yame by Unknown Read Free Book Online

worryin'..."
    Westmore kept sucking, indeed, like a baby seeking safety and comfort the only way it knew how. The faint musk coming off her skin intoxicated him; his erection squirmed in his pants.
    "Umm-hmm," she uttered when her right hand began to smooth circles over his crotch. "I'se thought so...," and then, "Ummmmm. I like that..."
    Westmore was sucking harder, engrossed in the nipple's dense texture, marveled by the way it swelled even more.
    Now, as she rubbed his crotch, she whispered very pointedly, "Like I was sayin'. It made me feel good knowin' how'se you were lookin' at me. When most fellas look at me, well, I just don't like it at all, but you? You're so diffurnt, Westmore. The older a gal gits, the easier she can tell. In a manner'a speakin', lust is like nekker-mancy —there's good...and there's bad. Your lust ain't all hateful'n selfish like that'a most men. That's what I'se talkin' 'bout. The hankerin' you have fer my body, it's a nice thing. It's good. And I say that's so refreshin' in this day'n age..."
    But Westmore barely heard her. He just kept sucking, his eyes closed, his arms around her as if he were clinging to the only post over an abyss.
    Her whisper kept descending, "See, part'a me'd shore as hail like ta take ya in my mouth or just up'n fuck the daylights out'a ya —
    The word fuck in his ears nearly caused him to orgasm.
    "—but odd as it sounds... I'd feel like I were cheatin' on Noot." Her flesh jiggled when she uttered a chuckle. "A silly notion, I know. Even though he cheated on me all the time, and even though he's dead now, I'd feel I were bein'... unfaithful. That make any sense ta you, Westmore?"
    Westmore nodded in his daze. He was lost in her flesh and her scent and her lilting voice and of course her hand rubbing him into a slow frenzy.
    The hand rose, unbuckled his pants, pulled down his fly. Now her whisper could barely be heard; it was a ghost of a whisper, an apparition: "But I don't reckon this'd be unfaithful," and then her lips moved right against his ear. "Hitch these down now." Another chuckle. "And judgin' by what's goin' on in yer pants, I don't figure you got any objection..."
    Without ever taking his mouth off her nipples, Westmore pulled his pants down.
    He quaked at the feel of her hot hand immediately squeezing his genitals. The ooze of pre-ejaculant was constant now, and it was this that she used for lubricant. She ringed her thumb and index finger and, in excruciating slowness, began to stroke him. His legs tensed, his buttocks was rising off the seat. He wanted to just keep sucking but when she sensed his moment, she nudged him away and whispered, "Just lean back now so's I can watch. I love ta watch a fella come..."
    And come Westmore did —spontaneously. He gasped, neck craned, and when his orgasm was triggered, it felt like his cock was heaving semen out, jettisoning it. The conduction of every nerve in his body went awry, and his erection just pumped and pumped and pumped. Easter squealed a laugh at each bumper-crop spurt, the first of which hit him in the chin, the second in the hollow of the throat, the third all over his shirt at the solar plexus, then the rest on his belly. He just lay there, stupefied, as the dozen-plus spasms finally abated. His groin buzzed. He couldn't move.
    "My word, Westmore!" she exclaimed like a mother playfully scolding a child. "Just look at this mess you make," and she moved her face closer to his splattered shirt. The shirt was sopped. "You must'a been all pent up judgin' by all'a this cum,.."
    Her words titillated him. His eyes rolled when her hand diddled with his spent testicles. He noticed that her eyes were sharp now, her face alight in some indulgence. She moved even closer to the seminal mess and moaned, "Just you let me clean all this up but — mmmmm, I just so much love the smell of a man's nut...and the taste too. Cain't imagine why, all yucky'n slimy as it is, but... It just jangles my bells," and then —
    Oh,