The Breath as Coming Back
We barely knew each other, but what I did know was that there was an unrestrained sexuality that catapulted from her. In her every word. And every step. The way she batted her eyes and rolled her hips and teased you with everything that she had.
And what she had was everything a siren could wish for: a tantalizing body that knew it was the private envy of thousands. She dressed herself that way. She walked that way. She batted her eyes and breathed that way – in the way that emphasized the forlorn acceptance of every wet, sensual molecule in one’s body.
How somebody could exist on this plane, of infinite teasing and flirting, I will never know. But this was Catalina. And this, it seemed, was her fate – to forever tease. Everyone and every breathing thing, including herself.
We had only met once. But it was on account of her unabashed, blatant and fierce sexuality, so full and robust that it nearly collapsed the room we were in, that I gave her my number that night.
Off and on for the months afterwards, we talked on the phone.
Typically, we talked on the phone at 2 in the morning. Often she would call after her nights out with her girlfriends. I could feel her heavy alcohol breath through the phone. Even that teased me. Prodded me.
It wasn’t so much that we were becoming friends as I believed that she somehow needed the intimate attention I gave her. I was the temporary set of eyes and ears that made her feel wanted. And I knew that this wouldn’t last very long.
In her words I heard her loneliness. Loneliness that was created simply on account of the fact that she was some candy-coated sex on a stick. In this, it is widely known that somebody who rings with that kind of frenetic frequency causes intimidation. As a result of this, coupled with the fact of everybody’s false certainty that she must be taken – she rarely is approached by men.
One late night, I called her to flirt and quietly masturbate as we talked. On this night we brushed through the usual topics, but this time I pushed a little harder. I sensed that our time was coming to an end.
By 2:30 and we were talking about what I was hiding in our phone conversations: masturbation.
She said that she loved masturbating in front of a partner. I agreed and silently nodded into the phone. I said being a voyeur and an exhibitionist at the same time is intoxicating. She said yes, she loves watching a guy stroke himself while she circles her clit.
She asked me if my cock was hard. I said that it had been since I heard her voice on the phone. I said that I always propped the phone in-between my ear and the pillow so that I could play with both hands when we talked.
She said that it was okay if I was being naughty. She liked knowing men masturbated, thinking of her.
I said I loved the word naughty. I said that I would love to show you how naughty I can be.
She said, I bet you would. But boys love to talk a big game, then all they want is fucking. That’s the hottest they think things can get.
I said no, I want to show you my cock. And I want you to watch me stroke myself.
She said, I bet you would.
I said, come over.
She said, I’m sure that’s what you want. But I don’t know you.
And I said, I don’t know you either. So, we’re even.
I continued by saying, I love adventures.
She said, oh, you have no idea how much I like adventures.
I said, prove it.
She said, give me your address. And watch your phone. I may, or may not come over. But if I do, you better be up and you better be good. Or, naughty.
Quickly I jumped in the shower. I shaved myself clean and smooth, from my cock to my ass. I cleaned my apartment and made sure my bed was in shape.
I had no idea if she would show, but I wanted to be prepared. If nothing else, I would just lay back on the couch and drift off to a dirty, dirty dream.
The anticipation of her arrival was luring me into all possibilities. I wondered what she would be wearing. I wondered what kind of panties she would cover her cunt in. I wondered if she would touch herself on the way over.
With all of that in mind and my blinds open, I began stroking myself over the top of my pants. Slowly I went away, and the anxiety of looking at the clock every couple of minutes dissipated as I drown myself in the fantasies of everything that lay before me.
With my eyes closed, I fell into a light sleep.
Some oblivious time later and my phone rang. It was her. She said she was near.
I gave her directions to park in front of my apartment and then I went to meet her on the street.
Half asleep and unsure as to whether or not she was actually there, I stumbled down the steps and stood on the sidewalk, looking up and down the street.
Then, I spotted a car door opening.
It was her.
When she got out of her car, I barely recognized her. This was probably a result of the fact that all I remembered about her were her legs and ass and tits. During our phone conversation I wasn’t talking with a person that had a face. No, I was talking to the curves and sexuality of everything tits and ass.
I waved her towards me.
And once she rounded the car, it was apparent that I wasn’t too askew in my memory. For if this girl were anything, it was tits and ass swaying in the wind.
She was wearing a short skirt and a cropped white tee shirt. Only her naughty bits were covered. The rest was skin and swaying in the wind. As she approached, it was clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Because in the cool early morning air her nipples were erect and busting through her tight shirt.
I couldn’t have wished for anything greater. And coming out of my slumber, and the long day behind – I wasn’t completely sure that I was awake.
Instead of anything verbal when she approached, she glanced down at my midsection and my already hard cock and sighed, pursing her lips together. With a bat of her eyes and a light bite of her lip, I lead her inside. Her steps staggering in eloquence behind me, wisps of perfume encircling my entire head like a fog.
Even out of my vision and her elements of seduction were paralyzing.
Inside we sat on the couch and made nervous small talk.
Then she said, I brought some treats. I shrugged my shoulders, envisioning pills of some kind.
But when her hand came out of purse, she wielded two big plastic cocks. One was a vibrator. Even better than pills.
I sighed in delight.
She said, have you ever came with one of these in your ass?
I said no. No I haven’t.
She said, it’s hot. But you can’t use mine. I love making a guy cum from me fucking his ass.
With her eyes teasing mine like a tongue slithering over my entire being, she slipped the vibrator up and under her tiny skirt.
I want you to watch me fuck myself. Do you want to see me fuck myself?
I nodded in approval. With my dry mouth open, I licked my lips and reached down for my cock.
Tugging at myself a couple of times over my pants, I gave her a clear representation of my cock.
She said, I want to see that big cock. In a teasing tone she said, are you gonna show me that big cock baby?
Sliding the vibrator in her mouth she arched her back and pulled her skirt up so that her perfectly bald cunt was exposed. To my surprise she wasn’t wearing panties.
Pushing the vibrator into her cheek, she ran it into her fleshy skin, popping it out.
What do you think of my cunt, baby?
It looks delicious.
It is, but it’s not for your tasting.
She turned on the vibrator and pressed it into her clit. Slinking back into the couch, she pushed her chest outward, gasping with pleasure.
I asked her, do you want to see my cock?
Yes, pull it out. I want to see you stroke it.
Slowly I undid my pants, letting my cock fly out.
She pressed her ass into the couch as I slipped off my pants. When I sat back down she leaned down towards my cock. I was certain that she was going to take it into her mouth. But instead, it seemed that she just wanted a better glance.
She wanted the tease of the taste.
She laid her cheek on my thigh and with her feet propped-up on the arm rest of the couch, she pushed her pelvis into the air and sunk the vibrator into her cunt. With her eyes fixated on my cock and balls and ass, she plunged her fake cock in and out of her.
Stroking myself, I could feel her soft slack-jaw lightly bouncing off my thigh.
With her other free hand, she slipped it under her shirt, pulling it up and revealing one of her gorgeous tits and erect nipples.
With her hips still flexed upward, the abstract shape of her mound and the lines that ran into it, created from her lower stomach running down and into that “V”, was held in the darkened empty space beyond like a solitary image on a canvas; as though it was the only artistic vision that mattered in all of this.
As she moaned, she stole glances at my trembling, worked cock.
I leaned down and over her, close to her exposed tit without making contact. Like a game it was we both reached as far as we could into the other; to see how close we could get without touching; to see how hot we could make ourselves devoid of the possibility of devouring the other.
In this I could barely breathe. I wanted everything all at once.
The longer that we went, the more prepared I believed I was – for it all.
She stood up, licking the vibrator and teasing me with her swirling tongue. Then she sat down, this time with her head at the opposite end of the couch.
She told me to lay down, with my head away from her.
Then we contorted our open legs so that both of our asses were touching.
She had dropped her skirt and now only her shirt was on, pulled-up to her neck. Her tits bobbed as she began running the vibrator madly up and down her slick slit.
Alternately she watched her vibrator, my cock and then looked into my eyes.
After several revolutions through this maze of carnal ecstasy, her eyes began to roll into her head. Then she exclaimed, I’m cumm—mmming…
I pressed my ass into hers, absorbing some of the shock and feeling her tremble.
She lurched up. Then, once the quivering fell to a slow pace, she elegantly fell back into the couch.
She took the vibrator and pressed it beneath my balls.
She said, I want you to cum for me. Cum on me.
And then I began stroking harder, with the buzz of the plastic cock beneath my balls, rattling them; vibrating them. It was a sensation that I had never known.
With my cock pointed out and away from me, towards her – I let an orgasm rip through my entire body. From between my ears it came, surging in my belly and then rifling, not out of the top of my cock, but from below my balls where the vibrator had been pressed.
My hot juices sprayed up and over her slick mound onto her stomach.
She dipped her finger into my sticky joy, childishly taking a small taste.
Even after she had slipped her tiny skirt back on and pulled her skimpy shirt over her chest, I wanted more. Much more. But it was an urge that came from behind me, as though pure fucking and another orgasm would be insufficient. As if it were carried in the wind, and temporary. That at any moment, whichever way I indulged it – it would pass me by as just another memory.
And as she walked out the door, I believed that this was exactly her purpose. Our purpose. For when I said goodbye, she sighed deep and heavy as though her breath was just coming back into her.