I can't remember another time in all our years together in which I was so conscious of having my cock "studied." Dee touched it all over covering every last square millimeter with a single fingertip, her eyes following her finger as if she were trying to memorize each and every last minute detail of my engorged flesh. It was an amazing feeling emotionally. Dee seemed to be saying, "I love you. I love your cock," as she examined it lovingly and drove the roadmap of my pulsing veins so slowly with her finger.
We were interrupted by the harsh sound of Dee's mom calling down the stairs to her, "That's long enough, you two." Our lust must have been that obvious to her all evening. Dee ran her toungue around the rim of my glans, gave the sweet spot of my cock a big, long, lingering wet kiss, slipped back into her robe and kissed me good night. I stroked myself, full of the warm, wonderful feelings coursing through me, and at the moment of my climax I let go an amazing rope of cum that nearly hit the ceiling. Twenty-three years ago, and I remember it like it was just last night.