Out into the balmy night together. A first meeting. Just one dance where bodies fused, and Tamara knew. These sparking nerve ends were a new sensation. No other man had created such feelings before. Excitement was so real; expectation, so demanding. House party to garden party for two. He laid her back on a grassy bank hidden behind hedges.
Obstructive clothing was cast aside. His fingers tweaked swollen nipples before swooping down into her anxious wet crevice, expertly finding her clit. Tamara’s bloodstream was all aflame at the prospect of such arousal.
Hot, open-mouthed kisses while her fingers stroked the smoothness of his superb hardness, guiding it towards eager engagement. Then that scalding rapture at being penetrated. Others had been there, but not with such promise.
God, his heated rod, immense, scoured deep along her heaving, weeping channel. She was going to get there.
Thrust followed thrust. Pure heaven. Faster, harder as Tamara felt her mind traveling on a fantastic journey. Her hips heaved to augment his pressure. There were blazing lights behind her closed eyes and fires kindled at her core.
Through her haze, she recognized what she had learned with other, less capable men, imminent ejaculation. Overjoyed that, on a raging tide of passionate acceptance, she was going along with it. Together in orgasmic joy. Her first orgasm.
As they calmed down, “Thank you. I hope you’ll stay.”
Puzzled, he asked, “Why do you ask that?”
“The few I’ve had have all packed me in.”
“They must have been crazy.”
“Maybe, but they believed that well-known saying.”
“Which is?”
“Tamara never cums.” Shared laughter. “Can we do it again?”
