Bastille Day Ch. 02

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She lowered her head and started another good kiss, rocking her hips down. My hands naturally slid down to hold her ass. It rocked a couple of more times, and then we came up for air again. She murmured:
“I hope your tongue is that good somewhere else.”

Before I could reply, she was clambering up over me. I hoped so too, and said as much, as she got her knees past my shoulders. I wasn’t surprised, having enjoyed too many videos of face-sitting, just had never done it, never licked a pussy that was turned that way. I looked up at her, and she down at me with an encouraging smile, and then her pussy – her muschi – was on my mouth.

I had wanted to see it first – another time. And it already tasted good. Now I didn’t mind that I recalled the videos, thankful for the images of girls licking each other’s pussy and how they did, remembering that after seeing the first couple, I had recognized that I probably hadn’t been doing it right for my wife and the couple of short-time women-friends. I also hadn’t anticipated that I might ever have the opportunity to try to do it better. Sure, hoping, but not expecting that it could really happen, and then not with someone who promised that if I did it good enough, her pussy – Marge’s muschi – would flood my face.

What a delightful challenge! Of course, she had a well-developed clitoris, if she could come like that. Maybe that wasn’t true; I couldn’t remember the others. But if she could come like that and wanted to, and I did it right, …!

I tried, and Marge encouraged me with words and rocks of her pelvis. I opened my eyes once and saw that she was holding her breasts. I wanted to suck them – another time, like getting to see her muschi. Not both at the same time. Between more words of encouragement, she began to moan, and I hummed in response, hoping it felt as arousing as her moans had for my cock. It seemed so.

This story is really about the group experience, starting in the third person, and then I let slip that it was also a first person experience – for the most obvious reason. She – Marge – had sucked my cock like no one ever had before, and now I was licking her pussy – her muschi, as she liked to call it. And I was doing everything I could to give her an orgasm, hoping that she would flood my face with her love juice. She had told me that it could happen.

I can’t brag. She did, but only by encouraging me and from my experience watching videos of girls giving each other orgasms. But she did! Her love juice running down in my mouth and on my chin. I can’t brag, but I was very pleased with my success, the first time I had given a woman an orgasm that way, and then so good.

She dropped forward on the bed, turning her muschi up from my mouth, still gasping and whimpering. I hadn’t known how good a woman’s orgasm could be, quite chagrined that my wife’s never had been like that, despite our having two sons. I rubbed her ass, licking my lips for a last taste of her love juice.

“Oh shit! That was good! You did that good!” she murmured after a deep breath.

I was almost proud at her confirmation that it had been so good; I owed it to her for what she had done and in respect that we would be spending many more nights together. I had to hope and try to be an equal partner.

She began to move back down over me. Her breasts passed my face, and then hers appeared, and then we both felt my aroused cock touch her between her legs. She snorted and rocked her hips, moving back a little and pressing it down on me. I didn’t think she could want to do anything more, but she rocked her hips, rubbing her muschi on my cock, and where it felt good. It surged. It couldn’t twitch, since it was pressed down on me.

She looked down at me and snorted softly with a slight, wry smile. I guess that I also snorted, returning her smile. She snorted again and murmured:
“To hell with waiting till tonight. I want to fuck; put it in me.”

I was, of course, surprised that she immediately wanted fuck – didn’t like to hear that word either – but it was the only appropriate one. And my cock obviously was suggesting that it want to, too.
I reached down, and she raised her hips, and it slipped very easily into her very wet muschi, tighter than the ones I remembered. Her hips rocked down, making me moan, and she gave a satisfied sounding sigh as she relaxed on me, then licked around my mouth with a snort and murmured:
“Oh, it was good, real good, but a cock in my muschi … It was there, and my muschi wanted it.”
“My cock did too, a little to my surprise. God it feels good, your muschi.”
“Your cock too.”

She chuckled, and her muschi squeezed my cock.
“Mmmm! Even better!”
“For me too,” and she did it again.

I rocked my hips up, and she nodded, but then murmured:
“I want to sit up, have to get my legs up on the bed.”

We rocked Escort Avcılar our hips from one side to the other, managing to stay coupled as she drew her legs up, both then chuckling at our success. She sat up with a pleased moan and smile as my cock went deeper, pressing against the front of her vagina. I returned her smile and made my cock twitch, and her muschi squeezed it again. We chuckled again, and I murmured:
“I had forgotten how tight a young pussy is.”
“Mmm, thanks for the ‘young’. My brother said something similar.”
“As lucky as I am. … What do you want to do? Anything you want.”
“Not just this,” and her muschi tightened again.
“But that’s good. I may just close my eyes and pretend this is all a wet dream.”
“If you can hold my breasts, while I play with myself.”
“Oooh, of course, anything you want.”

We grinned. I reached up, and her hand slid down her stomach, her fingers creeping between our hair. As I played with her nipples, I felt her knuckles move on my pelvis, pressing on it as her fingertips began to rub. She hummed, not yet an aroused moan, but audibly pleased with what her fingers were doing. I was too, her muschi squeezing my cock every now and then.

Until I started watching videos, it had never occurred to me that a woman would want to help arouse herself when she had a cock in her pussy. But why not? I had told her that I like the idea of the woman being in control, and it was very pleasantly arousing to feel her muschi responding, maintaining a level that I thought could go on for ever, making my cock twitch in response.

I hadn’t closed my eyes, but saw that hers were half closed as she began to moan. And then her hips began to rock. Oooh, more arousing! If I hadn’t already come so good, I thought, I would be about to now. Had she planned all this? Done it like this with her brother? I moaned, and she nodded with another one of her moans, her fingers moving as fast as possible, her eyes now clenched close.

Suddenly they opened, wide, and she dropped down over me and demanded softly:
“Suck them, chew them!”

She shifted her shoulders and pressed a nipple down in my mouth. I didn’t really chew it, but did everything else I could with my tongue and lips and teeth, as my hands slid down to her ass. When she offered me her other breast, she murmured:
“Like in the shower.”

My fingers crept further on her taut ass, into her crevice, finding the base of her spine and then the soft spot below it. She nodded with an encouraging – maybe insistent – “uhn-hnn!” Her asshole contracted when my finger rubbed over it, and she approved with another “uhn-hnn!” It relaxed and contracted again, and my fingertip was on its center. When it contracted again, it felt like it wanted to draw my fingertip in. It pressed, and it relaxed, and the next time it contracted, it was holding it. “Uhnn!” she responded with a nod. Anything she wanted! Like in the videos ….

Clutching my finger and my cock! She gave a great moan and began to move her hips. After a few short strokes up and down on my cock, that was twitching in response to her clutches, she shoved me back and demanded: “Fuck!” and found my mouth with hers, her tongue fucking in my mouth.

Our hips slapped together. I had thought that my situps were just to tighten my stomach, but now I realized that they were for fucking like this: pumping my hips up to thrust my cock in her muschi, as hers slapped down; my cock throbbing as her vagina tried to milk it, and her asshole drew my finger deeper. We were both groaning and panting. God, it had never been like this!

I came, and she came, her warm muschi juice wet on my pubic hair and running down between my legs. We both collapsed, only our heaving stomachs rising and falling against each other as we drew deep breaths and sighed with moans.

When I could think again, I was a little proud – hell, a lot proud – that I had been able to satisfy a much younger woman, and one who had so much more experience than I had; that I had been able to do everything that she had wanted.

Slowly, our breathing returned to normal, more conscious of each others breathing. We chuckled, when we coordinated that one of us exhaled when the other inhaled. My cock was still in her muschi, but about to slip out, when it suddenly occurred to me that she was young enough to get pregnant. I hadn’t had to worry about that in years. At that moment, I probably should have said something about how wonderful it had been, but I said what was on my mind:
“Oh, you’re on the pill?”

She nodded with a snort and replied:
“Should have asked before, no.”
“Scared you? Sorry, not the pill, an IUD.”
“Hmm! No time to ask, not when you were telling me that you wanted to fuck.”
“True. And we sure did!”
“Um-hmmm! Better than I thought I could.”
“As good as I hoped, as good as I wanted.”
“Better than I ever hoped.”

She nodded and kissed me. My cock Avcılar Escort Bayan slipped out, and we snorted, and chuckled when we felt more liquid slip out. She began to move off me, murmuring:
“Before I get a cramp in my legs.”
“And then a real nap.”

We got up and washed, just smiling and smirking at each other, then agreeing that we had to go. She sat down on the toilet and then smirked again and gestured at the washbasin.”

“Like I did this morning,” I responded, turning to use it.
“Oh, you just flushed for effect?”
“Um-hmm, we didn’t know each other so well this morning.”
“We sure do now.”
“Um-hmm. Imagine how it would have been if we had just kept talking.”
“Oooh, fun! Hm-hmm! But I would have jumped in your bed before we talked much longer.”
“Hmm! But we weren’t in it – I wasn’t.”
“You would have been; I would have taken care of that.”
“You did.”
“Hm-hmm! And you did!”

We snickered, while she wiped her muschi, and I rinsed my cock and the washbasin. We returned to my bed and lay down, like we had before. How long before, I wondered, not looking at my watch. This time she didn’t ask if she could hold my cock, and we were silent for a few moments. I recalled seeing my yellow stream flowing in the washbasin, and asked – a little to my surprise:
“Natural champagne?”
“Hmm? Oh? In the bathroom? Hm-hmm! No, I haven’t. Why did you ask? Have you?”
“Just thought of it, seeing it. Don’t know why I asked.”
“Have you? Doesn’t seem like you would have.”
“Hm-hmm. A couple of surprising videos.”
“Haven’t seen them. And …?”
“Hmm. Saw them and was reminded that in India people do, their own.”
“Um-hmm, part of Indian medicine or whatever.”
“Hmm? And …?”
“Well, one night, watching videos – too many – and drinking beer – maybe too many – had to go a couple of times, and was. It was pretty white.”
“Hm-hmm! We women seldom see it, of course.”
“Um-hmm. So – not quite sober – I just grabbed the glass from the washbasin and tasted it.”
“Hm-hmm! You surprise me. And …?”
“Just mildly salty – after so many beers. Probably different when its more yellow.”
“Hm-hm-hmm! Really?”
“A whole lot less strange than what you like to taste.”
“Hmm? Wouldn’t be difficult. Hm-hmm! You want to? Want me to?”
“No, I just thought of it, something to say.”
“Hmm? ‘Something to say’? If you say so. Maybe.”
“I wasn’t suggesting it.”
“Why not, … maybe? If you have?”
“No reason for you to.”
“Something new.”

I rolled towards her, and we got comfortable with our arms around each other and our legs overlapping. We kissed lightly and were silent, soon dozing.

More than just dozing, it was much later when we woke up, the sun in the west, the light in the room different. I think the noise from an airplane awakened us. We rubbed each other’s back with soft hums, opening our eyes and smiling at each other.

“Good morning,” she murmured.
“Good evening.”
“Oh, yes. Nice. Funny, thinking it was morning.”
“Jet lag.”
“Or ’cause we cheated, not waiting till tonight.”
“Maybe, enough sun and fresh air and exertion for it to be the next morning.”
“Hm-hmm! But it isn’t.”
“All the better. What do you think the others are doing?”
“Nothing better. Will we find out?”
“Pretty sure James and Kathleen have.”
“Um-hmm. Will be interesting.”
“Um-hmm, a reason to go to the bar before dinner.”
“For sure!”

We grinned and got up, and got dressed. This time I didn’t wear underpants. She snorted with a grin. She had to brush her hair and put on lipstick, and then we were on our way to the bar, holding hands in the elevator. As the door opened, she smirked at me and asked:
“You want them to think we have?”
“Only if you do.”

She squeezed my hand, and we went to the bar, finding a few of the group. A couple of them smiled, and we smiled back. I wondered if the others were being more tactful, perhaps James and Kathleen, or had the others not smiled like that because they weren’t so compatible yet with their roommates? And those not yet at the bar, still in their rooms, not just taking showers?

We got our drinks and joined the discussion of how the others had spent the afternoon, of course, nothing about what might have happened in their rooms, although someone’s remarking that they had watched the Tour de France on TV could have been an excuse for their not being on the beach.

Soon others joined us, one couple who had had too much sun, letting me wonder if they had avoided going back to their room before they could just get ready for dinner. The two young men didn’t join us. Someone suggested that they were still scouting the field. Sans-culotte and his friend were still with the two women.

Then we went to dinner, not all attempting to sit together, but Marge and I sat with the friend of Sans-culotte and one of the women. He didn’t have Avcılar Escort a Literotica user name and introduced himself again: “Étienne, you can call me Stephan.” As we were returning to our table from the buffet, two young girls approached a nearby table. When Marge heard them speak German, she went over and spoke to them. They seemed pleased, to be spoken to in their language. She saw our two young men enter the dining room and spoke with the girls. They smiled and nodded, and she beckoned the men over. They also seemed pleased, and we heard them introduce themselves, and the girls replied in English.

Marge returned to our table with a smile, telling that the girls were students and that she had explained that the young men were with our group. During the meal, we occasionally glanced over and saw that they all seemed quite happy with each other’s company.

At our table, we noticed that Stephan and the woman seemed to be better friends now, wondering that they weren’t sitting with their relative roommates, who at another table also seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. After a second glass of wine – and then two drinks at the bar – she glanced at him with wink and said that the four of them had moved to a suite in the hotel. They didn’t mind our smiles, nodding in response. He explained that the hotel had given them the suite for less than the price of two rooms, since it had requests for two standard rooms.

We congratulated them. Marge and I glancing at each other with smiles, and we all then smirked with chuckles.

After dinner, we went for a walk, holding hands and chuckling about each other’s speculations about the other sets of roommates. Suddenly she chuckled and whispered:
“How does it feel without underpants?”
“Hm-hmmm! Great. Don’t look, but it feels like my balls are hanging down to my knees.”
“Oooh! Really?”
“Just feels like it, thank you.”

We chuckled and then stopped at a bar and had a Pernod. As we returned to our hotel, we agreed that it was too early to go to bed, not without an exchange of smirks. In the bar, we ordered a glass of wine, slightly surprised to find Kathleen and James there. They both grinned, having seen us holding hands as we entered the bar. We nodded, and joined them with our wine, and all raised our glasses and drank, smiling again. When Marge held my hand again, James nodded with a smile and murmured:
“Like us?”
“I hope so,” I replied.

Marge squeezed and moved our hands with a nod and smile. Kathleen smirked slightly and rubbed his back, then chuckled and remarked softly:
“Can’t get any closer to a Harvard man.”

We nodded with smiles, and he put his arm around her with an indulgent smile, adding:
“Or closer to South Boston.”

We all chuckled and drank again. Then we told that Sans-culotte and Stephan were sharing a suite with the two women, and they enjoyed hearing that, admitting that they had wondered if the women were lesbian. Maybe just bi, we all agreed. They then told that they had seen Marge introduce our two young men to the girls and enjoyed hearing that she could speak German with them. Marge snorted and said that she had told the girls that they could complain to one of our group if the guys didn’t behave themselves. We all snickered at the question of what the girls might think was misbehaving.

We finished our drinks and with grins agreed that it was time to go to bed. In the elevator together, holding hands, we all smirked, and then wished each other good night, when our floor was reached. Still holding hands, we chuckled and went to our room.

As we undressed, Marge grinned again when she saw that I didn’t have underpants on. Naked, we went to the bathroom, going as we had before. She snickered and asked:
“Natural champagne?”
“Not after red wine and Pernod.”
“Hmm? Maybe not.”

We grinned and brushed our teeth and went to bed, mine, of course. We curled up together like we had for our nap. I was pretty sure that more sex could be disappointing, but since we had talked about it so much, I felt obligated to show my willingness. Besides, it was nice to hold her breast, and I did. She snorted and said:
“I just said that I wanted to sleep in your bed, nothing about touching each other or doing anything else.”
“Thank goodness! I wasn’t sure.” I took my hand away.”
“I didn’t mean it that seriously.”
“Want me to hold it? I do, feels good.”
“Um-hmm, even if my nipple doesn’t pop out.”
“I just want to hold it. Hm-hmm! Almost as much as I like to hold my cock.”
“Oooh! I don’t want that; nothing for me to do.”
“Only almost.”
“Oh, that’s all right. More comfortable if I turn over.”

She did, with my arm around her, and my hand found her breast again. She clasped hers over mine, and I curled up closer behind her, squeezing her breast, and we said good night.

When I rolled back during the night, she followed me, her arm sliding over me. I pleasantly recalled where and with whom I was in bed. I rolled further, on my other side, and her arm drew us closer, her warm body against my back, and I fell asleep again.

I slowly woke up from a nice dream, something about my cock, of course. No wonder, her arm was resting on my waist, and she was holding it. When I snorted, she murmured:

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