D. Turner - Turning up the heat

“Well, when you put it that way,” the bookseller cooed, “I feel compelled to supply you with ample storage of boinking memories to buffer your dotage.”

“Supply away, Lady Rave.” She prepared for their Friday night date with the utmost care. Even had her chevelure coiffed at a beauty parlor. Yes, she knew it was a ridiculous expense, but she left the salon with an extra push of confidence. And as everyone knows, confidence is priceless.

She could do with a little extra certitude when she went through her wardrobe and realized she had gone up a size or two. Fortunately, there was a dress shop next to the beauty salon and she found just the cocktail cutie to seal the contours of her frame.

She wondered if there would be sex right at the starting gate. She had no patience for men who judged women for wanting sex. And she had had only one lover who appreciated her fetish for fellatio.

Raven was that certain breed of female who absolutely loved giving blow jobs. It wasn’t something she liked to admit (even to herself), not wanting to be labeled bad, but… she just couldn’t help herself. When faced with a cock in need of a good coddling, she saw a chance to be creative, the way a chef gets a gleam in his eye when presented with the finest ingredients. She yearned for the current of heat passing from the base of a shaft to the head, loved every sensation she could coax along with her lips and taste buds.

She squirmed in her seat. Just the thought of going down on Yale was twisting her panties into a tussie-mussie.

When Yale arrived right on time to pick up his date, Raven opened the door and gave a little gasp. He was bearing a huge bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. She had never felt so much electricity coursing through her veins. She wished they didn’t have dinner reservations; she was hungry only for him.

“We still have an hour to make our reservation,” the black-haired beauty informed her date. “Shall we have a glass of wine first?”

“You look magnificent,” Yale said, caressing her shoulder. “Is this dress new?”

“Yes, I’m afraid if this new diet doesn’t stick, I’ll be buying a lot of new clothes.” She bit her bottom lip, suddenly embarrassed. “You must have a thing for Rubenesque women, eh?”

“I think an elegant woman of your stature deserves a unique qualifier. Like Ravenesque. I have a thing for one Ravenesque woman and she’s right here. How ‘bout that?”

Raven clapped her hands in approval. “I love it. Have a seat and I’ll pour us each a glass of this lovely vintage.”

Whether it was the wine or the fact she hadn’t been laid in over a year, Raven couldn’t stop eyeing her man’s crotch. And his face too, of course.

They were making the requisite small talk when Yale said, “You’re thinking about something other than the last lecture I gave. If you’re fantasizing about another bloke, I want my flowers back.”

“What? Oh, no. I’m just so attracted to you.”

That was all Yale needed to hear before making a lunge in the direction of her decollete. They kissed and tugged at each other’s clothes. Raven pressed her palm to the heat rising in her lover’s pants and soon a glorious penis was sprung free of its zippered cage. Yale moaned as the light brush fingertips pedaled the length of his shaft. She stood in her strappy high heels and unzipped her frock. Dinner would have to wait.

She was wearing a bustier which allowed her breasts to spool over ribbons of black lace and her nipples were already tingling with anticipation. She knelt at the base of the ottoman and got comfortable. Yale ran his long fingers through her mane and lifted her face for another kiss but she twisted away, impatient for carnal fun.

She licked his cobs first, an act of pleasure that made his knees twitch and toes curl. She lavished him with her tongue. Yale reeled in ecstasy as Raven shifted her focus to the tip of his cock, letting her tongue circle the head, licking and licking as if moving a marble around a roulette wheel. She then took the length of him entire, loving the heat of his erection pulsing against the back of her throat. She saw her mouth as a flue for conveying all the feelings and hungers Yale aroused in her voluptuous body.

“Oh, baby. I want you.”

And Raven wanted him so she hiked up her dress until it was a smile of silky material girding her waist. She had “forgotten” to wear panties. She worked her wet mound around her lover’s hardness until they fit together perfectly. The contrast between her jet black bustier and marmoreal skin was something to behold, especially with her diadem of inky curls capping the bottle of her womanly body. Yale pinched her nipples as she rode him hard and as his penis pumped her to the hilt, her excitement mounted until she came with a raucous orgasm.

Yale lifted Raven by her derriere and, with his cock still stuffed inside her, carried his lovely prize to her boudoir.

They fucked with a fluid abandon. Missionary style at first so Yale could cup his lover’s face while her long legs gripped his back like a buoy. His thrusts were rhythmic and smooth until he was moving inside her with all the urgency of a safecracker committed to his last heist.

“Take me from behind,” she demanded, and so he did, the last fleet dozen or so thrusts carrying him over the edge, his hands gripping her hips tight enough to leave a palimpsest of handprints afterward.

They stayed in bed talking for a while, sweaty and spent until Yale mentioned food.

“You must be starving, love. Of course we missed our reservation. We can have something delivered but I want you to know, I fully intend on wining and dining you in the best restaurants. What are you in the mood for? Food-wise, I mean.”

“Well,” Rave murmured coyly. “It is my birthday. There’s this lovely Indian place I know that delivers great curry and they have chocolate cake for dessert.”

Yale sat up in bed, his boisterous brown curls now a charming disheveled mess. “Your birthday! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have fain entered your demesne bearing gifts.”

“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you. You would have felt obligated to bring me something and that’s too much pressure for a first date. Plus, I didn’t want to remind you of our age difference.”

Yale tsked. “We’re not going to have that conversation again, are we?”

“Oh, Yale. Do you think your friends will like me?”

“Of course! And if they don’t, I’ll find new friends. You’re my woman now. A great, curvy, beautiful woman smelling of rampant carnal desire. Want to take a shower together?”

“Good idea,” Raven said, glad she had thought to stock the bathroom with fresh towels and bars of soap.

They took turns lathering each other in the bath, Yale’s hands soaping his sweetheart’s breasts and belly while Raven caressed those marvelous cruciform chest muscles she was already addicted to. Then, unable to resist, she began stroking her man’s cock into a full erection. She kept stroking until it was nigh ready to explode and then she took Yale’s cock into her mouth while kneeling on the tub’s daisy-shaped skid guards.

Now, here was a man who could appreciate her singular oral fixation and she would give him the full measure of her tongue.

Yale caressed the top of Raven’s head, murmuring words of endearment until he leaned back in ecstasy taking his cock with him and then he was coming in long prolific reams, anointing his lover’s breasts and sternum with the philter of his sex.

They showered again: at this rate, they’d never have dinner!

Yale used a beach-sized towel to envelop Raven’s limbs, drying her off before toweling himself.

“Had enough?” Yale asked as his lover stayed his hand.