I followed Janice down the hallway of her rented, two-bedroom modular home. That's what it's called when you or someone you know, lives in one. Trailer is so white trash.

Her slender figure, accentuated by the work clothes she still wore, was enough to elevate my heart rate a little. She was slightly taller than my five-foot-eight frame, but that just afforded me more leg. Wearing a standard pair of her black pantyhose and a skirt that only stretched a third of the way down her thigh, I was on autopilot to ecstasy island.

Pausing, on the threshold of the bedroom, she commenced to slowly raising her left foot up her right calf. Through the moderately opaque hosiery, I could see Janice's muscles tighten under the strain of her body weight. Carving and sculpting, my eyes traced from the back of her knee, down the elongated oval of her toned leg, to the strong, yet delicate ankle. She spread the toes on her left foot as she continued to draw me in with its motion, up and down.

I became flush from anticipation and the fact that Janice knew my weakness for her legs. Without my ever having confessed this tidbit, she had adeptly noticed my fondness. I did prefer when she fancied wearing leggings of some sort, but beggars can't be choosers and quite frankly, I was always chasing the orgasm. My orgasm.

While lost in my trance, I failed to notice Janice remove the elastic hair tie, freeing her ponytail. She dropped her foot for balance so that she could shake her head, letting her hair loose and free. The dirty brown, shoulder length locks were thin and straight. An obscure clue to the life Janice had led.

Crossing the threshold, she threw the hair elastic into a bowl of other elastics, that lived on her dresser. Quickly turning her attention to unbuttoning her blouse.

Following her cue, I began to undress as well. Only I chose to take my blue jeans off first. The bulging pressure from my groin was becoming unbearable.

Once I dropped my pants, I removed my socks and t-shirt, leaving me standing in my boxer shorts. My cock was pointing at Janice like I was water dowsing for her pussy.

I took a moment to check in on Janice's progress. Much to my delight, she stood waiting for me. She hadn't removed her pantyhose, yet. But that was all she had left on. Again, asserting her knowledge, of my almost fetish level affection, that is to her advantage.

Looking into her eyes and about her facial features, I could see the road map of a tortured soul. She was 27, going on 52. Visually anyway.

Dark and sunken eyes. They were brown, almost black. The left one was slightly off center. To the right, toward her nose. There was also a three inch scar, along the outer edge of her left orbital bone.

Not one for applying make-up, tonight was no different. She didn't smile often, either. At least, not a smile that would show her teeth. She had never learned proper hygiene as a child. Growing up, she got into trouble with alcohol and drug use. Brushing her teeth was never the priority it should have been. Not until she cleaned up and was awakened to many everyday grooming tasks. Among other awakenings.

Her tits were pretty awesome. A good handful, the each of them. Her nipples were hard from arousal.

Tonight she did smile at me. A sexy, comfortable, in the moment, teeth-baring smile. They were a little crooked, stained from coffee and nicotine, but they looked worse in Janice's mind.

I had looked long enough. I needed to touch and feel, taste and smell. Taking a step forward, I cupped her left breast in my hand. Gently squeezing and circling her nipple with my thumb.

With my other hand, I grabbed a handful of her ass and drew her in close. The smoothness of the pantyhose on my hand was intoxicating. Squeezing and rubbing her butt, gained moaning approval from Janice. Even a tiny giggle as she wrapped her arms around the back of my neck. Making soft contact with my neck, as her arms floated by, making my skin tingle.

Our lips touched, mouths open. My tongue leisurely entered her inviting mouth. Breathing deeper with a quickened pulse, I could make out the faint aroma of perfume, applied many hours ago, mixed with a bit of sweat. I could taste the coffee on her breath, from the A.A. meeting we had just come from.

All of that faded into the back of my mind as I concentrated on the darting and probing of her tongue in my mouth. The thrust and parrying dance, never choreographed, but familiar to us.

My one hand had found its way from Janice's behind to her inner thigh. The other, squeezing harder on her tit, as the intensity built.

We took brief gasps of air, all the while our tongues sliding along one another's. Tilting our heads to either side with the fervor of our desire.

Continuing to move my hand up her thigh, I could sense the humidity growing, the closer to her pussy I got. Today was warm enough. Clammy skin from the heat of the day was one thing. But now in complete wetness, my hand had reached its destination.

Janice twitched from being startled by my sudden grip on her womanhood. I stroked my finger along the folds of her opening. Through her lingerie, I could feel her getting wetter.

I had had about enough build up. My cock and balls were going to explode if I didn't get some relief.

Placing one hand on either side of Janice's hips and in one motion, I picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. She landed with a bounce and began to push down her pantyhose.

I let my boxers fall to the ground. Then I gave them a kick against the wall.

With one leg free, Janice finished removing her hose and playfully threw them at me. Catching them, I held them up to my nose and inhaled. The smell of wanting sex, permeated.

Throwing the black, moderately opaque hosiery into the corner of the room, I then mounted the bed.

Janice lay in a vulnerable state. On her back with head on her pillow, she opened her knee bent legs, to reveal her pink and swollen pussy.

Crawling like a lion, with purpose and poise, I hovered over Janice. Leaning in, to smell her scent, kissing the nape of her neck.

The fingertips on one of her hands scratched softly at my chest. While her other fingers explored my hair. She was nibbling on my earlobe and lapping it with her tongue.

I took my cock, in hand, and directed the shaft through the folds of her snatch. Slowly entering, with little resistance. I felt the warmth of being inside Janice. Letting out a small moan and sigh, I pulled my hips back gradually until the tip of my dick was all that was left inside. After a short delay, I plunged a little faster and a little harder into Janice. This time, it was her who let out a small moan and sigh.

Rising to my knees and placing my hands on her hips, I pushed and pulled her in rhythm with my thrusting. The tempo increased with each drive.

She wrapped her legs around my torso. Into a scissor leg lock. I loved the way her smooth and soft legs felt on my naked skin. The way they would tense with anticipation. Squeezing me, ever so gently, to start.

It was hard to wait for her. I could tell when she was ready to orgasm, by the ferocity of her leg scissors. She was getting close.

I evened the pacing. Quick, shallow pokes. Her moans turned to grunts. I was breathing heavy myself. I could sense the glow on my forehead as a bead of sweat dripped down my cheek and then, neck.

Her grunts were becoming more staccato as her body strained and tightened for an impending explosion.

My huffing and puffing, a metronome akin to my harmonious, pumping thrusts.

Finally, throbbing from the friction and pulsing emotion, the numb tingling sensation caused shivers throughout my body. I shot cum in waves. Filling Janice from within.

At the same time, I could feel Janice release. Her head bridged backward. Her face, contorted, but satisfied.

I rolled to the right of Janice and laid on my back. Still breathing heavy, but glowing from the bliss of my conquest. She remained where I left her. Gasping for air and trembling with gratification.

Once I caught my breath, I searched the nightstand for the pack of cigarettes I knew Janice kept there.

"Hey, grab me one too," Janice's voice was soft but demanding.

I found the smokes quick enough.

"Where's your lighter?" I asked.

"In the pack."

I looked inside the pack and sure enough, there was the lighter. Not being a regular smoker, it's tricks like these that expose my ignorance for the addiction. I only smoke other people's cigarettes and only when I'm in the mood.

Being a gentleman, I lit both smokes at the same time, in my mouth, then handed one over to Janice. I'm sure the chivalry was lost on her, but I'm not much of a chivalrous man.

I took a long, hard pull on the dart. Holding the smoke for a second, then blowing a plume that filled the airspace above the bed. My head was buzzing wildly, my body grew numb, my dick was tingling, and the hair on my legs stood on end. Life could be grand. This was one of those moments. So grand, it made the other bullshit disappear.

Janice broke my concentration when she began to tenderly scratch my stomach. She loved my tightly crafted abs and chest. Honorable mention to my ass.

A big part of my recovery has been a healthy diet and exercise. It makes a huge mental difference and the side effect of looking and feeling great is a tremendous bonus.

***

The depths from which I have crawled were immense. I was the guitarist and song co-writer in a rock band. We attained modest success for a couple of years. Nothing international, but we were local radio darlings. We worked hard and I partied harder. That was the problem. I loved me some sex, drugs, and rock n' roll. Literally.

I was able to maintain the facade for a while, but eventually it all came to a crashing halt. Too hung-over to do media obligations, too drunk to perform well, and too preoccupied with tagging slutty groupies.

The band was suffering because of me. They called my sister. Bought me a plane ticket and shipped me home. In the middle of a tour. That was hard to swallow.

My problems began when I didn't have the time to properly grieve the death of my parents. They were killed in a traffic accident, just as the band and I were going into the studio for the first time, to record a full-length album.

It was a good thing that all the songs were written and arranged, going in. I was a mess and could barely finish my parts.

Long story short, we recorded our first album and toured for six months with moderate success. One of our songs got some radio play.

We came off the road and right back into the studio. Recorded and released our second album and began to tour in support of it. This time we were well received both critically and with a swell of new fans.

This tour stretched for eighteen months. By the end, I was a functioning alcoholic, depressed and exhausted. I think I slept for two straight days at the end.

Somehow I was able to record our third album, but five weeks into the new tour, I got the news.

"We're replacing you."

Indeed, they did.

The record label found a hot, young ax slinger. It took him no time to learn my chops. The problem was that he couldn't write a song to save his life. The band's fourth album and subsequent tour were glorious failures. They were dropped by the record label.

In the meantime, my sister, Laura, took me into her house and fought for me, when I was incapable, making sure I kept getting my royalty cheques. Comforting and feeding me through the tough days and nights of withdrawal.

I was her only family left. She was going to see me back to health if it killed her. Luckily it didn't come to that, but the effort was massive.

Becoming an Alcoholics Anonymous member was non-negotiable with my sister. I had put up a meager rebellion, but she won in the end. It was during an open meeting one night that I met Janice. So, I did get some extra benefits with my attendance.

***

Just as she was finishing her cigarette, Janice lowered her hand to grip my flaccid dick. Extinguishing her butt while beginning to gently stroke my cock. She moved even lower to juggle my balls between her fingers. I was getting hard.

"Ready to go again?" She asked rhetorically.

"Yeah. Give a minute." I still had a pull left in my smoke and I wanted to enjoy the head buzz for a minute more.

As I was butting out, Janice moved herself down the bed. Her hand, back to stroking my increasingly harder cock.

She bent over to kiss the bottom of my shaft, causing a surge of blood to engorge me further. Starting at the base of my shaft, she licked the bottom of my cock like an ice cream cone, I squirmed with pleasure. Her tongue circled the rim of my penis head a couple of times before she sucked my girth into her mouth. Her tongue, massaging my shaft. Then, pulling her head up and with a slurping noise when my cock broke free of her lips, she began to lick the bottom of my shaft again. This onslaught of licking and sucking was causing my entire pole to tingle and warm with pre-orgasmic sensations. When she started fondling my balls with her fingers, again, I was approaching climax.

Janice was very good at handling a man's junk. Literally and figuratively. As well versed as her carnal knowledge was, she also had a heart of gold, that was taken advantage of more times than not.

I had to wonder if she pleasured her husband with such a balance of reckless love. At the beginning of their courtship, I had no doubt. But after their marriage. When his true monster emerged. Did she use the same care and attention or was she nothing more than a pin cushion to satisfy his urges?

She was mine for the time being. Her actions spoke louder than any words. She was with me body and soul. In the moment, as she always was.

***

Janice was raised, an only child, by functioning alcoholics. Basically, she grew up without any parental guidance. She tried to stay in line because the punishment her father would dole out, otherwise, was a good deterrent.

She had obvious learning disabilities. Accompanied by a non-diagnosis of A.D.D. and very inattentive parents, her grades suffered as did her attitude.

When she was 16, her dad died of a heart attack. Struggling to get through the eleventh grade, she decided to drop out of school, to get a job and help pay the bills. With no objections from her detached mother, Janice started working as a waitress at the local greasy spoon.

Depressed, lonely, and earning minimum wage, she now understood her mother's affinity for cocktails. Janice was a vodka hound. Drank it when she could, but the buzz was the objective, not the type of drink.

One evening, soon after Janice had turned 17, she and her mother were frequenting their usual watering hole. It was their usual because they didn't care that Janice's I.D. was fake.

Her mother had been seeing a man for a few weeks and he showed up that night, with a friend. As it turns out, Janice later discovered, that this was a planned set up on behalf of her mother.

Wanting to help her daughter find a boyfriend wasn't what was wrong with the gesture, though. It was that she, her boyfriend and his friend, Mark, were all 36.

Janice was of course just 17. She thought Mark, seemed like a nice enough man. And the thought of having someone to take care of her, for the first time, was too hypnotizing.

After closing out the pub that night, the group went back to the cozy apartment Janice and her mom co-rented. Janice's mom and boyfriend, quickly disappeared into her bedroom and slammed the door shut. That left Janice and Mark, alone together, on the living room sofa.

Drunk as they were, Janice was glad that this wasn't going to be her first time. She dated boys in school and had sex with two of them. She wasn't very experienced, but she knew a little about what to expect.

Looking into Mark's eyes, she knew he would fuck her that night, whether she consented or not. Janice knew she consented as soon as she agreed to have him accompany her home.

He was sloppy and aggressive. It could have been the alcohol, his level of arousal, or his regular thing. Either way, Janice let him take charge and she held on for the ride.

After drooling in her mouth and smearing her chin and neck with his wet tongue, Mark put his hand up her shirt. To his surprise, she wore no bra. Her young, firm tits didn't need the support and it felt good to go natural. He squeezed and pinched her vibrant breast until it began to bruise. The struggling and mild protests, mustered against the pain of his grip, were met with ignorance.

"You like it, don't tease me like that, or don't be a downer," were all phrases used by Mark that night. And many subsequent nights to follow. You see, Mark became Janice's husband.

***

My breathing was deepening. I stood on the precipice, overlooking a great orgasm. Familiar with this view, the anticipation was staggering.

Licking and sucking, stroking with a firm grip. Janice was masterful in her grace. When she suddenly stopped.

I opened my eyes, "What?"

With a scowl, she wagged her finger and shook her head at me. Then, straddling my thighs, to look away from me, she took a stance on her hands and knees. Turning her head backward to look at me, she said, "Me too."

I couldn't help but smile. The drip of pussy juice running down her leg was proof of her need.

I gave her ass cheek a little slap.

"All right then," I muttered as I pulled my legs out from under her. Taking a position on my knees, I put one hand on Janice's butt and the other on my cock. Once I had guided my probing stick to her opening, she pushed herself toward me, to accept my length from behind.

She was so eager, that the first few pumps were all her. Forward and back, she rocked. I stood my ground and let her slide up and down my erect member. Eventually, I joined in. My hands guiding her hips, back and forth. My pelvic thrusts, all in tandem.

Her wet heat felt so satisfying. Each punch my cock threw was caught with increasing pleasure. The smacking noise of my thighs on her ass were gaining rhythmic pulse. Her breathing and occasional grunting followed the pattern.

I slapped her ass cheek again.

"Yes," she panted.

I didn't expect that reaction. I had slapped her ass on occasion, in the past, but she had never responded before.

"What was that?" I asked, leading her to think I didn't hear her the first time.

"Yes," she grunted. With more volume this time.

I smacked her this time. Not like the previous slaps, this smack left a red hand print on her pale ass cheek.

"Ugh.." She jolted from the impact. "Again!" she yelled.

Without hesitation, 'Smack!'

She replied with an elongated, "Aaaaaaaaaaah. Fuck." She drew a deep breath and arched her head backward. I could see the roots of her hair growing wet from her exertion.

'Smack!', 'Smack!'

Twice and a little harder yet. Her ass had turned red and wasn't fading. She just grunted and accepted the pain. She hung her head and bit her lower lip. Breathing through just her nose, I could hear her dealing with the rash on her ass, with labored, short, snorts of breath.

My attention had turned to smacking, but the fatigue from the pace I was fucking Janice at, brought me back to the fact that she was about to cascade her juices all over the bedding. The smacking seemed to enhance her experience, greatly.

I immediately pulled out of her pussy.

"No! Whatta doin', asshole? Stick that back in, let's go." Her voice was pressing.

I grabbed a handful of her damp hair and with a slight tug. "You didn't finish what you started earlier."

She knew what I meant and turned around on the bed to face me. I took her hair like I was going to put it into a ponytail. Instead, I took the saturated length and wrapped a loop around the knuckles on my right hand and grabbed hold where the hair met the back of her head.

I pulled on her hair, snapping her head back so that we could make eye contact. Without breaking our stare, I positioned my dick at the entrance of her mouth. Janice opened as wide as she could.

My veined prick was lathered in her juices. I slid the tip of my cock along her receiving tongue. Moving with care, I slowly pushed deeper into her mouth and was soon at the back of her throat. Holding my position, I could feel Janice sucking for air. The constriction around my cock felt like I was being swallowed by a snake. So wonderful that I let a stuttered moan escape.

With a low popping sound, I quickly pulled out, to let Janice take a breath. Her saliva and pussy juices were dripping down her chin. Before her second breath, I thrust my dick back into her throat. She sucked my staff with vigor. Every now and then, having to pause for a coughing fit, between the lack of oxygen and fluid in her mouth, she sputtered and drooled.

I stopped her from moving, by holding her head in place, firmly, with my grip on her hair. She opened her mouth again. Gasping for air and tears falling down her cheeks, she wasn't going to stop until I said so.

Treating her gaping orifice like a swollen pussy, I jabbed at the back of her throat. The suction noises her mouth made when she tried to close her lips around my shaft, were energizing. I was thrusting too hard and fast for her to try to do anything except surrender. The smooth, slippery sensation of her tongue, on my cock, was gratifying.

She closed her eyes, tightly. She was still choking and hauling for air as my assault continued. Sweat and tears burnished her face. The grimaced expression she wore was one of tolerance and punishment.

I hadn't been quite this rough with any of my previous sex partners. I was torturing Janice's face. Her expressions told me that, but I was too close to stop now. A few more thrusts.

That was all it took. My first squirt of cum went half down Janice's throat and half breached her mouth, around my cock. The next shot, I pulled out a little for her. She was able to swallow everything that time. I removed my dick and let her continue to swallow down the slimy juices in her mouth.

Before she could finish wiping her chin, I grabbed her by the waist and twisted her so that she could lay back on a pillow and rest a moment.

She closed her eyes and her face loosened. She rubbed the fluid from her mouth, chin, and neck. Cleaning her hands on the bed sheets.

Taking advantage of her preoccupation, I maneuvered to the foot of the bed and in between Janice's legs.

I began by picking up her right foot. This got her attention.

Opening her eyes and looking at where I was, she smirked and nodded her head, "Take your time, Brando. I'm in no hurry, now."

She knew two things for sure right now. One. It was my turn to pleasure her. Two. She loved that I loved, to take my time with her feet and legs. By journey's end, she was always swollen, moist, and receptive.

***

Things were relatively good between Janice and Mark, at the beginning of their relationship. The abuse had only been verbal, to that point.

He wanted to make it clear that he was the man of the house and traditional family values would be adhered to. In other words, Janice would cook, clean, raise children and make her husband happy. Mark would go to work, do want he wanted, when he wanted, and when necessary, attend to manly chores. Tasks like lawn mowing and snow shoveling. He would have had Janice do the work, but he didn't want the neighbors to think he was the lazy schmuck that he actually was.

If she didn't uphold her end of the bargain, there would be repercussions. He, of course, was judge and jury, with all matters of this concern.

They dated only seven months before Mark proposed. Janice thought she was in love and jumped at the opportunity to get married. Despite the age difference. Her youthful naiveté made her easy prey for a 37-year-old degenerate.

Once they were married, Mark insisted they start having kids. There was no objection from Janice. She was in love. Nothing would have made her happier than to be the mother of Mark's children.

After trying for months to conceive a baby, only to be fraught with failure, a doctor diagnosed Janice with a medical condition that didn't allow her to bear children. She was devastated, as was Mark. This is when things started to really spiral.

Mark was sympathetic in public, but privately he blamed Janice for ruining his life. He couldn't have a child of his own. The traditional nuclear family was now just a dream. Of course, Janice brought up adoption or a surrogate, but the financial realities of barely functioning alcoholics, made either a non-starter. Besides, Mark wanted the baby to be of his seed, with his wife.

This stubborn and selfish viewpoint led to resentment. Mix that with alcohol and a fiery temper and it makes an upsetting cocktail. Mark's resentment seethed and boiled over, every so often.

Often, when he drank.

When it did boil over, he would normally start with verbally berating, Janice. Blaming her for all of his problems. Calling her an unfit wife. An unfit woman. Barren and useless. A waste.

He would customarily work himself into a lather of fury. When words were no longer hurtful enough, he would use his hands or belt or whatever was convenient. Kicking and swinging in a rage, until he couldn't breathe. Until he tired himself out.

Janice didn't know how to respond. How to keep him from erupting. It was all her fault or so she believed. She would cry and apologize profusely. She once asked him if he wanted to divorce her. That was a trigger, that Janice thought wise, to never pull again...

If I had known Janice back then, I might have killed Mark with my own hands.

He left her in a medically induced coma for three days while the swelling in her brain subsided. She had two broken ribs, a broken wrist, many scrapes and bruises, separated shoulder, concussion, and fractured orbital bone. The fracture that left the three inch scar on her face.

Mark fled to Mexico. He thought he had killed Janice. When he left her that night, her pulse was so weak that he didn't feel it. Bloodied and motionless, he was certain she was dead.

The only reason he was ever found was because he got caught smuggling drugs back into America, five years later.

He got in with the wrong crowd in Mexico. Gambling and drinking debts broke him. He was faced with one choice. Smuggle a truckload of cocaine into the U.S. or a bullet to the head...

The border patrol officer, that Mark encountered that day, was a rookie with an eidetic memory. The officer had spent considerable time looking through pictures of wanted people. Regardless of the beard, that Mark had grown, the border patrol officer was confident that Mark was who he thought he was.

Another year-and-a -half passed before there were any legal resolutions for Mark. All told, he was found guilty on a myriad of charges, ranging from assault to possession of narcotics. He was sentenced to a total of 14 years. Less, if he saw parole.

Relieved that Janice was alive, Mark wanted to try and repair their marriage. He realized that he had nothing left, except Janice.

Janice was mortified by such a thought. The scar she saw every time she looked in a mirror. The phantom pain in the bones he broke. She instantly shook with fear in his presence. She would never consider it. She wanted a divorce.

About six months after Mark had been sentenced, Janice rallied her courage and went to see him in prison. She went with that singular purpose of divorce.

Glaring through the Plexiglas barrier between he and Janice, Mark whispered into the phone handle, used to communicate with her, "I will finish you, bitch."

Janice froze. Did anyone hear that? Do they record these conversations? She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"You will die before getting a divorce from me," Mark continued. "You ruined my life, you fucking whore. You disgust me."

Janice tried to keep her composure. She didn't want to cause Mark any more trouble than he already had. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. Tears began to stream down her cheeks.

"Don't test me, Janice. Don't think about it. I will fuck... you up." Mark's stare, more menacing than his words.

Janice hung up the phone handle, stood up and walked out of the penitentiary. Trembling and crying.

She waited for the bus, alone. Feeling numb, what was she supposed to do?

That's when she had her epiphany. She would quit drinking. Move away from her mom's bad influence. Save the money needed to hire a good lawyer. He could make Mark divorce her. She would start over. This time, on her own terms.

As part of her plan, she joined A.A., for the support. It was during an open meeting one night, that she met me.

***

Holding Janice's foot in my hands, caressing her sole with the heel to toe motion of my thumbs. Using my fingers' dexterity and strength, massaging the top of her foot. Her body wiggled as she purred in delight.

Wagging and stretching her toes, I stuck out my tongue, for a taste. Spreading her toes, my taste-buds were preparing for a treat. Choosing her largest toe, my tongue began to explore its underside, as well as the space between the next toe. With a satisfying moan, Janice pushed her foot forward.

Accepting both toes into my mouth, I lingered between them with my tongue, creating a pendulum act. Kneading away at Janice's foot, while sucking and licking her toes, was thrilling.

She covered her boobs with her hands, pinched each nipple with a thumb and finger. Twisting them and moaning. Sounds escaped her at random intervals.

"That feels so good, Bran." Her raspy-ease voice trailed off.

I moved along to kissing the inner half of Janice's foot. The friction heat, from my hand rubbing, warmed my lips. I traced the curve of her arch, then trailed up her ankle.

My hands, sinuously slid along her shin and calf. Her legs were beautiful and strong. Having worked on her feet in every job, she ever held, made sure of that.

Placing her foot on the bed, my attention turned to kissing her bent knee while plying my hands on her calf muscles. Stroking in patterns, soaking in the contrasts between the physical density and visual delicacy of her leg. I was enamored by the softness of her skin. Especially her knee, where my tongue had been frothing.

I slowly bent forward, kissing and lapping at her inner thigh. Soft kisses that tickled and just the tip of my tongue, hardly touching her skin. I was close enough to smell her sex.

She was breathing erratically, pinching her nipples and arched her back with a tortured impression on her face.

"Mmmmm... aaah!" Gasping uncontrollably. She loved the foreplay as much as the orgasm. I swear.

Slipping my shoulder under her bent knee, I pressed my cheek against her thigh and rolled my head against her moist skin. She raised her other leg and hooked it over my other shoulder. My face was heating up from her radiating sexual energy. I blew, gently, into opening of her pussy. The breeze, refreshed her, momentarily. Shivering and grunting, she looked to be approaching the apex of pleasure.

Turning to her neglected thigh, I sucked with a nibble here and there. Gradually, reaching the top. Skipping over her oozing slit, I sucked and nibbled her opposite thigh, again. Her body tensed with frustration.

Eventually, I quit teasing and went in for the finish. Lightly brushing my tongue on one side of her opening and down the other. I rotated in circles, to cries of approval.

I sucked her clit and held it to my lips while my tongue soothed her nerve endings.

Janice removed her hands from her breasts and took hold of either side of my head. Taking a handful of hair in each hand, she pulled my face into her groin. Slipping my tongue into her pussy, she kept me from backing out. I had no choice, but to survey her insides with my probing tongue.

She writhed at the prospect of her orgasm. Grinded my face against her clit. The more intense her experience became, the harder she clutched my hair. As my pain increased, the closer I knew she was to coming.

I was prodding with forceful thrusts of my tongue. It had become an impromptu dick. Janice found it more satisfying for me to keep my tongue static while she used my head as the handle to her human dildo.

Her ferocity was growing with each jab. I thought my jaw might bruise.

Lost in her orgasm, Janice no longer had the strength to control my head. I continued licking her clit as she spewed her nectar on my chin. Convulsions of orgasmic proportions surged through her body.

With a huge sigh, she laid motionless, except for the heaving of her glistening breasts.

I rested a moment, too. Sticky with sweat and sexual juices, but full, from indulgence.

Having to eventually clean up, I made my way the bathroom. Janice waited her turn. The bathroom was too tight for two people, comfortably.

She was waiting in the doorway of her bedroom, when I had finished. Naked still, studying my demeanor.

I gave her a puzzled look.

She smiled, wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me close. Bringing her mouth next to my ear, I could feel the warmth of her breath.

She whispered, "I love you." Not waiting for a response, she strode off toward the bathroom.

I was caught off guard. It didn't occur to me, that Janice may fall in love with me. This was certainly a dilemma. I loved the sex, not Janice.

Crawling into bed quickly and turning my back to Janice's side, I pretended to be fast asleep. I needed time to think. How to respond?

Janice floated back into the bedroom. Gliding across the sheets, she spooned me tight. She kissed my shoulder blade, then rested her head next to the spot.

What would I tell her tomorrow?