Mirandized

She pulled me into her mouth again, the vacuum of her mouth making a slight slurping noise as she did so, and slowly pumped her head up and down. Up, then down. Slow at first then faster and faster, her tongue running the gamut from tip to base, all the while maintaining negative pressure in her mouth, creating a mind-numbing sensation of outwards pressure on the tip.

Inside, orgasmic pressure built and built and broke when her finger—I hadn’t even noticed how it traced its way back to my anus—invaded without pause, and the orgasm that had been looming over me broke and washed me in wave after wave of ecstasy like I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Her mouth was still on my dick when I came. She gulped every ounce of semen, milking me with her hand.

When I’d been milked dry, she pulled away and sat up, wiping her chin. “Just so you know,” she said. “It’s customary, when performing fellatio, for a man to announce when he’s about to come. Common decency, you know.”

“Sorry,” I said; my head fell back and lay on the soft bed as I reveled in the awesome orgasm. Jolts of something like electricity traveled up and down my arms, and seem to focus on my penis, where come was still dribbling forth. “I got a bit lost in the moment.”

“As did I,” she said. “I only bring it up for future reference; I swallowed your come for the experience, and found I didn’t enjoy it so much. In the future, I likely won’t swallow anymore.”

I lifted my head to look at her; her hair was disheveled, her glasses were sliding down her nose, and her cheeks were flushed.

Fuck, sheiscute, I thought, and felt it come as something of a surprise. I’d simply never thought of her that way before.

“Good to know,” I said, grinning. “For future reference.”

That she’d intimated there would evenbea future made me all kinds of excited.

Then Miranda bent down and took my cock in her mouth again, and every thought in my mind somehow found its way to the emergency exit.

She ran her tongue up my cock, up my stomach, my chest, my neck, and back to my mouth, and I got a sample of what my semen tasted like.

Her tongue mingled with mine, as she pushed against me in another passionate kiss, her breasts squeezed between us.

My hands moved to her own, tracing their way—seemingly all their own—up her arms and to her shoulders, down the curve of her back and to the bulge of her ass, where they caught on tight and pulled her in. I felt cold wetness near my crotch as come I’d spurted on her was in turn pressed against me.

Then she pulled away.

“A few things you have to know first,” she said, sitting on my stomach, just above my dick. I heard cloth ruffling as she took off her clothes. “This is not love. Ours is not a relationship. This is sex. Think of it as an elective course in the mechanics of the human body, rather than passion, or even lust. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“We’re not making a movie,” she said. “So you won’t hear me expound on how big and great your cock is. In fact, things you will not hear me saying include ‘Oh god, oh fuck, faster faster, harder harder, yes god yes, it’s so big, I’m coming I’m coming’ . . . et cetera.”

I blinked, unsure of how to respond.

“Uh . . . okay?” seemed adequate.

“Okay. Now sit up. Trade places with me.”

I sat up, and she lay down.

“Now what?”

“Your turn,” she said.

“What?”

“Eat me out. Make me come.”

“I don’t . . . I’ve never. . . .”

“Just give it a go,” she said. “Be inventive. Creative. Explore. Try whatever you want, and don’t stop until I’m screaming.”

“How do I start?” I asked.

“Like I did. Come here.”

With one hand on the back of my neck and the other on my jaw, she pulled me into another kiss. The taste of my own sperm on her tongue carried with it the faint peppermints I’d noticed earlier.

She forced my face away from hers and moved it to her jaw line. “Now here,” she said, and I kissed her jaw.

She moved my head to her neck. “Now here.”

To her collarbone. “Here.”

To her shoulder. “Here.”

Instead of kissing her, I ran my nose up her neck and past her jaw, catching the scent of her, until I found her ear. I sucked her earlobe into my mouth and played with it, fervently tonguing it.

My crotch grinded against hers—I was yet limp, but that was quickly being remedied—as my hands pulled hers from my face and held them back against the bed.

My lips moved from her ear down her neck, licking and sucking and kissing in one fluid motion before I moved downwards, making my way to her collarbone, her armpit, then the curve of her breast, all the while drawing in the smell of her sweat. Acrid, but oh-so-sexy.

I jumped rather quickly to her right breast, and moved my hands from hers to hold it, to feel it. With one hand on the breast in my mouth, the other moved to her left, cupping it, holding it. I felt her nipple harden in my palm.

It turned me on to an insane degree, lighting an inferno of lust in my stomach. I wanted nothing more than to stick my dick in her and feel again that brilliant, white-hot orgasm of a moment ago, but it occurred to me that it might not be prudent to prove a selfish lover. She might not come back for more if she got the impression I was unconcerned with her physical release.

Feeling it first with my thumb while my hand played with the left, fondling the nipple with my thumb. My tongue and finger mirrored each other, encircling the nipple, massaging the breast.

When I got my fill of her breast — which took a rather long time, I think — I resumed licking down her stomach, stopping to briefly play with her navel.

I stopped at her cunt to take in her scent.

“What are you doing?” she panted. “Why did you stop?”

“I just. . . .”

“Don’t stop!” she said, almost manic. “Why are youstopping?”

I smiled, took a deep, calming breath, and diving in.

I played with the labia, and flicked her clitoris with my tongue. I tried the Tongue Twister I’d seen onAmerican Pie, and then the alphabet, digging into and out of her with increasing frequency.

All the while, Miranda’s soft panting and mewing accentuation each dig into her.

“For—for—for your first—first time,” she said, her words halted by hard breaths and soft cries. “You sure—ah, god—you sure know what you’re doing.”

I paused to catch her scent again, to watch her juices dripping downwards, towards her anus.

“I read, too,” I said. “But more likely, it’s the massive amounts of anime porn I watch.”

She gave a gasping laugh before I started lapping up again. I dug two fingers into her as my tongue fiddled with her clitoris.

Her cries increased in pitch and frequency as I moved faster and faster into and out of her folds, licking and poking and flicking her into orgasm.

She came with a fierce intensity, her cries loud and long, her thighs clenched against my head. Her entire body had tensed, lifting her off of the bed.

I sat back to enjoy my handiwork.

When she relaxed, I kissed my way back up her stomach, as she’d done, until I reached her breasts again. I took her left nipple into my mouth, nibbling and suckling, and moved upwards, my tongue tracing a line to her jaw. From there, I jumped to her mouth, and again, our tongues tangled in a fierce kiss, our hands running up and down each others bodies.

Breathing hard, she pushed me to my back and sat up, over my fresh hard-on.

“Ready,” she breathed. “Ready, ready, ready…”

She plunged my dick into her with a gasp.

“Oh, god,” she said.

“Oh, god,” I said.

“Oh, god!”

“Fuck!”

The warmth, the tightness of her cunt was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Just being inside her threw bolts of electric pleasure up and down my dick, up and down my body.

My hands were on her hips when she began moving up and down, grinding my dick into her, shooting jolts of sensation into me.

She fell onto me and kissed me again, her hips bucking wildly with not an ounce of control. Her tongue pushed into my mouth with the same fierce intensity my dick pushed into her cunt, and together, we formed a complete circle of sweaty, human flesh.

She broke away and sat up again, her hands on her ankles, her gasps and mews again increasing in pitch and frequency, matching my own grunts and moans, and together, we brought each other to the edge, and pushed each other off.

Waves of pleasure radiated up and out. I gasped at how powerfully they threw me about, at how strong my jets of come felt, splashing her insides like a fire hose, it felt like.

She fell again, breathing hard, her head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her.

We stayed like that for a long time, our hearts and our breathing calming, and slowly returning to normal as we reveled in the sensations of what we’d just finished.

I was near sleep when I was struck by a terrible thought.

“We didn’t use a condom.”

The words came from my mouth, but not with my voice. The voice that spoke them was small, and afraid. The thoughts behind those words already heralded an accidental pregnancy, dropping out of college and getting a job, raising an unwanted family and being unhappy forever.

“Miranda. Miranda, wake up,” I said, gently shaking her.

“Mm . . . what?” she said, her tongue heavy with sleep.

“We didn’t use a condom.”

“I didn’t want to,” she said.

“Yeah, but—”

“And we don’t need it.”

She rolled off of me—I inhaled sharply at the electric sensation of my limp dick pulling out of her—and cuddled up to me for the night.

“Why?”

She was already falling asleep again.

“Miranda, why don’t we need a condom?”

“I can’t get pregnant,” she said, but the strength, and the sadness in her voice made it clear that all thoughts of sleep had vanished from her mind.

“Why not?”

“I. . . .”

She took a deep breath, and turned on the lamp next to the bed. She gathered the blanket around her, and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“I’m not a virgin,” she said.

“Well, not anymore,” I said, not understanding.

“No, I mean I wasn’t even before today.”

“You said you were a virgin,” I said, my tone involuntarily accusatory.

“I did,” she admitted. “I . . . it didn’t count.”

“How could it not count?”

“I . . . was raped when I was little. It’s why I can’t get pregnant.”

“Oh. Jesus, I’m. . . .” I trailed off, uncertain of how to finish. What do you say in a situation like that?