Kevin Harding - Twice As Nice Nymph

Eric fucks me. I love the feeling of his big prick rubbing on the walls of my cunt. My thoughts of the barn and Keith fade. I lock my legs around Eric's back and pull myself up against him. We fuck beautifully together as if we've been doing it with each other for years. He brings me to a climax again and again with hard rapid strokes that almost make him cum too. Each time, he stops for a moment, holds back, then starts in again.

We fuck. I thrill to the feeling of his strange new prick inside me. It's been a dozen years since that day in the barn and since then, I haven't experienced anything so great. I feel the wet smooth skin of my cunt clinging to the hardness of Eric's cock. I fuck. I feel myself being fucked. I ache with the good feeling of it. My cunt stretches, distends, clings. I feel the tension build and I know that it is almost over.

I don't want it to end. I want it to last and last. I only want to feel. The moment must go on and on. There can't be anything else. Only this. Please don't let it end. I can't stand to have it end. Oh yes, fill me with your prick. Fuck me. Keep fucking me. Cum in me… please cum in me. Fuck me. Oh, I feel it shooting into me; so good. Fill me with hot cum.

I go back home to Graham. I take a taxi. The driver talks constantly but I don't hear anything he says. I think I am still with Eric. His warmth keeps flowing sweetly through me.

The cab turns the corner. I am only two blocks from the house. The sweetness, the warmth disappears. Everything is cold. I wonder if Graham will be able to see it in my eyes that I have been with another man. I shift my position in the seat so that I can see my face in the rear view mirror. I look the same.

"We're here ma'am… this is it, isn't it… 6330?"

I dig in my purse for my wallet, pay the driver. I get out and walk stiffly up the flagstone walk to the door. I hear the cab pull away.

I let myself in. Graham isn't home. I don't call out his name but I can sense it right away. I feel my muscles relax, the tension go out of me. The house is quiet. I sink down on the big sofa in front of the fireplace.

Three hours later and Graham still isn't here. It isn't unusual for him to be late so I don't think much about it. I've taken a bath and put on a housecoat. I've had a small supper and three drinks. I am sitting on our sun porch now because I like the feeling of the breeze blowing my hair. I've pulled the housecoat halfway up my thighs.

The drinks relax me at first, then begin to depress me. I start to feel guilty for having been with Eric. I try to chase away the depression with another drink but it doesn't help. It just seems to make it worse. I tell myself it is silly to feel this way. I have no marriage. Just a house and some furniture that Graham and I sit in and walk about. We say hello. We watch television together. We eat silent meals. Once a week or so he screws me. Usually in the middle of the night.

He begins it by rubbing my breasts until I am awake. Then he feels my cunt. I pull off my pajama bottoms and help. him stick in his prick. It usually lasts three or four minutes. He always cums with a loud grunt, but that is the only sound he makes. Sometimes I cum too. Usually I don't. This used to make a difference to me but it doesn't anymore. When I do cum, the feeling is so mild that I barely notice it. Afterwards we sometimes talk for a few minutes, then he gets into his oven bed and quickly falls asleep. I am always restless then. Sometimes I get up and sit by the window and stare out at the dark night.

I didn't plan it to happen like it did with Eric. I just went downtown to have lunch and go shopping. We live on the outskirts of New Orleans in an eighty-five-thousand-dollar house. It has a big mortgage, but Graham has an excellent job and doesn't have any trouble with the payments. I'd planned to buy a dress for Easter in one of the Canal Street stores but never got any farther than the Rose Room, where I always stop for lunch when I'm downtown.

I notice a tall blond man eating at a table near the one I sit down at when I come in. I don't pay any attention at first when he keeps glancing my way. This often happens to me when I eat out or stop for a drink and ordinarily I just turn away. I've never given any real thought to the idea of letting a man pick me up. But now I find myself glancing back.

When our eyes finally meet I know immediately that it is going to happen. We smile at each other, laugh. His teeth show white. He comes over and sits at my table. He says his name is Eric. We have a drink while I finish my lunch.

The waitress clears the table. We talk about this and that while we sip our drinks. I don't tell him about my plans to go shopping. It stirs me to be sitting with a strange man like this, knowing what is going to happen. I like the way he holds his glass, the way he sits so relaxed in his chair. His hand looks strong.

We go for a drive in his car, then to his apartment. He makes me a drink which goes down smoothly. In minutes we are undressing each other. I taste the strange taste of his tongue. I hunger for the touch of his hand on my pussy.

I stare down at his prick. I stroke the magnificent white smoothness of it. I kiss his stomach, his thighs, press my lips to his cock. I feel his fingertips caress my cunt lightly. I kiss the head of his big prick, take it slowly into my mouth…

The guilt settles in deeper. I wait for the sound of Graham's car, for his footsteps at the door. My encounter with Eric seems distant now, as if it happened a long time ago, almost as if it had never happened at all. The drinks blur everything. I can't imagine how I ever let it happen with Eric. Just popping into bed with him like that. But it was good with him… so good. I sip my drink. The. carpet feels thick under my feet.

I cross my legs and the skirt of my housecoat slips open, baring my thigh. My skin there looks smooth. I imagine a man's hand stroking it lightly Eric's hand. The thought teases me; rouses me. But I can't let it happen again… just can't. I try to think of Graham. I remember a few times with him when it was all fun and exciting. I dwell on them, concentrate on them. I try to drive all thoughts of Eric Away.

I will make it something new with Graham. Something different. I change into a black lace nightgown, brush my hair into flowing curls. I drink my martini.

I smoke cigarettes and wait.

Graham's car pulls into the driveway at last. The garage door opens, shuts. I hear Graham's footsteps. His key turns in the door.

He comes into the room, stands in front of me. He says he had a meeting that lasted late. He laughs. "Say, looks like you're ready for a party or something… nightgown… martinis. What goes?"

I smile. I cross my legs and kick at his knee playfully. "Nothing… just waiting for you… you know."

"… that?"

"Mmm hmm." I uncross my legs and lie back on the couch provocatively.

"Isn't it kind of late? I mean it must be going on midnight." He glances at his watch. "Eleven twenty;" he says. "I have to be up at seven you know."

"I know. Come sit next to me for awhile anyway. Have a drink."

"Hey, I don't get it. You're carrying on like some sex-starved kitten."

"I am."

"… huh?"

"Come over and unstarve me. Rub me a little at least."

He laughs patronizingly, but I keep trying. "Come on… only for a minute," I say. "I promise to make you glad you did."

He fucks me but it is nothing. He is made of wood. I have to move his hand to my cunt. I have to pump his prick for almost a minute to get it hard. He stuffs it into me as if he is trying on a new shoe. And once he starts his thrusts he seems anxious only to get it over with. I feel the excitement drain out of me as his prick slides back and forth in my cunt. His cock has no warmth. It is like a banana, a sausage fresh out of the refrigerator. After thirty seconds of it I can't wait to have it over with either.