I had stayed home from work to do some things around the house
that needed taking care of. Actually, it was sort of a “mental health”
day rather than a vacation or legal holiday. The kids were in school,
so I had the house to myself. About 9:00, I was surprised to hear the
front doorbell ringing. Putting down my coffee cup, I went to answer
it.

“Hi Jim. Can I come in?”

It was Cindy, who had been my wife’s best friend. I couldn’t
imagine why she had decided to pay me a visit, but I also couldn’t think
of a good reason not to let her in.

“Sure, come on in Cindy. Want a cup of coffee?”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

I got her a cup of coffee and we went to the living room and sat
down. I sat on the couch, she sat in my easy chair. It was a warm,
late Spring day and she had on a pair of shorts and a halter top which
did little to conceal the tight curves of her cute little body. Cindy
is 40, but you’d never know it. She has the body of a 20 year old and
she knows how to show it off. It used to bug Lana (my wife) sometimes
when she’d come over in one of her special outfits, but Lana didn’t have
anything to worry about in the looks department herself, so it was never
a real problem. Cindy has dark brown hair and brown eyes, stands about
5-5 and weighs about 115 lbs. Like I said, she has tight curves.

She seemed nervous as she opened the conversation.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I came over this morning.”
“Well, yes, I guess you could say that.”

“I need your help with a problem.”

“Oh?” I was thinking to myself that she should be having this
conversation with her husband Bob, but she anticipated that.

“Bob can’t help me with this problem. In fact, he’s the
problem, or at least part of it.”

“Sounds to me like you need a marriage counsellor.”

“Bob would never go. And besides, we can’t afford it right
now.” “So, how do you think I can help?”

“Well, ” she paused, seemingly to work herself up to the point
of making some startling statement, “I want you to help Bob perform
better sexually.”

The temperature in the room seemed to rise about ten degrees.
It was so quiet that the fly buzzing in the window across the room
seemed very loud. I looked at Cindy, but she was looking at her hands
which were folded at her knees.

“In what way?”

“Bob doesn’t believe a man should perform oral sex on a woman,
though he doesn’t mind asking me to perform it on him.”

“You’re kidding.” I’d heard of guys like that, but I never
would have suspected that Bob was one of them. Bob and I had always
gotten along well, though I wouldn’t say that our relationship had been
as close as Cindy and Lana’s had been.

To buy some time, I went to get more coffee. I was feeling a
little light headed. What a bombshell. Bob wouldn’t give her head. I
supposed that she just wanted me to talk to him about it, try to
convince him of the error of his ways.

I returned to my seat on the couch and flinched inwardly as
Cindy moved to join me. She pulled her long, shapely legs up under her
and twisted to face me.

“Does he satisfy you in other ways?”

“Sort of. He does o.k. in the stamina department and I have
orgasms most of the time. But it’s very frustrating to hear about other
women whose husbands and boyfriends give head when mine won’t. We argue
about it more and more now. We haven’t had sex for about a month.”

“Why come to me about this? Bob must have closer friends.”

“Jim, Lana was my best friend. We shared everything with each
other. She knew about Bob’s reluctance and she wanted to tell you about
it, but I wouldn’t let her. She also told me what a wonderful lover you
were and how she had multiple climaxes every time you two got it on.
She especially used to tell me how much she enjoyed it when you gave her
head. Did you really used to do it for an hour at a time … until she
begged you to stop because she couldn’t stand the pleasure any more?”

“I didn’t put a stopwatch to it Cindy,” I chuckled, a little
embarrassed at Cindy’s knowledge of what I had thought to be private
matters, “but I know she liked that, and I used to really enjoy giving
her pleasure in that way. Damn, I miss that woman.”

I looked down at the carpet and thought about all the great
times Lana and I had enjoyed in the sack. We both liked to fuck and we
did it as often as possible. I knew of some marriages where after the
kids came along, the wife would lose interest in sex. Not Lana. In
fact, the day she was killed, she was on her way home to meet me for a
little “afternoon delight.” Unfortunately, a drunk driver put an end to
my beautiful wife and our wonderful marriage. Still, whenever I thought
of Lana and the good times we had, my prick would spring to life and I
would get a powerful urge to go and jack off just to relieve the
pressure. Usually, I resisted.

I was startled from my reverie when Cindy moved to me and put
her arms around my neck, pulling my head to her chest.

“I miss her too, Jim. Can you help me?”

I looked up into those huge eyes of hers and whispered yes. I
still can’t explain what happened next, but suddenly our lips met, my
arms went around her, and we were kissing. Not the way friends kiss,
but like lovers. Soon our tongues got into the act and we each began a
slow, passionate exploration of the other’s mouth.

Almost on cue, we both broke the kiss.

“I need you to do more than talk to Bob,” Cindy whispered
breathlessly. “I’m as hot blooded as Lana was, Jim. A month without
any sex has me just about headed for the loony bin. Please Jim, go down
on me.”

By this time, my cock was about ready to rip through the fabric
of the shorts I was wearing and my balls had taken over my brain. Not
having had sex for a year, I nearly ripped her clothes off right there
and fucked her brains out. I did have the self-discipline remaining to
escort her to my bedroom, however, and we were soon naked on my large,
lonely, king size waterbed, where we resumed kissing and each began a
gentle anatomy survey. “What a cock you have, Jim. It’s even bigger
than Bob’s.”

“I thought it was my tongue you were after, not my cock.”

“I’m hoping to get some of each.”

“All in good time, Cindy, all in good time. First, let’s have a
look at you,” I smiled as I pulled away from her to examine her nude
form. She smiled back and seemed to enjoy my visual inspection as she
moved this way and that to show her body to its best advantage. I just
loved the way her tits rode high on her chest, refusing to flatten out
even though she was laying on her back. Her nipples were large and
hard, sticking straight up from the base of her comparatively small and
very dark areolas. Her narrow waist and flat tummy lead down to a set
of perfectly shaped hips and long, handsomely formed legs. I did see
one small problem however. “I think that I can see one reason why Bob
is a little reluctant to go down on you,” I said pointing to the thick,
heavy thatch of pubic hair at the junction of Cindy’s thighs, “One of
the secrets of good male to female oral sex, in my humble opinion, is a
trim pubic patch, or better yet, no pubic patch at all. Don’t go away,
I’ll be right back.”

I quickly dashed into the master bath and returned with my
barbering tools, remembering activities which had become almost a ritual
for Lana and me.

“Didn’t Lana tell you that I used to keep her nice and neat down
there?” I asked as I arranged everything to my satisfaction.

“Yes she did, but I never really believed her. Are you planning
to shave off all of my pussy hair?”

“No. Just the hair that gets in the way of good oral sex.
Actually, it’s not that much more than many women do in order to wear
those string bikinis.”

She was very cooperative as I arranged a towel under her ass and
used a scissors to clip away her thick, dark bush until only a short
stubble remained on the area I intended to shave. The other area, at
the very top of her pubic mound, I trimmed only slightly for the sake of
neatness. Then, after using a warm, wet washcloth to moisten the area
to be shaved, I applied a thick coating of a special shaving jell for
sensitive skin and went to work with my razor. When I was finished, she
had a tiny patch of pubic hair left on the top of her mound, but the
rest was as bare and smooth as a baby’s butt.

I placed a mirror in front of her pussy and let her have a look
at my handiwork. I also got rid of the towel and my tools while she
conducted her inspection.

“Wow,” she exclaimed, “This is the first time I’ve ever really
taken a look at myself down there.” She worked the folds of her pussy
open with her fingers to examine herself more closely. Her inner lips
were swollen with excitement and protruded beyond the thick outer lips.
I began to massage the area with a special, soothing, oil.
Cindy laid back on the bed and moved her hands out of my way, giving me
complete access. Finishing the massage with some gentle strokes to both
sets of pussy lips, I removed the towel and got ready for the job at
hand, or should I say mouth.

I spread her legs as far as they would go, pushing her knees
back a little, and placed myself between them. She had a beautiful
cunt, and she was hot for a good fucking. Leaning forward, I planted a
light kiss right at the top of her pubic mound, then, moving down, I
bypassed the seat of her pleasure and began to lightly kiss and lick the
insides of her thighs, switching from one side to the other, bathing my
senses in the silken feel of her skin, the taste of her light perfume,
the odor of sexual excitement pouring from her frothy cunt.

Placing my hands under her ass, I gently lifted her bottom off
the bed and began to kiss those firm globes, occasionally nipping them
lightly with my teeth. She was trembling with excitement and, I
believe, a little frustration. She wanted my mouth on her box. I
wanted her to wait for it so as to enjoy it more later and so I
continued to tease her.

“C’mon, Jim,” she moaned, “don’t tease me like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know what I want … please.”

“Tell me what you want. Be specific. I want to hear you say it.”

She was breathing hard and her hips were undulating slightly as
she sought to press her pussy into my face. She did not want to say the
words, but I was determined to make her say them. I continued to kiss
and nip the area all around her now superheated sex flesh with out
contacting it directly.

“Lick me,” she moaned. I licked the inside of her thigh.

“Nooooo … lick my …. lick … lick my …”

“Lick your what Cindy?”

“Lick my … pussy,” she gasped.

I immediately moved my mouth over her gash, which was now
leaking a steady trickle of thick feminine lubricant which crawled
slowly down her ass crack from the base of her pussy, leaving a shiny
trail across her tightly puckered back door. The strong, musky flavor
of her sex was like a narcotic for me, and one which I had gone too long
without. I began to slowly, but very firmly, massage her major labia
with my tongue, working first one side and then the other. Cindy liked
this very much, which she indicated by pushing her hips up off the bed
to increase the pressure. I continued the tongue massage for a few
minutes and then switched tactics, taking as much of one of her thick
outer pussy lips into my mouth as possible and then sucking on it. The
thick flesh, so recently devoid of pubic hair, was newly responsive, and
taking it between my lips also caused me to come into contact with the
super sensitive inner surface of her major labial folds with my lips and
tongue which I worked vigorously back and forth as I sucked.

Cindy began to make an almost pitiful mewling sound from deep in
the back of her throat. I thought she was going to come right there and
I hadn’t even gotten to her clit yet. The scene reminded me so much of
the many times I had done this to Lana that I almost began to weep.

Cindy’s eyes were shut tight and she had grabbed two handfuls of
bedspread. Her hips were in almost constant motion now, making it a
real challenge for me to stay with her. Her breathing was ragged
between clenched teeth as her first orally induced orgasm approached.

I was still working her outer lips one at a time, sucking them
into my mouth, pulling them away from her crotch, causing her to lift
her hips off the bed to stay with me, working them with my tongue.
Meanwhile, I was also using the index finger of my right hand to very
gently caress the outer edges of her inner labia, very carefully
avoiding her clit. Her own juices and my saliva had combined to make a
real swamp out of her pussy. A small puddle was forming on the bed
beneath her ass. I was wallowing in the taste and smell of feminine
flesh, and her moans became a symphony of sexual thirst.

She was squealing her pleasure now, her head moving from side to
side on the pillow. In between squeals she was mumbling about how good
it felt and how close she was to coming.

Replacing my finger action with my tongue, I switched tactics
and began to run my tongue quickly and lightly all around her inner
pussy lips, brushing her clitoral ridge, without touching the
hypersensitive tip, on each pass. Occasionally, I would use the flat of
my tongue to lick the slick flesh between those inner lips and the
thicker outer lips, using my fingers to expose the area I was attacking
with my mouth. She began to come, her whole body tensing into something
like the rictus of death, then relaxing, then tensing again as wave
after wave of pleasure overtook her. As soon as I felt her start to
come, I immediately began to flick the head of her very erect, very
large clitoris with quick strokes of the tip of my tongue. Cindy
screamed as her pleasure sensors overloaded. I was glad the windows
were closed or else the whole neighborhood would have been able to hear
her.

My experience as a pussy licker told me when to back off a
little and let her come down, still maintaining contact with my tongue
and lips, but avoiding direct contact with her clit for the moment,
noting that it had retracted back into its folds of skin, though the
flesh was still firm and erect underneath its protective covering. Her
body was still undulating, though not with the force of a few moments
ago. Her hands were caressing my head, her fingers running through my
hair. She apparently thought I was done. Boy was she ever wrong.

I looked up at her and discovered that she was looking down
at me from between her high, proud, breasts, a dreamy smile of sexual
satisfaction on her face.

“Wow, Jim. That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever
experienced.”

“Well, I’m a little out of practice, but thank you anyway. Now
lay back and relax. I’m not done eating yet.”

“Not done? I must have come six times already. You mean
there’s more?”

“Lana wasn’t kidding when she told you these sessions lasted a
long time. I am a man who really enjoys going down on a woman,
particularly a woman who tastes as good as you.”

Without waiting for a response, I began once again to massage
her outer pussy lips with my mouth, but this time, I added something
new. Using the index and middle fingers of my right hand, I probed the
depths of her vagina, pressing upward, searching for what I knew would
be there, and finally finding it; the little knot of flesh buried
beneath her vaginal roof, better known as the Grafenburg Spot. I was
sure that she had never been given a g-spot orgasm before, and I meant
to show her what that experience was like.

I was also hoping that she shared a trait with my late wife, who
had been a prolific female ejaculator.

Finding her g-spot, I began palpating it with my fingertips,
pressing firmly into the hard knot of flesh. Meanwhile, I was using my
tongue to firmly, yet gently, caress the area along either side of her
clitoral ridge, thus stimulating her in two powerful ways at once.

“Oh, Jim … that’s good. What are you doing … I’ve never
felt anything like this … Oh yeah …. finger fuck me … lick my
clit … make me come …” Cindy began moaning and mumbling snatches of
words and phrases like these as I once again pushed her up the ladder
towards orgasm.

Continuing the finger action inside, I began to lick as much of
her pussy as I could reach outside, pausing to spend a little time at
her clit and a little time probing the opening of her little piss hole
right at the top of her vaginal opening. Within moments, it seemed,
though it must have been about four minutes or so, she was at the edge
of a mind shattering g-spot orgasm. I suddenly felt the inside of her
pussy clamp down hard on my fingers just as her piss hole began to push
itself inside out, opening wide and spurting a jet of womanly fluid into
my waiting mouth. I clamped my mouth over the opening and continued to
work her g-spot, milking her of her come, not a drop of which escaped
me. Spurt after spurt of the thick, opaque fluid streamed past my lips.
This was a taste I had missed, and once again I nearly wept at the
memories it brought back. I drank greedily, like a hungry newborn at
its mother’s breast. Working her pussy until I had drained her dry, I
slowly removed my fingers from her still weakly clenching vagina and
licked off the thick coating of her lubricant which had accumulated on
them. Giving her pussy a last, lingering, sucking, kiss, I moved from
between her legs to lay beside her panting form on the bed. I placed my
hand over her pubic mound and gently massaged the entire area.

“I take it that you have never had your g-spot probed?”

Still catching her breath, she managed both a smile and a
comment, “You can say that again. Jim, I’ve read about the g-spot, but
reading and experiencing are two different things. For just a moment I
thought I was pissing into your mouth, but I was too far gone to care.
I didn’t piss on you, did I?”

I laughed. “No, you didn’t piss on me. You came. You
ejaculated, to use the clinical term. Not every woman can do that.
Lana could, and I didn’t know if you could or not. You can have a g-
spot orgasm without shooting your come, but I was hoping you would be a
shooter. I just can’t get enough of that stuff.”

She rolled onto her side facing me and began to lick the excess
pussy juices from my face, finishing with a long, deep kiss.

“Now it’s your turn,” she said, smiling mischievously.