Jill

My virtual experience of Jill was one of scented rainbows, fluid motion, an animal sensuality that transmitted forcefully even across the airwaves. She called herself Gypsy Goddess, and I her Gypsy King. The effervescent mind of this young Up–Easter would not be confined to the humdrum drudgery of rural central Florida, try as she might.
Nonetheless, I was largely unprepared for the flood of flaming femininity that accosted me, and I say accosted because I was almost immediately swept off–balance, when I first met her face to face.
The experience can only be described as slightly hallucinatory. Her youthful beauty stood much more profoundly in evidence than I had imagined from her conversation and pictures, yet behind that beauty, on the margins of perception, there seemed to hover a presence of such primal and ancient intensity that my heart was filled with something of a mixture of awe, seething passion, fear, and boundless desire, on a level so visceral I could scarcely restrain myself from seizing her violently in a brutal embrace.
Nevertheless, the folly of that was evident to me, as I noticed a slight reticence in her demeanor. The demands of propriety being drilled into my soul since childhood, I did not contemplate for a moment allowing my unbridled id destroys the perfect delightfulness of this occasion.
We had met at the entrance of a sprawling tropical park known to me since childhood. Rundown and frayed around the edges as it was, it still conveyed a beckoning invitation to the wildness of an exuberantly verdant animal kingdom.
Jill had dressed exactly as I had instructed her in our online communication– a very soft, cotton blouse with a chiffon collar that appeared to literally flow over her ample breasts. Jill was graciously endowed with those type of breasts that kind of quiver with every movement, almost like they have a life of their own. You never know which part is going to move next. She also wore a long denim skirt worn with a slit up the leg. I was dressed in my version of a white tropical suit, a little out of place for this Florida amusement park where the attire most in evidence was shorts and tee shirts. Actually, I did have a light silk jacket that was cut something like a sport coat, but less formal.
We both agreed that coffee was the first order of the day, so I directed her over to the park restaurant, which, mercifully, offered a selection of gourmet coffee delights. Jill ordered a mocha delight concoction with whipped cream. I had a cappuccino. I wondered if she suspected that I as I sat there I fantasized her spilling her drink between breasts and having me lick the stream of sweet whipped cream and chocolate mocha from her belly to her heavenly portal.
“You’d better drink a lot,” I told her. “The Jungle Cruise trip is a long ride, and you might get thirsty.” Jill rarely needs urging when it comes to coffee, so she happily ordered another mocha delight.
As we left the restaurant and walked toward the ticket booth for the boat ride, I congratulated myself for having completed our agreement and flown to Orlando to meet this woman. It hadn’t been Jill’s very natural sensuality and attractive physical features that had primarily interested me. This woman was as smooth in her wit and repartee as in her physical movements, which I joyfully observed from a few steps back as we walked. Jill had a way of walking that made you think she was stimulating her nether regions by the very process.
As we walked up the slight angle of the gangplank to board the boat, I gave her a light stroke on her left hip. She turned around and looked briefly at me with precisely the kind of smile that’s suggestive without being openly seductive. We strolled onto the boat and settled into a seat facing the starboard windows, with no tourists in our close proximity.
The tour boat left the dock, and the guide began her merry patter concerning the jungle and wildlife of the Silver Springs area. This was truly engaging to me, as I remembered the place before it was surrounded by subdivisions and central Florida had truly represented something of a wild, tropical area. My childhood experiences there had actually stimulated me to seek and engage in work down on the Amazon employed, curiously, by a Floridian who owns a zoo in Tarpon Springs.
Jill seemed as excited as a child remarking on the antics of the birds and monkeys in the forest near the shore. A glance to my right provided clear evidence that she was not a child. The blouse she was wearing, I had picked up at a specialty shop in Tucson. She wore it so her breasts were accentuated, pushed up by the soft lace and silk bra underneath so that the roundness of her breasts was just visible as they heaved softly with her breathing.
Suddenly, Jill became silent. I turned to look at her, and was met by a sly smile that sent shivers all over my body. “Look at me,” Jill said. “Look at me all over.” I happily accepted her invitation, and immediate was aware that her nipples were creating small shadows on the surface of her bodice. “Now look me in the eye,” Jill said. I’m yours, I’m yours to enjoy. Just let me know the fantasy, and I’ll be more than happy to engage.”
I can only imagine the shade of beet–red I must have turned on hearing Jill’s words. There was a factor of embarrassment in the emotion, but the overriding sensation was of that of blood pumping into every capillary of my body. My heart began to feel like it was about to explode.
I sat silently for a few moments, pondering the implications. When I next turned to Jill, a trifle sideward, I reached out and, gently at first, took one ripe nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Jill shuddered just a little, arched her shoulders, and let out a slight squeal. We continued watching out the windows as the tour guide commented on the wildlife on shore.
I tightened my grip considerably, and felt Jill’s nipple beneath her blouse harden to the consistency of a gumdrop. Before I could catch my breath, Jill shot her grip across my lap, adeptly opened my linen pants, and took my “raging member” into her hand.
My first, overwhelming impulse was to check the proximity of the other passengers and assess whether they would affected by Jill’s behavior. Happily, the few tourists on this weekday afternoon were mostly gathered near the front of the boat. No one paid the slightest attention to the attractive couple seated in close proximity on a rear seat.
The next proposition facing me was how to avoid orgasm and keep from depositing a large stain on my light–colored pants. This woman was turning me on! I had no inclination to have her remove her hand from my lap, so I focused on the monkeys and tropical vegetation in the distance, while I continued to knead her nipple between my thumb and forefinger in my very special, tantalizing way.
I could tell I was getting to her by her sighs and her biting of her lip. She joined in my observation of the monkeys and other wildlife, and slowly I was able, through a process of extreme concentration, to keep my excitement level from attaining critical mass. The scenario became almost dreamlike to me as sat immersed in that vision of crystal clear water, intensely green vegetation, monkeys shrieking in the trees, and that hot hand squeezing me inside my pants.
Not long after, Jill let out a highly audible gasp, and began to tremble gently all over. When I looked over at her, Jill was gazing, her eyes half closed at me, and wearing a sheepish grin. “That was the first time in my life I came to full orgasm just from having my nipple squeezed,” she told me. I told her I wished I could reciprocate without making a sticky mess. She laid her head on my shoulder, and continued stroking my incredibly slick pre–cum soaked penis.
We were fifteen or twenty minutes before the end of the tour when Jill sleepily said to me, “I think I have to tinkle. All that coffee is really working a number on my bladder.”
“I’m sure you can hold it until we get back to the concession area,” I replied. “Think so, do you,” she said. Jill’s hand tightened a little around my penis, and she nicked the shaft with her fingernail. “You wouldn’t want to have your little Jillywog to have an accident, would you?” I struggled hard to maintain my composure and keep from shooting my load into her hand. I suspected she knew that was exactly what would send me over the edge.
Before we reached the dock, Jill was wiggling in her seat and squeezing her legs together provocatively. As the boat landed, Jill stood up with her legs slightly askew, began walking toward the ramp, then stopped and gave a gasp. “Ron! Ron! I’m not sure I can hold it! I think I’m wetting myself a little!” I looked down to where the slit of her denim skirt revealed a glimpse of her leg, and there below, running down her calf, I could detect a tiny rivulet of yellow urine.
“I’m sorry this had to happen to you,” I told her, lying for all I was worth. Actually, I did feel a little tinge of compassion for her, but the arousal value strongly outweighed any other sentiment “Please try and maintain some decorum until we can get over to the cafe. If you’re just a little damp, you can clean yourself off and we can get on with our day.”
Jill took a few steps forward and then reported she had things under control and was no longer peeing her panties. We moved forward, then down the gangplank, and the guide gave us a pleasant smile as we exited the tour boat. Jill was walking in a kind of waddle, with her upper thighs obviously squeezed tightly together.
We had made it over to a small park area, away from the crowd of tourists when I was startled by an intense hissing sound. Jill suddenly cried, “Oh God! Oh God, Ron! I’m loosing it! I’m peeing all over myself!” She bolted into a position with her knees slightly bent in a half squat. I looked down below her hem, and sure enough, a yellow torrent was pouring out like a waterfall, thick yellow streams splashing in all directions. Soon a deep, thick puddle had formed around her open–toed patent leather shoes, leaving broad streaks on her lacy stockings along the way.
Jill stood there for a full minute and a half, her eyes wide and her mouth formed in a perfect O as her accident cascaded down her legs. As the last weak streams from between her thighs began to dissipate, Jill began to cry softly, and then to sob.
“Oh my God, Ron, this is so terrible! I feel like such a baby! You’ll never want to go out with me again! I peed my pants! I peed my pants! Bwaaah! Bwaaah! Boo–hoo–hoo!” Upon hearing this, I threw my arms around her and hugged her tightly against me, her ample breasts crushed tightly against my chest. I was so erotically excited at that point that I almost lost it right there, but managed to maintain. I thrust my knee between her thighs holding my leg right up against her crotch under her skirt, and felt a warm flow bathing me. I knew this would wreak havoc on my linen pants, but could have cared less. Jill was heaving and sobbing, leaving a torrent of tears on my shirt to match the wet stain on my leg. “This makes me love you 100 times more,” I told her.
When she had calmed down a little, I walked onward with her, with my arm tightly around her shoulders. At this point, my erection was so large and hard I was almost afraid my dick would snap off while I was walking. Then I noticed something that exceeded my wildest expectations. Over to the left of the concession area, there was an enormous, green lawn surrounded by a profusion of tropical trees and bushes. There were no particular attractions in that area, so none of the tourists seemed at all interested in wandering over there. I whirled Jill around, grabbed her hand, and began running with her over to the area. “What are you doing? What are you doing?” Jill exclaimed.
“I think you’ll get the idea pretty quickly,” I replied as we kept running. I was fortunate to find a patch of very soft grass under a thick, tropical Bush. Jill and I fell to the ground, and almost before she knew what was happening, I was running my tongue over her soaked white lacy half–stockings and up the exquisitely soft, white flesh of her upper thigh. All of the tourists were far too removed in the distance to have any idea of what we were doing. Besides we were completely sheltered by the thick bush.
The urine on Jill’s leg tasted like sweet citrus. Rather than being at all repugnant, it increased my passion exponentially. The wild birds around us, imported as part of the park’s attraction, were making shrieking and screaming sounds like in a jungle movie. I felt that I had truly discovered my own personal Eden.
When I had made my way with my tongue all the way up Jill’s leg to her crotch area, I noticed to my delight that she was wearing the deep indigo panties I had sent her, satin on the bottom and 1/3 of the way up the crotch, topped by lace, and they were soaked, utterly glistening with her sweet urine. I began licking and sucking the pee out of her panty crotch. Jill let out a squeal and questioned, “Doesn’t that taste disgusting?” I quickly quieted her concern and told her, “No, it tastes like divine nectar!”
Soon I thrust the panty crotch to the side and began licking lustily at her glistening, slick vaginal walls, up to her clitoris, and back again. Jill was panting heavily and letting out the sweetest feminine cries! Coupled with the sound of the birds, I knew I had found my Eden!
I then pressed my flattened tongue hard against her clitoris and thrust three fingers, with my palm up, into her vagina, pressing hard against the area I knew to be her G–spot. Jill went wild, bucking crazily, but I never let my face or my fingers be dislodged from their appointed destination.
Before long, Jill began screaming so loudly I thought for certain park guards or something would rush us to that effect. At the same time, I felt a flood of warm liquid wash against my face. “Are you peeing again,” I asked Jill. As soon as she could regain enough composure to speak, Jill told me, “No. That’s happened to me once before. That’s not pee. That was a female ejaculation. But I’ve never had an orgasm that strong before in my entire life!”
By this time, I was turned on almost past the point of endurance, as I still had not had my own orgasm, which had been building since shortly after we got on the boat. I helped Jill get into an all–fours position, which was no mean feat, as every muscle in her body was trembling from the intensity of her orgasm. I probed around a bit, as I always find necessary the first time I enter a new lover, and soon I had slid into her incredibly hot, slick, dripping love tunnel.
Jill started to moan loudly, and, though I hated the possibility of lessening her passion, I reminded her we were in a public park, and it was best we try and keep it down just a little. Before long, I was slamming into her with deep, rapid strokes, becoming more excited moment by moment as I watched her large breasts shake and jiggle in every configuration as I rammed her. I then took a forefinger and, wetting it in her copious vaginal excretions, slid it into her anus as I rammed her. I was surprised at the ease that her rear tunnel accepted my finger, and even more excited by the way that she alternately gripped and loosened my finger with her anal muscles.
Jill began yelling again, and from the flood of warm liquid that again washed over my thighs, I knew that she had experienced another female ejaculation. She was shaking so hard that it seemed almost impossible for her to maintain her all–fours position, but by then, there was no way that I was going to let up and not enjoy my own orgasm, which by this time was built up probably more than at any time previously in my life. I held her upright and slammed into her like a corral full of bulls being tormented by coyotes. When I finally exploded, it was like being launched off the planet into a distant galaxy. I was regaled with intense, colorful visions of swirling nebulae and star systems, and for a few moments was completely unaware of my surroundings, as well as my own screaming.
When I finally regained my senses, I flipped Jill over and we hugged like a couple of koalas out in the bush. I noticed that the shadows were growing long, and that sundown was fast approaching, so we began cleaning up as best we could, and then wandered back over to the parking lot. Though trying to avoid the departing tourists, a group of young couples couldn’t help but notice our state of disarray, and greeted us with broad leers.
I’ll never know how I managed to bid Jill goodbye that afternoon. My almost overwhelming impulse was to get her into my car and drive off for endless repeats of our afternoon session, in new and ever more exotic locations, along with endless nights of more tender sex. This woman had consented to fulfill my wildest fantasies, and had far exceeded them in practice! Cogently aware that circumstances did not permit, I led her to her car, where I kissed her deeply, told her that I truly loved her with all my heart, and promised that we would reunite as soon as humanly possible.
As I headed back down the freeway toward my Orlando hotel, I felt that I had been blessed with the heavenly experience of entering a primal sexuality such as rarely been experienced by humans since the beginning of time. I knew that for the next several weeks Jill and I would only be able to meet in cyberspace, but already my erotic intensity was building in anticipation of the next, cataclysmic encounter we would share.
Sunchile