Fellatio And Cunnilingus, The Glorious Sixty-Ninth! ~ Angela Goodnight

Sunday 19th March 2017 was Peter’s sixty-ninth birthday, so you can guess what he got for a present.

Actually there was a little more to it than a simple soixante-neuf. I booked us a couple of nights at Driftwood which is on the Roseland coast between Truro and St. Mawes, so not a huge distance from us. The location is fabulous, just above the cliffs with views out to sea. Added to that, as always when we’re away, it has a fantastic restaurant.

Lotus Europa.So, we decided to take my car, the Europa, and eventually we managed to squeeze ourselves and a couple of bags into the vehicle – I think we’re both getting a bit old to be sitting only six inches from the road’s surface. Getting out is almost as bad as getting in and I think I need to be looking at a new car. Trouble is I have never seen a car which has come close to the Lotus Europa in style. I’m a leftover from the original Avengers with Tara King!

We had a lovely lunch in Truro on the way down and arrived mid afternoon on the Saturday. I’d booked this a while in advance so got the best room. A superb large double with a sea view. After unpacking we had some tea and enjoyed an hour’s very leisurely lovemaking as the afternoon drifted into early evening. Lovely.

Terrific cooking during a sexy weekend at Driftwood, Cornwall.Dinner was magnificent. My God, this chef has some real talent and the food tasted as good and interesting as it looked. Good wine list too, but we decided on the old celebration favourite of champagne.

After dinner an early night.

So, birthday morning. I turned up the heating and we cuddled until the room was warm enough to throw off the covers. There was my dear Peter with an already semi-erect Zebedee. I spent a while just caressing it with gossamer light finger touches, watching the erection growing and firming in my grasp. Some kisses, a few gently strokes of my tongue and I saw it. There, at the very tip, a growing bead of pre-cum. How I loved the taste. A tiny stroke of the tip of my tongue and it was mine – sweet, unique, delightful. I remembered my discovery of his sweetness in the cinema during my first fellatio back in 1964. Such a surprise. Smut one said it would taste awful and the lie was wonderful to expose.

We lay on our sides so that I could take him into my mouth. Not so easy for him to give me a treat in that position, but his fingers were there, moving back and forth along my cleft. That would do while I took my time, holding and squeezing him with my hand while my mouth invented new ways to pull and push his foreskin and my tongue forced itself around his corona, eliciting delightful moans of joy from him.

I don’t know how long I kept him hanging, but several times I heard his plea to let him come. The sweetness of his pre-cum was becoming tainted with his semen so I knew he must be close. I rolled him onto his back and adopted the position. Wow, his tongue hit my clit instantly, but I was determined not to lose concentration.

69, soixante-neuf, sixty-nine - fucking brilliant.Peter doesn’t enjoy deep throat as much as glans sucking so I concentrated on his head, keeping my oral regular and rhythmic, trying not to like his cunnilingus enough to prevent me maintaining my rhythm.

Twice more I had him at the point of ejaculation and squeezed down on him, ceasing my motions, stopping him wriggling beneath me and hearing, ‘please, Angie, please,’ from his lips as they lost any semblance of action at my other end. He’d deal with me later, I knew that and began the motions a third time.

‘Oh, Angie, Angie, Angie,’ I heard him call. His breathing was erratic. He was on the edge yet again.

This time I squeezed his lower shaft tightly, drew my lips up and down him three or four times vigorously and that was it.

He released a sort of ‘ungha’ sound and exploded.

How I love the feeling of his semen pumping through my grip at his very base and the salty jet stream firing into my mouth. I tried to count them. Six, seven, eight, perhaps nine before I began to assist him, sucking and working hand and mouth along his shaft, drawing out the very last of his birthday essence.

Minutes later I still held him, gently caressing his glans with my lips and tongue as the erection began to lose a little of its firmness in my hand. It was over for him and the warmth of his kiss and tongue were on my vulva again.

‘Sorry I stopped,’ he whispered.

I released him, ‘love you, Peter.’

I tried to come and he tried to make me come, but it wasn’t to be and we agreed my treat would come on Monday morning.

Now, I wonder if there’ll be mayonnaise with the lobster salad tonight?

Angela Goodnight, 26th March 2017 

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