Friday, Saturday, Sunday

Because neither Frank nor I have a place of our own in London, we booked a hotel room near Trafalgar Square. We were together from dinner on Friday through lunch on Sunday. We wandered the National Gallery on Saturday, went to the theater in the evening, and shared five meals. We also exhausted a box of condoms at the hotel. As there is too much sex to tell, I will relate one highlight of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday among many.

Friday

I had worn a dress that was too light for the season and left me shivering outdoors despite a thick winter coat that fell to my knees. As I sat straddling his lap in bed, Frank’s hands slid the skirt up my body until my rump showed below the hem. While I held his head by the ears and spelunked my tongue into his open mouth, his fingers secreted themselves under the red lace panties and fondled my buttocks. The hands massaged the cheeks and feathered along the cleft. Fingertips drummed a persistent beat over the muscle at the anus.

First we undressed each other, normally a simple process obstructed by progressions of kisses. It was his mouth I wanted to breathe through, his tongue I wanted to taste, his air I wanted to drink. When his cock was out in the open, the object of my lust shifted a couple of feet downward. Several swift passes lubricated the erection, and then I had him in my throat. Frank kept interrupting my blowjob to pull me up to kiss. He threw me over the mattress. We had a small tickling war that he won by virtue of superior strength. With his weight on top, Frank pinned my wrists to the bed and squeezed my legs with his. Rolling off me, he dragged me back by the legs and heaved one of my ankles over each of his shoulders and plunged his face between my thighs. I held on to the short hairs at the back of his head as he licked and fingered me. My first orgasm of the night arrived this way, through the intercession of that tongue and those incredible lips and that middle finger, which pushed against the clit through the wall of the vagina.

Frank confirmed my suspicions when he asked if he could fuck my ass. I was delighted by the prospect. When the cock slid into my pussy to lubricate itself, I moaned and contracted the muscles of my cunt about the shaft. The penetration behind happened slowly. I lowered on forearms and knees, head sideways on the pillow, and raised my buttocks to him. Initially, the glans elbowed through the sphincter, and after that, he lowered his shaft into me little by little. He rocked his pelvis backward so that only the head remained within, the ring of muscle tight about it like an elastic band, and he pushed forward to claim an extra half inch when next he thrust with his hips. Once the length of the penis stroked into me, I raised myself, grabbed on to the headboard of the bed, and gyrated my ass back at his cock. He held me by the waist and then by the breasts as he stabbed into me.

In the end, we tried a new position. My head was on the floor, and I used my hands to prop my back and buttocks vertical. He stood, knees bent, straddling me, and his fingers slanted the penis downward. High above me, I saw the rise of his back, the tufts of fur between his shoulders, the valley of his spine, and the bedraggled hair at the top of his head. Light gleamed from the sheen of sweat and gave him an otherworldly gloss. He penetrated my anus as he squatted and lifted. His thighs bounced off my buttocks when the cock sunk in, and his balls slapped against my perineum and pussy half a moment later. I reached my hand up to stroke his thigh when he spurted.

Saturday

Before we went out to see the play, Frank and I took a bubble bath together. The tip of his cock peered above the surface like the periscope on a submarine. My tongue lifted against one of the lobes of the head and curled to fit the curve of his glans. I sucked only the knob, where I knew the nerves were most densely concentrated. My lips nipped lightly at the apron of foreskin at the bottom. Underwater, the heels of my fingers batted at the base of the shaft and at the round projection of his scrotum. I felt the flow of liquid between my fingers and under my palm.

Frank brought his legs out of the water and extended them on either side of me so that they stretched to the other end of the bathtub. His torso lifted perpendicularly and his back reclined against the far wall. One of his hands pressed down against the back of my head to ensure that my mouth would retain its hold on his penis. I clasped the middle of the shaft and sucked hard against the head, pouting my lips to add pressure and friction. My tongue licked lightly along the ridge of foreskin. As he vocalized his pleasure, the water dashed the walls of the tub and made loud splashing noises. He asked that I don’t make him come. I acceded to this request, but I drew out the blowjob as long as possible by humming, buzzing, sucking, swishing saliva over the crown, flicking the tonguetip at the aperture, raking my top row of teeth gently over the helmet, and, in general, varying the stimulation as ever I could. Up close, I liked how the water beaded over the shaft and hung in enormous droplets in his thick pubic hair.

Later, I washed my pussy and rinsed the soap from the labial folds with the showerhead, which I held in my hand and pointed at my pubis. Frank replaced my fingers with his and rubbed from side to side over the swollen, but still yearning flesh. Before long, his tongue lined up and down the slit. He told me that I tasted clean. His nose flattened against the pubic bone as the tongue insinuated itself through the doorway. The fingers pinched the hood of the clit and eased the cowl off to show the distended nerves. I directed the water stream at the juncture of my legs. Eyes closed, he sucked deeper, and he sucked harder, and he sucked so much slower. His hands cupped my buttocks and pulled me to him as the length of his tongue crammed into my vagina. His upper lip brushed against the clitoris, and the air from his flared nostrils wheezed over it. I leaned my weight against the side wall and thrust my pelvis onto his face. The water from the shower pulsed against my bare pubis, dashed around his proboscis, and rolled down in waves over the entrance of my pussy where his jaws now worked. Unlike him, I had no compunction about coming: I could do it forever.

When he fucked me, I sunk into the water with my head propped against the shallow end of the bathtub. One of my legs hooked over the edge and the other lifted in an angle against the wall. His thighs inhabited the space between mine, and his knees settled against the bottom of the tub. The tops of his feet balanced on the taps and faucet at the far end. With my weight displacing the water and also his, the waterline rose until it hovered a mere two inches below the lip. The soap suds left a sea of foam that clung to our bodies.

His cock lodged all the way into my cunt, and he fucked me with shallow strokes. My arms held his waist and steadied his movements, the fingers clenching over the hips whenever he thrust. I groaned my approbation and kissed him. The notes of my ecstasy bounced off the walls and echoed back in counterpoint to the next expressive sounds that escaped my lips.

I challenged him to fuck me harder. The cock vacated my cunt almost totally and sliced through the water in the tub and sluiced back in to the warmth and the wetness of my pussy. The water splashed over the rim leaving puddles on the floor. I folded my arms under my head and pushed off the bottom surface of the tub. My cunt tilted up at him. My breasts floated in the opaque water like volcanic islands. Frank pushed his weight off the sides of the bathtub and fucked me faster. The fluid between us moderated the strength of his movements, but its spray up my pubis to my belly felt exquisite.

I tightened my muscles around the cock as he penetrated me. My eyes squinched shut, and my cheekbones lifted, and I breathed hard through my nose, and my body tensed up, and my arms wrapped his back, and I gripped his shoulders, and I thrust my pelvis up, hard and out, and my chest heaved, and my toes curled against the drain, and my buttocks launched into the air, and it fell again in a great splashdown just as I came.

Frank grunted through my orgasm, and then his resolve gave out. His cock convulsed inside me, which made the walls of my vagina bow inward and buckle. My orgasm intensified one more notch, and I bit his shoulder and beat my forearm against his back. When we sank into the water again, the tub was only half full. Despite the towels on the floor, water seeped between my toes as I stood in front of the mirror and completed my preparations for a thrilling evening out.

Sunday

In the morning, after we had finished breakfast in the restaurant downstairs, we returned to our room to pack. We stole kisses as we could. While his hands rubbed my cunt through my black trousers, I unzipped Frank’s jeans and wormed my hand into the fly. Descending to my knees, I sucked him before the window. The curtains were drawn apart, and the light sloped in through the glass. Another, taller hotel across the street gazed down at us. I hoped that we would be observed by a guest in one of their rooms, but I doubt that anyone saw, and perhaps the glass was anyway too reflective from the outside for us to be noticed. Regardless of whether we had an audience, I added a bit of theater to the fellatio. My hands made circles under his shirt while my head bobbed over the shaft, and when my tongue caught his semen, I spit it back over the shaft and vacuumed it up again. Droplets of semen shimmered brightly in his dark pubic hair like thick raindrops.

These were memorable days. I hope to see Frank one more time before flying home.