Come Here Often?

MARSHA LEWIS

I met Jessica at a party and couldn’t take my eyes off her the entire night. I was fresh out of a bad relationship and had just finished divvying up belongings with my girlfriend. The last thing I needed was another woman in my life, but Jessica was beyond gorgeous in a stunning punk way, and I was completely fixated.

My friend Amy told me Jessica wasn’t attached. That only made my desire worse. Watching Jessica play with the toothpick full of olives in her martini had my panties wet. The way she kept licking the olives without actually eating any made it impossible not to imagine her mouth on me. Or maybe how those long fingers would feel sliding into my cunt.

“You need to go hit on her already, Marsha,” Amy insisted. “You’re looking pretty pathetic standing here salivating over her.”

I gave Amy a swat but took her advice. I made my way over and tried some small talk.

“Nice hair,” I said, before introducing myself. Her hair was a long mass of purple and pink. I figured it was the worst pickup line in the history of the world.

“Thanks. It takes a lot of work to make hair look this bad.”

Her eyes were big and blue and clear like a fall sky. My lust increased.

“I mean it,” I said, taking a strand of her long hair and tugging. I watched her eyes grow wide and her lips part in the most decadent way. I couldn’t tell if I’d turned her on or if she was going to clock me one.

“Want to get out of here?” she asked.

I opened my mouth and then shut it. Well, that answered my question. Finally, I managed a soft, “Sure.”

We walked out into the crisp night. Jessica led me to the back of the property where the owner had built a gazebo. “In here.”

My heart skipped a beat, but I followed her. The gazebo was dark and held a few plush lounge chairs. She turned to me and seemed to fly into my arms. Then she kissed me, her mouth soft and sweet and a bit salty from the olives.

“I don’t really know you, but I’d like to…” She trailed off and shook her head, like she was talking herself out of speaking.

“Like to?” I felt my heart give another kick, and then her hands were caressing the front of my velvet leggings, and I thought I might go into full-blown cardiac arrest.

“Like to do this,” she said, petting my pants again. Another kiss, and I saw colors flash behind my closed eyelids.

Her hand slid down into my pants and found me wet. She kissed me again, and I gently sucked her tongue, wanting to bite but afraid I’d scare her. When she moaned into my mouth, I did it anyway. She pushed herself against me, her fingertip skating over my clit. I thrust my hips forward, liking how she touched me. Wanting more.

She shoved her hand deeper into my pants and slipped three fingers into my slit. My cunt was so wet that her fingers went in with ease. It was my turn to moan now.

She lowered her head and sucked my nipple through my thin white tee. I was braless, and my nipple responded instantly, going hard in her mouth. She nipped it with her teeth, and my cunt flexed around her thrusting fingers.

“Get on a chair,” I said, my voice heavy with lust.

Jessica dropped to a chaise lounge, and I tugged off her faded skinny jeans. I pulled her panties down, and when she was bare I dropped to my knees and went right for her pussy. I’d have kissed her thighs, her hip bone, her belly, but she’d gotten me revved up and there was no time for niceties. I wanted to taste her before I lost my mind and my nerve.

I put my mouth on her. She was sweet and salty, and she raised her trim hips up to meet my lips. She wasn’t shy in the least. I dragged my tongue along her outer labia, swept it over her swollen clitoris. I nudged that hard knot of flesh repeatedly with my tongue until she was squirming. Then I shoved my fingers inside her and felt the hot, silky grip of her sex.

“That’s nice,” she said sweetly, and my heart fluttered.

I had forgotten this part. How good sex could be. How good that connection could feel.

I put all my warm feelings into eating her. I sucked her clit and followed with repeated swishes of my tongue. When she was purring like a cat, I nipped her with my teeth again. She jumped, laughed, and motioned with her fingers. “Get up here. Let me have some, too.”

I slid my leggings down and straddled her head. When her mouth brushed over me and her breath heated me, I remembered why sixty-nine is my lucky number.

Jessica pushed her tongue into my wet opening and then lavished my clit with kisses and licks. I was on the verge of coming already and tried to focus on using my mouth on her to stave off the orgasm. Somewhere in the party someone laughed loudly. I smiled, sucking Jessica’s clit again, driving my fingers inside her deeper. I tried not to grind too far down on her face, not wanting to steal her air, but she grabbed my ass and tugged me closer, burying her face in my pussy, licking me like she’d die if I didn’t come.

Her fingers jammed inside me again, and she fucked me with a rough but steady rhythm that took my breath away.

I felt her grow tighter around my fingers, tasted how much sweeter she got closer to orgasm. I concentrated on her clit, nudging it over and over again with my tongue. She mimicked me with her mouth on my pussy. She grew even tighter around my thrusting digits and then said, “Oh yeah. Oh, like that. I’m going to—”

She was coming before she finished the sentence but trying her best to give my clit attention between whimpers. Her sounds died off, and she sucked me in, released me, sucked me in, and released me. My head was reeling, and right when I thought I’d start to beg, she circled my clit over and over again with that amazing little pink tongue and my body surrendered to the pleasure.

I came with a stifled cry, my body shaking violently above hers. She licked me a few more times very softly, and I almost came again.

When I sat up, she grabbed me and kissed me once more, licking her own juices off my lips. A spotlight came on near the house, most likely triggered by partygoers or maybe a curious animal. Jessica smiled in the soft white glow and then laughed.

“What?” I asked, waiting for my heart to calm down a little.

“Would it be cliché if I said: So…do you come here often?”

I laughed. “Would it be cliché if I offered to take you inside and get you a drink?”

She nudged me playfully with her elbow. “I do believe I could be talked into another.”

I was hoping she wasn’t just referring to the drink. Turned out I was in luck. We had another drink and then revisited the gazebo.