinging, gussetless panties.
Today, only I am allowed to touch her delicate flesh.

This also important - I know her pussy will be moist, fragrant, delicious to taste.

Also prior to my arrival, she has thoroughly washed her bottom with soap and water, making it clean and soft like a babys.
The thought of pouring warm, thinned treacle slowly onto her trembling, exposed anus as she moans at the sensation makes my semi-erect penis press uncomfortably against my tight jeans.

I can feel pre-come dampen my pants, as my cock twitches painfully in anticipation.
My mouth however, is bone dry.

I hear footsteps approach, a white shape grows behind frosted glass.
The door is opened a crack, and she beckons me inside, hidden from view in the darkness beyond.

She is everything I imagined.

Her glorious mature breasts, freed from constraints, swing lower and more naturally, her bullet-hard nipples protrude all too clearly.
Her sun-staved milky white thighs are beautifully displayed, courtesy of the clinging mini-skirt that accentuates her rounded, womanly rear.

Breathlessly, I invite myself into the living room.
Just as this is the time of day that I want to fuck, the living room is the place I want to fuck.
On the carpet, the hearth rug, amongst the upholstery, the arm-chairs the coffee-tables over which respectable conversations are normally conducted.
All of this too is important.
Even the smell of furniture polish.

I instruct her to sit opposite to me, both of us in easy chairs. It has always been a fascination to me, how women are so adept at concealing their underwear when sitting in short-skirts.
It is a subject I wish to learn more about.
Do women practise this manoeuvre from girlhood?
Are they aware that men always look up in vain, for brief and tantalising glimpse of tight, white panty vee, succulently framed between fleshy thighs?
Do they ever deliberately allow men, or even women, a glimpse by pretending to lean for some object, and thus allow a momentary view?

I ask her to cross and un-cross her legs repeatedly, as I stare keenly between her working thighs for a sight of my prey.
She is adept at hiding her assets, so I ask her to deliberately show me a quick flash as she carries on.
Smiling, she complies with practised expertise.
The sight of the white pantie-vee appearing and disappearing is intoxicating.
I know it is warm, heavily perfumed with her glorious, natural fragrance. I know beneath, her vagina is soaking, clinging stickily to the material.

More importantly, I also know that unlike all those other snatched views in the past, this time I will soon be actually able to see this perfect pussy for myself.

I groan slightly at the thought.

My dick is now almost fully erect - making a crude and obvious bulge.
My pants feel as wet as hers must be, and Im concerned the dampness will become visible.
I realise that if I dont loosen my flies soon, Im going to come prematurely by quite some margin.

Its apparent in this case, that I will have to be pleasured first.
The treasured moment of kneeling before her, ordering her to lift her tiny, schoolgirl skirt, and then pealing off and pulling down to her ankles her tight damp, knickers, inhaling that glorious aroma of a womans full sexual arousal, revelling in the sight of a seasoned, beautifully prepared pussy gaping pinkly it will be a moment worth waiting for her.

I order her to the bathroom, she returns with a towel and a tube of baby oil.
I stand, and ask her to loosen my belt, and take my jeans off.
She does this quickly and with out ceremony or comment.
I take off my own shirt, as she kneels and removes my socks.
Dressed only in my pants, my straining bulge is now just inches from her mouth, the damp patch now clearly visible, the equally familiar aroma of male sexual arousal mingles in the room with her own scent.

I resist the all-consuming urge to pull my pants aside and her T-shirt up, before erupting on to her face and exposed breasts with a few quick jerks, and somehow manage instead to continue through with my initial plan.

The towel is laid out on the floor, and I kneel down on it on all fours.
She moves behind me and without a warning, yanks my pants down to my bended knees and making my engorged cock slap against my belly.
The cooling sensation of air against my exposed hotness is wonderfully soothing.

This undignified position of kneeling, whilst she, still fully-clothed, leisurely viewing my exposed arse and dangling balls, makes me feel incredibly exposed and vulnerable.
I feel humiliation.

She initiates my favourite blow job, knowing its leisurely build-up will prevent me from an early ejaculation.
This is done by applying pain before pleasure.

With equal roughness and lack of warning, she quickly reaches down and grabs my swinging, exposed balls.
The pain as she mercilessly squeezes and cajoles them takes my breath away, and I feel as pinned as a dog does when grabbed by the vet in a similar fashion.
I know her grip will not be released, until she has made me come.
The squeezing continues, and I gasp desperately as the pain is expertly kept on the right side of tolerable.
As the minutes slip by, she begins to scold me sternly, accusing me of being a dirty boy, and of enjoying the pain, rather than accepting it as the punishment it is intended to be.
Her treatment becomes rougher; she punctuates her tirade with extra nasty tweaks, pausing only to cruelly slap my exposed, quivering testicles, which makes my hidden cock head gape, and me cry out.

Her free hand begins to spank my exposed bottom, softly and almost tenderly to begin with, but soon becoming a stinging assault from which I cannot escape.
Soon, my pinkening arse is throbbing as much as my balls, but she shows no mercy and calls me more names, as she continues to squeeze and spank.

Mercifully, she pauses. I can hear her panting from behind with exertion, but Im too busy thinking about my pains to enjoy the sound.
A coldness against my bottom- the baby oil - The relief as she rubs it softly into my burning skin is unbelievable, and I jabber thanks pathetically.
Her soothing hands stray from my contracting buttocks, and instead rub oil over the sensitive area between my balls and arse, then the balls themselves, and her grip loosens slightly.
Next I feel the oil rubbed into my bottom crack, and over my hole.
The feeling is wonderful - silky smooth yet dangerously vulnerable.
She can see my most exposed parts, (although she has yet to see my penis - an important moment), yet she is still fully dressed, her treasures still fully covered.
More pre-come seeps from my neglected member, and pools on the towel beneath with splashes of baby oil.

I feel the thick, slippery nozzle of the bottle suddenly press forcibly against my anus, and I tense desperately, although I know it will only worsen the pain of what is to come.
The agonising thrust does not arrive, although the stretched-out seconds waiting for it are pure torture.

Slowly, she works it in inside me, an inch at a time, and slowly twists it in, her treatment of my balls now soft and playful.
For the first time, her finger and thumb stray from their "squooging", and slowly encircle the base of my slippery, iron-rod dick.
They squeeze and contract a while, before beginning to work up and down my burning shaft with a slow deliberateness.
A few seconds of this and I will ejaculate my spunk with such force and volume, that I am genuinely concerned that the mess will be too big a job to clean up.
When I come for the first time, I really come.
She pauses, knowing this, and squeezes some oil from the embedded bottle deep inside me.
I feel some seep out and run over my balls and thighs.
The feeling is wonderful, almost like how a woman might feel when a man squirts deep inside hershe withdraws the bottle.

Without warning, she sticks a finger deep inside me.
As she does this, the playful toying with my testes is replaced with more familiar roughness.
She calls me more names, this time punctuating her remarks by jabbing her finger accusingly.
It is heaven and hell. Im almost in tears.

Soon. I will come.
With or without my penis being touched, I will come. I tell her to stop, and tell her I am ready.
She nods understandingly and removes her finger, but lightly keeps hold of my aching balls.
She signals to the nearest armchair and leads me over to it by the balls.
She places the towel on the chair, and bids me to sit low with my legs wide apart.
Eyes almost blurred with total excitement, I comply and she kneels close in front of me between my thighs.

It is the first time she has seen my penis.
Shes so close I can feel her quick breaths against its heat. It is as erect as is possible to be.
Eight inches, thick, uncircumcised, glistening with sex and quivering almost imperceptibly.

She gives a final sweet smile, lowers her head, and guides it into her mouth.

It is like liquid silk - pure, warm, sexual joy.
Her tongue is light and playful, and focuses mainly on the rim of my cocks head.

Her playful touch returns to my balls, and her finger resumes a more gentle exploration of my anus.

It is with three separate sensory delights, that I am quickly and finally released, crying out aloud like Im a dying man.

Seconds pass, my breathing returns to normal, and I manage to open my eyes.

I barely have the energy to crane my aching neck and look between my dead and lifeless legs.
Beyond my slumped and cream-covered penis, she is wiping thick, tangy come from her cheek and eyebrow.
She smiles again.

Now its her turn.