I said nothing. Just made that sound again.
‘I’ll give you what you want but first … you’ll give me what I want. Sit back on your haunches, pet.’
I did as instructed and whimpered as I folded back onto my haunches and the motion ground the plug deeper inside me. He moved to kneel in front of me, stroking his hard cock with one hand. I eyed it hungrily. I’d forgotten how much I loved to suck his cock. That’s a lie. I’d never forgotten, I’d blocked it.
‘I like how your lips part for it before I’ve even told you what to do.’
I bit my lower lip as if that could hide my tell. Nothing could hide my tell, not from Michael. It was a simple fact of being his lover.
He arched his hips slightly and grinned. ‘You may.’
I bent my body towards him, making sure to keep my ass on my haunches. After all, that was his instruction and the pressure I felt was his goal.
I sucked just his cockhead into my mouth at first. Drawing on him. Then swirling my tongue along the silken tip. His hand worked into my hair, tugging just enough to bring tears to my eyes and more moisture pooling between my thighs. My whole body trembled, both from the effort my posture took and my desire to have him inside me. Mouth now, cunt later.
I played my tongue down one side of his cock, came up and sucked the tip, and then played my tongue down the other side. He liked that. I remembered it vividly. Sometimes I dreamed about it. All the while, I kept my hands clasped behind my back. He liked that too. Michael believed cocksucking should be just that – sucking. No hands. Not unless he said so.
I drove my mouth down farther, sucking so my cheeks hollowed out, running my tongue along the thick vein at the back of his cock. His hands were more insistent in my hair, moving my head to his liking as he drove his hips forward. I gagged and my eyes watered but I simply sucked air through my nose. The gagging thing was good for him. He liked it when I gagged. He liked the way my makeup smeared when my eyes watered. And when Michael liked – really liked – how things went, the pleasure he delivered was nearly buckling.
He used my mouth, thrusting deep, holding my head, and I found my Zen and went with it, noticing only that my pussy throbbed as if I could come simply by being a vessel for him to use. The pressure in my ass was gloriously unbearable.
When he pulled free of me, almost violently, I gasped. My mouth reached for him even though he’d backed up. His eyes had gone dark, his face set with grim determination. He took a deep breath and I knew he was steadying himself, letting the urge and the need to come from my oral ministrations pass before he took me.
‘Hands and knees,’ he said in a rough voice. It sent a shiver tiptoeing up my spine and made my scalp buzz with adrenalin.
I obeyed, getting onto my hands and knees, and watched him move around me like some big jungle cat. When he was behind me, he just stayed there, crowding me. I bit the tip of my tongue to stop myself begging. Begging wouldn’t get me anything but more waiting.
Then he ran his cock, slick from my spit, back and forth along my plumpest, most sensitive flesh. I managed not to make a sound but it took all my effort and I shook from it.
Michael laughed, running a possessive hand along my spine. I bucked beneath that simple touch. His big hands cupped my hips and he inched into me slowly. So slowly that I had to anticipate every second, every movement. I forced myself not to push back, not to rush him, or he’d pull free. Of that there was no doubt. It was all about the submission. All about waiting for what he wanted to give, not taking.
I hung my head and didn’t cry out when he pressed his fingers on the plug in my ass so his entry into me was exquisitely tight. The penetration shone bright in my mind’s eye like a neon sign. This had been the missing piece with Paul. This was what I’d craved but been deprived of.
Michael growled and the fine hairs on my nape rose and prickled. He’d lost his patience with his own game and I fought the urge to laugh. In surrendering it seems I’d won.
He glided into me fully with no effort. I was so fucking wet. So very ready that it was as if we were always meant to fit together this way. Locked together, moving together, no words, just movement and energy and nerve endings dancing.
His fingers dug into the meat of my hips as he thrust. His body slammed against mine so that I clutched the bedding in my fingers like I might fly away. His words dropped onto my naked back. They all sounded like nonsense because my mind was fully on my body and the delicious feel of him taking me. Pleasure swirled up from my centre, heat invaded my cheeks, and the residual heat on my bottom seemed to echo it. I managed to pick out just a few words: ‘gorgeous, tight, wet, remember, craved …’
He moved faster and I had no doubt that he was going to come. His breath always gave him away. Harsh and tense and deep like a locomotive.
‘I want you to come with me,’ he said, bowing his body over mine to say it near my ear. My skin tightened at the sensation and I nodded. I wanted to come immediately, give in, let go, but I waited because it was always so much fucking better when we came together.
One hand released my hip, dipped beneath me and found my clit, painting whorls around the rigid flesh. I gasped. He was trying to push me. He was trying to make me fail.
I chewed my lip and tried to hang on. A whimper escaped me and he growled again. That sound of struggle turned him on. I knew this because I knew him. How had I forgotten how well I knew him?
I whimpered again and he cursed, pinching my clit so that I saw stars and nearly came. I cried out but didn’t give into my body’s demand. He growled and said softly, ‘Fine. You win. Come with me …’ Then his fingers were tender on my clit again and his thrusts grew harder, rocking me forward, and his breath was a harsh thing against my neck.
‘Come,’ he said and then bellowed. I didn’t have to be told twice. Not with him in my cunt and that steel plug in my ass and my flesh still pounding with my heartbeat from the spanking. I locked my knees so I didn’t collapse as I came. A giant wave of light and pleasure rocked me as he continued to pound into me.
Colours flickered behind my eyelids and the spasms that gripped him only accented the fullness in my body. Full everywhere – cock and steel and light and warmth.
When he withdrew I felt his absence and it made me ache. I expected him to remove the plug but he didn’t. He kissed my left ass cheek and then my right. Then he traced gentle fingertips along the places he’d struck earlier. He tipped me to my side and winked at me.
‘Leave that in. I want you ready for me.’
I raised an eyebrow in silent question.
‘Oh, I know you pushed me. On purpose. And bad girls have bad things done to them. I’m going to have a go at that ass. But first, wine?’
I nodded. My mind tried to focus on wine when I was really imagining him taking my ass. I was breathless at the thought. Preoccupied.
‘A square of dark chocolate with it?’ he asked. He brushed my damp bangs out of my face. I nodded again, still speechless. He smiled down at me and it was a tender smile. ‘I know how you like it. I always keep some in the house now. It reminds me of you.’
Wet Wednesday
CeCe Marsh
‘You did what?’
‘I lost you last night at poker.’
Even though I hear the words again, it’s hard to wrap my head around them. I don’t feel lost. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m right where I belong.
Brad and I are in bed, recovering from our usual Wednesday-night sexathon – our ‘Wet Wednesday’ – that begins immediately after work and lasts until we can’t go any more, with occasional breaks for absolute necessities: food, fluids and trips to the bathroom. There aren’t usually many breaks, though. We much prefer what we’re doing in the bedroom.
Wet Wednesdays are our Happy Hump Days, our midweek celebrations of sex that carry the two of us from long, lazy Sunday afternoons in bed to Friday up-half-the-night fucking sessions. Other weeknights we’re busy, tired, distracted by other things as often as not.
Sex, sad to say, isn’t always our highest priority. But on Wednesdays, we don’t cook, we don’t even answer the phone. We don’t schedule anything for the evening but us. We try something new, get down and dirty, block out the world and focus on each other.
Tonight has been typical: I arrive to find Brad’s car already parked outside the apartment building, since it was my turn to pick up dinner on the way home. I balance a pizza in one hand as I manoeuvre the key into the lock and enter to find Brad on the sofa, jeans open, cock in hand, a grin on his face.
‘Welcome home, baby. You got here just in time. The party’s about to start.’
I walk over to kiss my man, lay the pizza box down on the coffee table and then bend down farther to kiss the head of his cock. Mmmm. Lick it a little. Even better. Slide my mouth around the entire mushroom end and suck sweetly, just the way I know he likes. Just until I taste the tiniest droplet of precome on my tongue. Just until I hear that groan out of Brad that makes my own honey start to run.
That’s one thing Brad and I have in common – our steady streams of natural lube. He calls me ‘Slick’ because of how quickly he can make me wet, how easily my juice flows down and out, coating the swollen lips of my pussy, glazing my thighs, running (if he has me on my back) down between my split until it preps not only my cunt to take in his thick hard cock but also my tight-pink-rose behind. It puddles on the sheet. My man loves the wet spots I leave on the bed, the evidence of how much he arouses me, stud that he is.
He delights in teasing out my wet as much as I love doing the same to him, working him deftly until I feel the slow but constant drip, drip, drip of him on my tongue while I’m licking, sucking, fucking him with my mouth. The taste of his essence is just one of the reasons I love running my tongue over his swollen shaft, sucking at his head as if drawing on the end of a massive straw; pulling at it with my mouth the way I bring up the dregs of a soft drink from the bottom of a cup where there’s little left but a few spoonfuls of melting ice. Listening to the slurp.
Only that’s at the end of the drink. This is the beginning. I love the beginning.
I love taking him into my warm, wet mouth while I grasp him lower, on his shaft: one hand midway, one at the root. My man’s a whopper, veiny and thick, and it takes both hands to give him what he needs: the first release of the evening. I hold him tight in my hands, stroking up towards my tongue, the tongue I am circling his crown with, the tongue I am using to tease his frenulum, the tongue I am darting in and out of his sweet slit, licking, licking, searching for that next drop of deliciousness I know he has for me: the salt of the earth.
I sink to my knees then, between his, help pull his pants down to get at his balls, and slip one hand off his shaft to massage them gently. Next I replace that hand with my mouth to suck his warm nuts. He groans. While I am loving them, I continue to work his shaft, and I feel it continue to swell under my expert hands.
When Brad sits forward on the sofa, I know it’s time for me to get fucked, and I relax my throat to take him in as far as he’ll go, knowing this means my lips will be kissing his torso, his thick cock all the way in me, in my mouth, my ‘other pussy’ that welcomes and loves my big hard man.
And then I feel it, that last moment before he comes, when his balls rise up and his head swells that last little bit and he pulls out of my throat to shoot down it, spurt after spurt of warm, thick cream. I milk his shaft with my hands, emptying him of every drop. I suck and lick his tender head, cleaning him with my tongue. ‘Christ, Dana,’ my man groans as if in pain, yet I know he is spent and happy. His head is thrown back on the sofa, his face bathed in bliss.
‘What, baby?’ I ask, my head resting a moment on his knee.
‘Nothing. Just – Christ!’ I smile. He’s beyond words, beyond sense. I like taking him there, leaving him speechless.
After a minute, Brad pulls himself back together and goes to fetch us plates and napkins. I eat a slice as Brad wolfs down two. He grabs a beer from the fridge for each of us and follows me into the bedroom. I’ve already kicked off my shoes, and Brad helps me out of the rest of my clothes and into my Wednesday-night attire: a loose T-shirt, cropped so short it barely covers my breasts. I love when he helps me undress like this, goes into my drawers to pick out what he wants me to wear, helps me put on one of the sexy tops he favours for fucking. He often babies me like this on Wednesdays; it’s part of our special midweek ritual, a subtle reminder to both of us that he’s the man in charge, while I’m at his beck and call when it comes to sex. He decides he wants panties on me tonight, so I leave them on.
Whatever my man wants in bed, I give him. It’s always been that way. My mother taught me long ago: ‘When you find the right man, you let him be the boss, Dana, and you be sure to always give him what he wants, what he likes. Please him. You treat him like a man, and he’ll treat you like a woman.’ I knew even then – I was barely fourteen – she was talking about sex. So far, it’s proved to be damn good advice. Just ask Brad.
He’s still in his jeans, but that’s because he wants to start me out with a good-girl spanking, over his knee, to lead us to the next focus of the evening: my pussy. He knows how wet he can get me with a dozen or two (or three) well-placed smacks on my all too eager derrière, and he likes to deliver them with me nearly – or entirely – naked, with him fully dressed or at least wearing pants. I’ve had all the cock I’m going to get for now. Until I’m spanked, soaking wet, sucked, licked, fingered and fully teased, and have begged him – begged him – for his cock, it won’t be sliding into my hot wet hole.
He begins, as he always does, by massaging my cheeks, an action that ups the ante between my legs. I feel my clit start to pulse in anticipation of what I know is coming. The first slap is playful, and I can’t keep back that sex-fuelled laugh that eggs Brad on whenever he hears it. It’s a sultry sound, I know, and it bubbles out of me whenever my man teases me like this: slapping, rubbing, caressing, following up the caress with another slap, a little sharper, then smoothing out the sting with his strong, hard palm. Slap! Harder again, rub, caress. Slap! Still harder, and another giggle escapes me, followed by a sigh. He keeps it up until my eyes are full of tears and my ass is rising up to meet his hand, my body craving the pain that soaks the panties he’s left on me, my wet collecting in front of me, soaking through them to leave a big moist stain on his jeans. Sometimes he only smacks one cheek, rendering it red and aching while leaving the other white and wanting. Sometimes, like tonight, he moves from side to side, pinking me on both, spreading the burn.
‘You spanked me longer tonight,’ I say, and the words come out in my sexy voice. I’m flooded with endorphins and ready for my next treat.
‘An even three dozen,’ Brad confirms with a smile. ‘I was having so much fun, I didn’t want to stop. I could’ve gone on for three dozen more, if I hadn’t wanted to get into you with my cock,’ he admits.
‘So much fun, so little … patience,’ I observe, my clit throbbing now. I want him to tell me where he wants me next. ‘You and me both,’ I add, not wanting him to interpret my words as a criticism. He’ll get no complaint from me. I’m already over the moon, and he hasn’t even touched my swollen, aching pussy.
‘You should see your pretty ass, babe. I can’t wait to get into you – I love fucking my pinked-up girl,’ he teases me, and my mouth waters for the evening ahead of us.
‘OK, on the bed with you now. I wanna see just how slick I can get you tonight before I fuck you, little miss.’
Brad pulls off his shirt, shoes and socks but leaves on his jeans, continuing to deny me the sight of his splendid cock. He knows what a tease it is when he keeps it from me like this – that’s why he does it. As always, I’ll be begging for a glimpse of it soon enough – for another taste of it, for the feel of it, for it rubbing my clit the way he sometimes does before he enters me, rubbing back and forth again and again, his hard, swollen shaft rubbing my tight, burgeoning bud. A thrill runs through me just thinking about it, runs rig
ht through my eager clit.
He positions me on my back, feet planted on the bed, knees up and wide, and lowers himself between my inviting legs, pushing three fingers into me right from the start. I cry out from the tightness in my wet hole. My clit is already swollen, but Brad knows from experience that he can take me higher than this, and he does, circling my clit with his tongue as he slowly fucks me in and out with his thick, hard fingers.
My cunt loosens up to him, finally, and now he speeds up, plunges deeper into me with his hand. As he does, he tightens the muscle of his tongue and increases its pressure on me. Then he downshifts, alternating the hard, fast fucking with tongue and fingers with soft, broad-tongued licks from my vagina up to and over my clit, and slow, deep thrusts of his hand. Before long, I am whimpering and sighing, and soon I begin to clutch at the sheet beneath me, feeling my climax rising, spiralling, about to break like a wave off Waikiki. When it does, my hands tighten into fists that hit the mattress again and again and again while I wail out my pleasure to my grinning guy.
He crawls up beside me and slips his arms around me. ‘You needed that,’ he observes gently, revealing his concern and desire, as always, to give me what I need.
I just nod.
Then, my body relaxed for a moment, Brad suddenly decides to go serious Dom on me.
‘Lick it,’ he orders.
‘Lick what?’ I ask, my head still muddled from the high and the lack of blood moving through my brain. My cock buddy is nowhere in sight.
‘My face. Lick all your juice off my face, Slick. Every drop. Lick it clean.’
‘Yes, sir,’ I reply obediently, stifling a grin as I follow his order, licking his lips and cheeks and chin until he is satisfied and bends to kiss me deeply, again and again, until I feel my clit awaken once more and feel his cock pushing into my leg through his jeans.
Come Play With Me Again Page 2
