by Ashe Barker
I lift my body helpfully as he tugs my knitted top over my head. He breaks the kiss to glance down at my bra, possibly matches it in his head to my knickers still secreted in his pocket, and slides his hand behind my back to unsnap the clasp. Moments later he’s admiring my naked breasts.
Well, I hope he’s admiring them. He does seem to be if the growing bulge inside his jeans is any indication. His erection is nudging my stomach, and I suspect he may be feeling rather constricted by now. My helpful mood extends to this matter, and I reach down to push his jeans and boxers aside to release his cock. This is one initiative he seems to not mind from me as I close my hand around the shaft. I try a couple of experimental strokes, sliding my fist down to the bottom then right to the top. His sigh seems to be one of appreciation, so I repeat the gesture, this time pausing to swipe the pad of my thumb across the smooth head. There’s moisture there, his juices ready to mingle with mine.
Or not. I’m sure I had something drilled into me about not mixing body fluids in my sex education lessons at school. This is yet another occasion when I wish I was able to read—I’d have much more idea about how this all works if I’d been able to do some dummy runs through reading those erotic books they stock in supermarkets now. There’s only so much you can glean from suggestive covers.
I shove that problem from my mind for now, sure that Cain will be up to speed, as it were. I continue to pump his cock as he trails his lips across my shoulder then down to my left breast. He takes my nipple between his lips, rather as I did to him a few moments ago, but there the similarity ends.
I definitely did not draw my tongue over his nipple like this, nor did I bite it so gently it almost hurt. And it never would have occurred to me to suck on that flat little nub. Cain does all those things to me, and I arch under him. He caresses the lower curve of my breast with his hand, squeezing and lifting. My grip on his cock relaxes as my attention is focused on the fabulous sensations he is creating. It feels as though some electric current is flowing through me, connecting my nipple directly to my pussy. He seems to be increasing the pressure, and now he’s grazing the sensitive tip with his teeth. I experience a moment of unease as I realize he could hurt me, but I know he won’t—at least, not in a bad way. I’ve learnt a lot already about pain and pleasure, and I’m struggling to separate them entirely now.
He shifts his attention to my right breast. Soon that nipple, too, is quivering and swelling, hardening to a pebble. I’m writhing on the bed, his body still covering mine but not restricting my movement at all. My skirt is now a hindrance and I reach for the button at the side. I unfasten it, unzip it and lift my hips as Cain pulls it down. I kick it away and roll to my side. Cain rolls too, allowing me to shift our positions as he reaches to caress my bottom. The soreness is still there, but only just, reminding me of the erotic prelude to all this.
Cain shifts again, and I’m on my back. This time his knee is between my legs. He releases my nipple briefly as he rolls to his back to finish removing his jeans and boxer shorts. He dumps them on the carpet beside the bed where no doubt the rest of my stuff already is. Then he’s kneeling above me. He runs his eyes all over my body. I’m self-conscious, it’s been a while since I last rolled around naked in a man’s bed—indeed, I’m struggling to recall another time I ever did—but this feels right to me. I like Cain, when he’s not being rude to me, and I know I like the way he’s making me feel just now. So I smile, content to let him look.
“You’re a pretty little thing, under all those prim skirts and old lady tops. I should have undressed you earlier.”
I’m not sure if he’s being rude or not. His remark leaves me vaguely uncomfortable though I’m not sure just why. I decide to let it pass and settle for a stab at humor.
“Who are you calling little?” I jiggle my breasts at him suggestively.
His answering grin is pure lust. Result!
“Christ, Abbie, you’re fucking gorgeous. So hot.” He takes my nipple in his mouth again, briefly, but this time he’s on a journey south. He nibbles a trail across my stomach, dipping his tongue into my belly button before setting off again. His hands are under my knees as he reaches my mound. I know what happens next, he’s telegraphed his intentions clearly enough. I don’t resist as he gently lifts my knees and spreads my legs. I remain still, open, on display, feeling his eyes on me as he looks his fill again.
“So fucking beautiful. Hot and wet, and very nearly ready.”
I groan, now thrashing my head from side to side. I want him to touch me. I need him to touch me. Now! And the moment he does, I just know I’ll detonate. Most of my orgasms to date have been self-induced, and I strongly suspect he’ll be rather more skilled than I am at all this. His approach so far has seemed practiced enough, certainly.
But he doesn’t touch me. I want his hand, his fingers, his tongue, his cock, anything. On me. In me. But still he waits, and looks. I open my eyes, to find his gaze is on me. The slate gray of his eyes is almost gone, they are dark now, with arousal. Mine too, surely. And still he waits. I shift my hips, hoping he’ll take the hint. He smiles.
“Do you want something, Miss Fischer?”
I mouth my reply, “Please.”
“Please what? What would you like me to do?”
Annoying man! I shift my hips again.
“I want you to ask me. Tell me. I want to hear the words.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you always this chatty?”
“Mmm, mostly. So, what would you like me to do to you now?”
“Anything. Just—do it. And quickly before I fall asleep again.”
The exasperation in my tone doesn’t seem to faze him, but he clearly doesn’t take too kindly to the words. “Do I need to teach you some good bedroom manners? Miss Fischer? I could. I really could, and it would be such a pleasure…though perhaps not for you.”
I gaze at him, and his expression is unwavering. He’s different now, but it’s very subtle. Not the playful, gentle lover in this moment. Now he’s dominant, commanding, maybe very slightly dangerous. Certainly stern. He means what he says, maybe. I wonder if he would—what? I experience a thrill of anticipation, and his lip quirks in response. He knows what I’m thinking, and he might just…
“Touch me. Please.” I say the words quickly, eager to break the silence. And afraid of what might lie under it. What more might he be able to beguile me into doing?
He smiles at me, a smile of triumph, a smile from a man who knows he’s calling the shots here. “Of course. Where? And what with?”
“There. Please.” I’m whispering now, not wanting to provoke him but finding this hard.
“Where, love. Say it for me.” His voice gentles, his expression softens.
“My pussy.”
“Not your clit, then?”
“Yes. Yes please. There too. Especially there. Please, Cain…” My whisper dies away. I’m mortified with embarrassment, and so desperate with need I’ll do or say anything as long as he’ll just relieve this clenching emptiness. I’m keenly aware of my wetness, my pussy must be positively dripping, glowing with arousal. And if he doesn’t stop looking and start doing within the next millisecond, I’m going to burst into flames. Without a shadow of doubt.
“Right. Clit and pussy. What would you like me to touch you with?”
I’m past messing now, past defiance or evasion. My eyes are closed, but I can still see that uncompromising gaze. It might as well be tattooed onto the backs of my eyelids. I grind out the words. “Your fingers. Your tongue. I want your cock inside me.”
“Like this?” His tone is positively liquid now.
I jerk violently as he rubs my clit. My eyes fly open—he repeats the action. He draws the pad of his thumb along the sensitive, greedy little nub, and all my nerve endings are apparently now directly connected to it. I scream. I actually scream, it feels so good. He continues to caress me. I start to come. One more stroke, and I plunge past the point of no return. And I’m not quiet about it. I
scream again, thrusting my hips wildly as he increases the pressure, wringing the whole of my response from me. Nothing, no self-administered orgasm in the privacy of my little bathroom or bedroom back in Bradford could have prepared me for this. This is sheer, mind-numbing pleasure. If it were possible to die of pleasure, this would do the trick. Absolutely. Totally.
My body is shaking, vibrating with sensation as he relentlessly presses the matter. The waves of pleasure seem to be endless, washing through me. I feel as though I’m floating, weightless, drifting. Then, as suddenly as it started, my orgasm subsides. My pussy is clenching, I want him inside me. I’m lying still, content, satisfied for now, but so very ready for him.
Unfortunately my view is not shared by Cain Parrish, and in this he’s the one setting the pace.
“Mmm, very impressive, Miss Fischer. Now let’s see if you can manage a repeat performance.”
Not in this lifetime.
Cain has other ideas though. He stretches out, face down on the bed, his shoulders between my thighs. He gently slides his fingers through my folds—wet and so ultra-sensitive—parting the lips of my pussy. He touches his tongue to my clit, making me shiver. He licks it, and I thrust up at him. He wraps his tongue around it and sucks. Moaning now, I feel the pull of orgasm. Christ!
He slips one long finger deep inside me. Now I’m screaming again. I squeeze the muscles inside my pussy around his finger, seeking more friction. He slips another finger inside, and a third. Now he’s twisting and spreading them inside me, pressing against the walls of my pussy. He withdraws them, right to the fingertips, then plunges deep once more. Another scream from me, and he shifts up a gear. He’s finger-fucking me hard, still flicking my clit with his tongue. I come for a second time within moments.
My climax is not so explosive this time, more a slow unfurling of warm pleasure which seems to drift on and on. Cain’s in no hurry, continuing his sensual assault on my pussy and clit until he’s sure every last tremor and shiver have vibrated from me, every last wave and pulse of sensation have flowed out through my fingertips. Then and only then does he lift his head and start to lick his way back up to my breasts. He stops briefly to re-acquaint himself with my nipples before taking my mouth again in another deep, drugging kiss. I’m furrowing my fingers through his thick, wavy hair as I respond, plunging my tongue into his mouth as he rolls to his back, pulling me on top of him. I spend a few brief moments as the aggressor, kissing him deeply, fiercely, before he reverses our positions. This time he’s positioned his hips between my thighs, and his cock is nudging my pussy. I expect him to plunge deep and fast inside me, but he doesn’t. Instead he reaches over me to grab his jeans from the floor, and pulls a small foil sachet from the back pocket.
Ah right, body fluids. Good thinking. As long as he’s quick.
He is quick, and in moments he’s unrolled the condom along his cock, and he’s ready for action. I am too, and I close my eyes, holding my breath as I wait for him to fill me. He’s large, I can tell that, and I expect this will be a tight fit.
“Abbie, open your eyes. Please.” His tone is soft now, achingly gentle. Gone is the hard, dominant, commanding presence of a few minutes ago.
I obey, this time because he’s asking me so nicely and I want to please him.
“Are you okay with this?” His expression is slightly uncertain, though I have no idea why.
“Okay? What do you mean?”
“I came on pretty strong for a while, back there. I need to be sure that you’re okay with this. You can say no, you do understand that, don’t you?”
What is he talking about? Why the hell would I say no? I want this more, probably, than I want my next breath. I need to make him understand and get on with it. Fast.
“Yes. I do know that. And yes, I’m okay. Now, please…”
He smiles. “Just checking, Abbie.” And in the next instant he surges forward, burying his cock balls-deep inside me.
My mouth opens, my eyes widen, I gasp. He’s big, and it’s tight. Incredibly tight. He holds still for a few moments and I’m intensely aware of the impossible fullness. I’m scared to move.
“You still okay?” His voice is tender, he sounds concerned.
I manage a small nod, though in that moment I’m not entirely convinced.
“Be still for a moment, relax if you can, I will make this good. I promise.” His tone is low and sexy, and totally assured.
Again I nod, and incredibly I am starting to relax. He’s not hurting me, it was just—more—somehow. More intense, more sudden, more—everything. I’m adjusting fast though, and after a few seconds, I shift under him, instinctively wanting the friction, the movement. I want him to thrust.
“Please, Cain, could you…?”
“On it, sweetheart.” And he slowly slides his cock back, almost withdrawing from me, before plunging back in again. His movements are smooth, unhurried, and very, very deliberate. He’s holding my gaze, my eyes fixed on his, and he withdraws and thrusts a second time. And a third. He picks up the pace a little, still gentle, achingly careful. It’s what I need, and I arch under him. His next thrust is firmer still, and I gasp again. He pauses, one eyebrow raised as he silently seeks confirmation that I’m still with him. I am, I most definitely am. I manage a slight smile before my eyelids flutter down and I start to thrust back.
That’s Cain’s signal to make it good, to deliver on his promise. He does. He quickly sets up a rhythm, angling his thrusts to hit my G-spot each time. I clench my pussy franticly around him. I’m gripping him, seeking more. And he responds, he delivers. I grasp his shoulders, my body shuddering with desire and something akin to desperation. I want him harder, faster, deeper. My wordless moans and frantic clutching at his body are all I have to convey my need, but he knows it, understands it. And he responds, pumping his long, thick cock into my pussy like a piston. It feels glorious, absolutely wonderful, and I lift my legs higher, hooking my ankles together behind his waist to pull him deeper into me. His weight is taken mostly on his elbows, but my body is firmly pinned underneath his and I feel delightfully dominated, deliciously vulnerable and totally safe. Cain Parrish knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m in very, very good hands.
Leaning on just one elbow, he angles back slightly to reach down between us. His fingertip connects again with my clit, and he rubs hard. With a small squeal and a powerful ripple of pure friction along the entire length of my pussy. I climax powerfully. The previous orgasms have been nice, better than nice, absolutely stunning, but they really were just the warm up act, the prelude to this. Now the sensation just keeps on coming, as I do. Cain’s thrusts are deep and hard, his cock a solid presence totally filling me, to my absolute limits and just possibly beyond. Even as I feel my orgasm start to build again, quickly passing the point where I could exert any level of control, I’m aware that he’s tensing, his whole body rigid. His cock if anything is even firmer, more relentless, and he continues to fuck me hard. Harder. Then I’m there, soaring weightlessly, spinning, my body spasming wildly. And Cain’s there too, with me, his breathing short and rasping as he buries himself one last time, the head of his cock nudging my cervix as he comes. The condom fills, and I feel the warmth of his semen inside the protective layer. I tighten my legs around him, my heels pressing on his buttocks to silently urge him to stay where he is, deep inside me. Forever.
But forever’s a long time, and eventually Cain rolls to his side and withdraws from me. He quickly slips the condom off and disposes of it, wrapped in a tissue from a box beside his bed. He rolls back to face me.
“That was quite a ride, Abbie. And you were very tight. Hot and wet and fucking lovely, in fact. Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head. “No. Well, maybe slightly, at first. I’m not used to, well… It’d been a while.”
He lightly caresses my cheek with his knuckle, the gesture both tender and reassuring. “It won’t be a while until you’re doing it again. At least, not if I get my way.”
I smile.
“No. I don’t think it will.” I pause for a moment, then, “And, what about spanking?” I need to ask, need to know how much he’s offering me, and what exactly. He doesn’t seem fazed by the question.
“What about spanking?”
“Will…will there be more of that soon as well?”
Now he chuckles, his laugh a little bit wicked and more than slightly sexy. “I daresay I can oblige you. If you insist. Are you likely to insist, do you think?”
Now it’s my turn to grin. “Yes, Mr Parrish, I believe I will. Especially if you can follow it up like that every time.” I hesitate for a moment, then, “You’re really turning out to be quite talented.”
He laughs out loud at that. “And you’re turning out to be a very demanding house guest, Miss Fischer. But I’ll do my best to accommodate you. But not straight away. You’ve tired me out, for now at least. Do you need the loo or anything before I turn out the light?”
More serious now, I make to sit up, feeling I’ve perhaps outstayed my welcome. Cain snakes his arm around me and he pulls me back toward him.
“Make it quick in the loo, Abbie. On second thoughts I’m beginning to think that perhaps I’ve not quite finished with you just yet.”
I turn my head, glance down at him, propped up seductively on his pillows. It would be nice to stay.
“I thought, maybe, you know, that I should go back to my own room now…?”
He gazes up at me, his expression considering. At first he doesn’t answer, and I think it must indeed be time I made myself scarce.
Then, “Is that what you want?”
I shake my head. I see no point in playing hard to get. Not now. But there are things I need to say, things not quite squared between us, however beautifully he might be able to fuck me. Or spank me.
“It’s kind of you to let me stay here, in your house, but I don’t expect to share your bed. I mean, you don’t even like me.”
