Chapter 3 — The Woman Who Loves Sex - Part 1 (3)

When I wake up in the morning, cold air slices against my skin—like someone who’s spent a long night drowning in sexual ecstasy, only briefly slipping into sleep.

Ever since Jenny and I first had sex, we’d naturally started going to love motels. Of course, even then, I kept seeing other women on the side.

Normally, when I get involved with a woman, I stick around for about a year. During that time, I always date exactly three women at once. I was thirty-four that year, working in accounts at the company, and I'd learned that juggling three relationships was the only way to keep things balanced.

After her first sexual experience with me, Jenny had tried masturbating alone a few times—but apparently, it hadn’t been much of a revelation. A few days later, we found ourselves in a heavily tinted car, hidden from prying eyes, talking.

“Jenny, have you ever masturbated?”

“I’ve tried… but I didn’t feel much. I don’t know how to do it right.”

“You’ve reached this age without ever properly jerking off? Jesus.”

I told her to take off her pants. She glanced outside, confirmed no one was around, and obeyed. Her legs were strangely thin for her plump frame. But you can’t hide everything—her thighs around the pussy were nicely thick. Most women with sagging flesh don’t respond well to foreplay, but Jenny? She’d scream like she was suffocating every time I touched her. Maybe that was her real sexual charm.

Though honestly, her screams were so loud at first that I was startled. I don’t know if she even realizes it herself. I told her to take off her panties too. Her face flushed, but she complied without protest. Still clueless about the pleasures of sex—her panties were still white. Once she truly tastes sex, that’ll change.

“How many times have you jerked off?”

“Twice.”

“Where?”

“When I was alone at home.”

“How was it?”

“I don’t know… nothing happened.”

“Did you get wet?”

“Oh… what’s ‘pussy juice’?”

“Come on, we’re alone. Just say it plainly. What’s there to be embarrassed about?”

“Okay… yes. A little.”

“Did you taste it?”

“No… I don’t know what it tastes like.”

“Of course not. The taste of excited wetness is different from just touching yourself. When you’re turned on, the fluid gets thicker. You can tell just by tasting it—whether she wants to admit it or not—how close she is to orgasm.”

I guided her index and middle fingers toward her pussy, but she hesitated, too shy to comply. So I gently ran my own fingers along her slit. Then I lightly rubbed the raised bud between her legs—the clitoris—and her face flushed red.

“It feels… strange.”

“Women who know how to masturbate, who’ve learned to feel pleasure through it—that’s the kind who truly enjoy sex.”

Hot pussy juice kept oozing from her. And her moans grew louder, deeper.

“Mmm… it feels weird. So good…”

A woman twisting her legs, writhing in her seat. (Truthfully, her body wasn’t much to look at, and kissing her was boring. Jenny was exactly that kind of woman—the type who’d be sent off to some countryside husband, bear kids, and be quietly appreciated. And here I was, teaching her how to fuck.)

Even now, months later, the most boring thing about Jenny is kissing. No matter how much I teach her, she can’t keep her mouth closed. There’s no magic in it. I watched her closely—part of it was her short, thick neck. When she got tense or excited, it felt like she couldn’t breathe, like she was suffocating, so she couldn’t close her lips.

So before we have sex, I keep the kissing short. Instead, I focus on turning her on elsewhere.

Every time Jenny writhed, thick arousal gushed from her pussy. It flowed so much I wiped it once with a tissue, then gently rubbed it again. Her escalating moans told me just how turned on she was. I pushed two fingers deep inside her—and she let out a sharp cry.

“Ah—! Haaah!”

“How does it feel?”

“So good… How about you, David?”

“I’m good. Look, I’m hard as hell.”

I guided her hand into my pants. Her fingers fumbled, but my cock rose instantly, rigid and unrelenting. I lit a cigarette, took a long drag. Pretended like I had nothing to do with what was happening—completely detached.

A moment later, my cock softened, naturally, because of how casually I acted, smoking like this was nothing. But my hand never left her pussy. One hand held the cigarette, the other kept stroking her wetness. I grabbed her fingers and placed them against her own pussy.

“Now you do it.”

“Like this? Ah—… Mmm….”

She rubbed her clit with two fingers, already trembling with excitement.

“Put your fingers inside. Slide them in and out. Use your thumb on your clit. You’ll feel something completely different.”

“Ah—… I can feel it… I want it. I want it so bad. Please… do something. Please.”

She was begging now, ecstatic from her own touch, desperate for more. Like I’d jump in just because she asked.

“How’s it feel? You’re soaking. Now take your fingers, get some of that juice, and taste it.”

“Mmm… it tastes… different… sweet… Haaah…”

I dipped my own finger in and tasted it—plenty of arousal, thick and warm. I dipped again and brought it to her lips. She was so turned on, she almost swallowed it whole. I watched her intently—her eyes nearly closed, fingers sliding in and out of her pussy, the other hand scooping up her wetness and bringing it to her mouth.

Her small fingers were drenched in her own juice. Suddenly, she yanked down my zipper, pulled my cock out of my underwear, and took it into her mouth. It was over in an instant—I didn’t even have time to react. One hand gripping my cock, sucking hard, while the other kept masturbating. Even as she moaned, she kept sucking, relentless.

I lowered my head and tasted her wetness. Mmm… yeah. Her pussy juice was clean, fresh—delicious.

“Jenny… your pussy juice is different from other women’s.”

“Oh… don’t say that. It’s embarrassing.”

“No, seriously. Your pussy is going to ripen completely. Just wait. From now on, you won’t be able to live without masturbating when we’re not having sex.”

I licked up her wetness.

“Slurp… mmm… yeah. Even as you get older, a virgin’s pussy juice still tastes good.”

“I like the taste of your cum too. Will you give it to me whenever I want?”

“Sure. But don’t ask anytime you feel like it.”

“Okay… Ah—! David… Haaah… Is my pussy really that good? Do all men feel this when they fuck? Ah—… So good… Please… put it in now.”

“No. Not yet. You need more.”

“Why?”

“You need to get even wetter. I want to taste more. Hahaha.”

“Ah—… I can’t hold it anymore… Put it in… please…”

I completely stripped off my pants and pulled her onto my lap. The backseat was cramped—seemed uncomfortable—but actually, it was perfect for seated sex.

“Ah… I never knew sex could feel like this. So good… David… what are you doing to my pussy?”

I kept thrusting, pounding into her. She was lost in pleasure. Her pussy juice flowed so much it spilled out every time my cock slid in and out. I wiped it with my hand and smeared it into her mouth, making her lick it clean.

“Haaah… mmph… Ah… David… are you going to cum inside? Don’t cum inside—put it in my mouth. Don’t forget… Ahhh~~~”

“Squish… squish… Ah… I’m gonna come. Hurry. Take it. Now.”

I pulled out. She opened her mouth instantly.

“Ah~~~ Ah~~~”

“Slurp… suck… gulp… gulp…”

She swallowed every drop of my cum, savoring it.

“It’s so delicious… I never knew sex could be this good…”

Even after my cum stopped coming, she kept sucking my cock. With her other hand, she pulled out a tissue and wiped her pussy. That day, Jenny used an insane amount of tissues.

Yeah. Definitely a woman who gets wet a lot. The second time I had sex with Jenny ended just like this—teaching her how to masturbate, riding the waves of her trembling body, and binding her to me through pleasure.