The Ballad of John and Al Ch. 03 - Sex Stories

The Ballad of John and Al Ch. 03

... he had always seen on it when she was giving him pleasure. Now was no different. Better, even.

He reached down to gather her breasts up and maul them together, but she intercepted him, her hands darting from their grip on his cock, to seizing his wrists and holding him off.

"Huh uh," she said.

"Huh uh?" John repeated.

"Huh uh." She locked her eyes on his, and hers were big and round. She shook her head slightly from left to right. "Those aren't for you anymore."

"They're ... wha...?" Oh, God, he realized, his mind a half second behind his vocal cords.

"My boobs are his now," she informed him.

"His?"

She went from a gentle side-to-side head shake to an equally gentle up-and-down nod. Almost -- well, not apologetic, but, sympathetic. "His."

"Who ..." John started to ask, but again, he knew that it was pointless to ask. She had warned him. Not knowing was part of the game she had promised. All he knew for now was, there was ahim.

And he couldn't have completed the question anyway, because suddenly he felt breathless, the wind knocked out of his chest by the rising surge of his orgasm.

He had a strange sense of disembodiment, watching his turgid erection bob up off his lap, his glans swelling. Al's soft parted lips were inches away, but not touching it. Similarly, her small skillful hands were inches away, but they were occupied with his wrists.

His penis twitched, waved in the air, as if confused -- searching blindly for something that was ...

... missing; the velvet sleeve of a warm, slippery pussy; or a swirling tongue and a wet mouth; or at the very least the palm and fingers of a hand to give that little squeeze and release that gave the urgent spurting reflex some satisfying resistance.

But there was no resistance, and the satisfaction was not quite what he had come to expect when reaching orgasm in Al's presence. His cock pulsed, twice, three times, four, and his pearly ejaculate oozed out onto his belly. A copious amount, but not the exuberant splatter that usually delighted Al and gratified him.

Although Al seemed delighted nonetheless. Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted into a wide, toothy smile. She laughed in amazement and, maybe pride. The pleasure she seemed to be taking in having taunted him into a hands-free orgasm was evident ... and it was obvious that her pleasure was somehow more than just sexual. It was ... celebratory.

She stood up. Reached down and scooped up some of his viscous semen. She played with it between her fingers. John was still catching his breath from his interrupted but still intense orgasm. God, he wanted to see her slip her sticky fingers into her mouth. But she never did that. She was a kinky girl, but she hated the taste and texture of cum.

She wiped her fingers on her tank top.

"Okay," she said, putting her hands on his knees to stand herself up. "I gotta get going.

"I've got a paper to finish, remember?

"It's the only reason I'm not working tonight. ...