The Suitcase

Ryan Again Interrupts

Ryan Again Interrupts

“Please Becky. I... I... need...”

Becky’s finger continues to slowly and most delicately circle the underside of my p***s tip as she talks. The pleasure is mind boggling yet partial. I need more. She knows this.

“More. I know poor boy. But you’re not to come. Not until I decide.”

I look up to see Becky wriggling about. It’s a bit of a struggle, but with her free hand she squirms about on the couch further hiking up her skirt, right side then left, then right and left again. I gawk in catching glimpses of her charms. Not only have her stockings disappeared but she is without undergarments. As she moves about there are flashes of intimate pink flesh, her mons mostly shaven with a closely trimmed ‘V’ seeming to beckon attention to where a woman most appreciates attention.

“Naughty boy,” noting my rapt focus.

Hem of her skirt now nearly to her hips, she tosses from her side another silk tie, partially covering my eyes. Then in one swift and graceful move, her foot withdraws, she slips from the couch and kneels over me, silk tie rearranged to encircle my head and become a blindfold. The one hand resumes pressing against the top of my erect p***s, pushing to an extreme downward angle and the finger tip of her free hand returns to the sensitive underside. Dismayed at losing the vista of her fine s*x, in its place comes the thrill of her feminine scent. Yes, she lowers herself, knees to the right and left of my shoulders, facing my feet. She is redolent, my ‘performance’ has excited her. Though it is not the favored manner of arousing a woman, I am oddly proud.

Augmenting my ‘performance’, as Becky is astutely aware, is my full bladder. The need remains but seems to make me harder, the urge to empty myself transforming to the need to explode. And as she has aptly stated... to explode for her... when she decides.

“So... your tongue... your lips. A boy’s most able and consistent s*x organs. I’ll speak a little louder so you can hear me,” her soft gelatinous thighs pressing my ears. “It’s appropriate for you to so perform for me... during this segment of the story. You know what to do now.”

I do. Nostrils filled, the warm moisture of her arousal beckons. I purse my lips, extend my tongue and begin... using my most able and consistent s*x organs.

“Good boy. Now every girl is a little different there, Ryan. I’m going to instruct you. And you’re going to listen... to just how I want to be served...”

There come crisp and precise directives, tongue working about, thrusting, swirling, licking... and as commanded ingesting... taking in every drop of her essence as her fine portal becomes a wellspring. I am rewarded... her finger tantalizingly circling with an occasional gentle rub, the palm of her free hand continuing to press downward.

It is torture. It is delight. I want it to stop. I want it to continue forever.

And Becky... there come some mild orgasmic clenches... but otherwise her narrative continues... most casually continues.