I Sure Did Savor His Party Favor xxx

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By Lauren McAllister

I was at yet another dreary party with the same three dozen borderline-alcoholic people and it was as dull as a Walmart diamond. The music in the living room was skull-crushingly loud and my drink was in serious need of refreshing (I did say we were borderline alcoholics). On top of that, the conversation I was having with Kevin was about as interesting as watching reruns on C-Span. It had something to do with vacations and camping versus cottages but it was mostly about Kevin shamelessly hitting on me for the 15th time that year (and third time that party). My husband was boring enough, the last thing I needed was a tepid affair with a portly mustachioed insurance salesman. To tell the truth, I was far more interested in jumping in the sack with his wife. At the least she had a sense of humor and kept herself in tip-top shape. My guess is, she was getting a lot of those tennis lessons for free, if you know what I mean.

I apologized to Mr. Boring and headed off in search of ice and vodka. Upon reaching the kitchen, a little of the weariness brought on by forced social interaction with human speed bumps began to drain from my body. Being nice to people you don’t like can be absolutely exhausting sometimes. I looked around the room full of picked over food and half-empty glasses and thought how grateful I was that this wasn’t my house and those weren’t my dishes piled high with rancid coleslaw and chicken bones. After pouring myself a good stiff one, I leaned against the counter and enjoyed the relative peace of the moment. Perhaps I’d have a nice hot bath and a wank, when I got home.

About 30 seconds into my autoerotic contemplations however, David stumbled into the room. Upon seeing me, he smiled warmly and said, “Oh sorry, don’t want to disturb.”

Dave was an unusual fellow. Oh, I don’t mean he had geraniums growing out of his skull or a blowup girlfriend (in fact, one hardly ever saw him at a party with a feminine accompaniment); he was just so different from the other “gentlemen” in our sphere of friends. In all the years I’d been going to these alcohol-fueled joyfests, I never sensed that he was trying to get me naked in a closet (yes, Kevin did once suggest that). And it always seemed, whenever I talked to him, that he was actually far more interested in what was coming out of my mouth than what was coming out of my chest. Now the obvious conclusion, knowing “men” as I do, is that he was gay but I never picked that vibe up from him.

“No please stay,” I smiled back. “I’m absolutely dying for some interesting conversation.”

For the next half hour, David was charming and polite and sincere and he looked me straight in the eye when he talked. In fact, as our little talk wore on, it was me who began to ponder the theoretical niceties of our mutual genital stimulation. He was certainly handsome enough and obviously spent a lot of time at the gym but was I wrong? Was he gay? If I hit on him, would it be a huge embarrassment? That was the last thing I wanted. He was such a nice guy. Was it possible for nice guys to be straight? I mulled over various strategies in my mind while I pretended to listen to him (I know this is all guys ever do but us gals don’t have much practice at it).

“You know, I’m feeling a little dizzy, do you suppose you could accompany me to the bathroom?” I heard myself disingenuously saying.

David looked very concerned. “Oh my gosh, would you like me to get your husband?”

He had an opportunity to get a dizzy woman who’d been drinking alone in a bathroom and he was offering to go find her husband? Perhaps he was gay after all. Well, only one way to find out.

“No, I don’t want to disturb his fun. It’s probably nothing. I know I’m being completely silly, but would you humor me?”

“Absolutely,” he said, taking hold of my arm very gently.

30 seconds later, I had guided him to the most remote bathroom in the house. But now that I had them there, what was I going to do with him?

“Are you hot?” I inquired.

“Not especially,” my gallant savior responded.

“I seem to be having a little trouble breathing.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get your husband?”

“Actually, I find your presence very comforting. If you don’t mind, I’m going to take my bra off.” (I know. I know. But there was no telling how long I had to get us both naked.)

“No, of course not,” he said without the slightest hint of lurid intent.

I did that womanly maneuver and removed it without taking off my blouse…I didn’t want to be too obvious about where all this nonsense was obviously heading.

“I think I’d like to lie on the floor for a few minutes, just until my head clears. Would you lie down next to me?”

As soon as we were on the floor, I undid the button to my jeans and unzipped them; again falsely claiming that it would be instrumental in my recovery.

Well, wasn’t this cozy? And remarkably uneventful. How many times have you lain down next to a man with your bra off and your pants undone and not been seconds away from getting cock-smacked? David made no attempt to take advantage of the situation…damn him!

“Would you rub my tummy? I think it might help to calm me down,” I informed my hopelessly naive companion as I undid the buttons on my blouse right up to the bottom of my tits.

Dave put his hand on my stomach and rubbed it very gently. If I had actually been having anxiety problems, this would’ve turned my jangly nerves into pudding.

“That is so soothing. You have a wonderful touch.”

“Just let me know if there’s anything you need me to get you. I could go get some ice from the kitchen?”

“Not right now, thanks. Your tummy rubbing seems to be working wonders.”

I tried to stealthily look over at his crotch. His pants were a tiny bit loose but it sort of looked like he was sporting an erection in there. Bu how to find out for sure? I pretended yawn and then let my hand drop back down incautiously, landing it on top of his zipper. Bingo! Houston, we have a woody. Rolling onto my side and planting my face about half an inch from his, I looked meaningfully into his eyes.

“You are so very kind,” I sighed, kissing him lightly on the lips.

David smiled but made no attempt to take advantage of the situation. I kissed him a little stronger on the lips and lifted his hand up from my well-rubbed stomach and onto my lonely left breast. Rather than excitedly squishing it around as if it were a wrist-exerciser ball like most normal men, the ever-noble Dave hesitated.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He very kindly asked.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” was my informative reply.

A barrage of enthusiastic tongue exchanges then took place. He was feeling me up and I was feeling him down. There was a nice sized male organ in them there Dockers and I was looking forward to making its acquaintance. The rest of the buttons on my blouse quickly fell by the wayside. For an unnaturally polite and respectful man he sure knew his way around a pair of hooters. Woo Hoo! My nipples were so hard I was afraid there were going to burst open like popcorn. A little more obscenely open-mouthed snogging took place and then it was time to get them damn pants off.

I have to say, that a girl can get mighty tired of the obligatory “cock suck” phase of heterosexual congress. One’s penis-owning partner’s expectation, bordering on insistence, that lavish amounts of dick swallowing take place before any thought is given to the woman’s pleasure, really pisses me off and dries me up. Luckily, almost uniquely, David chose a seldom used alternate route to our fornicatory dénouement. He popped his face down between my legs and swirled his tongue around my vulva till it felt like angels were Riverdancing upon my quim. His masterful, long, slow licks up and down my moist, velvety inner lips and his circumlocutory approach to my clitoris were a veritable revelation in oral ecstasy. And this was no symbolic, in and out in seconds, muff munch. Time and a lot of cunt concentration went into his lingual ministrations. David even spent a few glorious minutes exquisitely licking my pucker-hole before returning to my ravenous and seeping honey pot. I ran my fingers through his thick lustrous hair as small pre-cum fireworks began to ignite throughout my nether regions. Long slow slurps from my perineum right on up to my love nub had me humping his face with unabashed abandonment.

“Oh my God,” thought I, between multiple twinges of clitoral pleasure, “he’s going to make me climax.”

And low and behold, the orgasmic tide did rise within me. My thighs turned into cement planks, my vaginal canal tightened to the point where I could have crushed Brazil nuts in it and my solar plexus were rent asunder by spasms of eye-popping intensity. If we had been on a bed, my bucking and writhing would’ve surely turned its legs into splinters. I was almost afraid that my violent yet incredibly nummy seizures would crack the marble tile that was under the pink-fuzzy bathmat.

Now, when a man makes me cum like that, he is going to get his cock good and sucked! The second the stars stop revolving around my head I was down on his spunk injector like Oprah Winfrey on a Pop-Tart. I could feel the end of his knob pushing hard against my uvula but no amount of gagging was going to make me spit that delicious meat stick out. I turned my mouth into a wet, warm sea of penis-pleasing undulation. My fingers tickled his balls like Ellington on a grand piano. No matter how passionate the sucking or how blissfully I scraped my teeth up the entire length of his shaft, he never grabbed hold of my skull to increase his pleasure. He was so unselfish and appreciative; it was almost like I was giving head to a woman with a scholng.

Well, he may have been unselfish, but I certainly was not. I pulled my mouth off his doowanger before his quickly congregating sperm knew what hit them and rolled over onto my back. David carefully hoisted himself on top of me and kissed my welcoming lips tenderly before guiding himself into my bubbling cauldron of sex. There was a new and creamy delight in every inch of his penetrating rod as he thrust it inside me. I wrapped my legs hard around his, with absolutely no intention of letting go until bestial concupiscent satiation was mine. Our rhythms were as one as the flames of our fiery fuck set the room around us alight. I bravely attempted to keep my utterances of libidinal overload from damaging my lover’s eardrums but as his passionate defilement of my feminine organs threatened to tear me in half, all hope of even modest restraint was lost.

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck my husband’s whore of a wife! I wish he were here. I wish he were here to see you fucking me! God! Oh my God! Fuck me!”

I think that’s approximately the moment I came. Vast squirts of girlie cum shot out of my Vesuvian cock cave, soaking both our legs and nearby cupboards. The blinding orgasmic convulsions were so strong, my jaw locked. I reach between my legs and grabbed the underside of his balls with my fingers and pressed my thumbs against his pumping shaft and my royally ravaged vaginal opening. My handiwork must’ve done the trick because he began to buck like a demented rodeo stallion and filled me to the brim with hot sizzling pools of his semen. I rocked my pelvis up and down to squeeze out every last atom of his adulterous jism.

After things it died down a bit, David stayed on top of me, kissing and stroking my cheeks. What a great guy! He could have my cunt any time. I wanted to send it home with him but alas, it was getting late and we really had to get back to the party before people started to suspect that we were up to exactly what we were up to.

We regrettably but hastily got dressed and made a speedy return to the soirée. I walked back into the living room and gave my husband a big kiss with the mouth that I’d just had wrapped around David’s cock. “And where have you been half the evening?” I playfully admonished him.

For the next couple of weeks, Dave and I had regular get-togethers of a highly inappropriate nature. The sex was so good that I was dying to tell someone. So one day, over lunch with Alisha, I innocently inquired, “What you think David’s like in bed?”

“Oh Dave’s great. I fucked him at that Halloween party a year and a half ago.”

Well, I was stunned. “You’ve had sex with David?”

“Sweetie, I think we all have. I mean, he’s just such a kind and considerate hunk of dreamboat, who can keep their legs together around him? I think it was the fact that he never hit on me the got my twat tingling in the first place. You can ask Debbie, I think she porked him last Christmas.”

That son of a bitch! No wonder he didn’t hit on all the wives, he didn’t have to. Those horny bitches were virtually throwing their pussies at him. And yes, I realize that I’m one of those horny bitches, but it was still a shock. I still “see” Dave a couple of times a week to receive my little helping of his man juice and quite often I bring Kevin’s wife along with me for a scorching hot threesome. Yep, I quite like her.

Copyright 2014 Lauren McAllister

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