2021 HERE WE CUM - PART II

Happy New Year 2021! After 2020’s roller coaster ride, with Covid-19 and Trump taking center stage, I’m certain I’m not alone in my desire for good news this year.

In my 49 years of personal experience and memories lost “On This Day, ” January 1st (for many or most of those years) would typically begin with an earth shattering hangover, a debilitating headache, extreme hunger and dehydration, time spent praying to the porcelain Gods, and doing my best to sleep all day. Time and time again, I would utter grunts and groans of regret, spouting off empty promises comprised of the phrase, “Oh my God, I’m never drinking again” only to repeat the same the following year.

I wonder if this first day of every New Year is a holiday simply for the fact that a majority of the population is also nursing the brown bottle flu? I’m sure a large portion of the population is also struggling to survive excruciating maladies the day after, sucking wind, blowing chunks, and wishing for death.

This first day of 2021 is already unlike any other I’d previously endured. I didn’t drink much last night, (a first for me) but considering that just about every business in town was closing up shop just as I was making my way out into civilization, I really didn’t have much choice in the matter.

I was home and in bed before 10pm, so this morning I woke up in perfect condition – stone cold sober, and chock full of fervent anticipation and fevered excitement for what today promised to bring.

The only thing I’m dealing with so far this morning is an exceptionally wet and eager yoni – she too is excited for the day. Demanding my immediate and full attention, I ignored her demands for masturbation, at least for the moment. What a problem to have. Isn’t life a bitch? Ha ha.

The events that transpired the night before were still running circles around my brain, as I tried to make sense of it all. Although the night was only slightly deserving of my feeling guilty, a short 45-minute walk home afterward fully extinguished the notion by the time I arrived back at my room.

I am celebrating this year in South America – where the culture is different than it would be back home in the states.

Plus, it wasn’t a coyote-ugly, one-night-stand kind of night. Which, in previous years, I had no problem racking up. Nope! This year, I was a relatively good girl! I mean I did manage to manhandle the purr-fect cock of a 21 year old, stunningly handsome Latin American, in the restroom, at his place of business, but that’s all. Nothing to be ashamed of!

My vajayjay woke up with him on her mind, since she was left with blue-bells at the end of the evening. I could still smell his soft skin, pheromone-rich ejac still present in the olfactories, which made me hungry as hell, and more than eager to experience what this first day of this new year promised to bring.

He was super fine, and magically delicious! This morning, I’m feeling rather confident and proud, as the smile on my face right now certainly suggests. As I recall the way he tasted – sweet, trimmed clean, and scrumptious, and hot as fuck – as he unleashed himself into the deepest recesses of my throat. I devoured every inch (or centimetre here in the southern hemisphere) of his cock in every possible way I could, without sleeping with him. And trust me, he tried, time and time again to convince me otherwise. And I stood my ground – wait, no that’s a lie. I sat my ground, and compromised. Ha ha.

After leaving his shop last night, he sent me a message that still gives me goosebumps:

“I will come for you tomorrow at 9am or 10am.”

I woke up early, like I usually do, around 6am. Plenty of time. I got dressed and headed out for a morning walk through the city. Of course, absolutely nothing is open, especially this early on a holiday. From what I could tell, these people take their holidays very seriously and shut the whole damn city down. After walking for about an hour, I finally came across a local espresso bar just now opening their doors. Fan-fucking-tastic!

Double shot white mocha latte, along with an amazing breakfast that featured the best tenderized sirloin I’ve ever had. There is nothing better than great food and great coffee, except maybe blowing a 21-year old Latin American hunk. I would be hard-pressed to have to choose which was more satisfying though…right now, they are both equally held in highest regard.

I read his text again after I finished breakfast, but this time, it read differently for me, the context that went something like this:

“I will come CUM for you tomorrow at 9am or 10am.”

I was suddenly aware of the quirky grin on my face. Thank heaven I was the only patron at the coffee shop at the time, because I’m sure someone would surely notice the mischievous “horny” side of me.

So far, my experience in South America as a curvy, middle-aged white woman who sports some junk in the trunk, a D-rack, and a shaved head gives pause for the local people to look at me strange. The last thing I really needed is another reason for people to wonder what the fuck.

I glance at the time, it’s just after 8am now. Plenty of time. As I read the message for the third time this morning, lightning bolts of electricity shoot through every living cell in my body, and probably jump-started some dead ones. I have definitely been brought back to life.

I’m beginning to feel my juices flow again. Time to go.

My neverending supply of wishy-washy stupid mindless bullshit, otherwise known as those feelings of being “less than” suddenly turns the flow of fun, dirty, nasty, kinky thoughts, into something else entirely. I don’t arbitrarily change channels. When I find content I like and enjoy, I am not terribly thrilled when my mind does this for me, without my handing over the remote control.

Now, I am thoroughly considering the fairy tale events from last night, and genuinely begin to question whether or not he will even bother to show up.

Maybe it was just another NYE one-night-stand? Or in this case, a one-night-sit?

As I pay for my amazing breakfast, I acknowledge the weirdness of it. Breakfast and coffee BEFORE a booty call? Yes, this is fucking weird. Par for the course, I guess.

Considering the time now, I am pressed for time to walk back to my hostel. I still have to shit, shower, shave, and douche – you know, just in case he actually does decide to show up.

I left the states two months earlier, so only the Lord knows what condition my vajayjay is in. Probably a sad state of affairs, to be completely honest. Thus far, choosing abstinence, and suffering another long drought, I truly haven’t even looked under the hood for a while. I will let you use your own imagination as to the Amazonian state of my jungle down under.

As I shower, I am so nervous that my hands are shaking a bit. Not the best condition to be in while handling a razor in the netherlands. I am kind of proud of the fact that I didn’t nick my snack shack.

Seriously anxious, and giddy like a school girl, I am giggling with anticipation. At the same time, the age difference between us – which I frantically wrestled with for hours yesterday – was still front and center. I did my best to calm and steady myself. There is a very real possibility that if he does show up, he may not perform as well as his Google translations led me to believe he would.

“I wish to spend one night in your eyes.” Fuck, he’s good… I hope.

I have a tendency to avoid the “interns.” For good reason, as I have had several grave, disastrous experiences with the young’uns in the past – which changed my standard operating procedure to one of preferring men 30-years old or better. Even some of the thirty-somethings in my experience still hadn’t learned their way around a pussy, or women in general, and couldn’t care less about pleasing anyone other than themselves. Interns also tend to be immature, inexperienced and insufferable. I have zero patience when it comes to showing them around and giving them the tour-de-chance that usually results in bad sex. Sure, sign me up for enduring 2,000 wrong moves just for the chance of enjoying one, and if I was lucky, maybe two. They are often eager to learn, but rarely eager to please.

“It would please you to have me over for pleasure.” Initially I had assumed this to be an inaccurate mistranslation, but the intention was there, no matter the accuracy of the grammar. I understood his intentions perfectly fine.

My phone buzzes and shouts out loud the notification that he is almost here, so I grab the room key and walk downstairs, through the abandoned hostel bar and lobby, exiting through the secret door I had the key for. I was the only guest staying NYE night. The hostel management notified me that morning they would too close early, and wouldn’t reopen until 3pm this afternoon. With that in mind, they were kind enough to give me exclusive access to the building in case I stayed out late NYE. I was back by 9pm – thinking to myself now how pathetic that would have made me feel when I was younger. On the flip side however, I woke up well rested and without dying from alcohol poisoning.

It was 10am on-the-button when he rounded the street corner. I had only waited for a minute or so, sitting on the curb in front of the hostel, admiring the cobblestone streets. Looking down was the safest place for me to be, as I am still trying my best to avoid eye contact. This early in the day, I wasn’t sure I could handle drowning in the depths of his brown eyes – and the way he looked at me the night before left me powerless when he caught me directly in his gaze.

Fuck, he actually showed up. On time. Ready or not, here we go…

He swung one leg over the seat of his enduro (half-street / half-dirt) motorcycle and instantly reminded me just how mother fucking tall this perfect man is. Somehow, my brain doesn’t want me to accept the consequences of accepting the reality of the situation, forcing me to think that I may have made the wrong decision.

The thought passes, knowing that any woman would be likely to succumb to his persistent advancements and romanticism. I had said, “no.” Many times, in fact, before saying maybe. It was only after receiving his message later that I agreed. Now, here we are. The real possibility still could be that I will be left wanting afterward, masturbating with Mr. Buzzy and Woody an hour from now.

Moisture between my thighs returns, prompting a quick re-introduction, and escorting him through the hallows, and up the stairs toward my room. I glance behind me as we climbed the stairs, halfway anticipating that he’d turned an about-face and run. Nope. Still behind me, still fucking HOT and his eyes are locked on my ass. Nice!

His innate powers of seduction are spectacular, truly. My body once again responds with flash floods south of the border. My levees are seriously about to breech, and we haven’t even touched one another yet. I hoped, beyond all hopes, that his body would respond in kind. A touch of anticipation, and disappointment, flashed through me – as if to warn me of the potential disaster to come – accompanied again by the idea that I would regret this decision later.

Tish, stay in the moment, calm the fuck down and enjoy whatever this is. Probably the best advice I have ever offered myself.

I still grapple with the idea that he’s actually here, and this is actually happening. I think I giggled a little as I unlocked the door to my room. I turn to invite him inside (pun) and he flashes a smile – damn, those pearly whites are perfect. He’s fucking purr-fect. And for the moment, he is mine. All mine, to do with as I please, in my room – the only one occupied in an otherwise empty building. A smile crosses my face, knowing I can be a screamer under the right conditions. Today, I could be as loud as he wants me to be.

As I lock the door behind him, I catch another whiff of his magical scent, and reflexively begin removing him from the confines of his motorcycle jacket. when I realize I can’t get his arm out of the sleeve. He gestures with one pointed finger as if to tell me to “hold on.”

Spoken words literally have no value between us, considering the language barrier, so charades it is. And I understood perfectly, grateful for the brief intermission, as I exhaled a long-overdue baited breath – one which I realize now I had been holding.

This also gave me time to grab the other member of our threesome – the phone, which had the awesome responsibility of translating our dirty, nasty intentions. I laid it on the bed, next to me as I once again took a seated position in front of him and removed him from the confines of his now unbuckled belt, and my deep-seeded sense of longing took over, and his torn jeans were down around his knees before his jacket could hit the floor.

And there it is, his perfectly purr-fect uncut cock – already standing at attention – waiting for my skilled tongue to ravish it. As I take him in, I look upward (he liked it when I looked up at him last night, I remembered) and we finally make direct eye contact. Jesus, Lord have mercy on my soul…

Why does this seemingly simple gesture feel so intensely real for me? I couldn’t help but wonder how or what eye contact does for him? Does it make him feel the same? More? Less? I would be sure to ask him later. Now, there isn’t time for words – or the time it takes for translation. The feeling is understood. Completely.

He is so damn fine that this alone would normally be cause for a little dip in my confidence – but not today. Gratitude is the attitude, and I am grateful to be enjoying his flavor again, for the second time in less than 24 hours. This time, however, I was sober and didn’t have the alcohol-soaked ice-breaking balls I had the previous night. As my eyes linger in his, I am comfortable, I am taken aback by his presence, his amazing good looks, and his beautiful smile – which is halfway visible through his obvious tight jawed attempt to breathe.

This man could make me do just about anything, I’m sure of it.

My mouth runs the length of his rock-hard cock, as my tongue lovingly and eagerly savors his flavor, all the while I continue holding his gaze – toying with not only his tool, but his ability to maintain control. His expression, just as before, is one that I have difficulty finding the right words for. Passionate surrender. That’s the best I can come up with, for now.

As I have his entirety in my mouth, my hands are kneading his balls, pulling them downward, away from both of us. He lets a sigh escape, which indicates his enjoyment, and I move my tongue southward, taking each nut, one at a time, inside my mouth. Another sigh… I am 100% confident that soon his eyes will roll back completely, as his head will follow suit. It wasn’t long after that a drop or two of pre-cum made its appearance, as I took another look upward, a string of stickiness made its way from the tip of his dick to my tongue, now just a few inches away. I made my moves, and grabbed his ass, forcing him back into the recesses of my mouth, and once again, his hot load shoots me in the back of my throat.

To watch him orgasm is such a thrill, and knowing I had everything to do with it, even more so.

Fuck, this guy is killing me, ever so magically.

As I try to clean up the shaft, as is my usual M.O., he gently lays his hands upon my shoulders, gesturing me backward onto the bed. For us, as a duo, this is entering foreign territory, and I’m nervous again. He is taking control, at the helm of my ship, and where we go from here is entirely within his control. Here we go…

He lays down next to me when I realize his jeans were still wrapped around his knees, so before giving him the wheel, I removed him from the rest of his clothing – this time, without resistance of any kind. And I can’t help but feel awe and amazement, his body is a divinely inspired, stunning creation – and I am honored to be here with him. I think my eyes conveyed this directly, as once again our eyes meet and our souls make music together. His eyes are intense, but soft, genuine, and gentle. There is something about him. Something that takes me somewhere else, another time, another place, riding his cosmos well into the stratosphere and launching me into the vastness of outer space.

His kisses are soft, equally sweet and so very talented. We hover, not quite engaged fully, but a whispers length from one another, hot breath, baited, builds the anticipated passion that soon brings the most amazing exchange. Soon our tongues are twisted and intertwined, our teeth nibbling our lips, our juices are flowing fervently with growing fevered longing for more.

The pace quickens and he takes his eyes away from mine, focusing on my body. I am still fully dressed so we remove my top – revealing to him for the very first time, just what my D-size means. His excitement grows as he turns his attention to one breast, expertly tantalizing my nipple with each flick of his magical tongue. As he maneuvers himself into position, I indicate my need for him to use his teeth. Saying “bite me” didn’t seem to be an option, so I grabbed his attention, looking into his eyes and chomping my top and bottom rows of teeth together, offering a whispered clack of the jaw to ensure he understood what I wanted from him.

Without hesitation, the teeth were sending jolts of electricity through my entire being, most notably, directly to my juicy, flood-soaked erogenous zones. I enjoy that pinnacle point between pleasure and pain, and this Godlike creature took me there without thinking twice about it.

The dude has mad skills.

After giving equal attention to both breasts, his gaze falls on the clean shaven yoni below. He makes his move, and spreads my legs as far apart as they will go, hikes my knees up near my face and shows me what’s up. He is pleased to find my clit pierced, my jewelry swimming in the flood zone, no doubt to find both the vulva and labia engorged, swollen with blood rushing to the heart of my universe.

As he takes his time enjoying this, the first meeting with my girl, he expertly rummages through me, licking and sucking and lingering there. My world is now literally falling away, as I reach new heights of passion and foreplay. Once again, I clack my teeth together. Once again, every nerve ending in my body fires simultaneously – and it’s not long before my hips are undulating beneath him, moving rhythmically to his music, singing the praises of the heavens, as I am now full of desire and longing.

As if to read my thoughts, his fingers find their way inside me. His hands are cold (probably from the motorcycle ride), and I melt beneath his touch, the flash flood warnings are sounding the sirens. I have very little warning, quite literally about to squirt in the palm of his hand. So fucking good, so fucking wet, so fucking wanting more and more of him. NOW.

He pulls away, smiling. Oh God, thank you for bringing this man to me. He grabs me by the ankles and slides me down to the foot of the bed, where I just sat as he came in my mouth moments before. He flips me over, raises my ass into the air, while my back naturally assumes the doggy-style position (my absolute fave) arching to lay my head onto the bed in downward dog fashion.

As he enters the holy land, his thrust is forceful, direct and oh so appreciated for what it is. Penetrating. All consuming. Overwhelming. Precise. Purr-fect. As I feel the head touch my cervix, I can’t help but let out a deep, internal groan of pleasure and pain. This man is exactly my size, exactly my type, exactly what I needed today. Fuck, this one is making me crazy insane with longing, and desire, and satisfaction beyond anything I expected or deserve. I am loving the NOW moment. And I have no clue how long he drove himself into me, but it seemed like forever.

I have literally died and gone to heaven.

As my white-knuckled grip on the bedding became hard to maintain, he slipped out a time or two, and I grabbed another handful of the comforter to recalibrate myself and my position. In doing so, he slipped out again – but when he touched me again, this time he would be knocking on my back door.

Truth be told, this is entering what could be considered “virgin territory.” My ass had hosted a thumb or finger on occasion, but I have never really tried to take a full-size erect man into the folds. As he touches the head of his dick to the rim, I gesture for him to slow down a moment, charades again taking stage, as I indicate for him to please be gentle, go slow and easy… Think of how a parking attendant or construction zone flagger would slow someone down – raising a hand, palm down, then lowering it slowly.

Yeah, just call me flagger…

He understood perfectly, and took the time I asked for as he entered my house through the back door. It took one long, slow, patient minute for all of him to be in all of me, as I realize he had reached the end game within, I exhaled overdue baited breath, and my muscles loosened their grip on him – now fully opening up to him with ease, grace and finally accepting all that is. He feels me relax around his shaft and begins moving himself back and forth, in and out, and literally turns my whole fucking world upside-down and inside-out.

My moans grow with intensity as his pace quickens, and before I know it, he is full-metal-jacketing me and I squirt my load all over the bed, him, and myself. Instinctively, he immediately blows another load deep inside – this is the first time outside of my mouth.

I fall, lifeless and exhausted, face first onto the bed – tapping out, wiped out from this first-time anal experience.

Fuck me, where did this guy come from? And how did I get here?

As I slowly crawl back to the head of the bed, my legs served only as useless limp noodles, refusing to cooperate with my attempts to move. Exasperated and breathless, I flipped over onto my back, and he slides into the bed alongside me, taking my head into the crook of his armpit, and we both struggle to find enough air to breathe.

In 90 minutes, we both came, not once, but twice. I was so wrong to assume a 21-year old would not (or could not) be fun. My bad. It’ll never happen again. Poor assumption on my part. Absolute bullshit. Because I guarantee that this man knew all the right moves, at least as far as I am concerned, and proved himself fully, upholding and fulfilling the promises of his intentions the night before.

“I will come for you tomorrow at 9am or 10am, and he did – twice!” Spending the morning in his eyes fulfilled something in me that I hadn’t realized was missing – deep, soulful connection and true intimacy.

Good lord, have mercy on me – because we agreed to see each other again in a couple of days.