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 right 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.
‘How would you like me, sir?’ I continue the game, although it’s true that he is the boss between the sheets; he decides our positions du jour, he dictates the games whenever we play, and I’m happy to let him do so.
‘Stay on your back. Legs all the way up and back, feet over your shoulders.’ Oh, yes. One of his favourite positions. He can see my pinked ass; my pussy, too, is on sweet display. ‘I don’t think I’m finished eating you yet,’ he remarks offhandedly. I sigh with anticipation.
He starts on my ass, rimming me sweetly with his talented tongue. He’s bent on taking me all the way to the top tonight, I can see, and I wonder whether my ass will appear on the menu later, when he’s ready to start fucking, or whether the evening’s special will be all pussy and cock.
He moves up to lap again, this time running his tongue between my holes, circling the lower one, then running his tongue up into the lake of my cunt, circling it then running back down, licking, lapping, humming with appreciation for the flavour I know he loves. ‘Delicious,’ he’s told me more times than I can count. ‘You’ve got the tastiest pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating,’ he likes to say. ‘It’s my pleasure to serve you,’ I always reply.
‘Isn’t the monster getting hungry yet?’ I ask between whimpers as he keeps up the assault on my pussy and ass. I’m ready for penetration; I can’t believe he isn’t too. He’s showing amazing restraint, even more than usual.
‘Oh, it’s starving, but it won’t come out of its lair without a lot of coaxing. You know what you need to do, baby,’ Brad answers. ‘You know how to bring it out.’
‘What?’ I ask, playing coy.
‘You have to beg,’ he growls. ‘Beg like a little slut. Beg to be fucked.’
So I do. I beg. ‘Ohhhhh, fuck me, baby. I need your cock. Please? Give it to me? Please? I need you to fuck me. My pussy’s so lonely for you.’ I go on like this between whimpers and panting until not even Brad can hold out any longer, his steely resolve melting in the heat of our lust.
He slips off his jeans and his briefs, his cock fully erect and dripping again. I look at it hungrily, as if I’m ready to gobble it up, but he’s already grabbing me and pulling me farther down the bed. He arranges my legs over his shoulders now, and lowers himself into my wet and wanting cunt, and he thrusts and thrusts until we are both panting and groaning, listening to the sound of our combined wetness as he slap, slap, slaps his body into mine.
He holds himself back until he feels me come around him, my back arching, my limbs tightening, accentuating my pleasure. Then he shoots into me so hard that I feel it: once, twice, three times. He thrusts hard a few more times and my contractions milk him the way my hands and mouth did earlier. He lowers my legs, rests on top of me. We both try to catch our breath. As I lie beneath him, enjoying his weight on my body, I think about how much our Wednesday nights mean to me, how close they make me feel to my man.
* * *
We regain our equilibrium and lie together talking. Suddenly, Brad decides to drop a bomb on me about last night’s poker game at his best friend Tom’s.
‘So, I lost last night, Dana,’ he begins.
‘That’s OK, honey,’ I soothe, running my hand down his scratchy cheek. ‘You’ll do better next time.’ He plays every other Tuesday. ‘Did you lose a lot?’ I ask softly.
‘More than I ever have before,’ he replies, and I can tell from his voice he doesn’t want to say how much.
My heart jumps. He usually takes fifty bucks with him when he goes; sometimes as much as a hundred. I wonder how much was in his pocket this time.
‘How much, baby?’ I ask gently, wanting to encourage him to get it off his chest. ‘You can tell me – I won’t get mad.’
‘The whole hundred I had with me,’ he says, obviously having a hard time ’fessing up.
‘But that’s not the end of the world. You’ve lost that much a couple of times before. You’ll make it back,’ I assure him.
