Chapter 9
"I AM SO CLOSE! I AM SO FUCKING CLOSE!" she screamed.
Christopher could tell that his tongue was not going to be long enough to caress the mouth of her womb.
Christopher Adamms pulled his tongue all the way out of her cunt hole. He moved his right forefinger to the very top of her slash. He touched her clitoral foreskin.
The tall blonde hunk of beefcake then peeled the elk's fleshy sheath upward very delicately, as if he were peeling an eyelid upward. He bared the love button.
The handsome and muscular writer rendered her love button completely naked and vulnerable to his oral caress.
The good-looking sex journalist then moved his mouth very close to her little man in the boat. He puckered his lips and blew cool air onto her clit. This caress alone, as indirect as it was, was practically enough to make her pop her rocks spectacularly.
Christopher sensed this, so he stopped blowing on her clit.
Instead he allowed his tongue to flick out of his mouth. He touched her clit for the first time. Christopher allowed the tip of his tongue to make direct contact with Annette's love button as lightly as he could, and he pulled his tongue away the instant that contact was made.
Christopher sought, and he found, the most subtle possible clitoral caress. He knew that he did not have to touch that fiery bulb very hard. After all, it WAS the most sensitive part of her body.
The little girl's loins snapped upward as he touched the magic spot for the first time, and Christopher had to jerk upward with his head and shoulders to avoid being smacked in the nose with her practically bald black mound.
Christopher Adamms knew that Annette could feel a lightning bolt of raw sexual energy ripping through her body as he touched that magic clitoral spot.
Annette could tell that the orgasm Christopher was going to give her was going to be mind-boggling in intensity.
The little black girl knew that Christopher Adamms was going to give her one of the most intense comes of her life.
Annette could feel herself hovering at the edge of her bliss. She was teetering at the edge of her sexual cliff, yearning to plummet and spiral downward, downward, into the bottomless abyss, the blackness of her womanly ecstasy.
Christopher began to dab the tip of his tongue at Annette's clit, always pulling the tip of his taster away from the magic spot before the explosions in Annette's cunt had an opportunity to start-before Annette's sexual pussy pleasure had an opportunity to become fully orgasmic in nature.
Christopher Adamms heard her moans becoming increasingly desperate.
"OH! OH! OH! OH! OH! OH! OH! OH! OH! OH!" she cried.
He could feel her shivering violently inside her skin.
"PLEASE!"
"Please what?"
"Please make me come!"
"Okay."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," she said.
Christopher placed the tip of his tongue on her clit once again and this time he kept it there. He kept the tip of his tongue perfectly still on her clit for a moment or two. These moments lasted a very long time to Annette.
"AARRGGHH!" the little black girl said with frustration.
The man then began to alternate the pressure he was applying to her clit, alternating from gingerly to firm and then back to gentle again. Annette was tossing her head from side to side wildly. Her tits were heaving up and down on her chest. She wanted to squeeze hard at Christopher's ears with the insides of her finely-tapered thighs.
Annette could feel her sense of time being all but obliterated by the intensity of her sensations.
Annette's chubby little toes were clutching and gathering at the bedspread beneath her feet. Her feet were on the bed on either side of Christopher's huge chest. She was touching him with her ankle bones.
Christopher then began to roll her clit around in a slow sensuous circle with the tip of his tongue.
Christopher Adamms started out rolling her little man in the boat in slow and delicate circles.
The tall blonde hunk of beefcake steadily increased both the tempo and the pressure of his tongue's movements as he went along.
The handsome and muscular writer did not have to do this for very long before all hell broke loose in between the little black girl's fine, slender legs.
Annette could feel her pussy flesh starting to crawl around in between her legs as if it had suddenly developed a mind of its own.
She could feel her love button starting to spasm. She could feel contractions, sexual contractions, both inside and outside her poontang. She could feel convulsions ripping from her cervix right up into her uterus. The little girl's facial features were contorting so severely that she did not even look very much like herself anymore.
The little girl could feel the explosions of ecstasy starting, naturally enough, at the focal point of her desire. The atomic bombs going off in her pussy had her clitoris as ground zero. She could feel the pleasure spreading outward from there in ever-mounting concentric circles. She could tell that the pleasure was going to spread throughout her body in this manner, until both her upper and lower torsos were affected by the joy, until all of her sexually aroused nerve-endings were going berserk with her orgasmic pleasure, until her body was enveloped by her physical enjoyment. The little girl could feel the pleasure rushing up her spine toward her head. The pleasure burned its way right into the gray matter of her reeling brain-and her sense of time no longer existed. Annette could tell that it was going to seem as if her orgasm were going on forever. The little girl could feel the whole room spinning. She could no longer feel the bed touching her. She felt as if she had become nothing but one gigantic cunt-one gigantic pussy with a nervous-system attached to it. She felt that Christopher Adamms on the other hand had been transformed into one huge tongue and a humongous set of kissing lips. She could feel her sense of reality leaving her Annette was no longer capable of rational thought. She had no sense of space. She was only vaguely aware of where she was. Annette felt as if she were levitating, as she had seen a magician make a woman do on stage once when she was in grammar school. Annette felt as if she were astral-projecting, like she heard the Hindus did after long stints of meditation. Annette had the strange yet wonderful feeling that her physical self and her spiritual self were parting. While Annette's body remained on the bed, her spirit was spiraling upward toward the ceiling of her studio apartment. Annette felt as if she could feel the earth spinning on its axis, and the truly bizarre thing was that she felt as if she were spiraling in precisely the opposite direction. She was berserk with her physical enjoyment. Her screams of pleasure were so high in pitch that human ears could no longer pick them up properly. Only a stray dog that might have been wandering around her Brooklyn apartment building could have heard Annette's exclamation of pleasure in its entirety.
Then she began to scream more rationally. She screamed, "COMING! OHHHHHHHH! COMING! COMING SO FUCKING HARD! OHHHHHHHH! IT FEELS SO GOOD! CHRISTOPHER! CHRISTOPHER! YOU ARE MAKING IT FEEL SO GOOD! YOU ARE MAKING IT FEEL SO MOTHERFUCKING GOOD! I CAN'T STOP! I CAN'T STOP! I CAN'T STOP COMING! DON'TLET ME STOP COMING! CHRISTOPHER! CHRISTOPHER CHRISTOPHER!
OHHHHHHHH! I WANT TO COME! I WANT TO COME-FOREVER!"
At the very instant that Annette's come began
Christopher could feel a little squirt of liquid on her lower lip.
There had been a time, when Christopher Adamms was just a teenager, when he might have thought that this was piss striking his lower lip-that Annette had lost control of her bladder because of her convulsive pleasure.
Now he was older, however, and Christopher Adamms had eaten many cunts. He knew that this little squirt was not piss at all. He knew that the little squirt, as a matter-of-fact, had nothing to do with the little girl's bladder.
The tall blonde hunk of beefcake knew that this was her feminine ejaculation. The handsome and muscular writer knew that this was proof of her orgasm's authenticity. The handsome and muscular writer knew that her come was real. Of course, it would never have occurred to Christopher in a million years that Annette would or could adequately fake a come. Nobody was that good of an actress.
Christopher stopped rolling her clit in little circles and began to flick the tip of his tongue back and forth across the fiery bulb lightly and quickly.
Once again, Christopher steadily increased both the tempo and the pressure of his tongue tip's movements, this time until he was lapping at her cunt as hard and fast as he could. He pressed the little girl's little man in the boat almost flat against the base of Annette's pubic bone, and he worked his tongue back and forth across it as hard and fast as he could.
Just when Annette for to the point where she thought the intensity of her orgasmic spasms were bound to start diminishing in their intensity, Christopher Adamms did something that she did not expect-something that she would not have anticipated in a million years.
He wrapped his lips around her clit-along with its surrounding tissues-and he began to suck at the bulb.
Christopher Adamms kept the tip of his tongue busy at all times so that he was licking and sucking at Annette's little man in the boat together.
The little girl could feel fresh waves of pleasure roaring through her brain, and again she screamed very loudly in a shrill shriek.
Then her come was over.
All of her muscles relaxed.
The little girl caught her breath.
Annette's sweat began to cool.
Christopher Adamms pulled his lips and his tongue off of her little man in the boat the second that her come was through. The tall blonde hunk of beefcake was smart. The handsome and muscular writer was sexually experienced enough to know that the fiery bulb was too sensitive to even be touched during those precious first few moments following her orgasm.
There was a part of Annette that felt as if she were relaxed for the very first time. She could feel the ecstasy of her orgasm being replaced by the warmth and contentment of her post-climactic afterglow.
Her body jerked a couple of times as a couple of post-orgasmic spasms shot up and down the entire length of her spine.
The wet spot on the bedspread beneath Annette's ass was larger than ever. It was now made up of a combination of fluids. Annette's natural lubrication, of course, and Christopher Adamms' spittle.
The entire studio apartment reeked of Annette's cunt.