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But what was wonderful about her was her sweetness and
compassion. She loved my delight in licking her cunt and found it
simply amazing that I wasn’t fixated on her tits. (I’d gotten over
my big-tit cravings when I was 17. See, I had this cousin, the same
age — But that, as Conan’s biographer would say, is another tale.)
So Barbie was coming to stay with me for a few days while she
visited friends in the city. I filled her in (in more ways than
one. Heh.) on what I’d been up to and we made love a lot. She
reveled in waking me one morning with her mouth locked on the tip
of my cock and sucked me off, drinking me moaning dry and then
sprawling on me and kissing my lips with my own cum on hers. We
slept again, till nearly one in the afternoon, and then made love,
with her on her face and a pillow under her hips, and then drowsed
till dark. I can still feel the wonderful weight of her breasts
pressed against me and the firmness of her ass under my fingers and
the wet heat of her cunt against my hip and the slightly salty —
from perspiration — taste of her ear when I kissed her awake that
night. I went out and bought the fixings and prepared an odd dinner
of broiled filet of sole, mashed potatoes and steamed asparagus.
Then we went back to bed and made love again. Barb, wherever you
are, you are precious. If you are not happy, call me and talk to
me. You saved my life and my heart and I want to do for you.