Finally Pentameter Cynthia

Cynthia 10am Salute

I rose from my chair letting the robe slide off my shoulders and did a salute to the sun. Other parts of me had already been well risen this morning. It was time for the rest of me to catch up. My body was feeling better than ever these days, with my renewed yoga discipline and the much more active sex life courtesy of Cynthia. Sure she had some lead off assistance from the previous Cindy & Sindy acts, but Cynthia was adding the final artistic strokes to the rejuvenated me. Someday I should confirm how visible people are in these high rise apartments during the day. I know at night with the lighting it is like an aquarium in here . When I began the stretching routine all of me was well risen from Cynthia's one woman show, but the stretching relaxed my nethers enough to allow me to do the full back arch when I got to that part on the floor.

Cynthia was watching through those slit lazy cat eyes she has after an orgasm. When I was done I sauntered over to where she had arranged herself on the sofa and picked up her previously industrious hand and savored her scent as I gave it a gentle kiss. I seated myself on the other end of the sofa.

Cynthia shifted her position in feline manner and curled up with her face on my thigh and her emerald eyes peering up past my once again rising ivory tower to look deep into my eyes.

Cynthia had been a widow for six years after having nursed her stricken husband through a long and debilitating illness. I would glimpse the sadness of those memories from time to time. Survivors guilt or whatever label is hung on such emotions. All I could do was be there with her now. I have learned I can not fix other people. That is a young mans folly I have long left behind.

As for any hesitation I might have had about fucking a dead mans woman never became an issue. By the time I had learned about what had gone before I was so enamored with Cynthia’s ways that… well, I did not care. Besides it is the type of thought that deserves to be dismissed immediately.

“All those years when there were hard cocks being pressed on me from every direction at dances, in parked cars, on trains, on elevators, and often unbidden,” Cynthia was saying as she absentmindedly stroked my cock from firm to firmer. “I wanted nothing to do with them. Then when I finally wanted hard cocks on me, in me, and all around me they were all gone. Nowhere to be found. I thought it was me. But now I have this throbbing purple headed beauty all day long.” Her eyes moved from my dick to my eyes as she continued, “Its owner uses it on me all day long and is willing to call in battery operated reinforcements when necessary.” She smiled slyly, “He does so willingly, gleefully, and masterfully.” Cynthia rose up and engulfed me in her soft suckling mouth and gently used her tongue down to my balls with a flowing sensual side to side waggle.

She kept on gently sucking, slowly sliding and bobbing her sensuous mouth leaving slathering me while leaving trails of her saliva mixed with my pre cum glistening in the daylight. When I was near climax and Cynthia had left my prick out to dry in the air twitching nearly uncontrollably but still holding it’s load, she took me in her black nail polish tipped fingers and stroked me resolutely bringing on an aerial display of my jizz floating, then returning with a splat on my tummy and Cynthia’s dexterous fingers. When the cumming was done she sweetly wiped the back of her hand on each of my cheeks and smiled saying, “You earned that for making me cum just watching you stretch in front of these windows. Thank you sweetie.”

She kissed me, flicking a bit of cum off my cheek with her darting tongue for a taste and then her slender butt cheeks retreated to the bath and I heard the shower issue forth with a hiss.

Slobbering on Cynthia by 11am

Sitting there with my cum on my face I spent Cynthia’s shower time pondering differences in attitudes these days in women from what I thought they were when I was young and foolish.

Cynthia comes out of the shower and returns the stretching routine enticement in front of the window. I watch and remember our first meeting:

The first time I saw Cynthia she was across the room at an exhibition of my good friends large format photography. She was admiring the work titled: Geese. The information card next to the photo told the story and it was a beautiful photograph. Whether the title was advisable or not, it was what it was. Cynthia, like many, were drawn to the picture which conjures the wings of an angel as the natural sunlight coming through a barn door plays off the goose down creating a diffuse otherworldly glow. But my eyes were drawn to another vision. She was wearing a simple print dress accented with a bold splash of color on a scarf mantled loosely about her delicate neckline. The entire effect was to make the most of the spectacular red hair framing the sensual lips, emerald eyes, and delicate visage. By the way the fabric clung to her frame there was evidence of a delicious bounty of feminine curves on her lithe frame. This was a woman of presence.

Now with her present, naked, and stretching in front of me in full daylight I rise, kneel before her and look up past a perfect white expanse of sinewy feminine flesh. Past taut tummy and small round pale nippled breasts and gaze again into those green cat eyes. Her legs already parted for balance I lead with my nose to part her already moist inwardly folded pussy lips and follow with a salvo of perhaps inappropriately eager tonguing. I am positively slobbering between her thighs but she raises me up with a gentle pull of my hair and says, “No time for that now, We have to prepare for our dinner party tonight.”

Well I will not be tending bar as I was on our first meeting at least:

Since I was tending bar for that occasion I could not go and introduce myself. I was working at the largess of my oldest and best friend, the large format photographer whose work was being featured at this showing. We had been friends since grade school. When I was at the top of my game I had been of assistance to his struggling career, now he was returning the service. Of course as old friends I don’t think either of us saw it as favors, rather an opportunity to maintain our lifetime friendship. I wasn’t much of a bartender, but gallery crowds tend to be of the wine and simple mixed drink mind so I was passing that night.

Bar traffic was low so this also gave me plenty of time to drink in Cynthia as she flowed about the room. Here was a woman that was comfortable with herself. You could see it in her movements and interactions with the others. Her voice and laughter were intoxicating when she lingered near enough to my station to be heard. Occasionally I was caught watching her with more intensity than the hired help ought to but when our eyes met and held she began walking towards the bar for the first time. Well I could not take my eyes off of her as she slowly crossed the room towards me. Best visuals for me in a long, long, long time.

We are having dinner with Fred and Helen mutual friends of ours. Having mutual friends that knew both of us before we knew each other was a new experience for me. For once their was no question of acceptance of another into a group because of a sexual coupling. Besides Cynthia has preparation plans of her own and leads me into bathroom for a very personal shaving. I ask if she is planning on me as part of the menu. “We will see” is Cynthia's cryptic response.

I knew that look of obfuscation from previous interactions:

Cynthia looked me up and down and fixed her gaze on me with puckish eyes, smiled, and ordered some incomprehensible cocktail which I had never heard of. The confused look on my face must have been the giveaway, yet she didn’t torment me long. She then gave me a smile and laughed. ”Not much of a bartender, are you?” From her countenance I knew she was playing with me. Mercifully Cynthia let me off the hook and ordered a simple vodka and was kind enough to stay at the bar so I could watch her look up at me with colorfully adorned eyelids and take a sip. “Mmmm” she said with a purr as her lips slowly left the glass and her tongue glided across both lips and rim seductively. I thought she took one last peek to see if I was watching as she walked away. I was treated to the sheer poetry of the most perfect derriere sheathed in the light fabric of her dress which accented the subtle movement underneath. I was snapped back to reality by the order of a “white wine please.”

I turned smiling having recognized Helen's voice, the photographer’s wife and dear friend as well. “So what did you think of my friend Cynthia”, she asked?

Considering Cynthia was in my bathroom, my dick in her hand, my shaving paraphernalia being used by her on my own very personal genitalia, I think the definitive answer to that question has been settled.

Cindy Retreat

Cindy expertly coaxes my post-cumming balls from the tight formation they have formed around my shaft causing them to release and hang down while being luxuriously worked over by her tongue. Early into our time together Cindy had used her shaving skills acquired as a C.N.A. to tame the wildebeest that had overgrown my nethers.

As the years of neglect fell to the floor I remember Cindy saying under her breath that this skin she had exposed shaving was hers to exploit to it’s fullest. Since the clearing of the unwieldy bush my privates have spent more time in women’s mouths than all the collected backseat blowjobs of my youth and way more often than my way too rare marital head.

As Cindy’s tongue wanders below I watch her glistening fingers pull out from between her damp thighs and I feel her hands take a firm grip on my buttocks and spread them as her tongue starts a retreat from my fully fluid and dangling ball sack towards my decade long abandoned butt hole. A warm moist sensation washes over me as the tip of her tongue forces its way up my ass and brings my prick to full firm erection. I take my prick in hand and pull it up and back to keep my balls out of Cindy’s way as she works her sweet spell on my ass. I think am gurgling in delight from the pleasure I am receiving as Cindy tenaciously tongues my rear.

I lovingly gaze down on her perfectly pert breasts topped with dappled dark pink nipples and rounded tummy which ended in that little tuft of landing strip hair between upraised knees. It was time for my tongue to come in for a landing.

I fell forward for a perfect bulls eyes and we gnawed each others genitalia delictuous amidst grunting and muffled cries. We are rolling on our side, then me on top, other side, then Cindy below again as we strain necks and backs to gain further purchase of each others satisfaction. The bed is noisy from well worn hotel springs. Finally when my tongue found it’s way into Cindy’s ass her thighs quickly stiffened and quaked as the floodgates of her every cell let loose a deluge that nearly drowned me in her essence. My first new woman after more than a decade was what I would later learn to be commonly known as a squirter. Her shrieks of passion earned us a rapping on the the thin motel wall on this early morning sexual fracas.

Treating the wall knocking as applause we both took a final bow into sweet slumbers, napping between each others thighs while inhaling the scents of our respective releases.