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A Love Story
This is my entry in this year’s Valentine’s Day contest. This is the first time that I have entered a contest on Literotica. Please be generous enough to vote so I can qualify for the contest And I ask that you be kind with your vote and your comments. This is my first time doing this. I appreciate you spending the time to read my story and voting. I hope you enjoy my Valentine’s Day story.
A few years ago companies use to have those wild, crazy Christmas parties like they show in the movies. Remember the one in the beginning of “The Santa Clause?” They’ve all been cancelled now. Costs too much for the bean counters, too much liability regarding drunk driving in this day and age, and too many accusations of sexual assault and date rape.
Yep, the corporate Christmas party was finished.
Instead my boss was giving a wonderful one for our department at his house up in the Los Angeles hills with nice backyard for a party.
I can’t say I was in festive, holiday mood. I was grieving and nursing a broken heart.
The drunken craziness of my colleagues didn’t matter to me. I was 32, moving up in our company, and I didn’t get wild and crazy in a professional situation anymore. Maybe in my early 20s when all I wanted to do was get drunk and get laid. Young, dumb, and full of cum, but now a nice glass of white wine nursed though the evening got the job done.
I had made all of the appropriate check-ins. The big boss whose name was on the Logo, my immediate supervisor who had hired me, was mentoring me, who I really liked, and the regular gang, but as I said I wasn’t in a party mood.
I was grieving over my girlfriend, Deborah. It was a great relationship. I don’t know if she was the one, but it had potential.
She was a dancer. A lithe brunette with sparkling eyes and whenever we made love I always thought I was making love to a cat. Stretched out on the floor or the bed with her long, dancer legs extended, writhing in the most rhythmic ways.
Our personalities jelled, as did our sexual tastes. She had a great apartment with the thickest carpet and we were laying on it naked as I ate her out. Deborah loved to be eaten — what woman doesn’t? — and I loved to eat her. The delicate, dancer’s pussy shaved bare with the slightest wisp of hair above. She was very wet and always tasted sweet and great. One of those pussies that entice you, beg you to eat them.
She loved to give head. She deep throated and swallowed, and I loved to eat her. Our sex was romantic, and exotic.
Her hot catlike body would inhale me with the softest yet tightest pussy I had ever experienced. I wasn’t sure how a woman’s vagina could be soft and welcoming and tight and needy at the same time, but Deborah’s was.
And she was insatiable. I could eat her for hours and she could cum multiple times, stroke my head and say, “More.”
We could fuck for hours and I could make her cum so many times I could so longer get it up, I was so spent. And she would look at me with those eyes, and purr, “More please.” And somehow I’d get hard again and we fuck some more.
The cat in her purred and undulated in every position. Missionary, doggy, cowgirl it didn’t matter. She was so fucking sensuous and hot. That’s a winning combination.
That night my mouth had moved up to her clit and I was working my magic as her catlike dancer’s body was undulating under me when she suddenly passed out. Not only passed out went cold and her pussy started to pee into my mouth.
I jumped up, grabbed her shoulders and tried to shake her awake. I frantically dialed 911, the paramedics came, but she had died of an overdose in my arms.
She had been shooting junk. I had no idea, never saw any needle marks. I guess she was shooting in between her toes. Makes sense since she was performing on stage in a leotard or some kind of skimpy outfit.
I learned later this was not uncommon for dancers and models to do to keep the weight off.
That was six months ago and I was not over it yet.
Anyway there I was. Footloose and fancy free, not on “seek and nail” mode, and not truly enjoying the party.
A few of us had moved indoors since the fog was in and starting to get cold.
I was sitting on the hearth of the fireplace in the living room. There were a few woman next to me, and in front of the coffee table, a lot of woman around me,
I was the only guy.
They were all 30-something, looking to make their pitch because I was husband material and their biological clocks were ticking.
Too many, pinched faces. Desperate woman reaching the age when they would look in the mirror morning, realize that they were no longer in their 20s, and wonder if it was time to get their eyes done, or at least a little Botox.
Then Stacy who was sitting next to me said hi. She wasn’t desperate. She wasn’t seeking anything beyond conversation. She simply said hi. It was the smile. The smile screamed happiness and life.
It blasted me. I didn’t realized how much I needed that.
The kaçak iddaa smile of happiness and life.
I looked at her some more. Auburn hair with red highlights, pale green eyes, a stunning green dress. Actually an outfit with a matching top and skirt Slightly shiny with small, flat circles patterned throughout it, cinched tightly at the waist.
I am sure she was wearing it because it make her sizable breasts look ravishing , her waist small, and though she was seated it looked as if she had a nice ass, and most definitely the legs and calves of a model.
I was instantly smitten. We chatted a bit Party small talk. She had a slight drawl. Not pronounced, just underneath and it was sexy.
She didn’t work for us, but had come with a friend who had ignored her for over an hour as he was working the room. I said, “That’s a bit rude.” She was polite about it, but was obviously steamed.
The dude most definitely was not going to get lucky tonight!
Johnny Mathis’ “When Sunny Gets Blue” started to play on the stereo. I got lost in Johnny’s soaring vocal for a moment.
I realized what I was doing, and got a bit embarrassed enjoying something as square as Johnny Mathis.
Trying to recover I said, “In my opinion one of the best tracks ever recorded.”
She said, “I love this song too.”
“I love his voice,” I continued. “The purity of tone, his range, always being on pitch, and that loving soaring, sweet vibrato. I’ve always wondered who holds the record for most children conceived while their music played, Sinatra or Johnny Mathis.”
“I’ve got to go with Frank on that one,” and she laughed.
And we started actually talking. She asked me what I did, I told her, asked her the same, and the more we talked the more we were looking into each others eyes and the room started to melt away.
I could tell she liked what she saw too. I’m about 6′-2″ tall, around 175 lbs., longish, wavy brown hair, fit thanks to the company fitness room down on the 4th floor, wearing a well tailored Ted Baker shirt over dark pants and loafers.
I was starting to feel good about things when I caught her grab a quick glance at my crotch to see that I was packing a large enough cock to get the job done with hefty, shaved balls.
Well, that made me feel better.
Of course, she didn’t know that my balls were shaved sitting there sneaking the occasional glance at my junk, but I was starting to hope that she would one day.
At the same time I was hoping she wasn’t noticing my glances at her magnificent D-cup boobs. Even though I was sure she did.
The party was starting to wrap up and the inconsiderate date came back over to give his hand and say it was time to go home. She stood up, but gave me her digits on a business card of all things pretending she was networking with a “call me wink.”
And walked out with him with stiff body language. Most certainly this guy was not going to get lucky tonight.
Things were slow at work, but my days were filled with holiday stuff. Between buying and trimming the tree, and buying gifts and wrapping them. My family always had a big Christmas Day, unwrapping gifts, brunch, watching football, and then a roast beef dinner.
I had texted Stacy a few times and got pleasant replies. Nothing very telling one way or the other.
I waited to the second week of January to ask her out. Happily, she said yes. We picked next Saturday night, I suggested my favorite, neighborhood place, Maria’s Italian Kitchen, she thought that sounded swell and we were good to go.
I told her to dress casual since it was a neighborhood joint and I’d pick her up around 7:45pm for an 8:00pm reservation.
The night arrived, and I texted her I was in front of her place. She immediately came down wearing a tight fitting top, with some serious cleavage, leaving nothing to the imagination, and tight, black, skinny jeans.
I hopped out, let her in and said, “Ready?” She was, climbed in and said, “Nice BMWer,” and we headed out for dinner.
Maria’s will never get three Michelin stars, but it is a pleasant family owned restaurant, with good food, a great red sauce and a really nice patio in the back.
Being in Southern California despite the time of year, it was a mild night and we were ushered to a cozy table on the patio. They also had heaters going just in case.
Our host, Maria’s brother, came over to the table and said hi to me. Maria was the chef, the kitchen was hers. The brother ran the front of the house. I introduced Stacy to him and he described tonight’s menu including the specials. We decided to split a Caesar’s salad to start, picked our entrees and a nice Italian red.
Then we started to get to know each other.
She was 29, from Kentucky, explaining the slight drawl, A graduate of University of Louisville Law School working for one of the big tech firms in intellectual property law. In LA it’s called Silicone Beach rather than Silicone Valley.”
We talked about my navigating through grad school kaçak bahis and how I was working my way up the corporate ladder.
My late father once told me you are either a salesman, or you work for one.
I decided to become a salesman. A fancy one in corporate marketing, but one none the less.
The conversation came easy, not forced and we moved through salads, into our second glass of wine, and our entrees which were very good.
Dinner was wrapping, we were onto coffee and I asked if she wanted to join me at my place for a nightcap.
To my surprise, she said yes. I got the check and we wrapped it up.
We got to my car and I leaned in to give her a kiss. She invited it and we slowly moved into a hotter one with our mouths open our tongues exploring each other.
The meaning and the signal of a kiss are interesting things. As they sang in “As Time Goes By,” “…a kiss is still a kiss,” yet…
During World War II when American troops where stationed in Briton there became a major cultural conflict between British woman and American troops that was starting to threaten the war effort. When an American guy went on a date with a British girl and paid for it, when he walked the girl to the door he expected a goodnight kiss as a reward. If he didn’t get it he got pissed off and was angry at the Brits. Many British girls wouldn’t and we had a lot of disgruntled troops.
When Brits went out on dates back then, if they agreed to a kiss at the end of the date is was a signal for the guy to come in and have sex. So they were offended by how forward the Americans were since they interpreted the Americans as insisting upon fucking on the first date.
“A kiss is still a kiss…”
The military brass had to sort it out and educate both side the courting ways of the two cultures. They did, and we won the war. In Germany and the British bedroom.
I drove us over to my place wondering what the kiss meant. She really liked my condo. I poured wine for both of us, we sat down on the couch and Stacy asked, “So why is a great guy like you still available?”
I started to tell her the story about Deborah. When I was sharing how she died in my arms I started sobbing, tried to apologize, Stacy would have none of that, took me into her arms and held me against her sizable breasts and stroked my head as I let out the months of sorrow and grief that I had been stoically bottling in.
A generous act of kindness from one human being towards another.
I started to get control and looked up at her and said, “Some first date, huh?”
She laughed that off and we both had a sip or two of wine. She wiped my eyes, leaned in and kissed me.
I pulled back startled. She put her hand around the back of my head, stroked it, and said, “It’s okay,” She pulled me back, and kissed me tenderly. The kiss got deeper, our tongues exploring each other rolling around in our mouths.
I didn’t know if it was kindness, nursing, feel sorry for me, or genuine attraction. But fuck it! I wasn’t going to question the moment.
He lips were luscious., and her kisses were a wonder. Not hesitant, not too sloppy, a woman who knew seduction and to prove it she grabbed my right arm and brought it up to her left breast.
Stacy was no cat, she was all woman.
He breast was ripe and luscious. I could feel the firmness and weight in my hand as I found her nipple that was poking out at this point.
I’m was pretty sure I felt a low cut lace bra underneath.
I pulled back from our kiss and said, “Don’t you think it is time for this top to come off?
She did. I was right. A red lace which I reached around with one hand, opened and removed.
She looked at me impressively. “I like a man who is experienced,” and I kissed her and dove down to her breasts.
They were perfection. Large, well rounded, sitting high on her chest like a movie star, with no sagging or drooping. Perky nipples with exquisite small, pink areolas, surprisingly small for such large, natural tits.
Many large D-cup women’s breasts hang kind of low. Still sexy as hell, but they stuff them into a bra to raise them up and filled out their top, and when you take the bra off they fall.
And some are large with firm structure that stretch across the chest horizontally rather than hanging vertically. Those were Stacy’s tits which were as firm and high up as Mt. Rushmore.
She was enough of a redhead to have lighter skin that emerged from her shoulders in a gentle arc to her firm ripe tits with light freckles dancing across them enhancing the curves and begging me to lick a trail down to her nipples to lick, suck and arouse.
I held the weight of her breasts in my hand, fondling them, caressing them as my mouth explored her areolas and then started to dart about and suck her now erect nipples.
I unzipped her jeans, moved my hand inside and was happy to discover that she was bare where it mattered and already wet.
I put my hand on her clit and started to slowly move it in sensuous circles.
It’s illegal bahis an awkward question to ask in this day and age, but I did, “Are you protected and tested?” “I am, are you too?” “Tested and clean yes. Protected no. I don’t use condoms. Don’t like ’em. I want to feel skin on skin the way nature intended. I don’t get off in a condom.”
She was OK with that and I carried her into the bedroom with the weight of her magnificent breasts against my chest, and threw Stacy on my bed.
She looked up at me with lust in her eyes as I took off my shirt.
I’m fit. I can bench 250 lbs. and have a naturally hairless chest. Never grew in. A tight waist and a firm bubble butt.
She nodded approvingly. I reach for my pants and started to slide them down.
Her eyes widened a bit. I caught her once again, she saw me, and looked back at me with arousal in her eyes.
I’ve read studies that have shown with clothes on most men look at a woman’s assets: face, hair, size of breasts, waist and, of course their ass. They drink in how she looks and is built.. On the other hand women mostly looks into the man’s face with an occasional glance at his package and his ass when he is turned around, but it is the face.
But when undressing for the first time, men, after a fast check out of those assets look into a woman’s eyes to see if they like what they are seeing. While women look down at the guy’s crotch to see if they are hot enough for him to get an erection. And that’s exactly what Stacy was doing staring at my cock as it was getting hard and moving my boxers into a sizable tent.
I put my hands on the waistband of my shorts, laughed and said, “Am I going to be the only one in the room with their pants and underwear on the floor?” She laughed too. Stood up, and started to do a very sexy strip tease for me. I saw enough of her panties to know they were a matching red lace thong. I was ecstatic to see she was shaved bare with only the slightest landing strip. Just enough to prove she was a natural redhead.
I pulled my shorts off and proudly stood there in all of my glory.
I thought I saw her licking her lips. Whether or not she did, she surprised me by dropping to her knees, grabbing a hold of my nearly 7 inches and rolling it around her adorable face.
“You don’t mind if I give you a blowjob, do you?” and started to lick around its head.
She held my prick in front of her lips, stuck her tongue out and began to gently roll around the head. It took all of my self-control not to shove it in balls deep, but I wanted to enjoy it.
She slowly took me into her warm delicious mouth. Stacy knew how to use her lips wrapping them around the head and took my cock’s shaft and gently started to bob on it and one hand grabbed my ass and the other my balls.
I could feel it gently rolling around my balls. Establishing their size, weight, judging how full they might be, and she took the hand on my butt and shoved it forward so I was fully in her mouth. She paused to lick around the shaft making it wet, grabbed my ass tightly and started directing me to fuck her mouth, moving her hand up to my shaft and started to jerk it in rhythm to her succulent mouth.
This continued on with my balls starting to engorge and move up tightly towards my body just as she took her hand and shoved me hard, deeply into her throat balls deep until they were resting on her chin.
She held me there and licked the underside of my balls and then took control once again and started very slightly to go up and down with her tongue out licking my balls. She pulled me out of her mouth so the head with just resting on her lower lips, grabbed my ass with both hands and push me in and started to let my cock fuck her throat.. By now my balls were really tightening and I realized that I was about to pop in a mere couple of strokes.
I grabbed her head, pulled her off me, brought her to her feet looking up at me with her warm breasts against my chest and said, “You have to stop! Otherwise I’m going to cum and I really need to eat you right now. And I pushed her down onto the bed, with her legs draped over the edge.
It was my turn to drop to my knees, spread her legs and slowly started to trail my tongue up the her inner thigh right up to her vulva. Rolled around teasing, and drop to the other leg doing the same thing.
My cock was leaking pre-cum like a faucet that needed a new washer, put my right hand down to its head, grabbed a finger-full of the soft, natural lube, and moved it up to her left nipple to smear it around. And started to slowly roll my pre-cum, lubed finger around her highly erect nipple
I took my other hand, pulled back her clitoral hood and brought my tongue to it where I rested for a minute listening to her sighs, and then to lovingly roll around it, teasing it, until I got serious about eating her flattening my tongue hard against her clit and moving up and down with serious intention.
When I felt her hips start to buck and undulate and heard the moans becoming louder, I stopped licking, wrapped my lips around her clit like it was a small cock, sucked it into my mouth and started to bob up and down as if giving her a blowjob rolling around her now enlarged and erect clit as she got hotter and hotter.
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