Carole Remy: Twelve Nights

“But then we’ll think about it, you know, the next time we’re eating.”

“That’s the idea,” Aggie teased. She pulled a packet of condoms from the bedside drawer. Then she took Andrew’s hand and led him out the door. As they passed the closed curtains in the living room, he reached down an automatic hand to cover his limp cock. Aggie detoured into the bathrom and grabbed a large fluffy towel.

“You lie down first,” she directed Andrew as she spread the towel on the table. “I’m going to eat you for dessert.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Andrew scrambled to lie back on the table. Aggie grabbed his narrow hips and pulled his buttocks to the end of the table.

“Put some chairs for my feet,” Andrew directed. “They’re dangling.”

Once Andrew was comfortable, Aggie leaned between his knees and stroked her tongue up his rising organ.

“Yum.”

She stroked and teased until the cock was solid and Andrew moaning, then she eased her mouth down over the shaft. Andrew immediately started to pump, but she pinned his hips to the table.

“Hold still,” she directed.

“Don’t stop,” he gasped.

Her mouth descended again and her teeth nuzzled the ridges of Andrew’s now throbbing organ. Still holding him pinned to the table, Aggie stroked her lips and teeth up and down the eager cock, sucking and milking it to rock solid readiness. When she could no longer contain the pulsing of Andrew’s hips, she lifted her mouth off of him.

“No,” he groaned. “You have to finish me.”

Unrestrained, his hips pounded up and down into the empty air. His right hand grabbed at his cock to massage it to completion, but Aggie grabbed the hand in both hers and held it tight.

“Do me now,” she panted.

“What?”

“I want to have an orgasm now,” she demanded.

“Now?” Andrew sounded bewildered. “Now?”

“Yes,” Aggie insisted. “I’ll bring you off after you make me come.”

Andrew struggled to sit up, his eyes drugged but willing.

“Okay,” he groaned as his turgid cock waved in the air in front of him.

Aggie helped him off the table and lay down in his place. Ignoring the chairs, she placed her feet on his shoulders as he stood between her legs.

“Eat me,” she offered and commanded. “I’m dessert.”

“Aggie,” Andrew protested. “I’m not very good.”

“Yes you are,” Aggie contradicted him. “Your mouth can make me come till I’m exhausted.”

Andrew grinned. “No way.”

“Yes, way. Get your mouth down here.”

Aggie lifted up on her elbow and grabbed the back of Andrew’s head with one hand. She guided it into place above her cunt.

“Taste me,” she urged. “Do I tasted good?”

Andrew licked.

“You taste sweet and a little salty,” Andrew analyzed.

Aggie laughed. “Get your mouth in there and eat me, you hunk.”

Andrew separated her labia with tentative fingers and stroked down the crack he created. Aggie arched up into his hand.

“Use your tongue,” she whispered.

Andrew settled his mouth between finger-stretched labia and lapped the soft flesh like a little kitten.

“That’s it,” Aggie urged, though that wasn’t it. “You can suck harder if you want to.”

Andrew’s tongue laved her labia with broad strokes. He seemed to be searching for the key to the portal, the key that would unlock her ecstasy.

“A little higher,” Aggie directed.

The tongue shifted up and narrowed and dragged against the little bud that contained the secret entrance.

“Yes,” Aggie gasped. “Right there.”

Andrew stroked harder and faster and Aggie reached up toward him. Her hands stroked and pulled his hair as his tongue herded her toward fulfillment. So close, so close. But not far enough. Bite me, she wanted to say. Be a little rougher. Touch my asshole. Just stroke it. The inner fantasy became more insistent. Hold my knees apart. Restrain me, the voice commanded. Put your finger up my ass, Don’t give me a choice. Make me come.

“Do anything you want to, Andrew,” Aggie whispered. Please do the things I want.

“Like what?” Andrew lifted his head to ask.

Aggie groaned.

“Come inside me now,” she offered.

“Did you come?”

“I want to come with you inside me.”

Andrew tore off a condom and rolled it down his still solid shaft.

“Here?” he asked. “On the table.”

Aggie nodded. Andrew shrugged and lifted her buttocks. With her feet still resting on his shoulders, he bent forward over her and slid himself inside. Aggie tightened around him, and the unfamiliar position and the pressure of his shoulders against her legs awakened the beast she had tried to tease into awareness before. She felt the orgasm approach and hugged the anticipation into her squeezing vagina. Andrew panted and pumped above her and she closed her eyes and imagined. He shocks me. His hand slips down my backside and parts my buttocks and I protest no, but I mean yes and he slips his finger inside me. His finger is big, no it’s two fingers and he strokes me and strokes me brutally front and back. In and in and out the cock pounded and the rhythm and the fantasy engulfed Aggie’s slow-burning heart and flooded her with shudders and moans.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

As the trembling subsided and sense returned, she stroked Andrew’s hair. She squeezed the muscles of her vagina and was rewarded by a groan as his organ swelled to its final engorgement. The groan turned to a yell as the pumping built to frenzy. Then Andrew collapsed across her chest, the fury spent.

Aggie continued to stroke his hair as his breathing calmed. When he lifted his head, she was surprised and touched to see tears leaking from pale unfocused eyes.

“Did you have an orgasm?” he gasped.

Aggie smiled and nodded. “The mother of all orgasms.”

“Good,” Andrew sighed and dropped his head back onto Aggie’s chest.

“Hi, Boo.” Angel felt the reservation in her voice and smiled to brighten the tone.

“Boo!” her sister Aggie screamed. “I can’t believe you phoned. Wow!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“No! No, no,” Aggie interrupted. “Don’t you dare hang up. I’m so glad you called. How are you? Where are you?”

“You know me, been better, been worse.” Though not much. “I’m still living in New York.”

“I tried to find you. Is your number unlisted? Why didn’t you call me?”

Angel winced at the accusation in her sister’s words. She lowered the phone.

“Wait!” Aggie’s voice screamed from the earpiece. “Don’t hang up!”

Angel pulled the phone back to her ear. “I’m here.”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” her sister asked. “My wrist hurt when I got up this morning. What did you do to your wrist?”

“It’s okay,” Angel lied. “I slammed it in a door by accident.”

“What’s your phone number?”

“I’m about to move,” Angel lied again. She rushed on. “I thought I might fly home for Thanksgiving. Do you want to come?”

“I thought you hated Mary.”

“She’s okay. I just hated that Dad took up with her so soon after Mom died. His secretary — what a cliché. She’s not even pretty.”

“Still as shallow as ever?” Aggie needled. “No, I don’t mean that. And yes, I’ll go home for the weekend with you. God, Boo. You haven’t called me since last Christmas.”

“Let’s not fight, okay?”

“Okay. I won’t ask.”

“Still dating the boy wonder?”

“I thought we weren’t going to fight.”

“Sorry,” Angel apologized.