Garden Tub

Another favorite from my past.

This man didn't believe in receiving blow jobs, but he certainly believed in blowing me, well, and well, and often.

One evening, we had the whole place to ourselves. I cooked dinner, we ate and talked and touched and kissed throughout the meal. Once we were done eating, and the kitchen was clean, I suggested that we go upstairs. I'd bathed in the jacuzzi tub before, but never with another.

We dropped off our clothes as we went up the stairs. Mouths entwined, hands touching, skin on skin, as we got closer to the tub. Barely able to turn away from him, I turned on the water and the timer.

The tub got so hot, we had to slowly sink ourselves into it. Distractions from the pain of the heat included fingernails on backs and thighs, tongues on nipples, and watching each other try to sink in first.

He rested behind me, pulling my ass against his hard cock as he teased my nipples and kissed the back of my neck, the side of my neck, and as I turned to him, my mouth.

We kissed, and kissed, and kissed, until the only thing I wanted was him in me. Now. Now. He turned me, so I was under him and he was over me. The tub was so hot...so hot...there was steam rising, curling his hair, as he entered me.

He never was one to come quickly. He pushed himself into me, over and over again, and oh, he's big, he hit me so deep. His cock in me, his sweat running down his face, onto my face, as I sweat as just as hard, was the perfection of the evening.

He got just to where he needed. Three good, violent thrusts into me, the kind where I could feel him against my cervix, made me come one last time. This time, he came in me, in the water, in my arms.

He almost fainted. I held him for hours while in the tub.