He slipped out of his dark jeans, and assumed his position on the couch with a sigh, making himself available to me. I had beaten him at Scrabble again, and it was time for my prize.
Without taking off any clothes, I settled in front of him, and took his sweetly soft cock in my mouth, nestling it there as it immediately began to grow. His hands held my head firmly as he guided me down, and I covered them with my own as I felt the fullness in my mouth begin to move deeper into my throat.
I took a big breath through my nose before letting him take over. He wanted it slow and deep, just as I did. The sleek and slippery wetness of his length moved in and out of my throat, sometimes deeper than I knew I could go. My mouth began to water, moisture from the back of my throat filling it. Spit collected in my cheeks and leaked onto his cock, and my eyes began to tear as I took him deeper and deeper with each steady press of his hands. Lost in the sweet taste of my own beery breath, the heady marijuana smoke in the room and the deep and steady beats of Beck, I could feel my own wetness begin under my jeans.
His cock still in my mouth, he lifted my sweater over my head and took my nipples in his fingers, rolling them for a moment, then pinching hard, forcing more tears from my eyes and juice from my pussy. I pulled back and gasped, pressing my head hard into his chest. I was teetering on the line between pleasure and pain, and he roughly pulled my breasts by my nipples around his slick cock, then urged my mouth down onto him again. I rolled my lips and face over the wetness there, and took his balls in my mouth, first one, then both at once, relishing their slippery sweetness on my tongue, then swallowed his cock deeper again, massaging the back of my throat with him. Up and down, up and down, deeper and deeper, coming up for air now and again, I allowed him to use my face as his own.
Then: “Take off those pants and bend over,” he instructed.
I stripped off my jeans and assumed my position in front of the couch, on all fours, ass pressed up for him. I heard him rustle in our bag of toys for a moment before he spread me wide and entered me from behind, pressing up and in, touching bottom and causing me to cry out again. He pounded me hard there, my face pressed into the carpet, one hand on the back of my own neck, and didn’t stop even as I heard the snapping lid of the lube. His slick fingers circled and probed my ass, stretching it to receive his next offering. He eased a dildo in and I could feel the exquisite tightness of this double penetration. Nestling the toy against his body, he began to fuck me in both holes, at first slowly, then building in speed and intensity until my head went blank, tiny sparkles circling behind my closed eyes, my own sounds lost to me.
“Bend over the couch,” I heard from afar.
I climbed up to the couch and he stood behind me, and I felt his cock enter my ass, slowly for a moment to be sure I was ready, and I was. I accepted the full length of him there, and heard myself laugh as my first orgasm took over me. He smacked the side of my breast hard as I reached down and found my clit, circling it with my index finger to bring on more as he continued to pound me from behind, his balls slapping against me with each stroke. I was too far into my own waves of orgasm to realize he had come when he finally drew back, breathing hard. I collapsed face down on the couch as post-orgasmic giggles took over me.
He’s back.
HOT ! If this is the forfeit, I might even consider the unthinkable and lose a game of Scrabble on purpose.
Wow! That was very hot. It’s nice to see a woman empowered by her own sexuality.
So wait…what does he get if he wins?
That’s the beauty of our relationship: we both want the same thing.
[...] of depth and speed. Not as deep or as firm as when he fucks me, but soft and sensuous, not raw and nasty as is our [...]
[...] a swirl of money and men and foreign visitors and work and travel plans and health issues. Mr. Wrong, little Justin, a sweet boy at a neighborhood bar, an old fuck buddy returned, three or four more [...]
[...] hits and I approach another birthday, I’ve been reading my through the memories: dozens of hot fucks with the smokin’ Mr. Wrong before he moved away, the sweet but elusive company of Little [...]
[...] for now). He came over for Scrabble and sex, and I expected a reprise of one of many earlier hot times. But he had a headache, so I massaged his back and shoulders for half an hour, then laid him out [...]