Sunday, June 1, 2008

The cat from the condo.

In the past, I've mentioned how my job regularly takes me to various areas throughout my city. This morning, I found myself in an upscale area that's popular among yuppies, successful artists, and sailboaters, where the growing expanse of wasteful urban development dominates the shoreline. Rounding a corner, I passed one condo in particular with turquoise glass ensconcing the balconies upon its terraced floors. It stood out in my memory.

In that building, past its bored doorman and a soothing indoor pond, accessible from the towering glass shaft where a charming elevator silently did its work, was where Caylynn and Sabertooth lived.

My separation from Heidi was a few months old, and my world was a mess. I was sharing a lowbrow highrise apartment with some pretentious goths who slept through the day, got stoned, geeked on role-playing games, partied all night, and returned to drop unconscious and repeat the cycle again and again. I was broke, trying to make ends meet by juggling temp positions and reading Tarot while diligently hunting for better opportunities and a way out of there. It wasn't fun, but I persevered.

Caylynn had seen my ad and approached me for a Tarot reading. We met over a casual lunch. I took it seriously when I read professionally, but as we spoke about matters spiritual over our Thai noodles, I had a hard time trying to stay focused when it became apparent that this very attractive client was making eyes toward me. Our lunch ended with a handshake and plans to get together again for her reading. In a short time, we became friends, and it wasn't long before we went back to my heinous apartment (following my pre-emptive apologies) for reasons that honestly had nothing to do with possibly boinking.

My bedroom was my oasis in that chaotic den, and I felt relieved to shut the door behind us so we could enjoy a glass of wine in peace. The bed being the only place two people could sit together and talk, we sat side-by-side and were in mid-conversation when she began to inch closer to me, her eyes watching my mouth as I spoke, her hand resting on my thigh, making pursy lips and puppy eyes. It might have seemed comical had I not been unanswerably horny and she unquestioningly hot. Still, flashing yellow lights started to flare in my head: 'No. No. She approached you for something else. No.'

I tried. I really did.

She brought her face closer to mine. I kept talking, trying to finish whatever irrelevant thought I was in. It didn't work, and soon my oh-so-professional, oh-so-spiritual, oh-so-advising demeanor crumpled like loose pants around a boy's ankles.

"Oh... fuck it," I actually said aloud to myself, and in an instant, my hands were behind her head and holding her shoulder-length blonde hair as I kissed her passionately. She crushed her lips to mine, gasped, sucking on my tongue and stifling a moan in her throat. She had seduced me. When they weren't caressing and squeezing my thighs over my jeans, her hands made their way around my waist. Her lips tasted like wine as we kissed deeply, and my bites upon her neck sent her into spasms. She reached forward to grip my ass when she rested her head on my shoulder. Her tiny back felt strong and feline as I lifted her tight Hello Kitty t-shirt over her head.

She smiled broadly as I beheld the most perfect, most charming A-cup titties I may have ever seen. Two beautiful circles of cushioned flesh were before me, each muffin-top proudly capped with a raspberry nipple that begged to be teased. A wide, fascinating scar shaped like the Italian peninsula drove itself from under her left breast onto her tummy, which itself had the cutest little paunch and a navel piercing just south of Sicily. Black Celtic knotwork with a stylized cat adorned her left upper-arm, behind and under which grew a soft and gently scented tuft of natural hair. My jaw dropped when she would later tell me that she was older than I and in her early 40s, for though she had her mysterious scar and her cute mango paunch, this woman possessed the body of a volleyball athlete. My cock was throbbing and begging for escape from my jeans.

Guiding her onto her back, she rested on my pillows as I bent forward and began feasting on her ribs. Her skin was warm and incredibly soft, her muscles taut as I caressed her. Alternating between gentle nips, kisses, and simply brushing my lips across her skin, I gave worship to her torso before tasting those firm nipples. Thick, dense, and strong, they pressed against my lips insistently as I teased and sucked them. Her breasts filled my hands nicely, and she squirmed and cooed under my touch. I made my way toward the button of her jeans, softly trailing my tongue along that peninsula scar.

Her button-fly popped open. I bit my lower lip and smiled to her as I raised myself up to tug off her jeans. She peeled off her striped red panties as I folded the denim neatly and layed her pants on the floor. She opened her legs.

I licked my lips as I beheld the completely bare peach that she revealed to me. Grasping her thighs, I closed my eyes as I slid closer and parted her open with my tongue. Flicking, licking, swabbing, feasting, I devoured her for as long as she could stand it. Her cries were long and drawn-out, high-pitched howls occasionally mixed with gasps and laughing, gutteral groans.

I stood and stripped off my jeans. She kept her eyes on my cock as it sprung rigidly when freed from the denim. After one glance to my eyes, she raised herself onto her elbows and leaned her head close to my crotch, opened her mouth, and slurped me in. She moaned happily as she felt my girth widen her mouth, and my eyes screwed shut as I looked down to her bobbing head. After a few moments, she reached below my knees to her jeans on the floor and fished in her pocket.

"Fuck me," she whispered up to me. "Fuck me now." She held me and slipped a polyurethane condom down my length, then layed back against my pillows and spread her legs again. Her pussy was deep pink, glistening, and waiting.

Feeling me slide in, her ankles locked behind my back, she held on to my ass as I pumped my dick in her pussy. She was tight and yielding, and I loved the feel of my balls slapping against her ass. It wasn't long before she cried out in a long, winded howl and shook under me, her spasms only barely making her small breasts shake under my chest. I kept thrusting, alternating my strokes and depth.

As much fun as I was having, she could tell that the non-latex condom was interfering with me. Despite my girth, I couldn't help but be concerned about it slipping off, and the distraction kept me from my peak. Nurse Caylynn, not one to be squeamish at all about body issues, immediately had a pleasant solution. After giving herself one or two more solid upward thrusts onto my cock, she pulled herself from under me, tugged me forward, nestled my knees just under her armpits, yanked the condom off my dick, and started to suck the head.

"Jack it for me, baby," she said. "Gimme a pearl necklace."

Breathing heavily, I knelt straight up and started stroking my cock. Caylynn reached under and between my legs with one arm, diddling her tiny clit, while her other hand gently cupped and squeezed my balls as I stroked. Her passion, her amazing little tits, her shuddering as she came again began to send me over the edge as I felt my cum start to flex and fill my tubes. I held back as long as I could, building the pressure, but it was the sight of Caylynn lustfully staring straight to the thickening head of my cock that sent me over the edge.

A heavy stream of my cum burst from me at once, squarely meeting Caylynn on her chin and seething down her neck in a heavy rope. A second and third volley splashed on her neck and across her breasts as she milked my balls, wide-eyed and gasping. As I slowed down, she writhed on the bed and massaged my cum into her breasts as she squeezed them.



Caylynn was married. Tha nature of her relationship to her husband was never entirely clear to me, but I knew that she had her lovers and apparently he had his. My sense was that, rather than being polyamorous, or even swingers, what they had amounted to more of an undiscussed consentual non-monogamy. It seemed pretty weird.

Caylynn and I became good friends for a while, and there was a brief period when she and I were still lovers as my then-new relationship with The Grrl began. Their names being so similar, part of my sarcastic, scandalous brain enjoyed thinking of these two amazing ladies as my 'bookends.' When they met, they flirted with one another playfully, and though there was passive discussion of shared fun, it never happened.

Friendship with Caylynn brought some decadent elegance into my post-separation, money-starved days. We would meet for lunch almost every week for a while, and her talent in haute cuisine left me speechless. I fell in love with her cat, Sabertooth, an orange tabby who followed the sunlight patterns so habitually that one could tell the time simply by seeing where he was snoring. Sometimes I would run into her during my work-days as she sped around the city on her pink Vespa. In the bedroom of her condo, she experienced a man's cock in her beautiful ass for the first time, with me. She loved it.

Over time and circumstances, our friendship faded. She was never terribly vigilant about keeping in touch, and while I occasionally hear from her, it's rare and unusual now. She eventually left her husband. Sabertooth passed on. She would later shack up with an ex-cop, change her name, and move to the 'burbs, where I understand she's happily pursuing a Catholic life. It's somewhat surreal, as I know her as the randy nurse who offered incense to the Egyptian cat goddess, Bast, and was in her bliss over excellent food, good wine, and a solid fuck.

She was good, crazy people, and I hope life has been treating her well. Yeah, I miss her.



~ thumbs Jeffrey Team, Phun.Org, Dacahard, Tiger's Page

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hot descriptions on this one, you painted a succulent image of her peaches.