The next evening, the soft knock at my door was unmistakable. I knew it was Jenny before I even peeked through the peephole. She looked up at me with those emerald eyes, her hair in a messy bun and her nighty slightly askew, as if she had just got up from bed. "Mr. George," she said with a small smile, "can I come in again?"

I stepped aside, letting the warmth of my apartment envelop her as she entered. Her eyes searched the room before landing on the couch, the scene of our previous encounter etched in both of our minds. She sat down with a sigh, her legs curling up underneath her. "You know, I've been thinking," she began, her voice a gentle purr. "Last night was... intense. But I felt like we didn't really get to know each other."

Her words hung in the air, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. "What do you mean, Jenny?"

Her smile grew mischievous as she leaned closer, her hand reaching out to trace a line along my arm. "I mean," she whispered, "that I want to know what makes you tick, what you like, what gets you off."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing with the implications of her words. "Jenny," I began, trying to maintain my composure, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Her grin was knowing, and she leaned back into the couch, her legs still spread wide. "Oh, I want to, George," she assured me, her eyes glinting with mischief. "But let's take this slow."

"So, George," Jenny began, a playful glint in her eye as she sat cross-legged on my couch, the fabric of her nighty hugging the curve of her thighs. "What was your favorite part of last night?"

Her question hung in the air, thick with innuendo, as I took a tentative sip of my whiskey. The memory of her foot on my face, her toes stroking my cock, was still fresh in my mind. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and cleared my throat. "Well, Jenny," I said, trying to maintain my composure, "it was all quite... unexpected."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "But you liked it, didn't you?" she prodded, her voice a sweet caress that seemed to wrap around my cock, which began to stir at the thought of her delicate feet on me again. "I mean, you came so hard, it was all over my foot."

The bluntness of her words was both jolting and incredibly arousing. I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my spine as I met her gaze. "Jenny," I began, my voice thick with desire, "I've never..."

"Come on, George," she interrupted with a wink. "You can tell me. It's not like it's the first time you've done something dirty."

Her words cut through my thoughts like a knife, and I felt a sudden urge to confess. "Jenny," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "you're right. Last night was... intense. But to be honest, my marriage was mostly vanilla. Missionary was the spiciest we ever got."

Jenny's smile grew wider, and she leaned in closer, her hand reaching for my glass. "Well, then," she said, taking a sip of my whiskey, "it's time to add some flavor to your life."

Her question lingered in the air, a silent challenge that I could not ignore. "Jenny," I began, my voice tight with the weight of the unspoken truth. "You know that's not... appropriate."

Her eyes searched mine, a hint of understanding in their depths. "Oh, I know," she said, her voice a soft purr. "But I also know how lonely it can get for you here. And I've noticed how you look at me."

The room grew quiet, the air thick with unspoken desires. "You've been watching me," I admitted, feeling the weight of my words.

Jenny took another sip of my whiskey, her eyes never leaving mine. "I've noticed," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "You've got a bit of a voyeur streak, don't you, Mr. George?"

My cheeks grew warm, and I took the glass from her hand, taking a deep swig to steady my nerves. "It's not like that," I protested weakly.

"Oh, I know it's not," Jenny said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "But tell me, George," she leaned in closer, her voice a sweet caress, "so you never went down on your wife?"

The question was a surprise, a sudden turn in our conversation that left me speechless. I stumbled over my words, trying to find the right response. "Well, of course I did," I finally managed to say, my voice gruff. "But it's been a long time."

Jenny leaned back, her smile widening. "How long, George?"

I took another sip of whiskey, buying myself some time. "Too long," I murmured, the truth heavy on my tongue.

Her eyes searched mine, curiosity piqued. "Tell me, George," she said, her voice a seductive whisper, "what do you think of when you hear us?"

I couldn't lie. The images that filled my mind were as vivid as if they were playing out in front of me. "I imagine... I imagine what you might look like," I admitted, my voice thick with desire. "How it feels when he's inside you."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer, her hand sliding up my thigh. "Oh, you will never know, but how did it feel for you when you were inside someone, George?" she asked, her voice a silky caress.

My heart skipped a beat, the question hitting closer to home than I cared to admit. "It's been a while," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But I remember it's... intense."

Jenny's grin grew wicked, her hand sliding closer to my cock. "Intense?" she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's one word for it. But I'm sure you can be more descriptive than that."

Her question hung in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. She leaned back into the couch, her legs falling open slightly. Her hand slid up my thigh, her fingers tracing the outline of my cock through the fabric. "How about when you're licking my pussy, George?" she whispered, her eyes never leaving mine. "How does that taste?"

I felt a rush of heat to my face, the embarrassment and arousal warring for dominance. "It tastes... it tastes like heaven," I confessed, the words tumbling from my mouth before I could stop them. "It's sweet and salty, and it's all I can think about."

Jenny's smile grew wider, and she leaned back into the couch, her hand still stroking my cheek. "I knew it," she murmured, her voice low and seductive. "And you know what's even better?"

Her question hung in the air, a delicious morsel that I was desperate to devour. I met her gaze, my eyes searching hers for the answer. "What?" I managed to croak out, my voice a hoarse whisper.

"You know," she said, her voice a purr, "my boyfriend's not always around. Sometimes I get... well, you know, lonely."

The implication in her words was as clear as a bell, and my heart skipped a beat. "What are you suggesting?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Jenny's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Well," she began, her hand sliding down to her bare pussy, "sometimes when my boyfriend's not around, I get a little... antsy. And I thought maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't mind if I used your mouth to take the edge off."

Her words sent a bolt of excitement through me. I had never been the object of such raw desire before, and the thought of her using me for her own pleasure was a heady one. "I-I wouldn't mind," I stammered, the words catching in my throat.

Jenny's eyes searched mine, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. "Good," she said, her voice a sweet symphony of satisfaction. "Because I've got a feeling you'll be very good at it."

With a graceful motion, she slipped off the couch, her bare feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. "Lie down," she instructed, gesturing to the rug beneath us. "I want to show you something new."

I did as I was told, my knees giving way as I lowered myself onto the floor. The plush carpet felt cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat building in my groin. Jenny shed her panties again and hovered over me, her eyes gleaming with a hunger that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She was like a predator eyeing its prey, and I was more than willing to submit.

"You've never had a woman sit on your face before, have you?" she asked, her voice a sultry purr that sent shivers down my spine.

I couldn't believe the words that had just left her mouth. This was a new level of intimacy that I had never dared to dream of, let alone experience. I felt my face flush with a mix of excitement and apprehension. "No, I haven't," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

Jenny's grin grew wider, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, then," she said, her voice a seductive purr, "today's your lucky day."

Before I could react, she straddled my chest, her thighs pressing against my shoulders, the warmth of her sex just above my face. She was so close that I could feel her heat, smell her arousal. My heart raced, my cock pulsing with anticipation as she positioned herself above me.

"Tell me what you see," Jenny whispered, her voice a siren's call that I could not resist.

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts amidst the fog of desire that clouded my mind. "I see your pussy," I began, the words feeling strange yet somehow liberating as they left my lips. "It's so wet, so pink, just begging to be tasted."

Jenny smirked, leaning back slightly so that her weight shifted, the fabric of her nighty brushing against my face. "But remember, George," she said, her voice a sweet symphony of dominance, "today is not about tasting."

Her words sent a jolt of disappointment through me, but the excitement remained, the anticipation of her using me to satisfy her desires. I nodded, my eyes never leaving hers as she adjusted herself above me, the fabric of her nighty now nestled between her thighs. Her pussy hovered just above my mouth, the scent of her arousal a heady perfume that made me ache to dive in.

Jenny's eyes searched mine, looking for any sign of hesitation. When she found none, she nodded, her smile turning predatory. "Good," she said, her voice low and sultry. "Now, remember, tap out if you need to breathe. I don't want you passing out on me."

Her words sent a shiver down my spine, but I nodded, eager to please her. She leaned back, her weight pressing down on me, and I could feel the fabric of her nighty, warm and damp with her arousal, brush against my nose. It was an oddly erotic sensation, one that I knew I'd remember for the rest of my life.

Jenny's legs parted wider, and she pulled the hem of her nighty up to expose her bare pussy. It was a sight that made my heart race, a vision that could make a saint question his vows. Her skin was a soft pink, glistening with her juices, and the scent of her filled the room. It was intoxicating, a heady aroma that made my mouth water and my cock throb with need.

With a wicked smile, she lowered herself onto my face, the warmth and wetness of her core enveloping me. I could feel the heat of her sex, the softness of her folds as they parted against my nose and mouth. Her thighs tightened around my head, trapping me in a prison of passion and need. Each breath I took was filled with the sweet scent of her desire, and it was all I could do not to dive in immediately.

Jenny began to rock her hips, a slow, sensual motion that had me desperately seeking out her clit. Her moans grew louder, and she leaned back, placing her hands on the armrests of the couch for balance.

"Mmm, that's it," she whispered, her voice thick with pleasure. "You like being smothered by a pussy that's not yours, don't you, George?" Her words were a tease, a knowing taunt that sent a shiver down my spine. "It's like a delicious dessert you know you can't have, but you want to lick up every drop, anyway."

But as my mouth watered for her, my hand strayed to my cock, desperate for relief. It was a reflex, a silent plea for some semblance of control amidst this whirlwind of desire. However, Jenny was one step ahead of me. She noticed the movement, her eyes narrowing in the dim light of the room. With surprising strength, she slapped my hand away, and before I could react, she grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head with a surprisingly firm grip.

"Don’t be selfish," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that sent a shiver down my spine. "You're here to serve me, not yourself." Her eyes bore into mine, and I could see the fire in them, a fiery passion that was both thrilling and terrifying. It was a look that demanded obedience, a look that told me she was in charge.

Her hips began to rock against my face, the slickness of her pussy smearing across my cheeks as she sought her release. Each movement was more insistent, more demanding, as if she were riding a wave of pleasure that threatened to swamp her. And then, with a guttural grunt, she tensed, her body going rigid above me as her orgasm hit like a bolt of lightning.

The spasms of her climax were like an earthquake, her muscles clenching and releasing in a symphony of sensations that had me gasping for air. My face was buried in her warm, wet folds, the scent of her desire overwhelming. I felt the walls of her pussy pulse against my tongue, her juices flooding my mouth as she came.

As the tremors of her orgasm subsided, Jenny slumped back onto my chest, her breathing ragged. I took the opportunity to tap out, my nose and mouth desperate for a hit of oxygen. She looked down at me with a mix of satisfaction and amusement, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Did you like that, Mr. George?" she asked, her voice a sultry whisper.

I nodded, my cheeks flushed and my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "It was... incredible," I managed to say, my voice thick with lust.

Jenny's smile grew wider, her cheeks still flushed with arousal. "I'm sorry if I was too much," she said, though there was a playful twinkle in her eye that suggested she wasn't sorry at all. "But talking dirty to you, teasing you like that... it just turns me on so much."

Her hand slid down my chest, her fingertips dancing over my stomach before coming to rest on the bulge in my pants. "I bet you liked it too," she said, her voice a silky purr. "I can feel it through your pants, Mr. George."

I nodded again, unable to find the words to express just how much I had enjoyed the experience. The taste of her still lingered on my tongue, a sweetness that seemed to have seeped into my very soul.

Jenny climbed off me, her movements as graceful as a cat's. She stood before me, naked and unashamed, her body flushed with satisfaction. "Remember, George," she said with a wink, "you're not allowed to touch yourself for the next little while."

Her words hung in the air, a delicious promise of what was to come. She picked up her panties from the floor, the damp fabric clinging to her hand like a second skin. She held them out to me, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Keep these," she said, "and think of me."

The scent of her arousal lingered in the air, a potent reminder of our shared secret. With a wink, she pulled her nightgown down, hiding her nakedness once more, and slipped her feet back into her sandals. "I should get back," she said with a sigh, her voice filled with a hint of regret. "But maybe we can do this again, huh?"

Her words sent a thrill through me, a promise of more nights like this one. I nodded, unable to find the voice to respond. Jenny leaned in, pressing a kiss to my cheek that was both sweet and innocent, a stark contrast to the debauchery we had just shared. "Goodnight, Mr. George," she whispered, and with that, she was gone, leaving me with nothing but the echo of her laughter and the memory of her warm, wet pussy on my face.