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With one long-term lover I got used to cum on my breasts and pooled up in that little indentation — what’s it called? — at the base of my neck.
I was stationed at a small American Embassy is a quiet and obscure African country.There wasn’t much to do, unfortunately, even though I was at my sexual and physical peak.At 37 years old, I worked out a lot and was in the best shape of my life — a slender 140 pounds on my large 5′ 8″ frame.Unfortunately, my sex life was not in such good shape. I was going through one of those dry periods of weeks or even months between lovers.
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One day, however, a ray of sun peeped out of the cloudy sky of my enforced chastity.Abraham was coming to town!He asked me to pick him up at the airport when he arrived.Abe was a well-known scholar and author, 45 years old and married — but his wife was back in the States.That made him fair game.To my way of thinking, infidelity doesn’t count if the spouse is more than a thousand miles away. You’ve heard of men with a girl in every port.Well, I’m that girl.Once divorced and with no serious prospects for a LTR I enjoy sex when and where I can get it.
Abe and I had had “sex” several times during his previous visits to the country. I put the word in quotes because, although witty and good company, Abe was one of the most inept lovers I ever encountered. He was enthusiastic enough — but it took forever to get him to rise to the occasion. And then, an erection finally achieved, he wilted like a lettuce leaf in a hot oven when I tried to slide a condom on him.It was unprotected sex or nothing with Abe — not that I recall he ever lasted hard long enough to actually get his penis inside me. Ejaculation without erection.
I worked late the night Abe was scheduled to arrive.I had a financial report to complete.Everybody had left the Embassy except me and one Marine guard.The Marine usually stayed at Post One near the front door, but he also periodically patrolled the halls of the two story building.
I was in the Ambassador’s office.I needed the space on his floor to spread out the pages of my report, collate them, and staple them together — this still being the paper era before e-mail. I was kneeling on the floor when the Marine guard came in, greeted me, and sat down on the couch.
I don’t look like a slut. I dress professionally. I was wearing a knee length skirt, but in shuffling around the floor on my knees I probably showed the Marine a bit of leg and the lacey bra beneath my white blouse allowed the most subtle outline of a pink nipple to show through.The Marine and I talked as I worked and when I finished I extended a hand to him so he could pull me to my feet.He did so, and I found myself in his arms.
This boy was a casual, pool-playing friend. He was 21 years old and tall and muscular, a shy Southern boy with a thick uneducated accent.I don’t usually have sex with co-workers but I make an occasional exception for the marines.These youngsters in isolated African countries have sex lives as deprived as my own — and like me they are discouraged from sex with locals by our employer.So, in desperation, single women in Embassies and much younger Marines hook up sometimes.
Well, Abe’s imminent arrival notwithstanding, I didn’t resist and that Marine fucked me real good right there on the sofa in the Ambassador’s office. He took his pistol, nightstick, and walkie-talkie off and laid them down on the coffee table, pulled his pants down to his knees; pushed my skirt up around my waist, pulled my panties off and inserted a very large and hard penis into me.It felt good after my long drought.I climaxed quickly a couple of times, as did he, but he continued on, methodically pounding me.I began to feel pain and I was about to call for a cessation of sex — a first for me — when a voice barked through the walkie-talkie.”Post one, post one, come in immediately!”
My marine pulled himself out of me, grabbed his radio, snapped to attention with his pants around his ankles, penis dripping, and said “yes sir, yes sir” into the radio as his Sergeant barked out instructions. When he signed off, he said to me, “I gotta go. Orders. Sorry.”
I wasn’t sorry, but he was a dear boy, and I liked him, despite the pain now running from my crotch all the way to my esophagus.As he rushed out the door, he picked my panties off the floor and asked, “A present for me?”
“All yours,” I answered.But I got up with difficulty. I mopped up the sperm oozing out of me to avoid having Clintonesque stains on my fashionable and expensive skirt — and the Ambassador’s couch — arranged myself as best I could, and walked out of the Embassy with a painful bow-legged shuffle.That boy had left me in no shape to accommodate even semi-hard Abe who was due to arrive in two hours.I went home, showered, and pondered my strategies while driving to the airport to get him.
We had a lovely dinner and dessert at my apartment, stripped our clothes off and got into bed.After preliminary embraces I undertook to divert his attention from my ravaged vagina to my breasts, suggesting that his limp penis between them would feel good. I have large breasts and he responded with alacrity. On top of me he humped away, and now and then I caught the tip of his penis in my mouth on his upswing and gave it a sloppy kiss. We rolled over and I let my breasts hang over his penis and massage him. That was how he climaxed, his penis hardened beyond what I had ever seen before; and the sperm shooting out in copious streams against my hanging tits rather than oozing out of a semi-hard pecker. Abe and I had found the technique that suited him.
Abe wasn’t any better after sex than before. He rolled over and went to sleep immediately. I finished myself off with my fingers while he snored happily.I woke up the next morning with Abe on top of me, his penis between my tits, and he cummed all over me even before I could properly open my eyes. Abe was a sexual tiger, so long as penetration was not a goal.
That night set the standard for our sexual relationship. Abe and I had more than a dozen trysts over the next decade.With titty fucking he attained and kept an erection.For me it wasn’t overly exciting, but I could sometimes get to an orgasm with just his naked body writhing with me.
As a lover, Abe got a D minus. I believe the pathology was that he, as a married man, felt guilty about having sex with me.But in his psyche, titty fucking didn’t really seem like infidelity and thus he loosened up and performed better.I was willing to accommodate him; what are friends for?
What do you think? Is titty-fucking sex? Can I count a man as a lover if he spills seed on my tits, but never in me?
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