Cascading Over The Zeppelin Hillside

Credit: Cooper Beckett

When the girl first saw the Liberator Zeppelin, she gasped. “Oh, WOW,” she said.

“I told you,” I replied, and held her hand as she climbed into it. Lying there, wearing just jeans and a t-shirt that revealed her lack of a bra, she looked down at me and sighed. “What?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s weird.”

This was, after all, the first time we’d been alone together in the house.  It was just the two of us, without the spouses, who were both off having their own moments with each other. The idea of solo dates was not new to either of us; we’d talked about it as a foursome, and more as each combination of twosome. But now, here, she was nibbling her lower lip and staring at me, standing at the edge of the enormous red behemoth.  I reached up and put the index finger of each hand on each of her thighs and slid them down her legs. She shivered and closed her eyes for the briefest moment.

“You’ll have to make the move,” she told me.

I pondered this for a moment. Given the green light, what direction should I take?  What move should I make so as not to scare her back to the nervous side of the spectrum?

After much debate, still running my fingers along her thighs, I made my decision.  I took her hand and rolled her over gently. Now face down on the Zeppelin, and settling deeper into it, I was able to stand beside her and begin to rub her shoulders and back through her shirt, running my hand firmly but gently up and down her back, small concentric circles. She let out a moan, so I worked that area a while longer, drifting lower and lower until I got to the small break between her t-shirt and the top of her jeans, exposing milky white flesh.

My fingers lingered here, but long enough for her to take another deep breath and roll over again. My fingers slid along her body, now resting below her belly button as she made eye contact with me. She didn’t have to say anything, because her eyes asked me to unbuckle her belt and undo her jeans. I asked her silently if she was good, and she gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod. So I slid my fingers beneath the waist of her jeans and pulled them and her panties down to her thighs.

Knowing the anticipation was killing her, I stopped there, and grabbed both of her ankles in my right hand, lifting them straight up toward the ceiling. From my vantage point, the round form of her ass with that glorious vulva pressed between her legs was intoxicating. I slid down to my knees and broadly licked the entire exposed area between her legs, hearing her gasp again when my tongue grazed her star.

I knelt before the altar of her pussy for a moment, hidden from her view by her thighs, savoring the taste of her juices on my tongue. A single lick had presented a fabulous amount of flavor, so just when I felt she was asking herself if that was it, I dove in. I licked and sucked her lips, sliding one, then two, then three fingers inside her. Her moaning was growing and growing, our faces separated by denim and flesh, and her legs captured by the waist of her jeans.

I saw her fingers claw at, then gain traction in the sea of red Zeppelin beneath her. All at once, she began to thrust into my face, grinding her pussy into me, rubbing her clit against my nose, my fingers still deep within, asking her G-Spot firmly to cum. And when she did, it was glorious, cascading down the side of the Zeppelin like a waterfall, filling my mouth with the amazing ejaculate that she can produce like none-other.

As the orgasm subsided, and she turned to jelly on the Zeppelin, I pulled her jeans all the way off.

“So…you up for round two?” I asked.

She bit her lip and reached out a shaky hand, clasped my hard cock, and pulled me into the fray.