well, well. Looks like you’re no longer ticklish.”
“I’m not,” I assured him before I touched my lips back to his.
Dubois grasped my hip, mashed my pussy deeper into his stomach. I imagined the juices were pooling in his navel, sticky, the scent tantalizing, entrancing us both. He tugged at my camisole, pulled it over my head without really lifting from the bed. His hands stroked my breasts slowly, eyes darkening further in desire. When his nostrils flared, I cupped them, leaned them over for his lips to suck.
He did so willingly.
I sighed deep as his soft lips pulled at my stiff knobs. It felt so good, the tugging, the wetness, the pressure of his nips. My womb contracted, spewed more juice out of my body and onto him. I let my hips slide around, wanting my clit to touch his hot flesh. He shifted, allowing his cock to stab into the material of the panties just covering my lips.
“Mmm, baby. Oh, baby.” His tongue probed and twirled faster as his hips pushed upward, searching. I opened wider, teased him unmercifully. Hands tangled in my hair, dragged my mouth to him. I ran a finger along the underside of his cock, felt him jerk, lurch from the touch.
I pushed the envelope further.
My fingers closed around his swollen head, began a slow stroke aided by my wetness. I let his cock head brush across my exposed bush hairs; knew exactly what I was doing. Wanted it, even.
Dubois stiffened, then surged, thrust his cock into the wet hairs; felt him growing, growing, hardening between my hand. “Sweet Jeeeees…oh, baby, oh baby.”
His cock kept probing, seeking, wanting me to slide the panties to the side, welcome it into my hot pussy…and my pussy wanted him so badly. Wanted to clench around the thick muscle, slide up and down the stiff pole, releasing countless pints of juice in my wake. My mind warred with my pussy:
Just let him put it in a little, we don’t have to go all the way. If he puts it in even a millimeter…I’m gonna fuck him senseless. Girl, YOU control your pussy. He can’t get what you don’t give him. I don’t think I can stop right now. You know you want it, get it! No! I’m not that easy! Easy? He’s your husband, get it! I don’t know him well enough yet! Wear protection and get yourself off, girl! Just think of all that virile cock stroking and fucking deep in your pussy…how long has it been again?
It had been that long. As in six months without anyone other than my fingers stroking my kitty; only my mirror-reflected eyes seeing my bush, only my sheets receiving the wetness of my juices. It had been too long….
With a sigh of pent-up need, a sense of diving into the deep bottomless end of the ocean without a wetsuit or oxygen tank, a mental shifting of accepting the gifts presented, I plunged ahead and…shifted the panties to the side. Felt Dubois’s cock touch the sea of honey releasing between my lips. Heard him gasp, saw his face contort, felt the tremble ripple throughout his body. Knew he could not resist the invitation.
And after a few long moments of holding himself in check, he succumbed to my temptation. His cock eased past the fabric inch by inch, feeling the lips with his head; absorbing my moisture, tasting my nectar—readying himself for his entry. I aided him, opened wide, bunched the panties, pulled them farther to the side. Watched as the red fat head learned, memorized my anatomy. Saw its head rise, preparing to find its way home in its depths. I lifted, let my pussy lead as it positioned me over the head; began the descent toward the cock head, felt the tickle of my—
The doorbell chimed loudly.
It startled me; put me off center. I ignored the chime song, found my cock target, locked my pussy over the cockhead and descend—
The doorbell chimed again.
I rationalized the doorbell away; told myself it was probably UPS or FedEx and they’d leave the delivery on the porch when I didn’t respond. For the third time, my pussy eagerly sought its denied mark, was pulsating in the wake of delayed gratification, was—
The doorbell…chimed…for…a…third…damn…time.
Dubois groaned loudly, let his hands drop. “I think someone is determined to see you today.”
My groaned echoed his. “Damn.” My body was on fire for this man! I hoped that the doorbell wouldn’t ring again, would let us return to this luxurious interlude, but it was not to be. The doorbell chimed yet again—a persistent double ring this time—as if the doorbell pusher just knew I was inside and wasn’t going away until I came out.
I slid—slowly—across his thick thighs, letting my now released panties trail over him before rolling out of the bed. Throwing on a robe, I made my way down to the irritating individual whose finger was now making me cuss, extending my list of transgressions long enough that I was in dire danger of being turned away at the Pearly Gates for this one moment alone. I flung open the door, scowl on my face, non-niceties on my lips, and stopped.
On my porch stood Michael…as in used-to-date-please-don’t-call-me-again-this-lifetime Michael.
Shit.
7
Have you ever made a mistake and were glad when you realized it was a mistake and happier than hell when the situation ran its course and you got away unscathed? That was my relationship with Michael. Good looking, but that’s as far as the goodness went—eyesight level. Beneath the skin he was Mr. Conniving to the Bone…Marrow.
“Heeeyyyyy! I called your job and they told me you were on vacation.” His braces-straight teeth gleamed in the sunlight, illuminating his angelic-appearing golden face and curly hair, reminding those not yet disillusioned about his true character of a halo. A bouquet of multicolored flowers was encased in his flesh-covered claws.
I pulled my robe closer before folding my arms across my chest. “I am.”
“I see. You’re looking like it’s been a good vacation, too. Girl, you…are…glowing!”
And you have nothing to do with it, buddy. “Thank you. What can I do for you?”
He didn’t even blink at my terse attitude, instead forged ahead. “Well, girl, I haven’t seen you in a minute and I’ve left messages but can’t seem to get a callback, so I thought since I couldn’t catch you at work, I’d take the day off and see if I could catch you at home.” He moved a step closer, held out his arm. “Here. These beautiful flowers are for my beautiful girl.”
Michael was well aware of my one cardinal rule of dating: No dropping by unannounced. No telling what one would find, and I wasn’t into participating in drama. But I guess he’d gotten amnesia, just like he was apparently an amnesiac about us no longer seeing each other.
I held up my hands but avoided taking the flowers. “Michael, we don’t date anymore, remember?”
He flipped his eyes heavenward and dropped his arm before replying, “Girl, I know what we said, but I figured that I’d give you a moment to get your mind together, come to your senses, and so…here I am.”
Did he say get my mind together and come to my senses? Time to set the record straight. I took a really deep breath. “Michael, for the last time—I hope—I will not, am not, planning on seeing you again romantically in this lifetime.”
His lips slowly closed over his smile. Not surprising
