Kiss It, Kate
written by:
Naughty Miranda

"Just kiss it, Kate. You're either going to love it or you won't, so you might as well find out now."

I shivered. Nobody had ever spoken to me like that, not even the nuns back at convent school. And certainly nobody who'd spent the last... I didn't want to think how long it had been, but it certainly wasn't long... sweet talking me so smoothly; so sweetly, that it was the most natural thing to respond to his kisses; to move with his caresses; and to squeeze when he placed my hand on his crotch, then flexed the monster in response.

I snapped back with the only admonition I could think of.

"It's Katharina."

"Plain Kate, bonny Kate," he mocked. He was raising his hips, pressing my head down towards the bulge. I wondered if I could distract him while I worked out what I should do. But how do you distract an erection that... without even thinking, I spread my fingers as wide as they would go, and his hard-on carried on way past my thumb and pinky... that huge?

I could have brought up the election, I suppose, but he'd probably just think it was rhyming slang. Or the upcoming feast day? Maybe... but no. He didn't kiss like a guy who got soft about holidays.

Another squeeze. Right now, I doubted whether he got soft for anything, and I wracked my mind to figure out how this evening had gotten so surreal. I knew it was my sister Bianca's fault, but it was probably a little bit mine, as well. I'd been a bit down for a couple of weeks now; in fact, I'd been an outright misery. Work problems, man problems, money problems - you name it, I found a problem there.

So finally, tonight, when I got in from my lessons, she pushed me into my bedroom where she'd already laid my clothes out, and told me she was taking me to a small ball she'd heard of. Dancing. And drinking. And partying. "And, if everything goes to plan, Kate, maybe we'll get you laid as well."

Which, when she put it that way, sounded like one helluva plan. Which shows how much thought I put into it, right?

Three things. I'm not a virgin, I'm not a prude, and I'm not averse to sucking cock. In fact, I rather enjoy it. Just not within fifteen minutes of meeting. And not on a couch that we're sharing with two other "courting couples," at the party thrown by one of Bianca's friends that I'd somehow allowed her to talk me into attending.

Delaying tactics. "Can we go some place quieter?"

Petruchio... although he called himself Peter... grunted. "No-one's watching."

I thought quickly. "They will. Believe me." I smiled and I hoped my eyes were sparkling wickedly. In fact, I think they must have been. Something caused his trouser snake to jerk beneath my hand, anyway. He stood up. "Come on, then."

He took my hand, as if knowing that I'd been wondering whether I could just slip away unnoticed; led me through the crowded ballroom towards the doorway. I caught Bianca's eye and she gave me a wide grin. I mouthed an "oh my God," but - as she told me later - my heart didn't seem to be in it. Because out in the dark of the hallway, with just a few other shifting shadows for comfort, things maybe didn't seem quite as bad.

He leaned against a wall, pulled me close for quite the most forceful kiss I have ever had, and put my hand back on his cock. I let him do it, and I let him undo his belt and unbutton his trousers, too, and now my hand was on his thin under-garments, feeling the heat of his prick through the fabric. And feeling my own body start to respond. The traitor.

I looked around. The darkness was ... well, it was dark. Light came in through the crack in one mostly-closed door, and there were voices in the parlor at the end of the hallway. But, although I knew there were people so close to us I could touch them, I could also tell from the sounds and the shuffling that I was showing more interest in them than they were ever going to show in me.

"Well, you gonna do it?"

He spoke and my thought train careened off the tracks; then his hand on my head began pushing me down.

I dodged back. If I was going to do this... and from the way my heart was pounding, my blood was rushing, and fuck, my mouth was watering, I knew I was... I was going to do it my way. Which was not going to be stooped over with my ass sticking out, and cricking my neck for His Majesty's pleasure.

I dropped to my knees, made myself comfortable. Then reached out and softly pulled at his waistband. His trousers loosened... he'd opened my buttons than I realized; and I tugged them down. And I knew from his gasp that his cock was now free, bursting out of the prison that had kept it confined, hanging in the darkness, pointed at my face.

I breathed in and felt my entire body shudder. That odor. How long was it since I'd last smelled a cock? How long since my heart last leaped into my throat like that, as if it, too, wanted to wrap itself around him? Too long.

Too long since I smelled one, too long since I touched one, and way, way too long since...

No, not yet.

He was bucking in my hand, but I held on tight, before allowing my tongue to slip out for an exploratory taste. It approved. I rolled it over his helmet, bathing it in the pre-cum that he'd clearly been pumping for quite some time. It approved. Some folk say I have a sharp tongue, but tonight, for now, it will be soft and smooth.

I lapped down the shaft to where his cock meets his balls, and the smell was even stronger, a mix of sweat and musk and desire. I've often thought; if someone marketed cakes that tasted of cock, they'd make an absolute fortune. Even the women who claimed they disapproved and were disgusted would be stockpiling them in the pantry; even if they had to travel three towns away, to buy them where nobody knew them.

I licked, and the tight skin shifted beneath the weight of my tongue, daring me to do more. I sucked a ball into my mouth, surprised at its weight, and its size as well. It slipped into my cheek, and I was careful, so careful, not to use my teeth... yet. And already he was moaning aloud, and his cock was so hard and strong in my hand that I lost my grip as it tensed and twitched.

I gripped it again as I released my mouthful, then turned my attention to the other ball, all the while jerking him fast in my hand. Sucked it and rolled it deep in my mouth, then I began to lick back up that magnificent cock.

Because it was magnificent. Even though I couldn't see it; even though I'd not yet filled myself with it; even though I had no idea how it would feel inside my mouth, I already knew it was nothing like any cock I'd ever sucked on before. (All three of them, haha.) Because that's the beauty of them, isn't it? Every one is different. This one was simply more than different than most.

My hand slowed, then moved up to cup his helmet. Even that felt bigger than I could ever have imagined, but my lips enfolded it anyway, stretching and spreading over its smoothness; slow, careful kisses that pressed against my teeth as his precum ran down my chin.

My other hand joined the party, clutching at his hip and drawing him closer. His hands, in my hair, barely moved. But his body was like putty, flowing towards me as I parted my lips, spread my jaw wider, ignoring the strain... and I had never felt anything like it before.

Remember when you were a kid, cramming your mouth with a handful of fruit so you didn't have to share it with a younger sibling? And you wondered whether you would ever even be able to chew because your face was so full?

Take that feeling, take that wonder, and then amplify it. The weight, the heat, the flavor, the size. The movement. The relentless in-and out... I don't even know how many inches he had, but it was more than the five or six I'd met before. A lot more. And that's where the fruit analogy falls down.

Because it's not just a mouthful. It's a mouthful and more, prizing open your jaws as it continues to push, continues to swell, and you want it to stop because you know you just can't take any more, - and then something releases, in your jaw, in your throat, in your hungry, greedy need and suddenly he's past your teeth, past your gag reflex, past any sense of discomfort or strain and pain, and you don't ever want it to end.

He grunts, and all pretense at a sophisticated Paduan accent collapses into a farmland burr. "I'm coming,"

My eyes meet his. I know.

I felt his heat rise. I felt his cock thicken. I felt his shaft lengthen. I felt his cock end blossom. Then a moment of absolute stillness, just a split second, less than a beat. And if my mouth was full a moment ago, now it was even fuller - and I wasn't going to miss a drop. I didn't even need to swallow... which is hard to do, anyway, when your mouth's wide open and full. I just let it gush down my gaping throat as his cock kept pounding me, his balls slapping against my chin, his abdomen pushing into my nose, and his flavor thicker than ever before, sticky and sweet.

I clutched his hips with both hands, driving his thrusts, forcing him to move. Even as he softened, I still wanted him... needed him... silently screamed at him to fuck my face, until finally his dick flopped and plopped from between my jaws, and I stayed where I was, looking up at his face, while he gazed at me with something that almost approached tenderness.

"That was incredible," he breathed, and that's when I remembered the words he'd uttered, to kicked this whole thing into motion in the first place: "You're either going to love it or you won't, so you might as well find out now."

"Yeah, it was alright, I suppose," I said as I rose. "But I expected better."

He looked confused, which is just what I wanted, and I gave him a polite, but cursory nod. The night was still young, and Bianca had sworn there'd be plenty of eligible men attending the party.

Maybe it was time I found myself one.