Finally Cynthia / Slobbering On Cynthia By 11 am

Sitting there with my cum on my face I spent Cynthia’s shower time pondering differences in attitudes these days in women from what I thought they were when I was young and foolish.

Cynthia comes out of the shower and returns the stretching routine enticement in front of the window. I watch and remember our first meeting:

The first time I saw Cynthia she was across the room at an exhibition of my good friends large format photography. She was admiring the work titled: Geese.  The information card next to the photo told the story and it was a beautiful photograph. Whether the title was advisable or not, it was what it was. Cynthia like many were drawn to the picture which conjures the wings of an angel as the natural sunlight coming through the barn door plays off the goose down creating a diffuse otherworldly glow.  But my eyes were drawn to another vision.  She was wearing a simple print dress accented with a bold splash of color on a scarf mantled loosely about her delicate neckline. The entire effect was to make the most of the spectacular red hair framing the sensual lips, emerald eyes, and delicate visage. By the way the fabric clung to her frame there was evidence of a delicious  bounty of feminine curves on her lithe frame. This was a woman of presence.

Now with her present, naked, and stretching in front of me in full daylight I rise, kneel before her and look up past perfect white expanse of sinewy feminine flesh. Past taut tummy and small round pale nippled breasts and gaze again into those green cat eyes. Her legs already parted for balance I lead with my nose to part her already moist inwardly folded pussy lips and follow with a salvo of perhaps inappropriately eager tonguing. I am positively slobbering between her thighs but she raises me up with a gentle pull of my hair and says, “No time for that now, We have to prepare for our dinner party tonight.”

Well I will not be tending bar as I was on our first meeting at least:

Since I was tending bar for this occasion I could not go and introduce myself. I was working at the largess of my oldest and best friend, the large format photographer whose work was being featured at this showing. We had been friends since grade school. When I was at the top of my game I had been of assistance to his struggling career, now he was returning the service. Of course as old friends I don’t think either of us saw it as favors, rather an opportunity to maintain our lifetime friendship. I wasn’t much of a bartender, but gallery crowds tend to be of the wine and simple mixed drink mind so I was passing that night.

Bar traffic was low so this also gave me plenty of time to drink in Cynthia as she flowed about the room. Here was a woman that was comfortable with herself. You could see it in her movements and interactions with the others. Her voice and laughter were intoxicating when she lingered near enough to my station to be heard. Occasionally I was caught watching her with more intensity than the hired help ought to but when our eyes met and held she began walking towards the bar for the first time. Well I could not take my eyes off of her as she slowly crossed the room towards me. Best visuals for me in a long, long, long time.

We are having dinner with Fred and Helen mutual friends of ours. Having mutual friends that knew both of us before we knew each other was a new experience for me. For once their was no question of acceptance of another into a group because of a sexual coupling. Besides Cynthia has preparation plans of her own and leads me into bathroom for a very personal shaving. I ask if she is planning on me as part of the menu. “We will see” is Cynthia’s cryptic response.

I knew that look and obfuscation from previous interactions:

Cynthia looked me up and down and fixed her gaze on me with puckish eyes, smiled, and ordered some incomprehensible cocktail which I had never heard of. The confused look on my face must have been the giveaway, yet she didn’t torment me long.  She then gave me a smile and laughed. ”Not much of a bartender, are you?” From her countenance I knew she was playing with me. Mercifully Cynthia let me off the hook and ordered a simple vodka and was kind enough to stay at the bar so I could watch her look up at me with colorfully adorned eyelids and take a sip. “Mmmm” she said with a purr as her lips slowly left the glass and her tongue glided across both lips and rim seductively. I thought she took one last peek to see if I was watching as she walked away. I was treated to the sheer poetry of the most perfect derriere sheathed in the light fabric of her dress which accented the subtle movement underneath. I was snapped back to reality by the order of a “white wine please.”

I turned smiling having recognized Helen’s voice, the photographer’s wife and dear friend as well. “So what did you think of my friend Cynthia”, she asked?

Considering Cynthia was in my bathroom, my dick in her hand, my shaving paraphernalia being used by her on my own very personal genitalia, I think the definitive answer to that question has been settled.

Posted on January 3, 2014, in adult, Blogging, erotic, relationships, serial, Snarky and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. I do need Cynthia’s phone number. I need tips on finding a good man that will slobber on me. ;) Thank you once again for an enjoyable read.

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