“We have to be careful, Daddy. I want to fuck. You know I do, but I don’t want to get pregnant, either!”
“Yes, babygirl, I agree. Don’t we have some condoms somewhere?”
How quickly, after years of condom-free sex, I forget that there are options when the birth control is an issue (more on that in another post). I squealed with delight. We weren’t going to be sex-free for the next few weeks! Woohoo!
“Just so you know, babygirl, I usually don’t come with condoms on.” Part of me understood – the latex can and does mute the sensations in some men. Part of me took that as a challenge, as if my own sexuality and muscle-clenching action could and should combat years of knowledge about his own sexuality.
We had three condoms. Flavored (tropical fruit, yum!), “tantric” – whatever that means, and glow-in-the-dark. Being a kid at heart, he went for the third option. And yes, his condom-covered cock really did glow.
He spanked my ass. He tickled my feet, legs, and pussy with a feature. He scraped me with his nails. He teased my slit with one fingertip. Any sensation he could create, he did. I squeaked, squealed, and writhed – all without breaking my kneeling position on the bed.
“Good girl.” The murmur alone was enough to make me want to explode in orgasm.
He sank two fingers deep inside, hooking them in the way I know and love. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. The teasing touches of earlier came with a cost that would be paid with the stimulation to my g-spot. I need to cum. I need to cum Right. Now.
“Please, Daddy. Please! Can I cum?! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease???”
A chuckle followed by a “Yes, girl.” I exploded, shuddered, curled my toes, and collapsed into the sheets, my fingers clutching them as a drowning woman clings to a life preserver.
Familiar sounds from a previous life permeated my orgasm-induced haze. The crinkle of a torn wrapper. The slick sound of a lubricated sheath sliding over hard flesh.
“Come here!” Still on my side, where I’d collapsed, I felt myself pulled across the bed and into his arms. One thrust and he was in. The sensation was different, foreign, but still good.
He fucked me, one hair tangled in my hair, jerking my neck back. I whimpered and melted. The sharp sting of pain felt as good as the rhythmic thrusting of cock in pussy.
No words. Just fucking.
Silently, he pulled away and rolled me onto my back. His knees nudged mine apart. His weight bore down on me, a heavy comfort as he sank his cock in again. Different sensations. Different reactions.
Taking a handful of hair, he pulled my head to one side, exposing sensitive neck and ear. His tongue devoured every inch of skin it found. I squealed and squirmed. “Fighting” him and loving every goose bump, every clench around his cock, every new drop of desire seeping from my body.
Done with that position, he moved off of me, rolling us together onto our sides. We faced each other as he continued fucking me. My legs wrapped around his waist. He extended one leg up, using it for leverage as he increased the pace and intensity. I thrashed in his arms like a wild woman. His hand draped across my face, his thumb touching my lips. I opened my mouth and sucked the digit deep inside, my tongue swirling around the calloused skin, teeth grazing the length, imagining a cock, his cock, someone’s cock in my mouth. He growled. I whimpered.
He pinched my nipples, smacked my face, and fucked me, over and over again.
Time stood still. I was nerve-endings and sensations. I was bruised nipples and wet crevices. I was fucked and used and floating. He pulled out of my body and pushed me onto my back, away from him. I was still, gasping for breath, waiting for his next move.
The sound of a condom being rolled off a cock never changes. The wet, sucking sound almost made me giggle. The sound of the lube bottle squirting a generous amount of fluid made me raise an eyebrow. The sound of his breath and his hand moving in time together made me forget to breathe.
The feeling of his fingers on my clit made me scream. As he pumped his own cock, his other hand swirled around sensitive flesh. I shrieked my own need, begging to cum. Pleading for release. Nothing.
Then…I heard it. The sounds of his own impending orgasm. Ragged breaths became grunts. Grunts became groans. Growls came next, and with a vicious growl, he snarled, “Cum for me, girl. Now!”
I sobbed my release as he roared his own. We finished together, boneless and spent in a tangle of sweaty sheets, surrounded by the smell of sex, lube, and latex.
Welcome to Masturbation Monday! We started out fucking and ended with masturbation. Not a bad time at all. Okay, my smutty-seeking friends – go forth and read more yummy goodness.