Another Medium

The door opening, and here she is, exactly as in my erotic recollections, Jenny. Wrapped in a white towel, bare shoulders, fishnet stockings. A shy smile. Hand ushering me up the stairs to her bedroom. Taking the money, putting the banknotes on a shelf, unconcerned about taking them somewhere safer. Turning toward me, hugging me steamily, the towel slightly damp from a recent shower.

The same sensation as before, as if being swallowed into another medium, warm and comforting and wordless, the friction and grind of normal life evaporating. My clothes removing themselves. Jenny’s towel slipping off. Our skins touching. Stroking, kissing, identities blurring. The slight smell of old cigarettes on her breath, somehow enhancing the sensory deluge, emphasizing the physicality and actuality.

Her lips running down my chest and stomach, finding my cock, kissing it, taking it into her mouth. No phony coquettishness, no learned technique, a simple gravitational pull to the site of greatest intimacy. Me lying on my back, relaxation spreading, deep tension dispelling. My cock hardening, her tongue working it, learning its shape. Long heavenly minutes.

Reaching down, pulling her gently away, her mouth surrendering my cock reluctantly. Turning her on her back, kissing her breasts. Lifting her knees with my hands. Her body complying as if with prior intent. Hips high, trim little pussy still closed but available. Separating the lips with my tongue, savoring the slight metallic tang, flicking her clitoris. Feasting on her flesh and textures and smells. Her juices covering my nose and mouth and tongue.

Shifting her on her side, twisting my own body round. A side-by-side position found. Her eyes closed, somehow bereft, her mouth searching for my cock, finding it, relaxing. My tongue probing her sphincter, squidgy clean from the shower and taut and stretched, its centre resisting and then yielding. Her body dissolving into new and deeper surrender, the softest murmur filling the air.

Her hand taking my cock from her mouth. Her tongue hard and pointed playing with my tip. Putting it back in her mouth, sucking it, taking it out again, teasing it with her tongue. Tension building in my hips like a tightening guitar string. Gathering. Her tongue sensing it, working the tip harder. The guitar string fully tight, pulled back, held there. The tongue pushing at my cock’s tip. Stillness. Then, release, a shuddering twang. She awakening from torpor, as if surprised, quickly reaching with her mouth, greedy for the fluids.

Pulling apart, lying still. Jenny turning round, arranging a pillow, taking me in her arms, kissing my face. The aftershocks twitching through my body, slowly receding. Holding her close. Souls filled with sunshine.