She confessed (once) that she had never owned any pearls; her grandmother’s antique necklace and earrings having been claimed by her older sister (for prom or something like that) and owned ever since. And I thought it would go nicely with her blonde hair and slender neck (especially with that hair brought up) so that’s exactly what I purchased for her birthday, feeling a little like a fish out of water in the jewelry store on Fifth Avenue. Even though I was referred by a friend of a friend of a coworker, I couldn’t help feeling like I overpaid, but you make these kinds of mistakes out of unfamiliarity and impulse.

And later that week when she came by with her gaudy floral duffel bag (now her weekend staple), we embraced, kissed, and I pulled the thin knit scarf off her neck, weaving my arms in and around hers, the cool pearls a sudden shock against her bare skin. Her fingers flew to feel it before I could close the clasp, and I placed the hinged box with the earrings in between us. She quickly put the large, near-perfect spheres into her ears (the small, now-evacuated diamond-esque studs now lost into a pocket somewhere) squealed with delight, and we turned to face the mirror in the hallway to see the completed set on her. I saw what looked like a girlfriend in the arms of her boyfriend.

And we had dinner, talked about work, and somehow ended up (as we always do) lips locked and making out like teenagers on the couch with the TV low and the music from my computer playing over the chatter and I wondered if maybe the only thing that we have over the teens is that our movements are no longer awkward and unsteady. That is, we know where it will lead.

So in the bedroom, with my witty and ironic t-shirt pulled off and over my head (tossed in the direction of the closet), the button on my jeans and fly open, I sat on the edge of the bed as she grabbed her bag and ducked into the bathroom. Maybe patience, too, I thought, again returning to the thoughts of teens rushing their lips against each other as if the world would end, probing hands and inexperienced fingers fumbling with erogenous zones, and I nearly chuckled to myself about the clumsiness of that term when she opened the bathroom door and stood (posing ridiculously, and her smirk showed that she knew it) wearing the pearls on her ears and on her neck (wrapping the necklace around twice almost like a collar), a black lace bra and thong, and thigh-high black patterned stockings.

She stood on her toes and took striding bouncy steps to the bed and I joked that this was the best birthday ever. Tugging on one strand of pears around her neck so that the other pulled tighter, she suggested I keep the birthday girl happy, and who was I to argue with that?

Thankful that I’d shaved, I put my chin against her abdomen and my nose fell between her breasts with my hands on her ass pressing her even closer to me as I breathed in her scent in huge lung-fulls. My lips pursed and puckered against her and I nuzzled lower and lower against the strain of my back. Pivoting her body around mine, I swung her around and she landed on the bed as I rose to my feet.

Propped up on her elbows, she crossed her legs and held them tight. Looking at me from the side of slender interlocked stockings and one bouncing foot, she bit her lip. “Strip,” she said, chin dotting the period at the end of the command.

Standing up straight and sucking in my gut as best as I could, I laughed to myself and made exaggerated swings of my hips and dancing motions. She let loose peals of laughter. The jeans slid off my hips and around my knees and I stood with the erection pushing rudely from my boxers and looked silly while she watched in lingerie and pearls. And it was playful and light, even when I finally did pull my boxers down and stood naked with a bouncing cock before she curled her finger towards me.

The stockinged legs unhooked from themselves and I slid in, hands gently parting her thighs and my mouth lowering as I kept my eyes on her. I planted a kiss on the (small) tuft of hair on her pubic bone (through her panties) and another on a thigh. Then the other thigh. She grinned with impatience. And when I did finally pull her thong up and off her legs, and placed my mouth on her pussy, gently tasting her (wet and warm), I closed my eyes and concentrated on my lips and tongue (only).

She squirmed and clenched, one leg pulled up and bent to put a foot against my shoulder. I continued to lick steadily from ass to clit, ducking my tongue in deeper in random upward swipes against her pussy that made her wetter and squirmier against my face.

Tugging at my ears and hair, she grabbed hold and pulled me up, my mouth and chin streaking a wet trail up from her pussy to her mouth. We kissed, tongues slick and slippery soft against each other. My cock lay between her lips (on the edge) and threatened to fall in.

“I think you can go ahead and fuck me now,” she said, breathy and quiet.

Pulling her up as I stood back, I turned her around and put her back against my chest. She strained her neck, turning her head to the side for a kiss. Collecting her hair to the other side, I pushed her away and down slowly until she lowered down on her hands and knees. She pulled her heels up and her feet brushed against my cock. Holding her ankles still, I positioned them under me, my legs spread and putting myself behind her, my cock grazing against her closed thighs. Aiming higher they pushed into her pussy. Her heels pressed up to my ass cheeks.

And I slipped in.

Landing flush against her ass (with a bounce), I let the feeling of her stretching around me linger before pulling back. We both held our breath before I pushed back in. Her heels pressed hard, and I let her feel as if she could dictate each thrust. She began to press with her feet harder and firmer. I fucked her faster and deeper, each slap-thrust eliciting a tiny yelp from her mouth.

I reached forward and pulled on her necklace and she leaned into it, back arching and head pulled back.

“Yesss,” she spat, and I yanked harder as her body folded beneath me. Her ass rippled softly and the lewd sounds of skin hitting skin filled the room. I pulled out and flipped her over. The bra straps were off her shoulders and I pulled a breast out, my mouth on the nipple near-immediately. Her arms pulled my hips in and I buried my cock in her with a squish.

She held the pearls now, one strand only, with the other tight against her neck, pressing into her skin. I rocked my hips and she jabbed her heels into my back like a jockey spurring a horse to the finish line.

I got the hint.

Holding her upper body I thrust faster and harder, her head lifting off the bed and her hair flying in a wild blonde explosion just outside the field of my vision. She bit (hard) on my neck and twitched and came and pulsed rapid fire around my cock and pulled on the pearls tighter and tighter around her neck. I came too, seeing the soft milky white spheres against her skin and the changing colors somehow brighter and murkier than before.

(4-March, 2011: Howdy, Fleshbot)