I’m supposed to be working right now, but my mind was wandering to sexy things, so instead I wrote this fun little (sort of true) story to spice up your Friday…
My husband suggested the game.
“Every day this week I’m going to eat you out and make you come, and I won’t even take my pants off.”
“And what do you get out of it?” I said.
“The excitement of licking your pussy,” he said. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Don’t you want to come, too?”
“Friday. On Friday you return the favor.”
As always, I’m down for his little games.
“Pants off, girlie.”
Bottomless and spread on the bed, writhing as his tongue bathes my folds. I come, pulsing with a desire to be filled.
“Fuck me,” I say.
“No,” he says.
Leaning against the wall, legs spread, my man kneeling between. I can see straight out the front window and wonder if anyone can see me. Gushing on his face, I come with an earthquake that almost knocks me down. My man wipes his mouth.
“Good?” he says.
I grab his cock through his jeans. He moans. Damn, he’s so fucking hard.
“Fuck me,” I say.
He pulls away. He almost looks scared of me. “No,” he says.
Crouched over his face on the floor in my office. He’s lapping eagerly at my cunt. I’m brimming, swelling, welling onto him. I want so badly to be filled.
“Fuck my face,” he says.
I do it. I grind down on him. He groans like an animal. He gasps. His tongue, his face, his scruff are electric friction. I cry out, shuddering. My cunt clenches almost painfully. I want a cock inside. His cock, or any cock. Frankly, at that moment I don’t care. I buckle, ease out the last drops of my orgasm’s strength on top of him.
Again I go for his crotch, working his button and zipper. I get him out. He’s erect like he’s twenty again: so hard, veins, stiff as nails. He moans like I’m killing him as my cold hand grabs his shaft. He’s wet. So wet for me. I ache to feel that stiffness inside my cunt.
“No,” he says. “Molly, no.”
I can tell his resolve is failing. I could fuck him right now and he wouldn’t resist.
“You have to stop,” he says reluctantly.
I sigh. “Your loss,” I say.
I’m spread-eagled in my reading chair. I have no pants on but a towel is under my hips. My man is suckling at my pussy like it’s the most wonderful dish he’s ever imagined. Meanwhile, I’m reading a book of erotica out loud, the words catching in my throat as I get close. I keep reading, gasping and heaving, until his tongue drives me over the edge. I come, wet and wonderful, my hips bucking against his lips until I can’t breathe. It’s too much, my clit is on fire.
I drop the book as he lazily brings me down with swirls of his tongue.
“Your turn,” he says.
I kneel and unzip him. He springs forth, his cock mighty and bold. He’s ready. Beyond ready.
His tip: salty and slick. I take him deeply, as deep as I can. He holds onto my head, caressing me as I give him the pleasure he’s wanted all week. I admire his strength. I would have fucked him every day, but he wanted to wait. I can feel his urgency immediately. He presses forward, driving his head toward my throat. I open, letting him have me. I relax, knowing that he’s been waiting.
He’s so aroused that he’s unbelievably wet. My tongue is slick with his soapy taste. Mere minutes in I can tell he’s on the verge. I want him to cum. It turns me on like crazy. I also want him inside my pussy, but I figure that can wait, just as he’s waited. I give him everything I can afford to give: let him plumb my mouth, scrub my tongue, pleasure himself on my lips. I grab his ass. He’s trembling, stiff. So close.
Come, I think. Come, baby.
He moans. Here it is. I get ready, breathing deep. My heart races. Any second I’ll feel a spurt of his warmth on my tongue, dashing against my throat. He moans again. Here is comes… I’m ready.
Suddenly he pulls out. His cock is so fucking hard it looks painful. I moan.
“Come back,” I say, licking his syrup from my lips.
My man looks at me like he’s never going to see me again. He hesistates, cock bouncing with his pulse. With a groan he pulls his pants up and tucks himself away behind his zipper. The front of his jeans are bulging.
“What are you doing?” I say. My pussy aches. I need his load. I feel empty without giving him a proper finish.
He looks almost dizzy with arousal.
“Just think of how great it will be,” he says. “I think I can hold out another day.”
I remind him that we have guests this weekend.
“Monday then,” he says. “I wonder if I can go another week like this?”
So do I.