Sarah and I had agreed to meet at an old Seaside Inn in Kennebunkport, Maine, for a weekend getaway. All during the week she had been the one expressing how horny she was, and how much she needed some attention. But it was through an act of nature and Sarah’s insatiable curiosity that I was the first to experience the joy and pleasure of an intense orgasm.

In blinding, thick, wet fog, at the extreme end of a long seaside jetty, I got to experience one of those moments that becomes a lifetime memory; a blow job that I could not see, but could feel all the way down to my core. A thrilling, intense, grab your soul, shake you to your core blow job administered by a lady who is of Olympic stature in the art of sucking cock.

And this wonderful blow job will be remembered for another reason as well. In the pea-soup fog, unable to see, I was unaware that I had painted Sarah’s face and top of her head with ribbons of white goo. Sarah, on the other hand, obviously knew that I had cum all over her face. Before we tried to make our way back to the shore, she had wiped off most, but not all of my seed, using the sleeve of her wet sweater.

Happy to have made it back to land, and desperately needing warmth and a shower, we marched through the Inn’s indoor bar, past the front desk, and up the main staircase to our room. I thought the young man at the front desk and the husband and the young couple on the stairs had looked at us with an odd stare. Then again, I did not think much of it as we both were drenched, looking like we had just walked out of a shower fully clothed.

Only at the door to our room did I realize that Sarah had walked past more than a few people while prominently displaying bands of white cum from the middle of her forehead up and over the top of her head.

Once in our room and facing a mirror, Sarah’s initial reaction was one of amusement, roaring with laughter. Then she was embarrassed, wondering who had seen her on the way back to the room. Then even more embarrassment as she thought about seeing those same people the next day.

I thought it was funny, and have that image of Sarah with white streaks in her hair burned into my memory. Then again, I wasn’t the one with cum all over my head.

Sarah removed her wet clothes, showered, and returned to the room with her hair in a towel and wearing a terry cloth robe provided by the Inn. I would have joined her in the shower but for the antique bath tub, the kind with a shower curtain that pulls all the way around the tub. With nothing to hold onto but the curtain, it would be a dangerous act for two people to be in the tub at the same time, especially with all the grabbing and groping that would inevitably take place.

As I walked back into the room after my shower, I was confronted with Sarah sitting up in the canopied bed, the bed covers over her legs, and her bare breasts and hard nipples prominently displayed.

The look on her face said it all; a little, playfully-subtle smile, the tip of her tongue just running over her upper lip, the flushed cheeks, and those soft, but inviting eyes. It was Sarah’s cum-fuck-me I need some attention look. That stare always has and still does send shivers up my spine.

Despite having spewed gobs of cum out on the jetty, I had recovered and was displaying a prominent erection under the towel that was wrapped around my waist. I dropped the towel as I walked toward the bed, my shaft waggling back and forth; Sarah pulled the covers back, inviting me to join her. The delicate aroma of Sarah’s lavender soap rose up and enveloped me, adding to my need for her, body and soul.

The room was cool with a hint of the dampness brought in by the thick fog, and only partly lit by a small table lamp and the light from the bathroom. Being under the sheets and quilt on a canopied bed, next to Sarah’s warm, soft, silky skin, was like being in a nest; cozy, warm and comforting.

Sarah rolled over so she was partially on top of me, and buried her tongue down my throat. My stiff rod slipped between her legs and met the wetness of her pussy. I fondled her breast with my fingers, paying close attention to her hard nipple.

Sarah, knowledgeable about such things, knew that my having cum first would calm me, at least to the point where I would last longer before a second orgasm, allowing me more time to pleasure her. But her efforts at the end of the jetty had also taken their toll on an already weary lady.

While I contemplated whether to be rough and hard, which she liked, or to be slow and teasing, which she also liked, Sarah had already made her choice.

“Go slow. I’ll cum too quick if you do too much,” she whispered.

The bed covers were thrown back, exposing our bodies to the cool air. Neither of us would notice the chill, however, as the heat of our bodies grew quickly with our rising passion.

Sarah had beautiful, tear drop shaped tits which were just the right size for her body. Each breast had perfectly round, brown areola, covered on this night with a few goose bumps, and a hard, extended nipple.

I rolled her nipples around between my fingers and thumb, pinching tightly, as our tongues skirmished in combat. Her soft moans were deep and already guttural.

“Suck on them.”

I did what she asked, sucking on and biting her nipples as she held my head in a vice-like grip with both her arms.

We were soon in a wonderful zone of mutual pleasure. Our bodies were intertwined; I played with breasts and nipples, and she held my hard shaft, which she slowly stroked. The sloppy, wet tongue battle had become more passionate; wet and messy.

I could feel Sarah’s pleasure slowly build and my shaft ooze pre-cum onto her talented hand.

“Fuck me.”

“Not yet.”

I was in no hurry. I did not have the immediate need for orgasmic relief that Sarah was seeking. And there were so many other things I wanted to do; so many places to explore; so many sounds and noises still to be heard.

What I had not yet perceived was how tired she was. It was at the end of a long week of travel for her, sleeping in hotels, packing and unpacking, and she had driven for several hours to meet me at the Inn.

Sometimes the body’s need for sexual attention and satisfaction overcomes a tired mind and body. Sarah needed her release; she wanted to cum. Then she would drift into a much-needed deep, restful sleep.

I nibbled my way down Sarah’s stomach, bending her legs at the knees and pushing them apart, until her wet kitten was exposed for the taking. Her inner thighs were already wet with her honey. Her pussy lips had flowered, exposing her already swollen clit with its light brown, wrinkled hood. She reached out to each side, grasping the bed sheets with her fingers in anticipation of my touching her open slit.

I ran my fingers lightly over her inner thighs, coming close, but not touching her sex, while I blew softly on her moist opening. She squirmed and pushed her hips up, wanting my tongue between her lips.

I took Sarah by the ankles and pushed her knees back by her head. She let go of the sheets and used her arms to hold her legs back and open.

I explored every fold and crevice of her pussy, buried my tongue deep into her wet hole, and finally flicked my tongue back and forth over her clit hood, being careful not to touch the sensitive nub, which was now protruding from its cover.

“I’m ready. I’m there. Make me cum.” She had warned me that she would cum quickly.

“No teasing. Please. Make me cum.”

I like to tease. And for the moment, I was prepared to bring her to the edge a few times, letting her orgasm build, before letting her have the release she now craved. Sarah liked to be teased and edged. It was among her favorite pleasures.

This would not be the first time that Sarah had asked me not to tease her; that she needed to cum. Such comments, appeals, pleas, and even begging are expected, even desired, when the teasing and edging pushes her tolerance for intense pleasure and she moves closer to her inevitable explosion of happiness and satisfaction.

But there was something in her voice this time that indicated that she was serious; that she needed to cum, that this was not the time for playing.

I spread the wrinkled, fleshy hood surrounding her clit and slowly worked my tongue around the engorged orb. Sarah began to shake and moan. Her breathing became rapid. Then there was just one long moan interrupted only by gasps for air.

“Suck it. Suck my clit.”

It was both a plea and a directive; an expressed desire and a command. There was desperation, anxiety and arousal in her voice.

I sucked Sarah’s clit into my mouth and ran my tongue over and around the distended nub. She reached out and clutched the bed sheets once again, grunting and moaning.

Using my tongue, I pushed her inflamed clit in and out between my lips, as Sarah’s body shivered and jerked.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Then there was silence; the quiet that stills the air just before her orgasm; the point in her journey when the pleasure is so strong, so intense, that every muscle tightens and strains, every nerve is on fire, and words cannot be formed nor sounds generated.

The only thing that could be heard in our room by the sea was the slurping sound of my mouth sucking on Sarah’s sensitive, swollen and inflamed clit.

I slid two fingers into Sarah’s dripping pussy. She let go of her legs and planted the soles of her feet on the mattress. Her now-taut body rose off the bed, back arched, and her head and neck bent back. Her body rolled slightly to one side. The loud grunting and groaning of a deep, powerful, full body orgasm came from deep within Sarah’s core.

“Uuunnnggghhh. Uuunnngggghhhh. Uuunnggghhh.”

Sarah’s orgasm lasted, it seemed, for minutes. My nose, chin and hand were covered with her nectar, as was the bed sheet. She grabbed my head with both hands and squeezed so hard that I got a headache.

“Stop. That’s enough. Stop,” she said in a high pitched voice, out of breath, as she settled back to the bed and pushed my head away from her pussy.

Sarah lay back, eyes closed, a slight film of sweat on her forehead, upper lip, and upper breasts, gasping for air, and moaning softly. Her pussy juices oozed down her swollen lips, over her ass, and dripped onto the bed. I nibbled at her labia while she recovered.

If I had known better, been more observant, I would have realized that Sarah was done for the evening, exhausted from her trip, our time out on the jetty and her orgasm. I just assumed that she would want to cum again. That is what she liked; what we had always done.

I held her legs back, and began to explore her asshole with my tongue, flicking the tip of my tongue around her puckered hole. There were moans of pleasure, but little movement or encouragement to continue.

Sarah was done.

She could have yelled for me to stop. She could have pushed me away or just rolled over onto her side. Instead, she pulled me up by the arm until I was next to her, softly kissed my cheek, quietly thanked me for her orgasm, and offered to take care of my swollen manhood, grasping the head and upper part of my rigid shaft with her hand.

Despite my own need to cum and wanting to take her up on her offer, it was easy to see that Sarah was done, exhausted and already fighting off sleep.

I got out of bed and walked across the room to the bathroom, my pre-cum leaking erection waving back and forth, where I secured one of the larger Inn towels. Back at the bed, I rolled Sarah over onto her side and, using the towel, I covered the considerable wet spot on the bed sheet. Sarah rolled back over and continued to drip her juices onto the towel.

I shut off the light and climbed into bed. For us, it was still an early evening, even though it was approaching 11:00 p.m.

Sarah cuddled next to me and was asleep in seconds.

I was awakened in the middle of the night by a severe thunderstorm that was blowing the window drapes and shades almost vertical, and had to get out of bed to shut the windows.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah mumbled, half awake, as I returned to the bed.

“It’s just a thunderstorm.”

She was fast asleep before I could finish my sentence.