12 comments/ 33043 views/ 4 favorites Good Things Come in Threes By: Global Carol Is it true that the most erotic organ in the human body is the brain? Some pundit must have arrived at this revelation decades, if not a century, ago, and perhaps it's a valid conclusion. Yet, it appears as though researchers in psychology have spent so much time investigating and decomposing data that they have somehow precluded the innate ability we all should have to appreciate the excitement, the pleasure and the simple enjoyment of sex itself. Whatever happened to fantasy and the fulfillment thereof? These heavy and heady thoughts were circling my brain like airplanes in a holding pattern as I was enjoying coaxing a cock to deliver its cherished cargo to the landing strip of my tongue. (Granted, an obtuse metaphor, but it is truly amazing how one's actions can so dissociate with one's thoughts.) I had not had a relationship with a man in months, perhaps a longer stretch in my life than ever before. Here though, I was not in a relationship with this man, just having relations. Besides, he was half my age. What was I doing? Clearly, I knew exactly what I was doing: I was slowly and forcefully making firm ovals with my tongue just underneath his balls, getting tickled by their hair, separating them with the bridge of my nose. It was a pleasure to be doing this and I was really looking forward to him coming in my mouth for the second time that afternoon. Admittedly, that didn't happen the way I had expected, but what did was even more entertaining and enjoyable. Three things surprised me that afternoon: First was the information I discovered about this young man's sexual fantasies. Second and even more thrilling, given his quite average appearance, was his possession of an extraordinary sexual gift. Third, like an internal swat upside the head, I could not figure out how I could have gone without sex for so long. Good Things Come in Threes It's always a pleasure to be with such a man. Actually, it's more than a pleasure. It provides well more than a mouthful of semen, giving the opportunity for lots of cum play – if you're into that sort of thing, of course. Anyway, though Murphy had shot only three or four jolts into my mouth and one had gone straight down my esophagus, my mouth was completely full. I pulled back to accommodate the abundance of cum and just kept my tongue on the underside of his cockhead as I released most of his cock to retain the mouthful of semen. It was fruitless, I quickly realized, and if I wanted to enjoy all this wonderful white liquid I needed to take some action. I told my breasts that all good things must come to an end as I brought one hand up to hold onto his still spurting pole and maintain its aim. Then I brought my other hand, palm up, under my chin and let the semen spill onto it. All of this logistical activity required me to dwell less on my own orgasm, but I figured I'd enjoy playing with his semen after he was done. I knew that would compensate for any lack of momentary concurrency. So there we were during this wonderfully invigorating encounter: Murphy still shooting his luscious semen (Was it shot number nine or ten now?) into my overflowing mouth and my orgasm was in maintenance mode keeping me quite satisfied. I was loving the delicious taste on my tongue, the thick syrupy feel of it splashing into my mouth and then running down my chin to increase the size of the pond forming in the palm of my hand. At that moment Murphy reached down and firmly grabbed hold of his cock for the last few tasty shots and it was just in time: My left hand was so full that some of his cum was beginning to drip over the sides. I quickly placed my now-free right hand under the left and a second lake quickly began to form. When he stopped shooting, I closed my lips around his head, sucking the last few delightful drops into my mouth and swallowing all that was there. Looking down at my two handfuls of Murphy's cum the reality of the situation hit me: There's been a void in my life for the past several months and I have hit such a wonderful bit of luck to be joyfully sitting here enjoying giving what appeared to be a well-received blowjob to a supershooter. This reminded me that I still had a small series of thrills warming me from my pussy. Gazing at the two sparkling pools of semen in my hands I leaned forward and licked at one. The taste thrilled my pallet as a few drops fell down my lips and onto my chin, sliding in the sliminess of the cum in my hand. I closed my eyes to focus on the liquid enchantment in my mouth, oblivious to anything else other than a new wave of climaxes taking hold of my body – and Murphy's cock pressing against my forehead. I continued to lick and slurp at my hand until finally it had all been sucked dry. After another moment purely enjoying the abundance and the taste of his cum I refocused to see what Murphy was up to, glad in the knowledge that I had yet one more palmful of semen to drink. Looking up to his face, I was surprised to find it mouth agape, staring, not at me, but off to the mirror. He seemed intently drawn to watching my semen savoring, and, as I returned to the second handful of sperm, clearly enjoying what he was seeing. The guy had just had a more than substantial orgasm, yet here it was not five minutes later and my slurping had caused the beginning of another erection. Ah, youth! I was flattered momentarily, but decided I still had some of my own orgasm business remaining. Raising my hand and nearly putting my nose in the remaining semen, I inhaled deeply. What a wonderful smell. Then, I was reminded of my thoughts earlier about Murphy possibly having more than one orgasm this afternoon. Since he was clearly adding fuel to my actively heated oralism, why not stoke the fire myself? I took my hand, with the palm still upturned, raised it above my head, and slowly rolled it over so the sperm began to waterfall into my open mouth with outstretched tongue. As it hit my taste buds my immediate climax target was reached and I began to moan, shake, and just went with the flow – so to speak. The little show had its effect, I knew, when his formerly soft cock began to press determinedly and inexorably against my cheek. To show my appreciation for his renewed interest, I brought his cockhead over my mouth and let the remaining drizzle of cum fall onto it before licking it off his now re-erect prick. He shuddered, let out a groan, and pressed his cock into my wide-open mouth. (Is this a sweet young man or what?) I continued to suck and lick at his cockhead and my hand, slurping up all of the cum I could find. Eventually, none of the white syrup was present. However, my hands, his cock and my face were all coated in a delicate and delicious clear liquid coating. What a treat for this cum-starved student. Time, though, I realized to take a break. My legs were starting to cramp and I was literally exhausted from my own seemingly minutes-long orgasm. Initially, I felt empowered by my clearly successful, hands-free blowjob and my own series of powerful orgasms. Then, it struck me that there was an interesting dynamic in the room as I got to my feet: Murphy, naked from his waist to his shorts and jeans huddled about his ankles, and I, completely dressed save for my shoes. This "older woman" had just taken control of this sexual encounter and she enjoyed that feeling. Murphy was under my spell. If someone had told me before the exam this morning that I'd be enjoying his semen before the afternoon was half-over I would have thought she was crazy. But, to paraphrase a rather overused adage: when life hands you a cock, you make cum. "Murphy," I said, breaking a silence previously disturbed only by the sounds of sex, "I'd like to freshen up. Will you please excuse me?" I smiled at him and, looking fondly at his still erect cock upon which I bestowed a light but comically loud kiss, sashayed to the bathroom radiating some sort of post-blowjob bravado usually reserved for men. I closed the door and sat down, surprised at its sparkling cleanliness. (What's not to love about this guy?) But, this was not the only surprise to be found there that afternoon. Good Things Come in Threes Though I was suddenly thinking about what it might feel like to have him kiss my nipples, I was reminded of how much he liked women wearing bras. So I sat there naked from the waist down, wearing my socks (the place was clean, but the floor was cold), t-shirt and bra, trying to remember if the one I was wearing was pretty and lacy or just a utilitarian device. After a beat I realized it wouldn't matter; Murphy loved bras, right? I pulled off my t-shirt, thrust out my chest permitting him to ogle my full-cupped, partly cotton periwinkle bra from the UK, straddled his hips and slowly eased myself onto his now latex-encased cock. It was a good decision and I'm glad Murphy thought of it. While I am proud to be a cocksucker, I do find that good ol' fucking hits the spot on occasion, and this was an occasion and now I was on. Once he was sufficiently wet – about three or four slow thrusts did it – he began to shove into me with vigor and I knew he was not going anywhere until he came inside of me. From just the animal excitement he was radiating, I could feel my own orgasm beginning to well up inside of me. In just those few minutes Murphy became almost feral and held onto my hips so I could barely move in response to his thrusts. (Men: When thrusting hard, fast and deep inside a woman, this may be one of those times when those of you sized "Long" may be less than appreciated. Speaking of which, Bob Hope, one of the best of the old vaudevillian-comedians who used to do all those tours for our overseas troops, had a great joke about one of the older generation's first comediennes. He used to say that her bra size was a 34 ... long. Now back to my tale.) "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come," he informed me with more than a modicum of excitement in both his voice and energetic movement. "Do it. Do it. Come for me," I responded, surprised, as I usually didn't say much during sex. Then I realized that you can't say much when your mouth is full of a cock. That was seemingly all it took. As he began to come he moved into orgasm mode: thrust and pause, thrust and pause, with one or two seconds in between each one. I was loving this on several levels including his orgasm getting me off, the feel of his pubic bone slamming against mine in a delightful rhythm, and just basking in the knowledge that his body was producing semen. As he grunted with each stroke, I joined him, coming simultaneously and relishing each second of this afternoon assignation.