The Gentle Degenerates by Marco Vassi Read Free Book Online Page B

strokes of her tongue, lapping like a deer at a salt lick. The movement got larger and soon she was licking into my pubic hair and over my thighs, running her now dry rasping tongue into the space between thighs and balls, the sensitive joint which is hardly ever touched. I brought my legs together and clamped her head between them. She hung there for a moment, pinned, and then dropped down, nuzzling between my legs and licking at the underpart of my balls.
    Already I felt myself coming, and I wanted to hold it back, to enjoy just the feeling of her working her mouth over me. Suddenly there was a creak outside the door and both of us sat bolt upright in sheer terror. A long instant passed and then we heard footsteps moving past. We looked at each other and giggled in relief. But the sexual thread was threatening to snap. I reached for her and roughly brought her chest to my mouth. I pulled up her shirt again and took her sharply-sloped tit into me. She buckled at once, and as I sucked hard at her nipple, feeling the velvety texture make love to my tongue, she reached down and grabbed my cock, this time pulling at it in long deep movements. I let her breast go and leaned back again, and now she went at it with a will. We knew that we couldn’t survive another shock like the one which had just happend. So she opened her mouth wide and brought it right over my now throbbing cock. With one hand at the base, pulling, jerking it off, she covered the shaft with loose lips and hot tongue, making slurping sounds all over me.
    I began to move. Without any control, my ass jerked up and forward, and I rode my cock into her luscious mouth, feeling the rising heat and pleasure. She sucked hard, with a will to bringing me off. She curled her body up and bunched herself over my legs. It was as though she were drawing herself up into the foetal position. She made small whimpering sounds, almost like a baby, and I felt the splash of tears on my belly. She seemed to be squeezing something out of herself and the focus for her act was drawing the sperm out of my cock. For an instant I flashed our mutual aloneness, each of us working out some inner drama and using the other as a tool to bring it off. But it didn’t matter, for already I could feel the scalding sperm bubbling in my balls; I could feel the waves of release coming from as far away as my toes and fingers. I was breathing deeply and fully, and my body worked like a bellows, gathering all the energy into a mighty ball in my bowels. And then, as I began to buck and shout, and she moaned into my cock, frantically working her tongue and sucking so hard that her cheeks caved in, I let the sperm come spurting out, jet after jet, and like somebody who has been on the desert for a day and has just been presented with a juicy orange, she sucked and lapped and ate until there was absolutely nothing left, and then collapsed, her cheek on my thigh, my now limp cock still in her mouth.
    We lay together for a long while, and then she got up. I pulled my pants up and we sat and drank some juice. Small talk followed, and sleepiness. I felt very tender and fond toward Isabel, and, if truth must be told, just a little bit in love with her already. She was cold, so we took a blanket and I covered us with it while she snuggled into my arms. For a long time we just felt one another’s presence, the breathing, the basic body warmth. And then she stirred. “I wonder if I should call Harry back?” she said.
    And I laughed. For how many times in the past, after making it with someone, did I feel a real desire to be with my mate of the time? It was as though one purged oneself of the desire to assert one’s independence, one asserted one’s liberty, and then, having done so, wanted to make it back to the current partner. For an instant I thought how nice it would be if Regina were here and then I could go romp with Isabel while she did a thing with Harry. Maybe in the open exchange of partners, there