Finding Robin, Finding Myself

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I was just coming off the end of a rather strange relationship. My former girlfriend was a long leggy redhead, mid-thirties, lithe and taut and incredibly sexy. Just my physical type, in fact. Small firm breasts, strong supple legs, a great lean figure. We’d been together for a year, kept going mainly by the sex. Our bed life was sublime. Unfortunately Marisa’s personality out of bed was far too much of a pain. Okay, maybe I added to the friction, but her stubbornness and my desire for romance didn’t mix very well.

In bed, however, it was a different story. I still can’t get those times out of my head, when she stripped for me and spread her legs. She was always tight at the beginning, but after I’d prodded the tip of my large cock into her pussy lips, she relaxed enough to take me in wholesale, and then she melted into a frenzy. I can’t count the number of times I’d said that the night before our waking morning was the best in my life. Marisa used to smile and lick her lips. She wasn’t the cuddling type, not that I needed that — but she was ferociously sensual.

I’d been drowning the sorrows of our breaking up at the local coffee shop — alcohol isn’t my thing — and one day I did a double-take as I stood in line. It wasn’t Marisa, but it was a gal who was just as tall and thin and curvy and fetching, with mischievous hazel eyes and red hair, short, a very pretty and interesting face. Anyway, this new barista served up the coffees and as I took mine I must have given off some kind of vibe, because she smirked a little as I paid up.

I eventually shook myself out of my wonderment, but from time to time I gazed in her direction. It took a mere nod for me to order my third refill, which she carried to my table. She smiled, put her tongue out slightly between her lips, and did something with her eyes that made my heart stop.

“This one’s on me,” she said. I watched her return to the counter, her shapely and firm backside slightly swaying — I could tell she was muscular –and her long jeans-clad legs moving with energy.

I’d been there nearly an hour, browsing a few books I’d taken with me to pass the time, and I finally decided to call it a morning and head to work. I went to pay at the counter and the barista smiled again, much more fully, her lips curving upwards, her eyes alight, it seemed to me. I could see the outlines of her small breasts and prominent nipples beneath her white cotton blouse. There was something both exotic and unsettling about her, which piqued my interest, something intensely sensual but in a covert way.

I wasn’t bad-looking myself — fit, athletic, handsome if not dashing, in a dark sort of way, crowding 40 — but I hadn’t remembered a chick that had been so forward with me for ages. I slid a twenty her way and told her to keep the change, but she insisted on not taking a tip. She turned around briefly, and handed me a small slip of paper with the five-dollar bill. Her number.

“I’m free tonight if you are,” she said, “after 7.”

The office was agonizingly slow, I couldn’t wait for the day to end and found myself staring at the clock all afternoon. I was home by 6 and the countdown of minutes began, so that precisely at 7:05 I dialled the cell number and heard her voice.

“What took you so long?” she asked. I chuckled and then remembered I didn’t even know her name, nor did she know mine.

“I’m Mark,” I said, “the guy from the cafe.”

“Of course, Mark. iskilip escort And I’m Robin.”

“You’re really beautiful,” I ventured.

“Thanks,” she said. “Why don’t you come over to my place and tell me that again?”

“I’d be happy to if I knew where you lived.”

“Not far from the cafe.” Her voice was easy and stirred my imagination.

She gave me her address and a few minutes later I was on the seventh floor of a nondescript apartment building, gently knocking at her door. Robin opened it, smiled, did that thing with her tongue, and invited me in. She was in the same clothes I had seen her in before: white cotton blouse, no bra, low-slung jeans, but now barefoot.

I had a few inches on her, but not many, which pleased me: I like my gals tall. She ushered me to her sofa and I took note of the ambience of her small place: hushed lighting, soft colors, clean, a pleasant reggae beat moving in the background. Lots of books.

“I hope you like wine,” she said, handing me a glass of red.

“Chianti?” I asked.

“Yep,” she replied.

We clinked glasses and took our sips and within two seconds she had moved her lips to within a millimeter of my own. Her eyes entranced me. We kissed. Long, hard, wet, again and again. She deftly slipped off her blouse to reveal two small and perfect breasts with large hard pink nipples. I took them in my mouth and she threw he head back and sighed, and then grasped me behind the neck and pulled my lips into her mouth again with surprising force.

What can I say? I couldn’t believe my luck. She was very like Marisa and I was as aroused as I’d ever been in my amorous life, thought as my fingers dropped to unfasten her belt she drew my hands away.

“Not yet, Mark.”

I breathed heavily, disappointed, perplexed, on fire.

“I like you,” she said, “you turn me on big-time. But…”

“But what?” I asked.

“But I want to make sure I’m right about you.”

“What do you mean? Are you married or something? Engaged? Going steady? On the rebound… like me?”

I let that one hang a bit.

“None of the above.”

“You’re beautiful, and more,” I said, “you’re damned ravishing, and I can tell you’re smart by the books you have on your shelves, and…”

“And it’s a little too fast,” she purred. “I’m free on Thursday.”

“That’s two whole days from now!” I remonstrated.

She laughed, a lovely deep laugh, and she let me kiss her breasts again before she backed off and fetched her blouse and shook her red hair this way and that as if to say ‘I’ve gotta cool down too’.

“What can I bring on Thursday, Robin? Chianti, bubbly — hey, how about coffee?”

She laughed again and kissed me, running her tongue deeply into my mouth, and drew away.

“Bring an open mind, that’s all.”

The two days until Thursday evening felt like two centuries. I hadn’t dared return to the cafe lest I make a fool of myself, and she texted me with a question mark on Wednesday. I texted back saying it was too risky, and she lol’ed me, before adding, ‘no wine or flowers, just an open mind’.

Wednesday night I lay awake in excited anticipation. It took every bit of will power not to mitigate the sexual energy that had built — better to save myself, even if would kill me.

Robin was, if anything, even more alluring as she beckoned me into her lair. She looked like a twenty-something, though her eyes said istanbul escort she was more mature. She was wearing a low cut light blue dress that hung to the middle of her thighs. Her small blue earrings glittered, and she had matching suede pumps with moderately high heels. Her legs were long as long, and lean and smooth and firm — her calves tapered delightfully and the inner lines of her upper thighs curved in such a way that when her legs were together you could see daylight between them.

I lifted up my palms as if to say, ‘I’ve come empty handed’, and spread my arms as if to say, ‘but open-minded’. Well, I didn’t make it far into this miming before she launched herself at me and we clinched breathlessly and literally fell into her sofa. I cupped her breasts as she rose above me and straddled my length, flinging her shoes off behind her and dipping her chest towards my head.

I couldn’t get enough of her, and I felt her uncanny strength as she pressed against me. After increasingly aggressive kisses — she bit my lips — she sat up, fixed me with her gleaming eyes and rocked back. With one smooth seamless movement she brought her dress over her head. A gold necklace dangled between her breasts, a gold ring decorated her navel, and blue lace panties hid her lower treasure.

“How’s that open mind of yours?” she cooed.

“As wide as the sky,” I answered.

Whereupon she gracefully hoisted her left leg, pushing herself off the couch and onto the adjacent floor, and turned away from me. I admired the curve of her lower spine, the firmness of her butt cheeks, the sinuous muscles of her back. An instrumental reggae tune hummed in the background. Robin hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and very very slowly slipped them down. She was nimble and flexible, and she twisted to face me once again after she had stepped out of her underthings.

I was dumbstruck. I literally could not believe my eyes, or my heart.

A long hard thick cream-colored cock jutted out from the exquisitely feminine torso of a gorgeous and stunning chick. Robin’s unexpected cock hung just above my head, stiff, waiting, in abeyance.

I couldn’t make sense of anything. Here was this amazingly sultry and inviting woman, whom I lusted to hoist and fuck and bring to climax with my large and able cock, standing before me with her own gloriously large smooth upright circumcised member begging to…

To what? To be touched, sucked, to thrust itself…?

Robin moved closer, her cock now mere inches from my confused face.

“I know what you want, Mark, I saw it the first time we met.”

She slapped me, and before I could respond she had pinned my arms behind my head.

“You’re going to do anything and everything I tell you. You’re going to be my bitch.”

In my consternation I could feel a strangely queasy thrill in the pit of my stomach as my own cock grew harder and harder, and, simultaneously, as something within me surrendered and relaxed.

“Undress, bitch,” she commanded.

I complied, hastily removing my clothing.

“On your knees, my little slut.”

I knelt.

“Take it, suck me.”

I hesitated and in that moment of hesitation she slapped me again.

I found that I enjoyed it. I enjoyed being called a bitch and a slut, and when she spat on my face I thrilled to the feeling of exquisite submission.

Her beautiful hard cock slid effortlessly otele gelen escort into my mouth. I took care to cradle it, to flick my tongue on the head, while guarding her tool from my teeth. Robin grabbed my neck and pushed her cock further into me, so that I gagged. She pushed again, I gagged, she thrust her cock into my throat and this time it went beyond my uvula and into the recesses of my throat.

“You’re a quick study,” Robin said, as she face-fucked me with fervour.

I was getting the rhythm of accepting her cock deep into my throat without gagging, I had relaxed my throat and I moved my tongue as far forward as possible, so that I was now able to take her member fully and completely. With the tip of my tongue I could caress her shaven balls. You see, I had always watched my girlfriends when they gave me head and I often instructed them to maximize my pleasure. I was now following my own advice!

My entire body tingled with the sensation of a powerful unknown, of a completely new experience, as Robin thrust and fucked and spit and slapped me, pulled my hair and pressed her pelvic strength so wholly against my face I could hardly breathe.

Somehow I found myself in ecstasy. I would never for a moment have thought of being with a man — but Robin was no man, she was a woman, I said to myself, and more, and so beautiful I could hardly fathom.

“I guess you have an open mouth as well as an open mind,” she chuckled.

Her cock glistened from my saliva, and strings of my spittle hung down from its shaft. My chest was wet and sloppy from my drool.

Robin gathered a spool of wetness from her tool with her fingers and licked them. I caught my breath.

“Let’s see what else we can open,” she said. “On your back, grab your ankles and lift your legs in the air. And beg.”

I did as she instructed. She probed my ass with the tip of her hard rock-like tool and eased it in, just the head. It was my first time.

“What do you say, bitch?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me?”

Slap.

“What?”

“Please fuck me, please fuck my ass!” I cried, hardly believing myself.

She pushed her cock slowly, implacably, and deeply into me. I took her length, the all of it, and she smiled and leaned over my mouth to kiss me. Then she began to move, incrementally at first, pulling her cock back an inch and thrusting it into my ass, then more, and more, until she retracted its entire length, leaving only its head buried in me, before thrusting, deeper and faster and harder, all the while reminding me that I was her bitch, her cock-slut, her toy, her pet, her sissy.

She was gleaming with sweat, her perfect girly body relentlessly pressing, until I felt her spasm and convulse. She quickly withdrew and unleashed a torrent of cum on my face and in my mouth and I took the cue to take her into my throat again, to clean her up as she moaned with satisfaction and release.

“Stroke yourself, bitch,” she ordered.

So I began. My throat and stomach were charged with palpitating energy such as I’d never experienced, and I wondered if a whole-body orgasm could even happen to me. So I stroked myself while sucking her and I was on the verge of cumming when Robin yanked my head towards my own cock. My cum spurted into my own mouth and across my face and my upper chest too. I had taken two loads — partly swallowed, partly lingering still across my lips and on my tongue, commingling.

Robin kissed me, long and slow. Her fine tongue made circles inside my mouth, tasting herself, tasting me. She pulled on my lips with her teeth and I kissed her with a force of my own, with gratitude. Eventually she gently eased away, whispering that she had only just begun.

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