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Page 30.
 As we danced nude, we kissed, and petted. I enjoyed the feel of her wiry, girlish body in my arms. She had the smoothest skin, and a figure like that famous doll whose name begins with a B. I was {k} to her {b}, if I may bend the naming conventions of this book a bit.
As we danced closely, my erection became an issue. She laughed and held it for me. Remember, she was a nurse who held people's limbs and organs and puking throats all day. I had to laugh too at her pert humor. I had both arms around her, and her head on my right shoulder, while her right hand held aloft my pecker instead of my left hand; by aloft, I mean she pressed it against my stomach pointed upward. Okay, it was funny, but it was sexy too, and I could hear her steady breathing accelerate, getting harder, under my right ear. Again she read my mind. "Can you hear me breathing hard for you?"
I murmured in response, and she moved her palm around the head. "My hand is getting wet."
I had been feeling her thigh against my knee. "I feel something damp on my knee."
"That's me getting dewy for you."
"Dewy want to retire to someplace a little less vertical?"
She had been holding my penis against my abdomen, and now pressed close to me and held it against her belly. "I'm ready for the next step," she whispered in my ear and bit my ear lobe.
There wasn't really a bedroom—just a different corner of the loft, in the same darkly pinkish glow. Her bed was a large mattress, on the floor, covered with sheets and blankets. We crawled onto this together and made out.
Our petting grew more intimate—after all, she had been holding my schwantz already, so what secrets did have left to withhold? My hands roved over the sparse but shapely and incredibly smooth topography of her small brown body. She had small breasts and small nipples like raisins. I tasted them, sucked on them, and palmed the softness of her tits. Because she was light, there were special things we were able to do; like, she sat on my face. Actually, her butt was on my chest, and her vagina at my mouth, while her legs were bent at the knee, spread over my shoulders, feet flat on the sheets. She had a brownie outtie, from what I could tell in the dim reddish light. I felt as though I were in a bordello, which gave the situation an added bit of spice. She parted her good-sized labia for me so that I could penetrate with my tongue. I explored the geography of her little garden with curiosity and pleasure. At the top, under hard Venus mound topped by fragrant hair smelling of oyster sweat and bath soap musk, she had a nice clitoris like a little dog in a bun, waiting to come out and play.
Tracing the dewy path across the garden, I came to her well. This was a wobbly little swelling with an opening in top, and it had a vaguely salty flavor but even more faintly ammonia smell. I licked it with my tongue, and my spit made it more pleasant. She intook her breath sharply, while I diddled the masses of nerve endings that pleasured her, as my tongue waggled the opening of her urethra. From there, I wandered down into the cave mouth of her tunnel.
She was small and tight, and my tongue filled it as if I were @ing her. She reacted as if she were being @ed, and held my cheeks while her knees came together over me. She sank down on to her knees so that her oyster and my tongue formed a near-vacuum. She reached down and fanned her clit slowly, then more rapidly. She had this other way of playing with her clit. Holding its long hard shaft between her thumb and middle finger, she used the tip of her index finger to lightly raise the hood a tiny bit and then used the same fingertip to exercise the very tip of her clit.
I felt my penis growing painfully engorged seeing all this going on within inches of my face. My tongue came out with a pop, and her tunnel made a damp sucking sound as air rushed in. "Do it again," she urged in a tight tone that told me her voice box was constricted with tension and arousal. I worked my tongue in, again and again, to its root, so it was rolled up in her vagina. I could feel the vaginal walls throbbing around it.
She began to tremble lightly, and shifted about—squirm would be a better word to describe her motions. She was dripping wet, and I was swallowing her oyster juice, almost choking on it. Meanwhile, behind her back, I grasped the thick of my dick and felt it dribble on the connective skin between my thumb and index finger. "Sit on my dick," I said.
"Are you ready, darling?" She started to move, lifting a leg.
I nodded. "I wanted to stretch it out as long as possible, but I'm just going to shoot, and I don’t want to waste a good orgasm." Compliantly, she backed down and straddled my waist. Her little rear end came down, and she held her labial door open as my head thundered into her shaft. Not a moment too soon, because her tunnel was already vibrating, and my dick was in its contractions. I sat up, laid her on her back, and proceeded to @ her hard in the missionary position.
I didn't even take time to put her ankles on my shoulders, as I liked to do, or kiss her. I just rammed into her the way a snow truck plows into a snow bank on a blizzard night. She tried to wrap her legs around my waist, but didn't get a chance.
She cried out and moaned with passion as I thumped her rapidly, bam bam bam, and the room was filled with fleshy splatting noises as our bodies collided.
Pulling her knees back to her shoulders with her hands, she opened up as fully as she could, all defenses down, desire all eyeballs on the ramparts, as I charged across under her portcullis. Bam bam bam, the steel girders and hard window surfaces without curtains echoed above us, and she must have slid an inch back with each collision.
She threw her head back and screamed my name. "Peter!" Then she just screamed, a short bark that trailed off into a wail and then a long deep moan like that of a wounded or impassioned animal. Meanwhile, I shot. They were big gouts, like lungfuls hurled from deep. On the best of orgasms, under the most passionate circumstances, a man feels the sperm squirting up from below, feels each hurled packet fly through the thickness of his tube, and out into the woman's receiving end. This was such a moment. When I was done, I collapsed on top of her.
I was afraid to hurt her with my weight. "Am I hurting you?"
She shook her head. "No, baby, I like feeling your weight on me." She stroked my buttocks absently. We were both sweaty, and both still breathing hard. I rested my head between her little breasts, and she stroked my hair—the buttocks now out of reach.
After a little nap, lying side by side, we slowly began to explore, and to be aroused again. This time, I took her from behind. She offered herself, holding her butt cheeks apart, while I walked on my knees holding my dong out like a probe, and inserted it between those loving labia.
She was good from behind, as she had been in front, and again the room rocked with the sounds of bam bam bam, louder because she had nice tight round butt cheeks. When I came, I pulled her up on to me. I had my arms around her waist, and lifted her backward while ramming my rod upward into her. She spilled backward with her arms and legs going in all directions, but she never stopped urging me to do it harder, faster, harder. Then I was on my back, she was on top, facing away, and I rocked her up and down while we both came. As I said, her lightness made for some unique acrobatics.
Speaking of acrobatics, she also straddled my face sideways with her hands propping her up by my left ear, and her feet beyond my right ear on the other side. She did this facing first one way, then the other, while her vagina hovered over my mouth. She loved having that pussy eaten, and I spent many hors with my mouth in it, and glad of it.
She could even straddle my head with her legs folded tightly against my ears, while she rested on her elbows above my head, and her vagina was open on my chin, mouth, and nose. That was a good position, because I loved cupping her buttocks while I drank from her chalice. She was one of those women who can tolerate pressure on their clits, so I tongued her hard. Ironically, she was very sensitive around her pee hole, so I had to go easier there.
An exciting moment was the first time I realized I should @ her while she wore her nurse uniform. I don't mean her baggy scrubs, but the crisp, traditional white one I'd first seen her in, skinny legs and all, with that starchy thing atop her head. We set aside an old pair of white hose that we cut a hole out of in the bottom, and sometimes we @ed with her wearing that under her uniform. Sometimes I had her @ with nothing on under her uniform. A few times, I had her wait for me at the front door, rather than near the bed, and I @ed her from the back and front in her uniform, standing, though she basically had to wrap her legs around my waist and have me lean her against a wall while we banged away.
She and I had a lot of fun going to movies and plays and having dinner in restaurants or just walking hand in hand downtown. This is where the other wrinkle in all this develops. Or, make that wrinkles, multiple.
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