Heather

To be honest, I never liked Heather. From the moment she swaggered into the office for the first time, declaring herself to be the new broom that would sweep away all the old dust, I took such an instinctive dislike to her that I can only imagine the kind of adversaries we must have been in a past life.

I never shook those feelings, either, even after we became lovers. At least, she said we were lovers. I always thought of it more as a marriage of convenience, without the rings and the permanency. I was young and ambitious, she was older and greedy. I knew my way around a woman’s body, she was all fingers and thumbs. Literally. But her first pass at me was so clumsy that I almost felt sorry for her, and when I did finally tumble into her bed… the same bed I would spend the next six months in… I at least learned there’s a few advantages to being the office manager’s lesbian lover.

Not that I’m a lesbian. Not one-hundred percent, anyway. I like cock far too much to give that up. But, while guys are good for a few things (well, one thing, really, but there’s a few things they can do with it), I’ve always known girls are good for the rest and, although I could bore you senseless for the rest of the evening listing all of the things that I disliked about Heather, there was one thing I would never have changed.

She loved having her pussy licked.

No big deal, you say. Lots of girls love that. A lot don’t, of course, as many men could testify, but a lot of them do and I’ve known a few of them. But Heather made them look and sound disinterested all the same. She’d start slow and quiet, a few gentle moans as my tongue first traced her lips, a gasp as I parted her lips. And then her legs would wrap around my head, her hands would clamp down onto my scalp, her hips would rise up into the air, and she danced. I mean, really danced, grinding her pussy into my face, screaming and crying and calling my name; I didn’t even have to do anything after a few minutes, she’d be riding me so hard. And when she came, she could have raised the roof.

That’s the main reason I stayed with her. She might have been hell to be with every minute of the day. But the moment I planted my face between her legs, she transported me to a Heaven that I didn’t even realize existed. The sheer untramelled Heaven of absolute ecstasy.

Have you ever had your face completely mashed to pulp by a soaking wet pussy? It shouldn’t be so much fun. You can barely breathe, for a start. Her pelvic bone hurts you as she pushes it forward, your neck cricks, and the wetness makes your skin crawl. But every thrust brought me closer to coming, and the best nights we had, which were the best nights I’d ever had with anyone, were the ones where we reached our peak together, not once, not twice, but every time.

Orgasm after orgasm tearing us both apart, until it were like those giggling fits that you sometimes get, when all you need to do is look at somebody and you both break down into uncontrollable laughter. With Heather and I, we only needed to exhale after one orgasm, and another would be bearing down upon us immediately.

That was the extent of our relationship. We'd meet, we'd orgasm, and then we'd orgasm again. Nice work if you can get it, and even nicer when I think back on it and realize that I've forgotten all the things about her that used to make me so mad. Like... like... see? I've forgotten.

Wherever you are, Heather, I know it's your birthday today. So, have a good one!