Words

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Jeannie and I were in that getting-to-know-you phase, that middle period between self-conscious shyness and uninhibited intimacy. In the beginning she’d been vocally reserved, limiting herself to sighs and gasps that announced her pleasure at what I was doing, and finishing with a series of delightful demure squeaks when she climaxed. As we got more comfortable with each other, Jeannie would murmur partial sentences, like “Oh, so good” and “Keep doing that.”

I had discovered the recipe to her orgasm: a combination of slow strokes with my hips edged up high to almost brush my shaft against her clitoris, a steady rhythm, and soft kisses on her neck. “You feel so wet,” I’d whisper to her, “So silky, so sexy,” and Jeannie would moan a guttural response and squeeze me tighter with her arms. When I sensed she was ready to crest, my hips would lower and gradually accelerate, and I would stroke into her with deep thrusts that lingered pressure on her clitoris and grazed my cockhead against her quivering cervix.

The first few times she came like this, Jeannie managed only to utter a simple “Oh!” or “Yes!” before her climax, and I followed soon thereafter with my own pouring release. That’s why it took me by surprise when her normally restrained “Oh!” got replaced by a decidedly more fervent “Oh, FUCK!” Her eyes closed tightly and her hips bucked up at mine, cebeci escort and an animal instinct took over in me and I stabbed even more forcefully into her. My ejaculations seemed to go on forever.

A kind of psychological ice had been broken. Afterwards, Jeannie had excused herself to visit the bathroom, and when she returned, she brought a washcloth soaked with warm water and proceeded to clean my deflated penis. Then as we lay together with intertwined limbs, my fingers dipped into her crease and played in the creamy slickness I found there. “I don’t normally use that word,” she told me.

“No naughty four-letter words for you?” I smiled at her.

“Not really. Too crude.”

“Except sometimes?”

Jeannie smiled. “Sometimes it just slips out.”

I had two fingers inside her, gently twisting. Jeannie’s eyelids fluttered and closed, and she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“So I shouldn’t expect to hear, ‘Fuck my cunt’?”

Jeannie opened her eyes and glared at me. “Well, NO! I hate that word!”

“So what do you call this?” I wiggled my fingers.

“My ‘jellyroll’,” she said.

I thought about that for a moment. “That’s a perfect description.” I curled my fingers to see if her G-spot was coming back to life. No, not yet, though it did cause Jeannie’s eyes to get that far-away look. çukurambar escort “Especially right now. Sweet tasting on the outside. And with a creamy surprise hidden inside.”

“Uh huh.”

I brushed a thumb down her clit. She was still aroused.

“What do you call it?” Jeannie asked me. “I hope you don’t use the ‘c’ word.”

“Well,” I thought for a second. “‘Pussy’ seems a little too common and cute. Maybe “love box?” Jeannie wrinkled her nose in disapproval. “How about ‘puka’.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s an Hawaiian word,” I told her. “It means ‘hole’. You know, like ‘puka shell’.”

Jeannie grinned. “‘Puka’ is much better than ‘hole’. I like it.” Her hand found my penis, then she shifted her body down and took it into her mouth. It was clear to both of us that my erection was finding new life. Jeannie’s eyes found mine, and she briefly disengaged her mouth. “Maybe,” she said, “Just maybe I’ll let you fuck my puka.” When her mouth returned to its task, I could feel Jeannie giggling.

Over time, Jeannie’s language became less inhibited. When she was on top, she could grind her vulva against my pubic bone in a way that triggered her orgasms, without the kind of in-and-out thrusting that would trigger mine. That meant I could hold off my climax as Jeannie shuddered and clenched through multiples ankara escort of hers. When she’d had enough, she would roll onto her back and pull me on top. “Fuck me,” she’d breathe into my ear, “Fill me with your cum.”

It was a demand I couldn’t refuse. After three or four orgasms, Jeannie’s vagina was smooth walls and liquid silk. Each of my inward strokes produced that clickety-clack sound of wetness and a moist “Oh fuck” in my ear, and on each retreat of my stiff flesh her inner muscles graced my shaft with a gentle squeeze. “Do you like to fuck me?” she’d whisper. “Tell me. Tell me what you want to do to me.”

And I told her. I told her how much her body turned me on. I told her how I craved her inner heat and her slick embrace, how much I loved her breasts that danced to the rhythm of my hips and her nipples that seemed perpetually aroused. I told her how much I loved to get my cock deep inside and feel her get wetter and wetter.

And as she approached her orgasm, Jeannie’s breaths were quick and shallow, and her gasps and moans became nonstop, which only made me slam into her harder. “Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck,” she called out, her eyes closed, “Fuck me fill me fuck me fill my cunt,” and I did, emptying my balls with powerful spurts, driving my hips forward again and again, spurred on by Jeannie’s loud, staccato grunts.

I held her tight, and she held me tighter, as we both struggled for oxygen. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest. Jeannie’s embrace relaxed, and mine followed. I softened and slipped out, and only then did her eyes open. I smiled down at her. “I thought you said you didn’t –“

“Oh hush.”

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