Orgasms for Two

Two a.m. I slid quietly back between the warm sheets of the big double bed and laid down again beside her sleeping form. I pulled the covers over and turned towards her, snuggling up close, my left arm insinuating itself beneath her head and pulling her shoulder to me. My prick, limp and hooded after its exertions of three hours' past, flopped on to her bare thigh. I slid my free arm down, pressed the soft foreskin against smooth, firm female flesh. Did I imagine the faint twitch of returning sensation, tiny renewed thread of lust, triggered by that soft skin of her inner thigh? Curious, I reached down and stroked the soft fold of its hood. I became a five-year again, lying on my tummy in the big bed at home, pressing my boy's little prick against my thigh, working myself up to a dry climax. The memory served well; the full-grown member twitched obediently, stirred, hardened and grew under my fingers; its tip eased itself out from its fleshy cover. I shifted my grip, drew a ring of finger and thumb around the shaft, pressing upon the ridge. I stroked the smooth tip against the sleeping girl's firm warm thighs. Only by now she was not sleeping; either my touch or my quickening breath had roused her. She knew what I was at; this was to her no unfamiliar exercise. 'Do it on my leg' she used to whisper, adoring the frisson of shared sensation it gave. Her hand slid across her belly, entered her slit, clutching and rubbing in rhythm with mine. I shifted even closer, rubbed it against the back of that vibrating hand. But I needed more; I needed the centre of her arousal. My own pleasure was suspended in favour of taking over her task. Lying back, she let me continue stroking that wet cleft. But soon even that was not enough; I wanted the pearl; I wanted her clit. My fingers slid upwards through her slick wetness, their tips caressed the long soft hood; feeling, probing for the tiny, hard bud beneath. They found the sensitive button, urgently teased it out from under the tight, reluctant grip of female foreskin. Nothing, but nothing, in this life surpasses the sense of achievement gained from finding the girl who will let you do it, and then arousing her enough to be able to seize hold of a glans clitoridis between finger and thumb. Sheer joy! I rubbed, insistent, flicking that tiny button to and fro in my fingers, willing it to even greater hardness. Suddenly it twitched, once, twice; she buried her face in my chest, her whole body stiffened, her head jerked back as the familiar, blissful convulsion forced her cum-cry from her throat. I gave her no time to cool down; selfishly abandoning her to get my own release. As her hand closed once more over her cunt, my entire arm shook with my exertions. I gave an animal grunt as I too topped the magic hill of orgasm. One brief convulsive millisecond then the jerking as my rod pulsated with two, three, four convulsive spurts, then fading I poured my hot semen on to her hands. Quickly I dipped my fingers in my juices, lifted up a gobbet of hot semen to her mouth and thrust it between her lips. Her tongue eagerly took it down. I spread our mixed wetness over her belly until her soft skin absorbed them all. The bedroom filled with the sweet smells of sex.