Gus Stevens - Love Me, Love My Dog

She was making sounds deeply in her throat, like a coffee pot that was about to begin its boiling cycle, as I shoved more deeply into her canal. There was plenty of room and I was free to search out her little button and press it, like a messenger boy at the door waiting to deliver a telegram. She replied at once, did this amazing creature, flooding my fingers with her final flow.

Her orgasm was like a shuddering of a great ocean liner, dead in the water, but quivering from some cataclysmic upheaval from far below the waterline. Her body rocked, shook, trembled and broke into a sweat that left her wringing wet from the roots of her hair to her knee, which was still planting itself into my groin, time after time.

She gasped, her lips moving as no sound came, and I halted my nursing, lifting my head to look into her face, where I saw pure bliss in those deep, moist eyes. Mary Ellen was gone on her trip, doing her thing, off somewhere, loving life and its supreme pleasures.

Presently she began to return and her eyes focused on mine. She curved her lips in a rational smile this time. “You're very good, baby.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I suppose you're waiting for a response.”

I licked my lips, glancing toward the others, who were out of sight altogether now. “That might be in order.”

She stood, taking several deep and trembling breaths, her mounds heaving in contentment, having been thoroughly serviced. Getting control of herself, she turned back to me, dropping to her knees and pulling me around straight on the bench, so that I was no longer straddling.

“All right now?”

“All right!”

I was beginning to steam, my penis still waving like a regimental flag, ready to meet the enemy and make him mine. She lunged forward, taking my cock in her mouth, which was a large mouth, by the way, and sinking it in a half dozen inches before even pausing for breath. Then she took another three inches or so and I marveled at her capacity and eagerness for immediate action.

“Go, Mother.”

Her reply was a strangled series of sounds, but I had an idea what she was trying to say.

Her lips made a seal around my shaft and then her head was pulled back a full half a foot or more so that she had only the swollen purple knob and a bit of the shaft inside that cone of red. Her rhythmic stroking began and, even though I'd had more than my share of orgasms in the few days immediately before, I was ready to come almost at once.

She sensed this, taking her time, keeping the seal very tight so that the skin was pulled firmly to and fro, not fast, but with solid effect. I nodded, patting her on the cheeks as she worked like a slow-moving engine, inexorable, never to be still until the thing was done.

“Excellent, just superior, Mom.”

She didn't bother to reply, instead concentrating on her work. Her eyes did remain fixed on mine, as though she were an engineer reading the meters to make certain that the temperature, pressure and other technical factors were all in order.

She blinked deliberately from time to time, but there was no other response to my encouraging words, except to continue on her dedicated mission.

Then my storm began to break, the clouds bumping into one another in the heavens of my loins and cracking open, spilling their contents down the shaft, out of the reservoir in my balls, heading for that head and the promised land beyond.

She felt the final swelling and then the bumpy surging, and at once thrust her face all the way forward so that I had nine or more inches buried deeply in her throat before the advance guard of wiggling sperm burst into her body. The things poured from me like a Las Vegas jackpot raining silver dollars, and I rammed my hips, closing my crotch over her face as she continued to sup, draining me of every last morsel.

I feared that she might suffocate, until I picked up a rasping sound that told me she was getting air down there. So I let myself be emptied, allowing her lips to work me over like my penis was an emptying toothpaste tube, being squeezed of its final squirt of cleaner.

When it was over she opened her mouth and fell back on her buttocks, thudding on the pavement. She felt no pain, I am certain, for her eyes were glazed, her lips dripped with my semen and her breasts were still swollen from my nursing. A clear fluid dripped from her vagina to the concrete, making a small dark puddle, but none of my come had escaped her throat and darting tongue.

“Well,” she breathed at last.

“'Well' yourself,” I replied, continuing this stimulating intellectual exchange.

“What do you suppose they're doing?” She angled her chin toward the party.

“Want to find out?”

She nodded and I helped her up. When she was on her feet she stood close to me for a moment, her hard nipples strumming my chest like they were guitar picks, “You're a nice baby, Mr. Brady. If you ever break up with Trudy or Mrs. Brady…”

“Don't count on it, Mother.”

She stuck out her lower lip and I snapped at it, catching it between my teeth. She let me hang on for a moment, until her breasts trembled with new excitement. God, these kids never had their passion tanks drained. I let go, stepping away, not yet ready to begin act two of our erotic drama.

“But we get on so well,” she continued, coming close again so she could catch my thigh between hers and shove her soggy pussy against my flesh. It was like standing too close to an open furnace door.

“Let's join the others, shall we?” I rasped. “You've already taken the best part of me.”

She shrugged, which was something that had to be seen to be believed, the way those boobs bounced, and then led the way out of our tiny sanctuary. She took my hand as we stepped into the open.

The others apparently hadn't been waiting, although I was certain nobody had been as far out as Mary Ellen and I. They were lounging about, touching here and there, their naked bodies moist with perspiration as the heat of the sun hit full on them.

Good old Alexander was still on station, his red pencil looking for a place to do some writing. I shuddered, wondering who would allow him to help himself.

We merged with the group, enjoying the heat, letting the moisture roll from our bodies. Briefly, Mary Ellen and I roused ourselves and leaped into the pool, shedding our skin of sexual residue.

While we were splashing about she came close to me, her eyes begging me to wait and listen. “Want to take off?” she whispered. “They're not going to do anything exciting.”

I shook my head. “I told you, there's not much left of me for the rest of today. Go find yourself a playmate with more between his legs than I have.”

She reached under the water, grasping my tool. “You don't have the size of the boys, but you know how to use it. I liked the feel of it in my mouth. No bumps or rough spots. I guess you take good care of it.”

I made a face. “When there's only one to a customer they're rather precious.”

“So you won't run away with me?” She didn't give up easily.

“I'm sorry.”

“Me, too. Thanks, anyhow.”

“Any time.”

“Really?”

“That's only an expression,” I blurted, swimming strongly to the side and pulling myself out. I lay on the concrete, heaving, taking big breaths of air, letting the sun dry my puckering skin. Already I felt better, wondering if perhaps Mary Ellen hadn't taken my all. There might be a new well of pleasure filling in my gonads.

Mary Ellen was soon by my side, apparently slipping into a deep sleep, which didn't seem like a bad idea. I had just closed my eyes when I heard a muffled giggle. They popped open and I turned my head, my face in the shade, to watch the action.