The Making of a Gigolo (9) - Amanda Griggs

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Chapter Six

Sunday night, Amanda was eager to get to work. The calm from her orgasm with Bobby had lasted, as she showed Adrian how the player worked, and drove home. Her father was in good spirits, smiling at her, and making noises in his throat. She knew his mental function wasn't impaired. She could see sadness and joy in his eyes, and his spastic movements and grunts had a quality to them that made it obvious he was trying to communicate something. She just didn't know what that was. She had talked to him about things in the past. On this morning, she told him about Bobby.

"I met a man last night," she said. "He spent some time with me at the station." She knew he'd want to know more, so she told him she met the man through a mutual friend, and they'd talked a little, and found that they liked talking.

"It isn't serious or anything," she said, blushing slightly, as she remembered what, to her, was a very serious orgasm. "It's not like we're going to date or anything. He has a girlfriend," she lied. She thought to herself that maybe that wasn't a lie. He did have a girlfriend ... lots of them, in fact.

"He's a farmer, over in Granger," she said. "He seems to understand mechanical things really well. You know that four bay player we have, that's never worked?"

She told him about how Bobby had read the manual and figured out how to wire it so that all the bays worked, automatically, instead of how they had used it for the four years it had been in the station.

Through it all, her father had made sounds, and his eyes had smiled, and his arms had waved. She wished she could understand him.

Now, as she drove into the station parking lot, in the dark, she was a little disappointed that Bobby's car wasn't already there. She knew that more would happen tonight. As he had suggested, she had left her bra off, feeling deliciously naughty as she covered her pear-shaped, heavy breasts with a sweat shirt. She'd put on the matching pants to that sweatshirt too, because they had an elastic waistband. If he wanted to put his hand in there, that would let him.

She'd applied a little makeup, and some perfume too. That was all she knew to do, really. Her hair was washed, and lying straight to the bottom of her ears, like it always did. She'd looked at herself naked, before getting dressed. Her breasts seemed too big ... or her head too small, one of the two. She'd decided her short hair made her head look smaller than it was, but there wasn't anything she could do about that. It had been long once, but it just took too much time to deal with.

She got out of her car with the cooler she'd brought tonight. She had completely forgotten "lunch" last night. His doughnuts had saved the day there, along with the chocolate milk. Tonight, she had food, enough for both of them, and sodas too. She also pulled two pillows out of the car and, clutching everything in overburdened arms, she waddled to the front doors of the station.

Jerry was in the sound booth and waved at her, smiling. She put everything in her office, and went to see him.

"Whoever fixed this thing," Jerry said, slapping the player with his hand, "gets a kiss from me. This has made my shift so much easier. Did you know we can pause it now? Yeah, really! You can pause it, do the weather, play a commercial or whatever, and then start it right back up again."

"I'll tell him you said that," said Amanda, smiling. "He might be here tonight too."

"I saw you brought in pillows," said Jerry. He blinked, and then got red in the face. "I didn't mean it was for him," he gulped. "I was still thinking about the player. I mean with that working, and you not having to play commercials, you can actually get a nap now and then."

Amanda also got a little pink, but not much. She couldn't think of anything to say. She wasn't used to chit-chatting with employees. Most of them didn't seem to want to say anything to her very often.

Bobby's car pulled up outside.

"I guess that's him," said Jerry, peering through the windows into the dark.

"That's his car," said Amanda, wishing, suddenly, that Bobby had been late, like last night. She had no idea how he'd act, with Jerry there. Would he kiss her hello?

Bobby appeared in the light that escaped the station front windows. He was in his parka again. He had on slacks tonight, though, and what looked like cowboy boots. He was carrying his knapsack, and had something flat in his other hand ... something that looked about the size of an LP record jacket.

Amanda went to meet him, and was only mildly surprised when Jerry followed.

"Hi," said Bobby, smiling. He set his knapsack down and handed what were, in fact, three LP record jackets to Amanda. Jerry's hand appeared from nowhere, and took the records, before she could grasp them. Bobby started taking his parka off.

"Oh Man," said Jerry, looking at the three albums. "The Moody Blues ... Luthor Ingram ... Roberta Flack. This is good stuff. Are we changing formats?" he asked excitedly.

"Now wait a minute," Amanda started.

"Ohh man, I wish I could play stuff like this," said Jerry, interrupting her.

"I just wanted to ask her some questions about those," said Bobby. "They're my sister's records, and she wants to write some fan mail to whoever that is on there. I figured that somebody in radio would know where to send them."

"Oh," said Jerry, suddenly deflated. "Well, your sister has good taste, I can tell you that." He held up the Moody Blues album. "I listen to these guys on WNE..." He stopped. He had about to add an "R" to that list of letters, which were the call letters of one of Amanda's competitors. "I mean I was skipping through the dial, one day ... you know ... checking out the competition, and heard them playing this kind of stuff."

"You can go home now, Jerry," said Amanda, her voice tight.

"Okay," he sighed, knowing his boss was pissed at him. He handed her the records, and went to get his coat. When he came back he stuck out his hand at Bobby.

"Thanks for fixing the player," he said. "It made my job a lot easier."

"No problem," said Bobby. "You got a minute? I wanted to ask you a question about the interface board."

Jerry took him into the sound booth, and Amanda could see them talking, and pointing to various buttons and dials on the board. She glanced at the clock. She only had three minutes until she had to take over, so she went into the room. They were talking about commercials, and how they were keyed to run. She ignored them, and got out her first four tapes for the night. There was already one in the player - bless Jerry's heart - and she loaded the other three bays, setting the extra tape on top.

"Any time, man," said Jerry, as he left the booth. "Let me know what you figure out. It sounds interesting, as long as everything happens on time."

"See you," said Bobby. He watched Jerry go out the front door and then turned to Amanda. "You look good enough to eat," he said.

"Oh really," she said, making it a challenge. "In a sweat shirt and sweat pants?"

"I see beautiful unbound breasts under that sweat shirt," he said. "I'm looking forward to seeing them."

"You're awfully bold," she said, feeling a tingle of happiness that he was so forward.

"I am highly motivated," he said. "How's your father?"

His abrupt change of subject startled her, but she relaxed.

"He's fine," she said. "I told him about you."

"What did he say?" asked Bobby.

"He can't speak. I told you that," she said.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he can't communicate," said Bobby. "Haven't you guys worked out signals?"

"Signals?" she asked. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"Is he in physical therapy?" asked Bobby.

"No," she said. "The insurance paid for the hospital, and for the fact that he can't work, but it won't pay for anything like that." She waved a hand. "Besides, the doctors all said the damage is permanent."

"Oh," said Bobby. "When do I get to meet him?"

"You don't," said Amanda. "In the first place, I wouldn't know how to explain you to him. In the second place, why would you want to? You're hired to take care of me ... not him."

"He's part of your life," said Bobby. "If you had kids, I'd want to meet them too."

"Well I don't have any children," she said, "and my poor father has enough troubles without worrying about some strange man being with his daughter. I just told him you were a friend of a friend and that we liked to talk and that was it. I even told him you have a girlfriend."

"So," said Bobby. "What are we going to do tonight?"

"I thought you were in charge of that," she said.

"All right," he said, briskly, "I am in charge. Why don't you get this radio station prepped to run for four hours, and I'll get everything else ready."

She realized nothing was coming from the box and freaked out for a minute, until she realized that the player was already on. The green light was showing. Who had turned it on? She looked at the box, and saw the little white line on the dial in the off position. She stepped over, turned the knob, and heard music. Jerry had turned it off. Why did everyone turn the thing off?

She turned to see Bobby hauling a big roll of something into the station. He put it in her office, and went back to his car to get an identical one. Then he got his knapsack and started pulling things out of it. She walked to her office door and felt a tremor go through her loins as she realized he had brought in two thin mattresses, which were on the floor, side by side. He was putting sheets on them, and there were bottles and jars of various things set aside. He reached over, snagged the pillows she had brought and put them on the mattresses too. He jumped up, went back outside, brought in two more pillows and two blankets and dropped them in a heap at the foot of the bed he had constructed.

"These are camping mattresses," he said. "You were sort of falling off the couch cushions, last night."

Then he went to one of the turntables, and put a record on. He seemed to know which buttons to push, because another set of speakers that she hadn't even known existed, came to life. They were outside the sound booth, in the entry area. He pushed another button and the sound switched to the kitchen area. A third button made her office suddenly full of music. She looked around, looking for speakers she hadn't known were in her office, and spotted them, covered by louvers. She had thought they were part of the heating and cooling system. He turned the box down until she could just barely hear that something was broadcasting.

"How did you know those speakers were there?" she asked, as he came back into her office.

"The manual said that you could pipe demo music anywhere you wanted to. It just didn't tell me which button went to your office. It's meant to let you screen music that you might want to program into your play list." He seemed to think that was a completely normal thing to happen - for a complete stranger to be able to come into the station, figure things out, and make things happen. She was astonished, and a little embarrassed by her lack of knowledge.

"What is that?" she asked, listening to strings, what sounded like an orchestra, but with a meld of male voices that were in beautiful harmony.

He got her the album jacket. "They're called the Moody Blues. Their first album was R&B, and they decided to try mixing rock with orchestral music. My little sister, Susie, bought the record, but I probably listen to it more than she does."

She surveyed the names of the tracks, which seemed to be the listing of a whole day ... morning, lunch and evening. Her eyebrows rose when she saw how long some of them were. The first cut alone was much longer, at almost six minutes, than any radio station could play.

On the other hand, it was neither loud, nor annoying, as the rock and roll she'd heard in the past seemed to be. It didn't jangle her nerves. For pure listening, it was interesting. She shook off her instant (and quite normal) aversion to long tracks and then jumped as Bobby's hands came around her body from behind her and cupped her heavy breasts.

"I knew they'd feel wonderful," he said softly in her ear.

The shock of feeling his hands on her breasts made her go suddenly weak, and the album cover seemed to gain weight as it sagged toward the floor, her fingers barely able to hold on to it. He didn't do anything else, for most of a minute ... just held her breasts, squeezing them and moving them around in circles. She let her head go back to lie on his shoulder. She felt his lips on her throat in a brushing kiss.

She turned, suddenly nervous. He just stood there, smiling, his blue eyes looking at her face.

"I don't know what to do," she said, feeling stupid.

"Be yourself," he said. "Tell me what you want."

"I don't know what I want," she said, knowing she was lying. She'd liked the feel of his hands on her breasts, even though it sucked the energy out of her.

"Another massage?" he asked.

She knew what that felt like, so she nodded, feeling a rush of comfort at being able to anticipate what would happen. That wasn't so scary.

"Take your clothes off," he said.

Her tension shot up. "All of them?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"But ..."

"Take your clothes off," he said firmly.

She dithered for a few seconds, and then gripped the bottom of the shirt, starting to pull it up.

"Are you just going to stand there and watch?" she asked.

"Oh yes," he said, smiling. "I've been wanting to see this since I met you."

She felt heat rush into her chest. Men just didn't talk like this. She knew men wanted to see her naked, but his easy confirmation of that ... his confession that she had been on his mind all the time ... made her feel amazingly good.

She pulled the shirt up, feeling the cool air on her belly, and the heat in her face as she started to blush. Almost violently she finished taking it off, and stood, frozen, holding it in her hands.

His eyes seemed to consume her. They glittered as he stared at the skin she had bared. But they roamed all over, too ... not just looking at her breasts, but at her shoulders, and neck, and face too.

"Keep going," he said softly. "You're doing fine."

"You're not going to ... take yours off too?" she asked, her voice breathy.

"Not yet," he said. "Maybe later."

Maybe? She already felt so shy she thought she'd shrink into a tiny little ball. The music suddenly swelled into a crashing symphonic chord, that felt like the panic she knew was in her gut, trying to swell and get out. Then the orchestra dropped to almost nothing, as if it were part of her mind, as she clamped down on that panic.

She pushed her sweat pants down, thinking all the while that her plan to allow him easy access to her pussy had been a waste of time. She stood, shivering, in only her panties.

"Do I have to take them off?" she moaned, her fingers fluttering at the waistband of her last article of clothing.

"Not now," he said. "If it makes you feel better, we can wait on that."

"It's cold," she complained. She looked down to see her brown nipples straining away from her breast flesh. They looked hard, like they were made of plastic.

"I have something that will help with that," he said. "Lie down, and we'll get started."

She did, on her stomach, for some reason, arranging a pillow under her head, and then leaving her arms at her sides. She felt better, now that her front was covered, and decided she was being silly. She'd hired him for this, after all.

"I have some special oil that has something in it that creates heat, when there is friction," he said.

It didn't feel hot, when he first put it on. It felt cold! She wiggled, but as soon as his hands spread it, she felt the heat almost instantly. Not only was it immediate heat, it felt almost too hot, for a few seconds, but then dropped to a soothing warm feeling that seemed to flow from his hands, as they slid all over her back and shoulders. She remembered feeling like his hands were sucking energy out of her, and almost laughed as she felt that energy flowing out of his hands again, returning it to her ... as heat.

"Ahhhhhh, that's nice," she moaned, as his hands moved quickly to cover her whole back, and the back of her thighs.

"Did you lock the front door?" he asked.

She tensed. "Shit!"

"I'll get it," he said.

She was suddenly covered by a blanket, which was also cold, at first, but then grew warm. He was only gone a few seconds.

"My butt is cold," she said, as he got back.

He drew the blanket away, and her whole body shivered, until he rubbed it again.

"Turn the thermostat up," she moaned, feeling the warmth flow back into her body.

"You'll sweat, before I’m done," he said.

"I don't care," she said.

He was gone again, and then back before she could tell him where it was. She heard the air begin to whisper from the vents, and his hands were back. They slid into the back of her panties, and the warmth burst from his hands, into her skin there.

"Take them off," she ordered.

He chuckled, and it went on as she tried to lift her loins off the sheet, but couldn't. She had to go to her hands and knees, briefly, so he could slide them off her hips, to her thighs. Then she lay back down, feeling the heat her body had left on the sheets, and bent her knees as he pulled the fabric over her calves and off her feet.

Now his hands could move up and down her whole body, and she relaxed as they did that.

"That feels wonderful," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow.

"Just wait," he said.

He worked her back for ten minutes, as the music swirled around them. The mixture of smooth symphonic tones, and the more rough voices, rising higher than a man's voice should be able to rise, were just different enough to make it interesting, and she began to try to listen to the words. That was another reason she didn't like rock and roll ... you could never understand the words.

The sudden sting of his hand, slapping her right buttock jolted her.

"Ow!" she yipped.

He slapped the other side too, with an almost liquid sharp sound.

"Owww!" she complained, moving her arms to push up and turn to look at him.

His hands kneaded her butt, though, and she was amazed to feel what seemed like every ridge of every fingerprint on all ten of his digits. Usually, her butt felt dead, but now the skin seemed to almost crawl with sensation. His oily fingers dipped between her legs, and the side of one of his fingers brushed her sex. She spread her legs farther apart, instinctively.

She felt more of the cool oil being squirted onto her butt, but she was so hot there that now, the cool felt good. His hands spread that, and she felt even more heat. The fingers of one hand slid down, over her rectum, jolting her, and making her loins tense, and then that hot stuff was being smeared all over her pussy lips.

"Uhhhhhh" she groaned into the pillow, as her butt came up and her knees took the pressure of holding her loins off the sheet. One of his fingers slid into her, and the heat blossomed inside her as the oil mixed with her own body fluids.

His hand disappeared, leaving a ball of heat in her pussy, and his hands went to her left foot, lifting it off the sheet. She bent her knee and felt him slapping her foot all over, gently, and then rubbing it. She could feel the bones moving around, as he manipulated the foot and ankle, even rubbing the webbing between her toes. When he dropped that foot, it felt alive, compared to the other one, as he lifted it to do the same thing to it.

He dropped that foot, now alive too, and his hands went to her hip and shoulder. She felt like she weighed nothing at all as he rolled her. The cool air assaulted her front, which had been so warm, and the even cooler oil that he squirt on her belly made her jerk.

Then the heat of his hands was moving all over her front. Her breasts suddenly felt like they were on fire. Her nipples were the flame of a candle. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the heat and soothing movement of his hands up and down her legs and trunk. He didn't touch her pussy, but that was all right, because it was still a ball of heat from his earlier manipulations.

His fingers went to her breasts again, and tried to squeeze and pull at her nipples. They were too slippery, though, to grasp the flesh. Her eyes popped open as his mouth closed over one stiff nipple, and he sucked. She lifted her head to see his lips slip off the nipple, as electric shocks shot from that nipple straight to her pussy.

"It tastes like peaches," he said, smiling.

He went to the other nipple, and sucked the oil off of it too. Then he alternated, from one to the other as she felt more and more turned on. None of the men she'd been with had spent this kind of time on her nipples - most had just roughly pinched them a few times - and she began to think that she might be able to have an orgasm just from his mouth on them. She was making little noises now ... uncontrolled noises, and her hands went to his head to urge him to keep doing that.

"Relax," he said.

He stuck his tongue out, and dragged it all the way down her body, over her belly button, to her glossy brown pussy hair. She couldn't relax. Her nipples ached for more, and that tongue tickled!

He crawled between her legs and lifted her knees, pushing them apart. Ten or fifteen minutes ago she'd have been embarrassed to death to be open like that, with his eyes inches from her pussy, but now, the heat down there needed attention ... wanted to be looked at.

She jerked as a single finger pushed at her oily clit, moving it around.

"Ahhhhh," she groaned. She lifted her head to watch his finger do a couple of circles, and let it fall back down. It rolled from side to side and hair flipped barely across one eye.

Then his lips descended on her clit. She knew what was happening, even though nobody had ever done this to her before. She was past the disbelief stage of things. She knew she was being made love to, and that it was good. She hadn't known this would happen, but it was good too. This orgasm ... the one that was crushing her right this second, was completely different from the one he'd given her last night. That one had been sensuous, and long and sweet, like the way good chocolate lasts in your mouth, going on and on.

But this one ... this one threatened to blow her away, like a leaf in a windstorm. She realized her pelvis was arching up, and that his hot hands were under her, lifting her butt up. She heard ragged screams that she knew were coming from her own lips, and could feel the vibrations in her throat as she made them. It was too much. There were too many sensations vying for her attention. Half her brain was making those screams, and feeling the pins and needles that were pressing every bit of flesh in her body, both inside and out. The other half of her body watched, holding on to sanity, keeping it safely locked inside her head, to be let out later, when it would be safe.

She heard wet slurping sounds, and realized that was his face, pressed against her sex. She felt an actual physical release, as something warm shot through her urethra, and the calm part of her brain felt panic pressing in as she was afraid she had just peed in his face. She had no knowledge that she had a Skene's gland, or that it could produce the steam of soothing liquid that Bobby was sucking and lapping up.

The buffeting slowed, and then stopped, and she lifted her head, to see him lapping the folds of her pussy lips, from bottom to top, with the flat of his tongue. It was so delightful that she pushed her loins into his face, bumping her clit on his nose.

The calm part of her brain released her sanity, which settled comfortably back into her mind. Now this was sex! She had never even dreamed she could feel like that, during sex ... or anything else, for that matter. At that moment, had she thought of it, she wouldn't have cared how much he was charging her. No matter if it was every penny she owned, it would be worth it.

"Again," she croaked. "Please."

He grinned. "We're just getting started," he said, licking her sex and pushing the tip of his tongue over her clit.

He did it again. Somehow, even though she was expecting it, this time, it was just as powerful, and buffeted her body just as violently. When, what seemed like an hour later, he finally lifted his shining face from her pussy, she lay as if dead, limp in all her muscles, except for the ones straining to get air into her lungs. She felt him kissing his way back up her body, licking at her belly, and the lower round part of her breasts.

"Noooo," she whined, as his lips fastened around a nipple again and sucked, and she felt the zips of sensation re-awakening nervous paths between her breasts and a pussy that now felt like it was sleeping.

He ignored her, and she found enough strength in her to bring her hands up ... to push him away ... she couldn't take more. It would suck the last energy from her body and she'd fade away into darkness.

He stopped long enough to grab a pillow, and she lay, helpless as he lifted her hips, and slid it under her butt, arching her pelvis higher than the rest of her body, like a sacrifice, being offered to the old Greek Goddess Aphrodite.

"What?" she moaned. "Noooo," she whined, as he stood, dropping his clothes. He stood up to expose a penis that struck terror into her heart. She'd never seen either of the penises that had entered her, during those quick unsatisfying unions in the back seats of cars. This one was too long ... too thick ... it would tear her. She dragged strength into her legs and drew her knees up and together, trying to roll off the pillow, but his hand on her knee stopped her.

"Wait," she begged.

Again, he ignored her and, with ease, forced her knees apart and crawled between them. That prick stuck from his bush of brown hair, hanging above her pussy lips. She watched in almost horror as he picked up the bottle of oil, squirted some in his hand, and slicked it along his prick.

"I can't take it," she moaned. "Please ... "

Her breath froze in her lungs as he fell forward, to suck at her nipples again. Her thighs banged on his hips as she felt panic, and the exquisite pain of her nipples telling her pussy lips to open in welcome.

"Bobbeeeeeee," she groaned, her hands fluttering in his hair, unable to push or pull. "Pleeease I can't ... Aheeeee!"

Her plea ended in a hoarse wail as she was filled. Her sleeping pussy leapt awake, to feel every ridge and bump on that penis, as it slid into her tight sheath. Impossibly, there was no pain. Heat exploded in her pussy, as his penis rubbed it all along her pussy walls. She lifted her head, expecting to see smoke, but his head, still sucking her nipples, blocked her view.

The calm part of her mind snatched her sanity back, slamming it in the little box where it would be safe, while the rest of her brain delighted in the feeling of being full, and hot and turned on like she'd never been turned on in her whole life.

She felt him hit bottom, and then slide back out immediately. She realized that she felt full, but not stretched ... stuffed, but with no pain. It felt more like his hands on her body, than a penis in her pussy. How could that be? He raised up, on his hands and knees, and started rocking back and forth. It felt like the only part of him that was touching her was his penis, and then she realized that her thighs were still in contact with his hips. She willed her thighs to drop ... for the outside of her knees to lie flat on the sheet, so that the only part of him that would be touching her was his prick.

She felt the tendons in her groin complain at the stretching, but ignored that, to concentrate on the feel of stiff flesh, sliding in and out of her pussy. It wasn't killing her. It hadn't split her.

It felt wonderful.

She realized it felt like his finger had, the night before, just massaging her. At the angle she was lying, and he was kneeling, his prick didn't press against her clitty. She suddenly realized that, if it did that, she'd be back in the maelstrom that was her earlier orgasms ... the kind that threatened to whip her sanity away in the winds of passion.

He altered his angle, as she thought of that, and she felt the ZING of the top of his penis scraping her clit.

"Ahhhhh!" she screamed, in anticipation of fighting for her life.

He went back to his original stance, and she heaved a sigh of relief, as the massage came back.

"You like this," he said, breathing only a little quickly.

"How can he do that?" she wondered. She was gasping for breath, and he was just stroking her, smiling down, looking at her twisted face with those blue eyes.

"Don't you?" he asked, leaning forward to zing her clitty again.

"Yes!" she screamed, hoarsely, in pure defensive reflex. She sighed as he went back to that massaging stroke. "Please," she begged. "I can’t take another one ... not right now."

"Sure you can," he said, grinning.

"No! Please!" she yelped.

"You can take two or three more," he said, somehow letting his back sag, so that his prick zinged her clitty again. Each time he did that she tensed, and jerked.

"No I can't!" she begged.

Her hands came up to push at him, while part of her brain told her she was crazy. This was the best her pussy had ever felt.

She felt his hands grip her wrists, and he lunged forward, pinning her wrists to the mattress by her head. Her shoulders struggled, but had no chance. Worse, that altered his stance again, and now, as he stroked smoothly in and out, her clitty was subjected to constant pressure. The orgasm she knew she couldn’t take rushed toward her and her mouth opened in an agonized scream that wasn’t there yet.

"Let it happen," he said, his mouth an inch from hers. "Don’t fight it."

He kissed her upper lip, and her lower lip, and the corners of her lips.

"Welcome it," he urged. "Open your arms to it, like a long lost friend."

It was too late anyway. She felt the orgasm reaching into her belly with a hand that was a foot wide, fingers curled, ready to grasp every part of her that made her female and grip it tightly. Her panic made her grasp at what he’d said and, instinctively, she imagined her opening her body to something falling from the sky ... something that would envelope her in that heat that his hands had given her in the beginning, back when she was still wearing her panties.

That image soothed her ... the image that whatever was rushing towards her would just be his hands, working inside her, instead of on the outside. She surrendered then, knocking the calm part of her mind away from the box that held her sanity. The lid flipped open, and her sanity came out to become her mental arms, reaching for the warmth. At that instant, she realized that the music from the record on the record player had just reached a crescendo, and had suddenly dropped, and was beginning to move on, getting faster, as the orchestra’s sound swelled all around them.

She was completely surprised when the orgasm slowed, and began to wash over her like hot water. It started everywhere at once, and the feeling of warmth moved everywhere else, all at the same time, until if felt like her nerves were highways, choked with traffic in rush hour, moving here, slowing there.

She felt her body shaking as the orgasm surrounded her, both mind and body. She took a very small bit of her concentration away from that, to realize that he had speeded up, and was pounding her pubic bone with his own as his prick, which no longer seemed either long or thick, somehow, flashed in and out of her pussy.

"Yesssss," he hissed, and in that hissing affirmation she heard more desire in a man’s voice than all the other men in her life combined.

He went in and stopped. She wanted to scream, now. It was too soon! She was right in the middle of something she’d remember the rest of her life! He couldn’t stop now. Then, as she felt a rush of something that was somehow a little hotter than what was already there, and a little wetter than her pussy had already been, she also felt him begin to move his loins in little circles. Her clit hissed "Yesssss" like he had hissed, and the rest of her orgasm, which seemed to have been stuck in traffic, suddenly broke free and crushed her, like the ones he’d given her orally.

She was aware of the pulsing beat of his penis, deep inside her, and of the repetitive hot, wet feeling of his seed being injected into her. Those pulses were like the slap of his hand on her butt, earlier, which caused her nerves there to come alive and feel everything. Now her pussy came alive and squealed with mingled terror and joy, as the orgasm shook her to her very bones, and sucked the energy out of her until, once again, she was limp.

Now, the only muscles that moved in her, were those dragging air into her lungs, and those attached to her lips, as he continued kissing her.

She felt the whole world move suddenly, and realized he was rolling them over. She tensed, and then flopped, loosely on top of him, draped over him like a wet rag. She felt his arm move, and a blanket flipped up over her torso. Her legs weren’t covered, but that was all right, because her torso was burning up, while her legs felt cool and free.

He was still in her, and the heightened senses in her loins could feel him getting less stiff ... shrinking ... taking the full sensation away. Now his own panting registered in her ears, and it was like the stiffness in his penis was being blown out of his mouth. She moaned and kissed him, trying to stem the flow ... to re-inflate his penis. She wanted to laugh, because she had been so afraid of it before, and now wished it wouldn’t go away.

His eyes were open, staring up at her. They had just made love. This was the first time she had looked down at a man who had made her feel like that. She was quite aware that she’d had no inkling of what it could be like ... that he had rocked her world from top to bottom, and side to side. She was completely aware that she needed to make some kind of response ... to give him feedback on how he’d done. She was intimately aware that there were no words ... would never be any words, that could express what she had felt. She was at a complete and total loss for words. Only one little word seeped through her vocal chords.

"Wow!" she sighed.

"Thank you," he panted.

Then she did laugh, lying her head on his chest, while her body shook in a different way.

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