After a long day of running around town, the muse and I retired to our hotel room to rest before going out for the night. "I'm too tired for sex," he told me, sprawling on the bed and flipping on the television.
"That's ok," I answered. It wasn't. When I'm around him, I get extremely irritated if he doesn't fuck me every few hours. Between the 6 hour drive the day before, staying overnight that evening with friends, and then spending the whole day out in the city, we hadn't had sex in about 36 hours. I was getting pissed off.
I laid on the bed face down next to him in a t-shirt and leopard print satin panties and pretended to watch football. "I'm not trying to seduce you," I said, "I just needed to get out of those pants and lay down for a while." It was a blatant lie and he knew it. I made a point of adjusting the way I was laying repeatedly so he would have to watch my ass bouncing around. This went on for 10 minutes before he stood up by the edge of the bed and looked at me.
"Get over here then. On your back," he commanded. I turned over and around so that I was laying face up with my head hanging over the edge of the bed. I looked up at him standing over me. He pulled his boxers down to reveal his rock hard cock, which he immediately slid into my already open and waiting mouth. I sucked him happily, reaching back to grab his hips and try to pull him closer. But I didn't need to. He cradled my head in his hands and started fucking my mouth, battering the back of my throat. All I could do was hold on to him and try to breathe.
Just when my eyes began to water he took his cock out of my mouth and tossed me to the middle of the bed. He kicked his boxers off entirely while I yanked off my panties and then he climbed on top of me, sliding his cock easily into my now completely drenched pussy. I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him. He was pounding my cunt so hard that the bedspread was starting to chafe my skin. It was exactly what I needed and I came for him almost immediately, hard, soaking his cock even more.
He stopped and kissed me while I was still shaking. "Better?" he asked, smiling sweetly. I was so breathless I could only nod. "Good," he said. He pulled his cock out of me and moved up to kneel over my face. "Now suck my balls." I took his balls in my mouth and sucked, rolling my tongue around them as I did and tried to watch him as he stroked his cock less than an inch away from my face. But he wasn't having that and he ordered me to close my eyes. I settled for running my hands up his legs. Every once in a while he'd pull back from me a bit to slip his cock into my mouth for a few seconds, holding me still by my hair and then pulling back out again and stroking it some more while I licked and sucked at his balls. When he pulled back from me the last time I knew he was ready and I opened my mouth for him without having to be told. I felt his sweet come hit my tongue as he emptied a full day's load into my eager mouth and I moaned happily. I swallowed and sat up, wrapping my arms around his waist and looking up at him. "See?" I said. "I knew you weren't too tired."
Monday, January 18, 2010
Waiting
I had a friend who I regularly had over for dinner. He was incredibly funny and entertaining to hang out with. He also very obviously wanted to fuck me. Unfortunately, he was too much of a chicken shit to say so outright, and so the dinner nights went on free of molestation. I was getting really aggravated with it.
One night I'd finally had enough of the polite nice guy routine and decided I was going to have to back him into a corner. He showed up and found me in the kitchen cooking, in stilettos with bright red lipstick and what can only be called a dress in the most academic sense of the word. I made drinks while he found ways to maneuver himself behind me so he could continue to stare without my seeing him. I smirked to myself - he was failing miserably at it.
With dinner in the oven and drinks in hand, we sat on the sofa talking. Except, as I had planned, he was struggling mightily to carry on a conversation. Finally, FINALLY he gave up. "Look," he said. "I don't know how I am supposed to sit here and talk to you without touching you with you looking like that."
"And I don't know," I replied coolly, "where you got the idea that you should." He didn't answer, just held my gaze with a look that said If you don't look away now you're not going to be able to get out of this. I didn't.
Moments passed in tense silence. "Put that drink down," he finally ordered, his hands already sliding inside my dress. "You're going to spill it".
One night I'd finally had enough of the polite nice guy routine and decided I was going to have to back him into a corner. He showed up and found me in the kitchen cooking, in stilettos with bright red lipstick and what can only be called a dress in the most academic sense of the word. I made drinks while he found ways to maneuver himself behind me so he could continue to stare without my seeing him. I smirked to myself - he was failing miserably at it.
With dinner in the oven and drinks in hand, we sat on the sofa talking. Except, as I had planned, he was struggling mightily to carry on a conversation. Finally, FINALLY he gave up. "Look," he said. "I don't know how I am supposed to sit here and talk to you without touching you with you looking like that."
"And I don't know," I replied coolly, "where you got the idea that you should." He didn't answer, just held my gaze with a look that said If you don't look away now you're not going to be able to get out of this. I didn't.
Moments passed in tense silence. "Put that drink down," he finally ordered, his hands already sliding inside my dress. "You're going to spill it".
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