She took the cock out of her mouth and considered it for a moment, measuring it with her eyes, wondering how big it really is. 6 inches, maybe even 7?...Maybe she should measure it sometime? Later, she thought. Right now all she wanted to find out is whether she'd be able to get it all the way down her throat and how it would feel once it was there. So straightening her neck, she opened her mouth around it and pushed her face forward. It slid slowly along her tongue, and as the head started. Such a bore. Sex with him was nice. Wasn't stellar but it was ok. It was perfunctory... Close to boring in its predictability but it did what it was meant to do. But it hadn't always been like that, I thought to myself as his breathing fell slowly into a calm rhythm. In a few minutes, he'd be completely asleep and then he'd roll over to the furthest side of the bed and start to snore. No, it hadn't always been like that. Not with my previous lover. It had been raw and intense and hadn't just. As soon as my pants hit the floor, she pushed me gently into a chair, while I worked on my shirt and tie. Very slowly in front of me, she began to undress. a music-less striptease performed from the heart. She removed the top strap from her dress, allowing it to slide down over her chest, but bunching it at her hips, until she allowed it to slowly slither down her legs. Then, reaching up, she removed the pinnings of her hair, allowing that to cascade down to her shoulders, and shaking it. When Ravi Shankar began playing the sitar I fled like the final girl in a slasher flick. The earth was a sea of mud. But, with 400,000 people here and only five Port-A-Potties, I could only hope it was mud. Arriving at my hillside tent as the heavy rain began, I noticed a lovely hippy chick drenched and shivering. Her brown perm by now hanging over her smooth, porcelain complexion, perky titties straining against her tie-dyed halter top and with a taut midriff I could eat a continental.
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