It was warmer that way. Lots warmer. And it was also . . . Well, the growing tumescence bulging inside my Jockey shorts spoke for itself.
“Is that what you call ‘behaving like a gentleman’?” she inquired, mocking.
“I’m sorry.” I pulled away a little. “Some things are beyond the control of even the most circumspect gentleman.”
“Well, if it’s beyond control, I guess there’s nothing can be done about it.” Liberty closed the distance again. The protuberance wedged snugly between the legs of the trousers I’d lent her.
She hadn’t zipped up the fly. When she moved, I felt the flesh of her groin burning directly against the tent pole of my overstretched Jockey shorts. She felt it, too, and her erect nipples flattened out against my chest as she gasped.
Liberty raised her head. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. When I kissed her, they parted even more. Her mouth was warm, a snug harbor for my tongue, and her own tongue was an elusive and exciting playmate for it. Her small, sharp teeth nibbled my lower lip as the kiss ended. She laughed low in her throat.
My lips went to her ear, then trailed down her graceful neck to the hollow of her shoulder. Excited, her hips began to move; her torrid mound rolled back and forth across the thin cotton of my shorts, causing them to jut out even more. Moaning softly, she pulled my mouth to her bosom.
It felt—and tasted-—every bit as good as it looked. Those shiny black breasts were exquisite; there’s no other word for them. Running my tongue up the deep cleft between them, I inhaled the faint scent of her perfume; the fragrance of hibiscus with a trace of musk; it was erotic as hell!
She was panting now, and her breasts were warm ebony balloons, contracting and expanding with the titillation of my lips on them. When I grazed the wide red aureole of one of them, her nails raked my back and dug into my buttocks through the Jockey shorts. I flicked the long, sharp, purple nipple with my tongue and she bucked. She grabbed for the back of my neck and forced the nipple, the aureole, and as much of the breast as would fit into my mouth.
“Suck it, baby!” Liberty gasped. “Suck it hard!”
I did, holding the flesh gently between my teeth, working my lips all around the hot circles of the half-dollar size, passionately prickly, red aureole, licking the length of the nipple up and down, curling my tongue around it, then poking it with the tip of my tongue, forcing it to retreat into the aureole, and catching it each time it sprang back. Meanwhile, my ten fingers were spread over her pulsating bottom, playing an erotic symphony, teasing the sensitive flesh of the cleft, dipping into forbidden territory. The combination resulted in Liberty’s lower body moving frantically— long spasms of rolling pressure which allowed me to feel her erect clitty as it ran up and down the length of the bulge in the Jockey shorts, and the clutch of the lips between which it nestled as they gently pinched my throbbing manhood.
I reached down with one hand and freed myself from the shorts. Now I could feel those lips and that clitty directly. I rolled Liberty over, fastened my mouth on hers, and plunged inside her to the hilt. I wanted to possess all of that magnificent black body!
The moment I plunged, she climaxed. Her legs wrapped themselves around my neck. Her whole torso bounced up and down, luscious breasts twirling wildly, hips writhing, ass grinding, tight hotbox rising to encompass all of me. She sucked my tongue into her mouth—- the entire length of it. An earthquake seized her, I rode with it, and then it was over. She fell back, no longer shaking.
That was okay with me. The longer I could make it last, the better. I could sense that this was only the beginning for Liberty. We’d build to it again-—and again, and again—-and somewhere in there, my turn would come. Gently, I played with the nipples of her breasts and started to move slowly inside her again.
“No!” She took me by surprise, pushed me off, and scrambled out from under me.
“What the hell?”
“I’m sorry. I got carried away. But I can’t afford to let you.”
“Now just a cotton-pickin’ minute!” I saw sore!
“Look, I know it’s lousy. But you see, I didn’t take my birth-control pill tonight. I just can’t take the chance of letting you . . . you know.”
“Why the hell didn’t you take the pill?” I got to my feet angrily.
“I was pretty busy trying to stay alive. Remember?”
“But you just took the chance with me. Remember?” I imitated her nastily as I pulled up my Jockey shorts.
“You got me so hot I forgot for a minute. About the pill, I mean.” Liberty sighed. “Don’t be mad. Let’s try and work it out together.”
“How?”
She told me. Like I said, there’s more than one way to skin a walrus. Or, to put it another way, there’s inspiration to be found in the Hall of Mirrors -- if you keep your eyes open!
Liberty really opened mine. She stretched out on the ground, opened the jacket, and beckoned to me. When I went to her, she reached out her hand, grasped mine, and pulled me down to a kneeling position. Her hand trailed up the inside of my thighs, and then the tips of her fingers crept inside the crotch of the Jockey shorts. Her breasts rising and falling softly, her free hand playing idly over the soft triangle of down below her flat, dark belly, she stroked and tickled and played inside the Jockey shorts with a touch that was both light and knowing. It had its effect. Once again the shorts pyramided with passion. This time I took them off immediately.
As I settled back down, she tugged at me until she had me in the position she desired. I was kneeling with my knees on both sides of her, pressed against her rib cage. My weight was on my knees, but my rear end settled over her waist. In this position, my erection stretched out between her breasts, which due to the pressure of my knees had been pushed together slightly more than they ordinarily were.
The result was that her deep cleavage was like the finger of a glove. My penis was buried in it, between the impressive ebony mounds of her breasts. Both her hands were on those mounds, kneading them, sending wonderful, fleshy sensations from the sac of my scrotum to the head of my penis.
I began to move with the rhythm. The head of my organ appeared, disappeared, reappeared from the cleavage at the tops of her breasts. The breasts themselves were on fire. I reached behind me, between her legs. She was hot, damp, writhing.
When I located her slippery clitoris and manipulated it between my fingers, Liberty dug her nails into my backside and pushed so that I slid downward until the head of my penis was within reach of her mouth. Her tongue flicked out, and the tip investigated the tiny opening until it began to foam a little.
It was throbbing now. Due to her panting, her hard nipples were strumming the scrotum. It was driving me crazy. I lunged forward and invaded her mouth full length. Off-center, the cleft of my behind captured one of the hard purple nipples. I could feel it pulsing.
Liberty was very wet now, and wriggling to impale herself on my hand. Her legs were straight up in the air. Her lips and tongue were greedily at work.
I scrambled to change position. Fair is fair. And besides, I was as eager to devour her as she was me. Her thighs closed around my ears, and her hands closed over my rump, drawing my penis back to her lips.
Her juices were hot, sweet, flowing freely. Her clitty had a life of its own, teasing my tongue, invading my mouth, tickling my lips. Her love tunnel was throbbing; it seized my tongue and drew it in to the roots. Liberty had fantastic muscular control!
And meanwhile, her lips were sucking my testicles-— first one and then the other, just as the hooker in the Hall of Mirrors had done to her customer. But watching it and feeling it were two different things. The thrills chased each other from the tip of my tailbone to the tip of my tongue, which worked mightily to return equal value. The top of my head felt like it was about to fly off into space. And when she contrived to get both my penis and scrotum into her mouth at the same time for a split-second, I was sure it actually had.