TITLE    : Saving the Best for Last
STORYID  : saving-the-best-for-last-1
SUMMARY  : Good things come to those who wait.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2009-08-15
CATEGORY : anal-sex-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |anal sex|ass|anus|


On our first date, Myra gave me a hand job. It was fun and sexy, watching her dainty, smooth, little fist pump the skin back and forth, up and down, on the straining, lurching shaft of my thick, hard cock. She was quite adept at masturbating men, too, I thought. She squeezed and tugged and kneaded my balls, though the taut pouch of my scrotum with one hand as she beat my meat with her other hand. A lot of women don't take the two-handed approach. Mostly, they ignore a guy's balls altogether. Admittedly, as all men (and even most women) know, the testicles aren't nearly as sensitive to pleasure as the penis itself, but they're not insensitive, either, not by a long shot, and there's no reason to ignore them. Myra knew that, which was, like her technique, another reason that she was good at masturbating men.



She didn't rely exclusively on any one technique, but varied the methods by which she masturbated my cock and balls. She'd make an umbrella of her hand, with the thumb and fingertips holding my prick, and the palm of her hand over the top of its glans, and jab her hand up and down, in short, quick strokes. She'd straddle my erection between her forefinger and middle finger and bounce these extended fingers up and down while keeping the others curled out of the way. She also liked to put the row of her fingers formed by the area between the first and second joints of her right fist on one side of my cock and the row formed by the area between the same joints of her other fist on the opposite side of my penis and move them briskly, but gently, up and down, in a milking motion, thereby imparting opposite, but equal, force and friction in tandem. The resulting sensations were delightful!



She'd pause to swirl her forefinger around the tip of my erection, first in a clockwise and then in a counterclockwise motion, very fast, which tickled like hell and resulted in my ball's release of a bead or two of clear Cowper's fluid, or pre-cum, as it is also called. She'd invert her fist, so that the edge of her hand was facing up, instead of down, and masturbate me in this odd, upside-down fashion, the effect of which was to make it seem to me as if a different person altogether were masturbating me. Myra knew a lot of other tricks, but my favorite of her techniques was her use of just her extended forefinger to "fuck" me in my scrotum, between my balls. The jabbing of her forefinger into the part of my scrotum that spanned my testicles made me feel as a woman would feel who was being fucked deep and hard in her cunt--at least, the way a woman would feel as I imagined she might, judging by how I felt with Myra's finger fucking my nuts.



She knew how to work a cock, too. She milked mine for all it was worth, and for as long as I could stand it, keeping me erect for an hour before letting my cock soften and shrink to its customary, flaccid state. Then, slowly, she'd bring me erect again, causing just faint twitches and jerks of my prick at first, as it swelled slightly, becoming thicker and harder. She might spend a quarter of an hour bringing me fully erect again, keep me in this agonized state for another hour, let my member wilt, and repeat the whole up-and-down process several more times, until I felt that I must burst if I didn't find release.



When she finally decided, in her great mercy, to allow me the relief for which I had now begun to beg, I came, in terrific explosions of cum, my semen blasting from my cock as if it were molten lava erupting from a volcano. My fecundating fluid, thick and viscid, would spurt and spew all over my face, my chest, my belly, my genitals, and her dainty, little fist. After I'd finally shot the last of my load, Myra would massage my man-cream into my skin, as if it were a precious lotion, ointment, or balm. In Myra's capable hands, masturbation was more than a sexual act; it was an art.



"I want to fuck you," I told Myra, but she'd simply laughed at my impertinence, as if to say, without actually saying it, that there was absolutely no way I'd have intercourse with her on our first date.



What she did say was that she was "saving the best for last."



Okay, I thought. As long as she was willing to please me in other ways, I could live with that.



*



A week later, on our second date, Myra gave me a blowjob, proving equally adept at this act as she'd been at masturbation.



Unlike a lot of women, she let me know, right away, that she found my cock and balls appealing, not appalling; attractive, not ghastly; sexy and desirable, not ugly and repulsive. She did this by taking first one, and then the other, of my balls into her mouth and holding them there, in her warm, soft, wet oral embrace, as if she meant to incubate these "eggs." I found the sight of her, kneeling, naked, between my legs, her mouth gobbling my gonads, to be irresistibly sexy and exciting, and my cock shot up, immediately erect and thicker and harder than it had been since the days of my youth.



Letting first one, and then the other, testicle slide free from her saliva-slick lips, she kissed my balls, gently and tenderly, lavishing attention on them. Then, trailing the tip of her moist, pink tongue up, along the ridge on the underside of my prick, she paused to kiss its purple glans before letting the ring of her lips glide down, down, down my cock's rigid shaft until the tip of her nose poked my lower belly and her chin nudged against my thigh.



She'd taken my organ fully into her mouth and esophagus, deep-throating me as expertly as Linda Lovelace had ever swallowed the legendary Harry Reems' monster cock. She paused, her mouth and throat stuffed with my penis, letting me admire her accomplishment and luxuriate in the sense of empowerment her submissive act gave me. Then, she withdrew, letting my saliva-glistening prick slide free of her oral embrace, one slow inch at a time, my hard, thick member appearing, as if by magic, between her lips.



Next, she pumped her rounded lips up and down, in a slow, steady rhythm, letting my passion build. The occasional slurping sounds she made, when my glans popped free of her lips for a moment, or she swallowed her saliva and the pre-cum which seeped from my distended organ, were erotic in the extreme, and further fueled my fervor, as, most likely, they did her own sexual ardor. Myra was every bit as consummate a cock sucker as she was a masturbator, and the enthusiasm and dedication that she exhibited in performing fellatio upon my virile member left no doubt as to her skill at, or enjoyment of, the art.



She was sensitive to my levels of arousal, and she adjusted the tempo and force of her devotions according to the decreases and increases in my sexual excitement, now slowing, now quickening, her pace; now lessening, now escalating the grip of her lips around my trembling organ; now jabbing with her mouth, now offering long, slow strokes to my twitching penis. She paused, occasionally, to knead and twist the flesh of my scrotum, to massage my balls through the pouch of skin in which they were contained, or to squeeze the base of my cock, always fine-tuning her actions and adjusting her timing, her cadence, and her vigor, so that she played my genitals as if they were fine instruments in the hands and mouth--and, sometimes, throat--of a masterful musician.



Finally, as she quickened her tempo yet again, jabbing her rounded lips in short, quick, forceful, up-and-down motions around the tip of my cock, concentrating upon my glans and frenulum, I felt the tell-tale sensations of imminent orgasm flash through my groin, and my cock leaped inside Myra's mouth, lurching and straining between her lips, and I shuddered as a spurt of my semen rocketed from my balls, filling Myra's mouth. She parted her lips, releasing my convulsing cock, and a series of additional spurts of my white, warm cum splattered her lips, chin, cheeks, eyes, nose, brow, and hair. Some of the rich, thick fecundating fluid ran down the column of my erect member, pooling in the folds and wrinkles of my scrotum.



For a time thereafter, I was insensible to the world, aware only of myself, as a wheezing pair of fiery lungs, a hammering heart, and a racing pulse.



Afterward, when I'd recovered sufficiently to think, I said, "I want to fuck you, Myra." She laughed, repeating the same assertion she'd made in response to my identical declaration a week before: "I'm saving the best for last."



*



Two weeks later, Myra and I enjoyed our third date, dinner and a movie--X-rated, of course; neither of us much went for the sappy melodramas that passed these days, in Hollywood, for romance. Although we're both heterosexual--or basically, anyway, meaning that, ordinarily, we prefer members of the opposite, rather than the same, sex--we found that we both enjoy an occasional "shemale" film, and the one we'd watched together, in one of America's last porno theaters, Shemale Shenanigans, had been of this genre. Watching the onscreen suck-and-fuck movie had made me hard and Myra wet



By the time we got to her place, we were ready to celebrate our romance with a little sex.



Once more, I tested Myra's resolve. "I want to fuck you."



As before, she smiled, answering only, "I'm saving the best for last."



We kissed, we caressed, we fondled, getting the "foreplay" out of the way, and then, by now undressed, Myra lay down on her four-poster, her legs spread wide, opening her arms to me. Naked, I crawled on top of her, feeling her tits flatten beneath me as I lay in the cradle of her hips. Fortunately, I have a long cock--just over nine inches, when erect--and it was relatively easy for me to penetrate her anus, even with her in the supine position she'd adopted. As I rolled, scooted, and twisted, positioning my penis for penetration, Myra slapped my ass, hard, and said, incensed, "What are you doing? Have I not told you I am saving the best for last?"



Confused, I stared down into her beautiful face--and into her angry, flashing eyes. "That's why I'm going to fuck your ass instead of you cunt," I explained.



"Fool!"



I was astounded by the vehemence with which she spat the word at me. I was hurt, too, by her response to my gallant effort to accommodate her desire to "save the best for last." "What do you mean? Didn't you want me to--"



"My ass is the best that I--or any other woman--can offer you--or any other man."



I blinked. "It is?"



"Of course!"



I shook my head. "I don't understand. Naturally, I assumed--"



"You assumed, like many a man, that a woman would naturally consider her pussy to be the best she can offer a man," she finished my thought for me.



"Well, sure. I mean--"



"But it's not, and no woman of experience and humility would suppose that it is. Only the naïve and the vain think a woman's cunt is 'the best.' Think about it, Johnny. Is a woman's twat as small and tight--as snug--as her ass?"



"Well, no, of course not, but--"



"Can you impregnate a pussy?"



"Of course."



"But you cannot impregnate an asshole or a rectum?"



"Of course not."



"Are we having sex for pleasure or to have children?"



"For pleasure."



"Which feels more decadent, and, therefore, sexier, fucking a woman in her cunt or in her ass?"



"In her ass."



"Well, then?"



I considered her reasoning, and, I had to admit, it was sound. I nodded, smiling. "I see your point, Myra," I conceded.



She fished in the drawer of her bedside table, found a package of condoms, and pitched me one. "Use this, to avoid babies," she said.



I unrolled the latex tube around my penis.



Her cunt felt wonderful, even through the barrier. Warm and tender, the tissues of her pussy fluttered about my invading member, and I fucked Myra fast and hard. In a few minutes, I'd climaxed, filling the reservoir tip of the condom with my seed, and I lay atop her, regaining my strength and stamina. Pussy was fine, no doubt about it, but Myra was right, I thought. There is nothing better than a piece of ass.



I wouldn't any, though, until we were wed.



"Myra," I asked, looking her in her big, soulful eyes, as I snuggled against her, "will you marry me?"



She laughed.



"What's so funny?" I demanded.



"You, wanting to marry me, just so you can fuck me in the ass!"



"That's not the only reason."



"No?"



"Of course not."



"I suppose that's true. I can name at least one other, besides love, myself."



"What's that?"



Right before she accepted my marriage proposal, and we'd set the date for a month from tonight, she answered my question: "I'm saving the best for last."



Meantime, though, she said, I could have sloppy seconds, if I wanted, and I took her up on her offer. After all, pussy may not be the absolute best thing a woman can offer her man, but it's a close runner-up.

