I made it into her bedroom on the third date. We were both divorced, in our thirties. She was long and lean with small breasts and great legs. There was a cute, quirky look about her. We stripped quickly and I was eager to perform oral sex. I was super horny and I wanted to make sure she had an orgasm before we actually did it. I wasted no time getting down there. You see, I have a history of quick orgasms. Socrates said, know thyself. Or was it Plato?
But she caught a good look at my huge erection and said, “Fuck all that. Get up here. I want that big thing inside me.”
She threw her long strong legs up over my shoulders and I planted my mouth on hers. Our tongues danced but I was very anxious. I was so fucking horny that I felt my orgasm building already. When she grabbed my cock I almost came. It didn’t help when she said, “My God you’re huge!”
She was dripping wet as she guided me into her. I glided my long thick cock into her slowly. I pushed it in all the way, all the way to the hilt, and came. One thrust and I was done. It was a wild, furious orgasm. I moaned much too loudly. Unfortunate sputtering noises escaped from me. My cock softened. I pulled out of her, rolled over onto my back, and sighed.
I could feel her glaring at me. She said, “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Sorry,” I said. “It just felt too good. I couldn’t help it.”
She said, “”Does this always happen?”
“No,” I lied.
“My God,” she said, “you just gave new meaning to term ‘quickie.'”
I felt myself redden. My neck and face were burning. She said, “It’s okay babe, I’m a patient girl. The encore performance is always better. I can wait.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that there would be no encore performance. There never was. So we lay there with my almost-hard cock against my thigh, leaking cum. Though soft, it was impressively big and veined as she stroked it lightly, expertly, deft fingernails teasing the tender sweet spots.
But there was no encore.
If my cock was unresponsive, at least we had a very nice chat. As we talked she continued stroking, but it lay there against my leg, a sleeping giant.
Before I left she asked me to call her. We kissed in the doorway.
As I turned to leave she said, “I hope you know you forgot something.”
“What,” I said. “What did I forget?”
“You forgot to fuck me,” she said. Then she let out a loud peal of laughter.
Walking away, listening to her laugh, my cock became rock hard. It was very puzzling.
When I got home I masturbated. As I stroked, her laughter was ringing in my ears. Then I thought of her words, of giving new meaning to the term “quickie.” That’s when I came. I found it odd. It seemed like a strange thing to trigger an orgasm. I was confused. Was I always like this or was I undergoing some kind of change?
I was too embarassed to call her, but we met accidentally in a coffee shop. She insisted that I call. When we parted, the back of her hand brushed against my crotch and my dick stiffened.
So once again we were naked in her bed. As before, I offered to go down on her and she declined. Again the legs went up over my shoulders, the hand came down to guide me in.
She said, “This time don’t be so quick about it.”
As things turned out, my dick would not even get into her pussy.
Taking hold of my cock she said, “Wow, I can barely get my hand around it!”
Evidently that was the wrong thing to say. As soon as the words came out of her mouth I exploded, moaning and whining. I could feel the cum shooting out of me.
There was a period of silence as I lay beside her, my big limp loaf of a dick on my thigh.
Finally she said, “Un-fucking believable. All I did was touch it.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Shut up,” she said. “This is just my luck. I finally find a good looking guy with a great cock, and he has the no libido. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of Sir Galahad standing up again.”
“Probably not.”
“Probably fucking not. Is this why your wife divorced you?”
“Probably.”
“So the sex gods liberated that poor girl,” she said, “then delivered you to me. Wow. Lucky fucking me.”
I started to say something else but she said, “Shut up and get me a glass of wine.”
In the kitchen, pouring the wine, I could hear her unending stream of insults. That’s when a strange and pleasant feeling passed through my groin.
I gave her an ample portion of white wine but she downed it in one gulp. I lay down beside her, waiting to be insulted. There was a strange tingling in my balls.
“Mr. Quick, that’s you. Mr. Super Fucking Quick. I bet your wife called you that; Mr. Quick. Did she?”
“Not exactly.”
“Oh I hafta hear this. What did she call you?”
There was a long pause before I said, “She called me her one-second wonder.”
She hooted and howled. She could not stop laughing. As she laughed, and my face reddened, my cock stirred. It straightened, stiffened and looked almost ready for lift-off.
She looked at my cock quizically and said, “What? I thought you said…”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “This never happens.”
She alertly brushed my balls with the tip of a fingernail. She brought that fingernail up along the tender underside of my cock. Suddenly there he was: Sir Galahad! If I do say so myself, it looked enormous. The long thick pink pipe of a shaft was adorned with hundreds of little squirming blue veins. There was one super thick vein coursing right down the center that looked ready to explode. The massive red mushroom head gleamed. Of course it was shaved. I shaved it out of vanity because that makes it look even bigger.
Her eyes widened and she said, “That is one awesome cock!”
Again it was the wrong thing to say.
As my dick started to wither she recovered, quickly and cleverly.
With her fingernail along the shaft she said, “You call this a cock? You know the little pencils they give you at mini-golf? That’s your dick. You’re fucking deformed.”
It was a miracle. I was hard again.
I moved closer to her but she pushed me away roughly. She said, “Not a chance Mr. Quick, my little one-second wonder. I”ll take over from here.”
She proceeded to straddle me, hurling insults all the while. I was a pussy, a little pencil dick. She pretended to spit in my face. No spit actually flew but she made the sound and gesture, her cute face transformed into a menacing mask of anger.
All this thickened my dick and fattened my mushroom. Oddly enough I felt no orgasm building. I was making love normally for the first time in my life. I felt as if I could go on forever. Her pussy was tight and heavenly yet I wasn’t cumming. This was all new to me.
It was wonderful. Unfortunate side effects, however, were the strange gurgling noises that I could not stop making.
“Listen to you,” she said with contempt. “You sound like a monkey being strangled.”
She continued to ride me hard. She continued the insults and the faux-spitting. I slid my hands down her back and cupped her lovely cheeks. I put a finger on her asshole. That’s when I realized she was orgasming. Her anus was twitching repeatedly against the tip of my finger. And it was unending. She seemed to be in a state of perpetual orgasm.
Suddenly she threw her head back. Screaming up at the ceiling, she went, “Praise Jesus!”
It was all too much for me. Suddenly, violently, I exploded. With my eyes closed, bolts of lightning flashed in brilliant colors across my brain while monkey sounds streamed out of me. Her anus was in overdrive, spasming wildly against my finger.
We came together for a very long time. She praised the Lord while I made embarassing noises. It was a fuck for the ages.
Exhausted, she fell onto the bed beside me.
After a few moments she propped herself up on one elbow, turned to me and said, “That sucked.”
“Sorry.”
“That wasn’t even a fuck,” she said. “I jerked off on your dick.”
“I know.”
“You think I need you to masturbate?”
“No.”
“Shut the fuck up. Go get me a glass of wine.”
I moved into her apartment the next day. Needless to say, I did a lot of wine-fetching. I did a lot of fetching in general. Twice a day, every day, she jerked off on my dick. She would levitate into a Jesus cloud of ass-twitching orgasm while I was in a tree in the jungle chattering with my monkey-mates.
My problem was solved. Together, we figured me out. I was thirty-three years old; better late than never. But I’m onto it finally. I got this! Humliation is hot!
Know thyself. Plato said that. Or was it Socrates?
