Just My Mouth Ch. 02

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“You’ll have to help me some with this. I think I can make you come with just my mouth,” Mel says in that tone.

“But I’ll need your hands.” She reaches in the saddlebags for water then turns to tongue-touch my tongue.

“Mel,” I put my forehead on hers, “is this going to be nasty?”

“Of course, silly,” that voice, that voice. Jesus.

“Now listen,” she goes on earnestly, “I am not going to do any work. I’m just going to sit here and wait.”

“Wait for…what, Darling?” I ask a little timidly.

“Well, you know, to see if I can make you come with just my mouth, but with just your hands, but with just my mouth…oh, well, you get it.”

She stretches her face toward the stars and walks across the moonshadows on the ground to a near dilapidated wooden bench and plops down, oblivious to any potential creatures of the west or of the night.

“Mel, what are you going to do with your hands?”

“Just,” Mel lifts her leather-clad perfect ass off the seat and slides her perfectly manicured fingernails out of sight beneath her bottom and settles down on them. “Yep. Just sit on them!” she says brightly with a mock drawl barely different than her normal voice. “I’ll reckon I’ll jest be sittin’ on ma’ hands here.”

“But, first, uh. You’ll have to really help me with my shirt. My hands are, like…inoperable. I’m sitting on them.” She looks expectantly, eyebrows tilting upward.

My fingers are already trembling a little by the time I fumble her shirt buttons lose and work to free her delectable tits from the tyranny of Harley-Davidson meets Victoria’s Secret.

“Yes,” she says, as I look for a place to hang her black breast teaser, “you’ll need to throw that down or something. You’ll need two hands, and just only just my mouth. Hmm?” I free her tits into the night finally, still not sure what to do with the fabric.

“Come closer,” she orders. “Bring you.” She stares at what she wants me to bring and smiles her delicious smile.

I’m a little – no, I’m a hell of a lot self-conscious at this point as I loosen my belt buckle, looking far down the moonlit road for head lights. None, as far as my squinting eyes can see.

Only the brightest moon this whole month, heading up a cast of the brightest stars this whole year, illuminating the tousled, blown, blond hair and radiant eyes of the most ravishing girl I’ll ever know, perched on a secluded wooden bench, near the shiniest motorcycle in the state of Nevada, in this isolated parking spot looking west into the Ruby mountains from our desolate spot in Ruby Valley a few miles from Shanty Town.

I let the weight of my belt drop my jeans to my buckled riding boots and stand there feeling the night breeze on my skin, not sure what to do next.

“More,” Mel says. “More skin. All skin.”

“Mel, Jesus! Are you…? I look helplessly down the long empty road, knowing exactly what she knows, and what she’s thinking — there’s no one for miles. Certainly no one who wouldn’t want what was about to happen to happen – Mel least of all.

“Let ’em come baby.” She clicks her tongue and looks at me through the side of her cat eyes as fake hospital porno she does when she is going to go down on me, “Who knows, there may be enough (she licks her lips) for everybody.”

I don’t even bother to ask again or balk at every boot, sock, whatever that comes off my body. I know where this is going and, as usual, it’s starting to work on me. By the time I’m standing stark bare before my gleaming vixen, I am literally six inches closer to her mouth than I was. Mel stretches, reaches, stretches with her mouth, tongue probing like a rattlesnake toward me, careful not to lean too far forward and slip her ass off of her hands which are still tucked underneath her ass like a first-grader on the bus heading for her first day of school.

I edge forward and she catches the tip of my cock in her mouth and sucks me toward her, moaning that finally-in-her-mouth noise she makes when she gets me where she wants me.

“Oh, yeah, this,” I whisper, taking her Harley-Victoria bra in my teeth, the quickest non-ground place I can find to put it, and I hold it there while I strip naked, feeling the night breeze turn my skin into poultry flesh. I cradle one side of her face as gingerly as I can with one wind-cooled hand while I touch her chin carefully with my other hand.

“Now, you’re getting it, Cowboy,” she says between tastes of my dick. Yum, your hands on my face. Yum. Do that.”

Slurping sounds, whores moanin’ like little ghosts, then, “Okay. Here it is. You ready for the rules of the day (she sucks me deep and releases me slow) — er, rules of the night?”

“Fuck, Mel! Rules?! In the middle of the fucking night in the desert?!” I look down in anguish at my confused but definitely interested dick, which is in fact beginning to look up toward me. “Okay, rules then. In…just…a…ah. Oh. Second.”

So help me God, what is up with this girl. I am plumping up and thickening into her mouth like a six o’clock in the morning hard on. In fact, I still have my full 24-hour plus load intact; because when she reached for me this morning, I pushed her down flat on her back, took the pillow from under her head and pushed it under her bottom, and I ate her pussy like perfumed candy for three thrashing releases of her fragrant cunt. Then just as she reached for me again after I had eaten her out and bathed in her girl cum, the front desk rang and reminded us it was check out time. So, yeah. Full of the stuff she wants.

Here I am now bursting with anxious and impatient body build-up and Mel is twisting her mouth from side to side, sealing her spit on the inside of her delicious mouth, sucking me vice-grip tight into her furnace mouth.

“Until the end,” she orders, “Until the bloody end, your hands only on my face, my hands safely under me, your thing in my mouth, just my mouth,” She sucks me deep and slowly slides off.

“No hands on your dick. Your hands just on my face until you come, then I may need you to catch whatever I spill.” Her eyebrows-raised question is also an unmistakable order.

It sounds so easy, so natural, until I feel the trap she has masterminded. fake taxi porno Think about this. Put yourself in my place.

I hold her beautiful face like a crystal goblet. I work hard to not squeeze and hurt her face while I am dying to fuck her like a jackhammer. I slide my sopping wet cock into her mouth. I hold it there for her to catch just right with her lips and then to squeeze tight with her mouth and to suck hard, then I pull my cock back across her teeth and lips, out of her mouth with a plop, and insert again — she licks me all the way out, trailing her tongue lazily along my retreating thrust, folding her pouting lips tight against me as I come back in.

A few seconds of this and I am trembling with horrifying tension. I feel myself building and boiling, cum churning upward, but…I…can’t…let go and GRAB my cock to pump it. I know am going to lose it and explode. Not just my cock — my whole goddamn body is going to explode.

“Don’t you do it,” she wisely lisps around my dick, shaking her head in prohibition, rapid-tooth-nibbling me for emphasis. “Don’t you dare…let go of my face until I give you permission.” She releases me entirely for a split second to breathe and rest her jaw a bit.

“Hold my face. Fuck my mouth. Fuck just my mouth. I am going to…make you come with just my mouth. It’s easy. It is ALL timing,” her words trail off into a deep throating plunge and a slight near-gagging reflex from which she quickly recovers and giggles.

I am working hard now. I am needing badly to come — badly. I can feel it now, feel what I have to do to get that release from this crazy pressure, and she knows it: I have to time my thrusts to her bearing down and sucking, and lose myself in one of those crushing suction grips she does to me. That is if I don’t explode first.

“Don’t spill any of it,” she says quietly, “catch it in your hands. Here, use both hands. Catch it when you come. Both hands. Don’t…spill…a…drop.”

God, this is over the top. Mel, sitting on her hands, face leaned back looking at my face and beyond at the smiling moon. Anticipating my sperm dump. My knees almost buckle under the weight of my rapidly-arriving orgasm. Suddenly I die with a loud groan and I’m there.

I tense like a rock, hold, hold, hold, then nearly go limp and nearly fall on sagging knees while I grab her cheeks tight to avoid stuffing myself down her throat and I dump buckets of myself into her mouth while she never blinks, never takes her wide eyes off of mine. I watch in horror and lust as my stuff cascades in her mouth and disappears, then fills up her mouth again to the point it overflows across her tongue and slides down her chin.

She lifts her mouth so she doesn’t lose any of what I put there, and she speaks as though she is gargling.

“Catch it in your hands. Don’t…lose…it!”

I obey numbly, still throbbing and leaking, my heart still beating crazy from the released tension. I let my hands slide down her cheeks and cup them together under her chin, where she leans forward, eyes still looking up at me, and lets me dribble slowly out family stroke porno of her mouth into my cupped hands. I feel the surprising scalding temperature of body-heated liquid in my hands, and wonder how she takes it in her mouth so easily.

“Now, rub it into my face, baby,” she says when she has emptied what’s left in her mouth into my hands, swirling it down in circles like the tippy top of an ice cream cone you make yourself. “Western outdoor facial for me – I paid already.” She shifts her weight on her numbing hands, still tucked snuggly under her bottom.

Un-fucking-believable. This did not just happen. This is not happening. But this is my Mel.

Mesmerized, I rub my body gel gently into her skin while she slowly moves her face upward into my strokes, turning from side to side, lips smiling, eyes closing for the first time, so I can coat every surface of her face with my finally-thinning body lotion. This is beyond intimate, beyond nasty, beyond filthy, beyond believable. Against my reserved nature, my constrained demeanor in spite of which Mel continues to love me, I am truly now starting to lose myself in her wild west wolf-pack ritual and feel myself becoming a bit of the beast she set out to free.

Now, now, only now for the first time since we got off the bike, now fully moments after I shot my heavy mass of boy body into her mouth, I GET IT — I feel it. I feel what she wants and needs from this sensory slut assault.

I hurl myself to my knees between her legs, oblivious to the gravel grinding into my bare knees, and I jerk her hands from under her body and pull them to my face, into my mouth, and I bite her fingers and I lick them and suck them.

I crazy crazy crazy caress her face and run my fingers, slick with my thick white cream all through her hair, then I kiss her ravenous mouth like a meal. Oh, I devour her face. Oh, we…God we…How we…fuck with our mouths like animals ripping flesh off of bone for protein in an orgiastic post-kill feast.

I jerk her to her feet by her wrists and rip her tight leather pants off her body in ribbons, sending buttons flying into the night, never to be seen again, letting the cool night chill tighten her flesh, inviting her skin to crawl inside me, to warm up into my skin.

I desperately claw at her panties until I finally remember there are none. I bury my face in her shivering naked crotch and smell PUSSY. I set my tongue searching for her taste, lapping at her bottom, sinking as far inside her as I can get from my awkward angle.

We wear each other. We eat, drink, smell, rub, pummel, claw, thrash, ingest each other.

We…I’m out of words. We hold. Yes, hold. We hold until too cold.

“Let’s hit that diner at the South end of highway 93,” she says sweetly, standing there shivering in the moonlight, nipples perched tight with the cold, softly exploring the smooth texture of my drying cum and our spit on her cheeks, her chin, her forehead, her hair, my lips.

“We can get some coffee and make some locals wonder why we didn’t get a room, or at least a shower – I want to see what I look like in a mirror, wearing you.” She raises her glorious complexion to the ravishing moonlight, lets loose her best howl, and looks around for what is left of her leather wardrobe scattered about Ruby Valley.

“Don’t look now, Cowboy, but I just made you come with just my mouth. Well, you helped some with just your hands.”

Timeless giggle.

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