Bestowal - Sex Stories

Bestowal

... she approaches the stereo and puts on a CD with dance music. Smiling, she begins to gyrate as she did in the strip joint, and within a minute her hands flip behind her back, unleashing the décolleté, and with little ado the skimpy garment joins it's discarded fellows. Now she's prancing across the floor in front of me, playing with the elastic band of her g-string, drooping first the left side, then the right, and then her back is turned to me, the panties are drooped until the most beautiful butt is exposed to my view. Twisting, she faces me again, and watching me intently, she quickly and gracefully steps out of the panties, exposing the bush I knew was there, the fine yellow curls masking a protruding Venus' mound. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" she asks, standing on one leg, a lanky thigh just disguising the portal between the extended legs. "Yes," I agree, even though I know I'd love to have the entire vagina exposed. But even in this state of excitement I realize that's way too much to ask. "Okay, then, it's your turn to give it up." I tear my eyes from her frame and catch her eye. Her stare announces that it's not a joke, that she wants me to fulfill the bargain we jokingly made. When I hesitate, she seduces me with just one word, "please?" She sits on the couch, crouched against one arm, and arranges her legs so I have no hope of catching the faintest glimpse of the pinkness. I stand and quickly shuck my shirt and trousers, then pull my boxers off. I'm as ...

... naked as she is now, and my pecker stands straight from my body, as hard as it's ever been. I recline on the other end of the sofa, facing her, and ask, "You really want to see me jerk off?" "Yes," she huskily replies, "yes." I've been masturbating now for years, and I'm an expert at it. Usually, I visualize a woman, any woman, and what I'm doing to her, but this time I simply gaze at Christie, at her long legs, the throat, those perfect globes and below the waist that curl of hair, and I don't need to pretend. Spitting into my left hand for a bit of lubrication, I stroke the head of my penis with my palm while my right hand toys with my balls. Christie's eyes are fixed on my gonads, and soon her hand creeps down to her netherland, and she spreads her legs, allowing me a complete view of the wondrous pussy. I can see how moist it is, and one of her fingers exposes the coral clitoris. This is too much for me, and my strokes quickly bring the seminal liquid to the surface. The juice spurts from the tip, nearly a foot into the air. The next gush is lessened, and within 10 or twelve swipes, I'm simply dribbling. Christie's still fondling herself, but all the while she's been watching me carefully. "Beautiful," she murmurs, then stretches her legs further open until I can see everything, the stunning double folds of skin surrounding the moist tunnel that I want so much to penetrate with a finger, a tongue, or, dream of dreams, my manhood. As her index finger coaxes the button, the ...