Is it My Turn Yet?

As we left your first choice of erotic-stops behind us, you questioned me! What's wrong? Why didn't you cum; why didn't you let me enjoy your orgasm as much we both did mine?

I plead my case; I was caught off guard. I was simply concentrating too hard on your satisfaction and time slipped away. I had been thinking about it, yearning for it, for so many miles; and with all that awesome kissing I lost my mind a little...it was so good.

Moreover, in my own defense, I remind you; the more you prolong the liberation; the more you build and hold; build and hold...the better the resulting climax. My secret plan is to offer up a whopper; the beefy girl variety, with special sauce, the kind for which you might easily acquire an appetite. The kind you might even choose to go ahead and "super-size".

Speaking of eating, I had worked up quite an appetite -- the rumbling tummy type--with all our earlier foreplay we had burned off a lot of energy. So, we decided to make a quick stop at a Mini Mart and grab something solid on which to munch. The liquid protein had been good but I find it more filling when it's warm and fresh from the source and not suckled off my breasts. Besides, we needed to keep alert on the road and a break from the constant state of excitement sounded healthy, at least for a mile or two.

I selected some fruit because, after all, there is nothing sexy about cookies unless you're getting them--surely nothing stimulating about eating the crumbling kind.

Now it's your turn to talk too much. That blond head you gave me back there was great, much better than I ever imagined . This you communicate with honest eyes, as we motor toward our next erotic park-n-play. I'm thinking; wow... He speaks. I smile as I consider silently, no doubt it's the best you've had since your last wet dream. I know I'm good...that good. You can't be as good as a wet dream and not know it. It takes practice and it takes dedication. It takes knowledge and it takes patience. You might have to sample a lot of frogs before that once in a blue moon when you cum across your Prince of Pricks with a perfect fit .

I'm only weighing some things I firmly believe you already know. The perfect yin for your yang; the perfect innie for your outie...I ponder these things and smile without speaking because I'm here to listen (for a change) perhaps learn. So, I take my first piece of fruit out of the bag and begin to enjoy it. The theory goes; there are two ways to keep a woman quiet...food or food for thought. This was both. I'm thinking a head.

I have chosen my fruits with the skill of a courtesan. I chose the juiciest for some and by size or ripeness for others. The juicy, so juicy that with your first bite, it clings to your lips or runs down you chin. So juicy that you must quickly use your fingers and tongue to retrieve it's sweet wetness. A peach is a good example. A small one is also about the size of a mans balls when they're nice and excited...constricted...ready to cum...and then there's the fuzz, to remind one that nothing is without some imperfections. I could have chosen a nectarine, if I cared about the fuzz. But, a nectarine is not as sweet or juicy as my plump ripe peach.

I consider, as I begin to nibble at the skin of my pick, it's always a good place to start. Not a bite, really, more like a mouth massage. I realize that you hadn't purchased a snack and appear content to speak of previous sexual experiences and watch me eat, safely out of the corner of your eye. As I gently bite away at the skin, you continue to explain what was so right with the oral stimulation I had given you some hundred miles ago. I'm still busy thinking of consuming your balls. After all, I muse, they're one of my favorite foods for thought. Your nuts; they're also the consummate size. The right size to cup in my hand and oh so gently squeeze, need, like I would certain types of fruit to check for readiness.

You go on with your thinking out loud. I had taken you in my mouth so eagerly that you couldn't resist the urge to let me have some, you explain. You elaborate that a man likes it so much when a women lets it slide past her teeth; hugs it with a gentle tug of her tongue; drawing it up to the bumpy spot on the roof of her mouth on the way to her uvula. That had felt like nothing you'd ever experienced...or at least not since you last wet dreamed of the perfect blow job, I'm certain.

After you finish that thought, I go back and digest all that you've been telling me. You have been so complimentary of my oral performance that I start to wonder what I could possibly do to improve on the breathtaking tongue action we had shared behind the red barn. Tease you? I wonder. I've been teasing you for the last 120 miles and I've only eaten half the peach; only half because it's so juicy, sweet and luscious I have to stop after almost every little bite and lick it off my fingers. I like to lick my fingers, suck on my thumbs too. Even that is good exercise. My tongue can always use more lick and suck practice.

So, just like Eve, I offer you the other half (thinking maybe you like to practice too.) This peach is so fantastic, I explain. I had taken it in very slowly, just like I did your cock into my mouth. It's juice, so very thick and sweet like your cum down my throat. You agree to sample my choice and start with a big mouth full of the sweet delight I offer you. Umm, you agree, it's so delicious. I'm thinking yeah, it is...very. If you could only ever know...oh yes so yum.

Really. I have only volunteered to share that peach with you because I plan to enjoy a little something even more visually appealing. I had selected the perfect size of banana, with which I now intend to tempt you, mightily. As I watch you eating the share of nature's lust I had offered, I wonder if you realize I'm thinking about you consuming my little peach of a pussy. I peel the banana down a few inches and as I slip it into my mouth, I hope you realize how it feels so much like your cock. I think you know what I'm driving at...

I'm just showing off now as I take even more of the yellow crescent fruit deeper into my mouth. It's identical in memory to the circumference of your own delicious cob. My choice of banana was one still firm, yet not too green. I take more and more of it in my mouth until I feel it at the edge of my throat. I recall how your cock had entered there only a short time ago, and I start to feel the stirrings in my groin that signal my own lust is returning. I inquire how long until our next stop and you answer that it's not far and ask if I can wait. Well yes, I definitely would be delighted, I answer with a smile. Waiting is truly everything it's cracked up to be. Anticipation is one big aphrodisiac. I fail to conceive of, how I wouldn't wait for something as stimulating as what you surely have planned for us.

I continue to think about your mouth on my pussy lips as you finish the last half of the sensuously juicy peach and lick your lips at me. Um...That wonderful tongue of yours; it's enticing me to direct it to precisely where it might find home sweet home. We are both aroused again and longing for the miles to evaporate and bring us our next destination. The fruit has worked it's magic.

Is it simply the truck stop ahead; they have showers and a car wash. I hadn't considered a shower for us on our trip. But after that dry dusty lane had done a number on your truck earlier; it could use a wash. I wouldn't mind a little freshening up, myself...

However, you planned these stops with purpose; and again I value your judgment. But, I think we both begin to realize I'm your peach pied piper.

Chapter four: Next to Cleanliness.