July

Prologue

It was a Thursday night, and I had just come home from the bar. We had been trading text messages all night, and he asked:

Do you want to share a room in Chicago?

Sure. One bed or two?

One.

OK.

===

July, Chicago

We met at the end of Navy Pier during an Old 97's concert. The sun set over Lake Michigan and sparkled on the water, giving the Gold Coast its namesake glow. It had been a broiling hot day; I had trudged from Michigan Avenue to the end of Navy Pier in 95 degree heat and the sweat had poured off me. I told him I was going to get a shower. Secretly, I hoped he would get in with me.

After my shower, I put on a pair of clean pajamas, brushed my teeth, shut out the lights, and climbed into the 400 thread count sheets. I don't remember what I was expecting him to do, but Doug rolled to face me and we kissed feverishly. He pulled my top off and I made a mental note to 86 the pajamas for the next night. Our tongues slid together and we rolled back and forth under the puffy down comforter. He knew how much I liked his fingers inside me, and after he helped me pull off my bottoms, he pinioned one leg between his and spread me open. He breathed in my ear.

"God! You're so wet! How do you get so wet?" He slid his fingers up and down my slit, which an angry Russian woman had waxed bare a day before.

"I want you. Put your fingers inside me. Please."

I wrapped my arm around his shoulders while he teased me with his thick fingers, first one, then another. We kissed while I stroked my clit and came with his fingers all the way inside me. Two or three times I came like this, on his fingers, wrapped in his arms. Eventually he pulled his fingers from my cunt and offered them to me to suck clean.

"Thank you," I breathed.

We switched positions and I knelt next to him on all fours. I worked my way down his body, nuzzling his neck, tasting his nipples, nibbling him here and there, stroking his cock all the while. My fingertips played over the head, spreading his precome up and down the tip and making him gasp and buck beneath me. I ended up in a modified sixty-nine with his dick in my mouth. His hands were free to touch and play with my bottom half, but I wasn't sitting on his face (which is a mental hurdle I don't think I'll ever be able to clear).

I took him deep into my throat and held him there, letting the muscles of my throat flex around him. I have to thank the men I'd been with before Doug for their massive cocks, because they've made deep throating a more mortal size dick a breeze. "Gaaaaahhhhhhhhhh," he gasped, "You're soooooooo gooooooood." He played with my dripping pussy and spanked my ass while I gave him a wet, messy blow job. I massaged his balls and slowly stroked his shaft with all the excess spit.

I had already come but I still wanted to fuck; I didn't feel the night would be complete until we did. "Please don't come yet?" I asked. "Please fuck me?"

He set me back at the head of the bed. He spread me apart again and knelt between my legs. I scooched my butt up toward his pelvis and he entered me, finally. He spread my knees even wider and pushed my thighs back to my chest and placed my ankles on his shoulders. I arched my back again and fucked back onto him, the position of being so open and exposed turning me on even more. We varied the positions of my legs--wrapped around his hips, my knees over his shoulders, or grabbing onto his knees and thighs as we fucked. We sensed the other was near the end: I reached between my legs to play with my clit, and he held my thighs to get leverage and fuck me deeper and harder.

I braced my arms behind me on the padded headboard and begged, "Ohhhhhhh, fuck me, yes, fuck me fuck me fuck me, please, fuck me!" He sped up and I came again, twitching and arching my back onto his cock. My orgasm brought his on; He thrust a few more times, spasming and collapsing on top of me with a groan of release. I held his head to my breast and his thick hair was soaked with sweat. His cowlicks were standing up every which way. I found this endearing.

The next afternoon, after a brutally hot noon game at Wrigley, everyone in our group retired to their respective hotels to shower and nap. I made him come in that all fours position again. This time he finished in my mouth, and I swallowed it all.

I stretched out next to him, kissing my way down his leg to his ankle and curling myself around his calf like a teddy bear. He let me rest like this with my head at the foot of the bed for a few minutes before he sat up and changed his position. He kissed my ankle and the arch of my foot and began to work his way up and between my legs. "Ooooooh," I breathed.

"Open." I spread my legs.

He stroked my slit and settled himself between my legs to eat. The thing I liked even more than his tongue lapping at my clit was when he'd pull back for a breath, then nuzzle his stubbly face deeper between my legs. The feel of his stubble against my bare pussy lips was electrifying; he could have made me come just by pressing his unshaven chin deeper into my cunt.

The cheeky interior designer who chose the furnishings for the room had placed an antiqued wall-size mirror at the foot of the bed. As Doug worked on me, I arched my back and caught the outrageous sight: Tits in the air, nipples erect, knees hitched up and spread wide, the top of Doug's head between my legs, his hands wrapped around my thighs, his ankles crossed casually against the headboard. It was as close as I'll ever get to watching my own sex tape. It was HOT.

"Oh my God," I moaned, "Put your fingers inside me, please!" He complied; I almost watched myself orgasm in the mirror, but I closed my eyes for the finish and let it wash over me.