2 comments/ 7397 views/ 3 favorites Dry Spell By: bbwpeach It's been a while. Between juggling our jobs with the demands on our time by friends and family members, we haven't had much intimate time lately. Last night you told me you'd be leaving early in the morning for a long work day. You said you'd be spending some time in meetings, so you'd have to turn off the ringer on your cell phone. "I'll set it to vibrate, though. If you have an emergency and need to reach me, just text me, love," you said. "Oh, and I'll take you out to dinner tonight. Think about where you'd like to go." I know that last part is your effort to make me feel special and loved, even though you know you'll be tired. I'm still half-asleep when I feel your lips brush my cheek this morning, and I wake to see you already on your way out. The door closes quietly behind you and I feel a little sad, missing your warmth next to me in bed. "Dry spell" is the term that enters my head. "Well, enough of that," I think. "It's time we had a little wet spell." Knowing you won't answer your phone — and being careful to avoid the text function since it's reserved for true emergencies today — I decide to leave you a series of voicemails. The first one at 8 a.m.: "I woke up missing you so bad, baby." 10 a.m.: "I'm thinking about how amazing you looked in those jeans this morning." 11:00 a.m.: "Uh...well...I'm still thinking about you in those button-flys and it's making me a little flushed." I haven't gotten a response from you yet, but I have a feeling you'll check your voicemail during lunch. So, I turn up the heat a little bit. My southern accent kicks in. 11:30 a.m.: "Baby, these thoughts I'm havin' about you... well, it's all I can do to keep my hands off myself." At noon, my cell phone signals that I have a text message. "ur killin me love" is all it says. I smile. You have definitely listened to my messages. My voice takes on that come-fuck-me tone. 12:45 p.m.: "I love killin' you this way...and just so you know, my hands have wandered." I think I'll run out to the store — we're definitely not going out tonight. I buy the ingredients to make beef stew, some fresh bread and the coffee ice cream you adore and head for home. I slide the stew into the oven a little before 2:00, setting the temperature very low so that it will cook slowly for hours. Time for another voicemail, I think. 2 p.m.: "My nipples are so hard, baby...I'm wishin' it was your hands on them instead of mine. Actually, I'm wishin' it was your mouth." 2:30 p.m.: "I'm guessin' your cock is hard right now and you're tryin' to hide it." I grin, knowing that one is so true. Another text arrives on my phone: "im rock hard u bad grl." Okay, I admit, this is really fun and I'm not even thinking about doing any work today. I'm thinking about how to welcome you home. So, I leave you a couple more voicemails. 3:45 p.m.: "Come home, love. You won't have to hide that rock hard dick anymore." 4:15 p.m.: "I'm soooo fuckin' horny, baby, thinkin' about your cock. And I'm tryin' to be good, but I don't know how much longer I can hold out." Time for a shower. I'm arranging myself on the bed when I hear your key in the lock. You're early. I smile. The aroma of the stew is the first thing you notice. "I'm home," you call out. "But hunny, I thought we were going out to dinner..." You stop still in the doorway to the bedroom when you see me. I am leaning back against the headboard wearing panties and a fitted tank top that shows the outline of my breasts and nipples. My knees are propped up, my hands dangling between my legs. "Hiiii love, I am SO glad to see you," I say as I slowly move my hands away to reveal the very wet crotch of my panties. You're staring at the wetness and your jeans are oh-so-tight around the bulge in your crotch. Exactly the response I want. I smile and say, "Come here." You walk over to stand by the side of the bed. My hands reach out to unbutton your jeans, but you stop them with your own hands. "Noooo, you don't get to do that yet. Not after the way you made me crazy all day," you tell me. Your voice is rough, the way it always is when your dick is hard and needing relief. You lower your lips to mine, your mouth warm and open as your tongue finds mine. I drink in your kiss, gasping a little when your fingers push my panties to the side and run up and down my wet slit. You plunge two fingers into my throbbing hole. You know exactly how to finger fuck me, curling your fingers in that certain way inside me, making me buck against your hand. You brush my clit with your thumb, nearly sending me over the edge. I open my legs wider, knowing you can feel and smell my heat and wetness. You suddenly slide your fingers out of me, rip the crotch of my panties and slide your tongue into me. I am helpless under your magical mouth, my hands on your head, pushing up against you. I feel the spasms start and I can't stop them. "Oh goddddd, love, I'm cumming," I moan. But it's not like you don't already know it. I feel your lips curve into a smile against my hot, wet, trembling cunt. I cum in waves against your face, coating it with my juices. I finally come down from the high. You are still standing next to the bed, but your hand's inside your jeans, stroking your cock. There's a wet spot where your dick is leaking pre-cum. I need to touch it, taste it. Sitting up, I undo the buttons on your fly slowly, watching your hand inside your boxer briefs. You can't get your shirt off fast enough. I reach up to caress your chest and stomach with my hands. "Let's get the rest of your clothes off," I say, pulling your jeans and briefs down in one motion. You step out of them, and your cock is right in front of me, hard and pulsing. You close your eyes when I ask you to, and I reach for the little bottle of flavored lube I've kept nearby. I coat my hands with it and rub them together to make them warm. I slide my slick, warm hands around your dick. "God, baby, that feels amazing," you say, as I begin stroking. My hands tag-team, stroking up your shaft one after the other, not letting up. Your eyes are still closed but you widen your stance — showing me your balls need some attention, too. Still stroking your cock with one hand, I cup your balls in the other. They are heavy and hot. I salivate, thinking about your hot juice shooting into my mouth and down my throat. My hand is still stroking you, but on the last upstroke, I replace my hand with my mouth, sliding down your shaft quickly, taking you all the way in. Your moan and your hands on my head tell me everything I need to know. I hold you in my mouth, sucking gently, not moving up and down yet. My hand is wrapped around the base of your cock. It's too much for you to stay still and you start fucking my mouth. I let you hit the back of my throat on every thrust, knowing it will feel so good, you can't stop. I cup your balls in my hand again, rubbing lightly. Your cock is pistoning in and out of my mouth, faster and faster. Your fingers tangle in my hair. "Fuckkkkkk, baby, I'm gonna cum," you moan. The first spurt of hot creamy jizz hits the back of my throat as your orgasm takes over. It comes in waves; your sweet, salty cum coats my tongue. I swallow it down, loving every drop. Your legs are shaking. You collapse onto the bed next to me. We lie quietly for the longest time. You hold my hand in yours against your chest. Your stomach rumbles. "Hungry, love?" I ask. "Oh, ya," you say. But you don't make a move to get up and head to the kitchen for dinner. Instead, you pull me toward you...rolling me on top of you. Your cock is rock hard again as I straddle you. "Mmmmm, no more dry spell," I think to myself as I impale myself on your waiting cock. Dry Spells and Opportunity I had been seeing a girl from the next town over from where I was living at the time. Well seeing isn't really the right term. I had been occasionally getting together with Amber. We had met at a spoken word event that I had organized, and she introduced herself, told me that she was into writers, and we started hanging out every now and then. It wasn't a relationship of any description, just a couple of people getting together every now and then to pass the time so to speak. Mostly we smoked weed and had sex, but there was no real connection, especially from my side. She was in a lot of ways a fun distraction, and that suited her as well as it suited me. Given that I was 41, and was twice divorced, I didn't have any desire to jump into a relationship. I was enjoying the freedom that comes with single-hood, and in those moments of loneliness, or more often, "horniness," companionship was never hard to find. One evening in November, I had Amber and a few of her friends over for a get together. The night was filled with beverages, bong hits, and general conversation. After an hour of playing Trivial Pursuit though, I was convinced that she and her friends weren't exactly the people I wanted to spend a lot of time with. The evening wore on and people slowly started to leave. Amber had to teach a yoga class the following morning, so she headed home as well. Patrick who, at 26, was likely the youngest of Amber's friends -- the rest were in their early 30's -- stuck around for an extra drink and some more hits from the bong. It was obvious from when everyone had arrived, that Patrick was gay. He wasn't flamboyantly gay, his speech and appearance were decidedly masculine, but he had a softness about him, and a general demeanor that made it clear that he preferred man-love. He was also the smartest of the bunch. With the two of us left alone, we took our drinks to my living room. He sat on the couch, me in my chair. Ani DiFranco was playing in the background. Earlier in the evening, Patrick had been telling Amber about his "dry-spell." He had been in a relationship that had ended about a year prior, and he hadn't found anyone since. As we sat in the living room he was talking a little more about it. He said that he preferred older men, but most of the older men he encountered in his relatively small town were strictly tops - they liked to do the fucking, but did not want to be fucked in return. Patrick told me that he enjoyed being fucked, but he also liked the feeling of being inside another man. We poured another drink, and continued talking, and he said that he was looking forward to being older so that he could be the one to be pleasured by a younger man, and he could also be the one to do the fucking for a change. As he talked, my cock was hardening in my pants. While I lived the life of a straight man, I had on occasion been known to enjoy some man love. My first experience with a man was when I was 16. He was in his 30s. Since then I had been with a man a half dozen times, and I had thoroughly enjoyed each and every experience. Listening to this young man, with his handsome face, wonderful head of hair, and his strong looking arms, I was desperately craving that feeling of a nice hard cock in my mouth, in my ass. It had been nearly seven years since I had last enjoyed the sensation of a hard cock pressing inside me, and I was getting the distinct impression that an opportunity was right before me. I put my drink down on the middle shelf of my bookcase, and stood up and said "Come with me." He got up from his spot on the couch and followed me to my bedroom. "What?" he said as we entered by bedroom. I told him to get undressed to his boxers and asked him to sit on my bed. "Tonight you're 41, and I'm 26," I said to him. He took off his shirt and his pants, and he sat on the edge of the bed wearing only a pair of Joe Boxers. His skin still retained the hint of a summer tan, and as I looked at his strong, lean body I hardened further. I knelt down in front of him and ran my hands up the insides of his legs. Softly I kissed his inner thighs as my right hand came to rest on his crotch. I gently fondled his cock, feeling it grow and harden. There is something so intoxicating about feeling a hard cock in my hand, and the sensation of feeling it grow and harden in my hand was amazing. Through the fabric of his boxers I kissed his balls as I stroked his cock. Moving my mouth up, I gently nibbled on his hard shaft causing him to softly moan and shift a little. Once he was very hard I pulled down his boxers and with a loose, soft grip I began slowly stroking his shaft. His cock was nice. Slightly larger than my own, he was circumcised, and had a beautifully sexy cock head. After stroking him for a while, I leaned in and took the head of his cock into my mouth. I continued to stroke him as I swirled my tongue around his cock head. Patrick moaned, and placed one of his hands on the back of my head. It may have been seven years since I had enjoyed a cock in my mouth, but I hadn't forgotten how to bring pleasure to a man. His cock head filled my mouth nicely, and I could taste the first hints of pre-cum as my tongue danced across the slit of his cock head. Slowly I took more and more of him into my mouth. Stroking his gorgeous shaft with my right hand, and with my left playing with his balls, I could tell that this young gay man was loving the sensation of an older man pleasuring him. He began gently pushing down on my head as I took him further into my mouth. He placed his second hand on my head and then began gently thrusting his hips as I continued sucking his hard cock. Patrick's moans became louder and more frequent with each stroke of my hand, and each slurp of my mouth. His cock stiffened even further, and his balls tensed and I thought he was going to cum, so I slowed down. I slid his cock from my mouth and was licking down the shaft when he suddenly started to come. I worked my mouth back to the head of his cock as he continued to shoot stream after stream of warm, white cum. While the first stream had landed on the side of my face, the rest found their way into my mouth, and I happily licked and sucked every bit of it. He fell back onto my bed, and I got up from kneeling in front of him and joined him on the bed. Patrick started feeling my cock through my pants, and before I knew it, my pants were on the floor beside his, and he was stroking me and taking me into his mouth. Very slowly he swirled his tongue around my cock head. "I hope I can do this as well as you did. That was the best blow job I've ever had," he said to me before taking my cock fully into his mouth. For about 20 minutes he sucked and stroked me. As he did so he occasionally pressed a finger or thumb against my anus. Not enough to slide inside, but enough that I could feel the glorious pressure. I couldn't hold off any longer and I told him I was about to cum. As soon as I said that, he took me deep into his mouth, and my cock exploded. He stroked me as I continued to cum in his throat. When my cock had stopped pulsating, he pulled it out of his mouth and moved back up the bed. He was beside me and I could feel that he was hard again, as his cock was pressing into my leg. "So does this mean that I get to fuck you now?" He asked as he pressed his cock harder into my leg. "Mmm hmm," I responded as I reached into the wooden box on my bedside table for a condom. Patrick rolled the condom onto his cock, and I fumbled around on the floor beside my bed for a bottle of lube. I handed him the bottle and he opened it and put some on his fingers. He then started rubbing the lube around my ass hole. He added a little more lube and then began pressing a finger into me. I moaned as his middle finger slid inside me. In a rocking motion he slid his finger in and out of me for a minute or two and then he added his index finger making my ass feel very full. The sensation was incredible. Patrick would slide his fingers in and out at a slow, regulated pace, and every now and then he would spread his fingers apart, stretching my tight, and underused ass. I was unable to repress moans of delight as he tenderly worked his fingers in my ass. After pulling his fingers out of me, Patrick again opened the bottle of lube and spread a healthy amount on his cock. He then had me stand at the end of my bed, and I bent over, and he began pressing the head of his very hard cock against my ass. I thoroughly enjoyed the pressure, mixed with a bit of pain as the head of his cock pressed inside me. I waited in anticipation of that wonderful moment when the cock head finds its way inside, the moment when I have always let out an uncontrollable moan. When the head of his cock finally pressed through my anal opening, he held it there for what seemed an eternity. I was glad that he did because it had been a long time since I had had a cock in my ass, and it gave me time to get used to the feeling again. Then he slowly pushed further and further into me. I moaned loudly as he pushed the full length of his cock into my ass. When he was pressed as far in as he could he held my hips with his strong hands and stayed in that spot for a few seconds. I could feel his balls resting against mine, and I couldn't wait to feel those balls slapping against my own as he fucked me. He then slowly and gently began rocking his hips back and forth sliding his cock in and out. The pain - that glorious kind of pain - went away after a minute or two, and Patrick slowly increased the pace. After a couple minutes he slowed down again and would pull his cock almost out and hold it there until I pressed back against him driving him fully inside me again. Patrick did this several times, and each time he pulled as far out as he could while leaving just the head of his cock inside me, I happily pressed backward until I could feel his balls against mine again. Suddenly Patrick's grip on my hips hardened and he began thrusting more quickly and I could feel his cock stiffen just as it began pulsating, and I knew he was filling that condom with his hot, sticky fluid. He held my hips tightly and pushed his cock all the way inside me and I could feel each pulse as he came inside me. He slowly pulled his softening cock out of me, removed the condom, and fell back on my bed and said "It has been way too long, I so needed that." I told him that it had been even longer for me, and I could not have agreed with him more. Having his beautiful, hard cock inside me was exactly what I had needed. We got up from the bed and made our way back to my living room where I poured more drinks, filled the bowl of the bong, and we listened to music while we enjoyed the high. He left about an hour later, but not before asking me to give him another blow job.