Just before I returned to college, my girlfriend Jillian asked if I would like to visit her parents’ cottage on the coast.

The first day there, I came out of the bedroom in shorts. Without a word, Jillian pulled the shorts down around my knees and wrapped her fingers around my rod. It had never been harder. I felt like Thor, the god of thunder, and pretty Jillian was licking her sensuous lips.

“Need relief?” she asked. She gently pulled my penis, her fingers sliding expertly up and down. “Want me to do anything special?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

“Put it in your mouth,” I begged.

Her blouse was halfway open and her creamy breasts hung like ripe melons secured in lacy pink nets. Jillian looked me in the eye and flicked her tongue across the head of my pecker. I could hardly breathe. When she let it go, my prick snapped back up, slapping against my belly. I had never felt in such need of release.

She doffed her blouse, slipped out of her bra, and removed her skirt. She stood up straight and tossed her hair back. She was now dressed only in light-blue nylons attached to dark-blue garter belts. Her bush loomed in front of me, untamed and fragrant.

She dropped to her knees and pulled my shorts all the way off with the heat of a woman possessed. She pressed her face forward and slipped my throbbing cock into the hottest, wettest mouth that ever smoked a pole. I gasped, tossing my head back and forth. I looked down at her and she up at me, her eyes sparkling as she fell into a perfect rhythm. I told her how beautiful she was, and she reached down between her legs to work her gorgeous nest — when suddenly she jerked her hand away and pulled her exquisite mouth off my quivering bolt.

Standing ten feet away at the door of the cottage was a tall woman with Scandinavian looks; beside her was a blond man in a suit.

“Excuse me,” the woman said in perfect English, taking in the scene of Jillian kneeling inches in front of my massive pole. “We were told we could stay here for the weekend.”