“You're still sexy. And a footballer…”
He groaned out a yes. His deep, guttural, Lincolnshire voice sent shivers down my spine. Others might have heard him speak, I heard him sing with one whisper, and even a murmur from him was communicating volumes to me and only me. I decided his effect on me was singular. Nobody else could decipher him as well as I. His voice was hesitant, soft, calm, but only with me.
I reached up and enveloped his top lip, which was plump enough to make my mouth feel full. I sucked gently, barely, and groaned. I did the same with his bottom lip. I kissed the corner of his mouth, then the other one, and licked my way inside tentatively. His arms wrapped tightly behind me and he relaxed. He pulled away to break my control, deciding to exert his own will. He placed his mouth forcefully against mine and pushed it open, not daring to break for a moment, French kissing me dutifully, passionately, slowly. With a bite from me through his bottom lip, we started running our hands all over one another furiously. His backside was small but toned, his waist slim but defined and his entire being quaking with the anticipation of meeting mine. I searched for the skin of his back. We toppled almost, with our frantic pressing and searching dragging us to and fro, until his hands surrounded my buttocks, lifting me up against the wall. I wrapped my legs around him tightly.
I murmured, “Tell me this is real,” as he massaged my throat with his devoted, expertly arousing mouth.
He said nothing. His response was to pull the zip down on my cotton jacket and push his mouth into my white cotton shirt. He pressed both palms against my breasts and grunted loudly, gutturally.
“Charlotte, honey, I've never wanted anyone this much.”
I dragged his head up to remind him that his kisses were still required at my mouth. With me still forced against the lift wall, unable to shift an inch, he held me there. He knew that with an open-eye kiss, I was putty in his hands. But he bestowed the most delicate of kisses on my cheek.
“You are beautiful. All those years ago, you did something to me.”
Though my entire being hummed with desire and anticipation, I stared at him questioningly. I still did not believe his passion was honourable. Some part of me required vengeance. I also needed to qualify what had happened to me over the past few years, all because of that one afternoon where he had forced me to realise I should seek more from life. Another part of me simply wanted to feel like the girl I once was, before life had taken me and shaped me into the weary lover I had become.
“Can we take this to my room?”
“In a minute,” I said.
Whatever his feeling, I was going to have my fun. I released myself from his grip forcefully. I pressed the emergency stop button, even though we were still stationary. I knew that would give us a few minutes more privacy. I reached a hand under my skirt and pulled my panties down and off with a finger. I threw them to one side.
“Lay down on the floor,” I told him. I was almost in Chambermaid mode, but no, some semblance of me remained. This was definitely what I wanted.
He hesitated, but I warned, “Do it.”
He lay down beside his suitcase, a small travel-friendly device for short stopovers.
“Charlotte, what are you…?”
“Shush, wait,” I said.
I waited for him to lie down. I saw his cock semi-erect in his jeans. I wanted him inside my cunt: my steaming, hot, dripping lips. Instead, I fell on my knees, before him, and slowly shifted my skirt up. He saw my bald, shaven pubis and took a sharp intake of breath.
He desperately wanted to know what I wanted from him. I could tell he also needed to put his hands and mouth all over me as quickly as I would allow him to.
“Hold your index finger out in front of me,” I said, and he immediately did.
I moved to meet his digit and began grinding against his finger, pressing my clit toward his closely cut nail with vigour.
“Just hold it there,” I told him, softly panting and moaning. I told him, “I'm so wet for you. Oh baby.”
I was sopping. I was desperately in need of penetration to take the edge off my exquisite agony. The slip-sloshing sound of his finger sliding in and out of me as I moved on top of his digit was becoming unbearable for him. He bit his lip and my eyes widened as I watched his hand reach for his crotch. His phallus must have been aching. I grunted to signify my approval.
“Cody, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, stay there, stay there,” I asserted.
He watched with rapture, grunting and working himself up.
“Nobody makes me wetter.”
“Charlotte, you feel amazing, just use me,” he groaned, his cock now raging in those jeans.
I undid the top two buttons on my shirt, slipping one breast out of my bra so he could see. He groaned loudly. I lifted a nipple to my mouth.
“You fucking hot bitch,” he moaned, before wondering whether he had stepped out of line.
I thrust against his finger harder, baiting him to fight back.
“Dirty bastard,” I groaned, “fucking cunt fucker, give me two fingers,” I demanded, and he immediately gave me another.
“Three,” I advised, and he provided more to work with. He nodded and watched in rapture.
I was shaking, trembling, staving off my orgasm with all my energies. I was riding a wave of all-consuming ecstasy. Nothing made the end result better than having the control taken right out of my hands. With my eyes closed, I managed to utter seductively, “Eat my pussy, baby.”
My eyes were still closed as I fought my own desire harder than ever before. My pussy muscles were sponge cakes threatening to cave in if the cooker door broke open. All I felt was him drag me toward him so that I might crouch right over his face. I positioned my legs either side of his shoulders, spreading myself wide.
“Slow,” I told him, “slow,” before his mouth touched me. I sucked back all my urges to concentrate hard as his mouth, Cody's beautiful mouth, touched me where I pissed from, where I gained most pleasure from, and where response came freely when it came to him.
“Oh darling, yes, just like that, just like that, use all that tongue baby, oh baby, your tongue, it's mine now, mine.”
I unbuttoned the shirt fully, pulled the other breast out, and rubbed them. My nakedness before him, alone, aroused me. My sexual appetite and brassiness aroused him. His technique was good. He licked and sucked intermittently, enjoying me. He swallowed regular mouthfuls of my flowing lubrication.
“Cody, oh god, the lift,” I warned. We had started moving. The override had come into play. He knew what had to be done.
He grabbed my buttocks tightly, pulling me toward his mouth, and licked furiously and rampantly. I screamed and screeched and winced and moaned, and lost myself, awaking with my belly on fire and his breathless face having been covered by my severely wetted groin.
When the lift doors opened to an audience, I had miraculously found time to stand up, pull my skirt down and my jacket shut. His arms swaddled me protectively, kissing me once more intently. We glanced at the onlookers, who were too embarrassed to join us or tell us to stop holding up their day. My ruddy cheeks possibly told them more than they needed to know. He pressed the lift button, we began ascending once more, with his mouth planting delicate, loving kisses all across mine. It was wonderful.
He led me towards his room and we fell inside. The next thing I knew, we were locked in an embrace, fighting each other, demonstrating our own prowess.
A flash of remembrance hit me – but I pushed it back. I also told myself not to doubt that this was real. I was in the zone of just doing it, I guess…
I told him to sit on the edge of the bed and he moaned, “Charlotte, I just want to make love to you.”
“You will, darling, just let me savour this…”
His jacket already removed, I signalled for him to pull his shirt over his head.
“You're glorious,” I told him, and, he really was. He truly was Premier League.
I slowly unbuckled his belt. I pulled
the button open, slid the zip down slowly. There was a huge wet patch of pre-cum on his underwear. I licked my lips. I kissed the skin just above the waistband of his boxer shorts and buried my nose in his body hair, taking molecules of his into my lungs. My hands wandered around his lower back as I took in his beauty.
“Charlotte,” he whined, aching for my body.
I gripped his waist either side, before grasping the clothing that separated me and my new toy. I gently pulled at his jeans and boxers and he lifted himself to let me uncover what was now surely desperate for my attention.
His enormous, engorged cock flipped against his midriff with a slap as it was released. It was at least nine inches and very thick at the stem. I hadn't seen a cock so very hard in so long. It was at maximum velocity.
“Christmas is here,” I teased him.
My arms around his body, I buried my face against his groin and wrestled my cheeks and mouth around his lovely penis and balls until I had taken my fill of his scent, pre-cum and pre-coital pheromones. I wanted to bring him to climax with my mouth, like he had done for me, but the look on his face said he wanted us to be together in unison as soon as possible.
“On the bed,” I said, my face fixed in the most avaricious of smiles. My chest heaved with longing and I watched his wondrous man's body claw its way up the mattress until his head hit the pillows. I pulled my skirt down and off. My shirt fell easily and my bra, I left on for him. I crawled on top of him and kissed him wildly. His hands were rampant in my hair and his cock strained still.
“On or off?” he asked.
“On, it will keep these in check.”
“Definitely off then,” he decided, reaching for the clasp. It wasn't there.
“Front,” I advised, hoping he would not guess at the reasoning behind the convenience of that.
“Oh baby,” he mouthed. I stared at him as he fiddled, watching his red face and puffy lips flush with sweat and desire. He had a condom ready to slide down his cock and I took it, quickly getting him ready.
My breasts unleashed, he held them gently. He started to tease the nipples and while he was slightly distracted, I reached for his cock quickly and slammed myself down on him hard. He fell back into the pillows and muttered something along the lines of, “Mmmm, yes, fuck, oh.”
He was huge. I loved it. His ripe, delicious cock filled me. I worked him slowly, carefully, knowing he was tender and hypersensitive. I lay my body out against his, stretching along his solid, comforting surface, and kissed his face, one bit at a time.
“We can't have this,” he said.
He rolled me over and felt as wonderful and heavy against my body as I had always imagined he would. He moved inside me and I shuddered with every thrust.
“Cody, I…”
“Now we're finally making love,” he murmured.
His mouth met mine again, forcing ravenous kisses down my throat. I yelped as he pushed further inside me. I had to take a deep breath to relax my belly. He was definitely a romantic pleasure-giver, despite my best attempts to exert my power over him.
With his arms locked around me, and our bodies bundled together, I felt so miraculously happy. There was no dirtiness then, no frills, no cusses to get him going or a finger in his arse. He was happy enough to just have me. But it was the way our bodies slotted together so perfectly, hips locked as he thrust his way ever deeper inside. His voice, his scent, his skin, hair and cock; all of him was mine and designed for my enjoyment. My teeth clamped upon whatever I could seize as we suffered the most intense orgasm together. I almost drew blood. Afterward, I saw my imprint on him – various animalistic marks littering his neck and shoulders. I kissed away his pain, both at his neck and at his palms. I asked him if I hurt him, he said no, he did not feel a thing. He said he did not care about anything but having me in his arms finally.
He stroked my face and hair as he professed no other woman had ever affected him as much as I. In that moment, I believed maybe he did love me a little. His heart rate, his breathing and his defeated body told me so. I wept as I admitted I had suffered so much since first encountering him. Perhaps, seeing him again just made me realise how far I had come.
He started making love to me again shortly after. There were really no words. I watched him exploring my body and felt amazed that this man, whom I was so strongly attracted to, felt the same way. The gold St Christopher he wore had been thrown and was stuck to his shoulder with sweat. My eyes were drawn to the way his neck sat in his shoulders. He was so athletic and taut, his veins bulging and popping, and his face red and flush with desire.
“Cody, oh Cody,” I moaned, as he explored me in all the ways I wanted to explore him. He kissed my body slowly and it drove me insane, the way he groaned and breathed in my scents wherever he went.
“I don't know where to start. I have imagined this so many times.”
“Oh baby, we have all the time in the world now.”
He growled his approval into my belly as he tongued my navel and I held the back of his head. My legs were spread wide, soles of my feet together, and the temptation became too much. He knew what I wanted, again. He grabbed a cushion and placed it under my bottom, raising me up. He wrapped one of his muscular, defined arms around my left leg and held it over his shoulder. He pressed his other palm down on the inside of my right thigh to spread me. I had Cody's face, neck and shoulders encased and I whimpered at the sight.
“Please Cody, please,” I encouraged.
With a mischievous grin, he plunged right in and made me cum immediately, his tongue lapping so that we might start afresh all over again. By then my clit was bullet-hard, my juices were running over my anus and his chin had a definite sheen.
“I am going to suck you so hard in a minute. I'll get you back,” I warned him, but he was straight to work on me yet again, staring at my pussy and teasing his tongue around, watching and nibbling, tasting and guffawing as I continually bucked up into his face each time he took me to the edge. I almost reached my peak again several times and with each disappointment, came renewed pleasure. He was toying with me so expertly. I was tiring quickly. He was relentless, truly. He took me, like a gymnast, and stood me on my head, his arms round my legs, holding most of my weight. He used his tongue to make love to me, dipping in and out of my vagina, with speed and precision. My cunt pointed up to the heavens as if he were offering me up. All his attention was on my central core. There was nothing else to concern him with that one aspect of my body completely open and available to him. It was always a delight, having my vagina being fucked by a tongue, but that alone had never ever got me off. I could feel the juices now dripping down my back and between his body and mine. I held back my commands. All he would have seen were the communications of my throbbing, gaping pussy.
He dipped for several minutes, all the time keeping me on the edge, throwing moans and whispers from my mouth as he teased me with his wonderful, long, darting tongue. When he started licking my clitoris slowly, I groaned, I groaned, and I groaned, louder and louder. The execution was so swift, it sounded like I farted. My engorged pussy had clenched with his change of tack. He didn't react. He liked it, I decided. He sucked instead. He bit the flesh between his front teeth, before repeatedly licking swiftly and rapidly over the opening of my urethra, up to my mountain of delight, over and over again. In a fit of pleasure, I lifted myself into a handstand to bring myself up further into his mouth. He was hungry and I was willing. When he put his tongue inside my ass, I was conflicted between being hampered and yet delighted by his other exploration. I screeched incredibly loudly and begged for him to make me cum. Always, I was on the edge, always just too aroused to let myself go, lest it prove too much. I was constricted and tense. When his mouth finally clamped around my clit and sucked, I demanded he not stop. I grabbed the sheets in my hands and held on, desperately seeking something sturdy to hold me straight. With the first spasm, I relaxed and slumped, but he held me up. He kept going. I jolted and jolted, my vagina squeezed itse
lf several times, with little spasms to begin with, before welling, gut-ripping, thumping contractions rendered me senseless and became more and more intense with every lick of his tongue along the length of my pelvic floor. I could not stop myself screaming like a banshee.
Squeezed tight-shut and with only little aftershocks coming in thin waves, my pussy signalled he could slow down, and he kissed my clitoris with delicious, tender kisses, the like of which no man had ever spent the time bestowing once he had been gifted the sight of my multiple orgasms. I fell on the bed, limp and languorous, and he crawled up beside me. I was totally done for. He wrapped my arms around his neck and rested on my chest, breathing his exertions away. I didn't have much energy to hold him. When we were regained a little, he pulled me closer and folded me into his embrace, stroking his hands over my back and behind, sighing and murmuring his delight. He found pockets of cushioned flesh to massage and admire, and curves and planes of a mysterious new feminine landscape to drink in with his eyes. He held a hand under my chin, pecked my nose and gently kissed my mouth, telling me with his eyes that he was simply so relieved to have found me again. We stared at one another, before I giggled, and he buried his laughter in my shoulder. We wrestled about like young teenage lovers and he wrapped himself around me, before we entered into a wonderful, long session of kissing and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. It was that quick with Cody. It had been seven years previously.
Later that night, as Cody and I sat up in bed eating room service in our robes, I asked him what he was doing at the hotel, though I imagined he was in the area for a game. He revealed he was there for that reason but also to catch up with an old school friend who now lived in the area. I saw a flutter of guilt flash across his brow. The furrow embedded, momentarily, before he brushed off whatever minute confliction he suffered. I glanced at the hotel phone on the bedside table and noted the white sticker with big black letters that reminded guests of their room number. It was the very room my client for that night had. The very number. I never knew clients' real names but I knew my Initiate that night had been recommended he try my service by one of my other customers. He wanted whipping because his girlfriend wouldn't do it for him. I had not noticed his room number earlier as we'd entered in such a frenzied fashion. I searched his face for signs. I awaited perhaps an admission, a confession, or otherwise – some small truth that might appease me for the short-term. It never came. He admitted it no longer mattered – this meeting with a friend – but I knew better. The text he sent, telling his “date” it was off, actually reached my own phone.
A Fine Profession (The Chambermaid's Tales Part One) Page 33
