At the Motel With The Mitchells

BY : Wendell Urth
Category: Comics > Dennis the Menace
Dragon prints: 1464
Disclaimer: I do not own Dennis The Menace, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter 12: My Belt And More

My belt was now open and her hands were inside my pants. It felt so good. I reached under her blouse and bra. Her breasts were warm and just filled my hands perfectly, nipples between my fingers. I could stay like this forever.

She sat up; I was disappointed till I realized she was pulling off her shirt… slipping out of her jeans. “What are you waiting for, stupid?” What was I waiting for? Clothes began to fly in every direction. One of my sneakers almost hit her in the head. We were laughing hysterically.

She was sitting on the bed, both hands between her legs, either side of her pussy. So different than Mrs. Mitchell. Marie's was a perfect cleft, shaved with the tiniest black stubble on either side. The surrounding skin was darker than the rest. Two hands, spreading herself… for me to see.

OMG

Layers

A rainbow of pink and red.

Slickness and moisture.

Somehow, she made it twitch! Her pussy danced. I didn’t know she could do that. It was funny and obscene. I wanted to dive into those pink crevasses and drown.

“What are you waiting for, dork?”

I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Mrs. Mitchell never taught me about eating pussy. Marie was ripe and moist. She laughed, using one hand no to spread her juiciness, the other wrapped into my hair, pulling me downwards to the sweetest pleasure and taste I have ever known.

She showed me what made her happy. Where to lick, how to use my tongue. When I had sex with Alice Mitchell, she took care of her own clit with her fingers. But Marie showed me what it takes to pleasure a woman. Her clit was a proud little bump, it’s hood pulled back. I licked at it, kissed it, suckled & sucked it, ran my teeth over it. Flicked it. Her moans filled my ears. I was rewarded by the musty sweet flow that was all for me. “I did that!” I marveled. “I made that happen!”

“Stop! Stop!” she finally panted. “Enough, baby.” But it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough for me.

“My turn. Let me make you happy.”

I thought all blow jobs (‘blowgies’) were the same. Kisses and licks, deep sucking until you came. A rush, a gush until it was over. Marie taught me differently. She held my shaft with one hand, planted butterfly kisses around the shaft. Licking and slathering, building excitement. Backing off and more kisses. God, oh God, she made me crazy. It went on for so long. She was totally in control. Oh, the way she would suck on the head then suddenly be kissing my balls, then teasing the light hairs between her teeth. She was a thousand places at once, I never knew from one moment to the next where she would be giving me wet pleasure next.

I was hard and hot and in agony, needing to cum, but she never allowed it. Her small firm breasts in my hands, my mouth, against my face. Her nipples, hard nubbins. Demanding love and punishment.

We rolled over; she was on top of me. She guided me into her depths and it was magic. Alice Mitchell had fucked me and taught me about fucking. Marie made mad love to me and taught me how to love her in return. I knew what it meant now, what the difference was. I held off cumming until I could feel her level of excitement rise. She bit my shoulder and grunted approval. I could have cum, I wanted to desperately, but held off longer. Held off. Held off until I thought I would die.

We exploded. The only way to describe it. Exploded into each other.

I had pulled out at the last second, regretfully. I came on her pubes and belly. She continued to gently massage my cock in the cum that was warm on her skin. Then I slipped back inside her. Her body now gyrating under mine.

I must have dozed off in her arms, our sweaty bodies tangled in the sheets.

We dressed, or at least tried to between kisses and laughter. Just touching, marveling how our fingers felt against each other’s sweaty skin. Then she grew serious and we held hands. “You know, this won’t happen again, right?”

She was right… for all of nine days.

I swore to never do more than babysit for the Mitchells ever again. I think Marie swore off at about the same time. Not my business.

Could I forgive and forget what had happened with Marie when my dad left? Could I forget the pain? No, but maybe I could get past it. But more importantly, I could learn how to forgive…

We became, well… “Fuck buddies”.

 



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