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He repeated the previous afternoon's play with my nipples—the sucking, pulling and letting go—but this time his left hand caressed my belly, my hips, my pussy. His fingers proved as expert as his lips and tongue. I felt as if there were some alien creature between my legs, a little squid, a thing that mated with my cunt as if created for that purpose.
"I love your heat and wetness, dearest. Let me tell you what I am going to do. First, I will bring you to satisfaction, especially to have you as lubricated as possible, to make the penetration easier. I will penetrate you instantly, ram fast and hard without respite or mercy, until I finish. Then, I will comfort you, hold you, kiss and caress you like a little girl. Time permitting, we might return to more mutually satisfying play. More fucking, Tamarushka, more fucking!"
Fucking. He seemed to adore me, had waited years for me, but he stuck to 'fucking'. I realized 'making love' would not be proffered—fucking would be the operative word between us. Still, I merely loved the discovery of myself and my sexuality, and the real pleasure this 'old' man knew how to create with me. He made me feel like a grown woman, made me believe I was beautiful and alluring. And, he would fuck me like a madman, a great madman—an artist.
He took off his trousers and shorts, and I had my first view of his cock, of any cock. I laughed out of anxiety and self-consciousness.
"I'm sorry. I'm nervous, and I've never seen a man's, his—."
"Cock. Don't apologize, dear. Say it. Say, cock."
Cock—I love the word.
He pulled the foreskin further back, unsheathing nearly all the smooth purple head.
"My cock is only at half-staff, my darling. Not bad, eh? Just so you know, I am above average in length, but nothing abnormal, nothing to fear. See the little bead of white cream at the tip? It is a prelude, if you will. Ah, I have an idea. Help me a little."
He crawled on the bed next to me and aimed his penis at my face, pulling back the foreskin again, holding the shaft in his hand so that the head was nearly touching my mouth. I gasped again but could not take my eyes away from the little monster.
"Lick the head, Tamarushka. It will taste like nothing, just a drop of dew. Now wrap your lips around it and try to poke the little eye with the tip of your tongue. Yes, yes. Lovely, my girl, lovely."
It felt strange, unseemly—so completely foreign, new to me. I'd done nothing more than rub Brad's penis through his jeans. I had not thought yet of looking at it, or touching it, let alone putting it to my mouth.
"You're so gentle, my darling. It won't break. Poke it hard, slap it with your lovely pink tongue."
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