Rick spread his legs and I moved between them."Touch it baby. Just stroke me." I reached my hand out and replaced hid hand on his shaft. "Oh that's it...baby, feel it. Oh yeah," he moaned in response. I stroked him slowly as he tried again to convince me to blow him. "That feels really good, but your mouth would feel so much better. Come on, please take me in your mouth. Please suck my cock. Please."As he talked, I found myself lowering my head. Inching closer and closer, he sensed his victory.. It hurt a little when his cockhead hit the back of my throat, but it felt so sexy and exciting to have my mouth and throat stuffed full of his hard cock and have his hands guide my bobbing head as he thrust his cock again and again into my mouth.To hear him moaning and groaning, "What a good little cocksucker you are. Take it deep…take all my dick in your hot mouth."I took my first finger and thumb and made a ring right around the base of his cock, squeezed with firm pressure and started. It was a plain old ante room that had a painting by the Rococo painter Antoine Watteau on one wall. Or at least it was in his style, with gentle, graceful colors, and lots of thinly spread paint that gave a feeling of lightness to the viewer. It showed a wide assortment of men and women from the seventeenth century wearing powdered wigs and standing around as if they were posing for a photograph. The only odd thing was that there was a man and a woman buck naked in the center, wearing the same. Showing her neck by moving her hair out of the way, subconsciously demonstrated vulnerability and is frequently a precursor to a more intimate relationship. At the very least, it’s an invitation to explore a closer relationship.“I didn’t really ask you here to talk about Marcia,” I said and she gave me a ‘do tell’ expression. “What I really wanted was to thank you for the invitation for Thanksgiving dinner and tell you how much I wished I could have gone. I had guests that needed some of my.