Distracted on the way to the scene

You sat on the couch, absorbed in something when I slithered onto your lap, wearing just a sundress. I wriggled around and plucked at your shirt, avoiding eye contact, and blushing a little.

So, you knew.

“You get cute when you’re about to ask for something exceptionally filthy,” you said against my cheek.

“Oh my god, I am not cute,” I said, articulating the word like a curse. I leaned back, ready to be all vengeful and self-righteous, but the way you smiled at me… fuck. The way you looked at me caused all the saliva to leave my mouth. It was like opening my face-hole in a convection oven.

 I swallowed too hard, and we both laughed at the audible gulp.

“Yeah, that was kind of cute,” you said.

“Oh fuck, it was not. It was… a medical condition,” I argued. “It’s… dry mouth is a…”

“You have never had a dry mouth,” you whispered sadistically. And I remembered last night, your hands fisted in the back of my hair while your cock slid effortlessly in and out of my very warm, very wet mouth.

Fuck.

The delight of a surprise, or the spontaneity of just doing something wicked in the heat of passion, that all I handled with ease. But asking… for a scene? Always made my hands a little damp, made my chest a little flushed. The boldness I carry with me like an overpriced handbag, dissolved as I sat there on your lap, picking at my cuticles.

“Just ask,” you said.

I inhaled, almost spoke, then exhaled and collapsed dramatically against you.

“What if you say no?”

My voice cracked a little because you ran your hand up the back of my leg under my sun dress, and you caressed my ass so gently that I shivered. It was like the whisper of a breeze against my skin.

“Would I do that?” you asked, and your voice was low. You had that timbre in your voice that made everything as wet as my throat was dry.

“Oh my god, all the time. You tell me no all the time,” I said. “You’re the only person who does. Especially if I really-really want something, then it’s like a point of pride for you to make me fucking insane instead of just saying…”

In one motion I was on my back on the couch with you pressed against me. The zipper of your pants was rough and irregularly textured against the thin satin of crotch of my lacey panties. You pushed into me a little harder, creating enough of this strange friction for me to moan into your mouth.

“Instead of saying, what?” you asked, arching your hips into mine in a slow grind. I met you halfway, rubbing your zipper through my underwear, leaving a wet spot on the bulge in the front.

“Yes,” I whispered. 

I did more than whisper ‘yes’  as you pushed my dress over my head and devoured me, first with your eyes, then with your mouth and hands.

Your hot breath against the wetness between my thighs made me say it quite loudly, with a shitton of intent; and when you licked my clit from the outside of my panties, while sliding two fingers under the lace and into me, I didn’t say anything. I just panted your name helplessly, one hand digging into your scalp, the other holding on to the couch for dear life until I exploded into nothing.

“One more, then you can fuck me,” you said, pulling the underwear off and throwing them across the room. Then you went to work with your hands until it was one more.

Then one more after that.

I guess you forgot how to count.

My eyeliner was smudged, and my hair was a tousled disaster. I barely had control of my own body when you pulled up, changed positions and placed me on your lap. Your hands nearly spanned my waist, and you lowered them to my hips, so you could maneuver me onto your cock.

“Perfect handles, amIright? Oh… fuck… baby… oh my…shit…… Jesus…” My attempt at a  flippant moment stalled in my throat as you slid up into me in one smooth, hard thrust. I planted my hands on your chest as you pulled me all the way down, so that my pussy was stretched around the thickness of your shaft. I looked down to see us fused at the pubic bone and shuddered again, natural lubrication and pleasure opening me more so that I slid an impossibly small amount lower, taking you just a hair deeper. The sensation of being filled with you, not just filled, stuffed, gorged. 

“Fuck.” I whispered.

“Me.” you whispered back.

I rolled my hips and almost came on the first rotation from the way you felt inside of me. You pushed a thumb lightly against my clit. I let my eyes close, my head roll back, hands on your shoulders now, knees digging into the cushions. My hair brushed the back of my ass and I felt your mouth close on one nipple, tongue circling as it pebbled for you.

I was alive. Every nerve was alight for you at that moment.

Have you ever had those moments before you fall asleep where your entire body jerks? It’s like it thought you fell, but you didn’t? The reverie of pre-sleep is broken as your quickened heart rate tries to adjust back to the safe zone of sleeping, and not falling.

I had that moment when you wrapped one hand around the back of my head, thumb cradling under my ear, and brought my face to yours, my heart racing at the change in pace. 

“Not tonight,” you said, and fuck if you didn’t look delicious and more than a little evil right then. I was in the zone and you were changing the rules. “I told you to fuck me. Not take a Sunday drive on me.”

My eyes flashed. I liked the challenge. I hated the taunt. I was going to rise to both.

Fucker.

“Oh? Is that what you said? I wasn’t listening,” I replied primly.

You started to rise up, and I pushed you back down and used your chest to leverage myself into a new position. I moved up from my knees to an almost squatting position, resting on the balls of my feet over your lap.. Your cock fell out of me during the position change,  and my mouth watered at the sight of you, slick and firm against your lower pelvis. I  leaned down, licked your lips, and tasted me. 

“It’s almost like I’ve been training for this,” I said darkly, repositioning myself over you. “It’s almost like I have thighs that could bounce on your cock for days. How strange.”

I lowered back, and in this position, you weren’t nestled gently in me. We weren’t sublimely connected at the pelvis. It wasn’t a meeting of sensational bliss. 

I ate your cock slowly with my pussy while we both watched. The head sucked into my folds, the shaft devoured next. I gripped the back of the couch for leverage, and lifted, still watching where our bodies joined. I loved the way it looked as I pulled up. Every slick, salty bit of you was coated in me. 

I liked seeing you covered in my cum. 

 I liked knowing you fucked the shit out of me with damn near every part of you but your cock, and now… now I was going to return the favor.

You were going to let me.

Fuck that made me hot.

I slid up and down one more time, slowly, just for the sheer viewing pleasure of watching me take you.

Then I got to work, riding up and down on your cock faster. Then a little faster. Until I found a pace that sent me right to the fucking edge. My hair stuck to my shoulders as I picked up the pace.

“I guess you still… didn’t… hear… me,” you growled, grabbing my hips and slamming up as I came down. As much as I tried to keep the pace where I wanted it, you took it over, went faster.  You took it over, even from beneath me. 

 I wanted to cuss. I wanted to get off your cock and holler,  and demand a do over. I wanted to yell ‘Fuck you’ because, just because, just for a split second I wanted to absolutely rebel against the way you own my body.

But then… you own my body, so that fleeting moment was crushed because you hammered into me from the bottom at a pace I couldn’t maintain. You held me still and fucked me up, quite literally… fucked me up. I hung onto the couch for dear life, tits bouncing, swearing, praying my legs didn’t give out, praying my pussy didn’t give out, praying your fucking name over, and over, like a talisman from evil, or a call to it.

I came. Again. Hard. Rough. Raw. The sound of wet skin and harsh breath flooding my senses as I buckled against you, inside and out.

My thighs gave and I crashed down on you, and you groaned and lifted me by my ass and placed me on the floor. I didn’t waste a moment asking questions, I just grabbed your cock and stuffed it down my throat, and took over with my mouth where my pussy had left off. You pushed my hair over to one side, and over my shoulder, so you could watch me bob on your cock like a fucking porn star. 

I looked up and made eye contact.

Because I like the way you look at me when your cock is nearly buried in my lungs, and I’m in danger of choking.  

Fuck, I like that.

“I’m going to cum,” you say. Like a fucking gentleman.

I wasn’t feeling very ladylike. My thighs were wet with my own juices. My pussy tingled  from being fucked hard by your mouth, fingers and cock, and I had no doubt I was going to be a little sore in the morning. My clit throbbed, and my nipples were so hard I could have ripped a hole in my dress were I to put it back 

I felt like a primitive goddess on my knees. Disheveled. A fucking mess. Nothing but raw reaction and pure need.

So I didn’t take your warning, and instead, held my breath and pushed down to take you deeper in my throat. Your cock spasmed in my mouth, and the way it bulged choked me, hit my gag reflex, and I held steady, fighting my own inclination to pull off, to breathe, to remove the thing blocking my air … and you spurted twice and then pulled back. I coughed as your next shots landed on my swollen lips to drip down my chin, and you shot  what must be a fucking gallon of thick, white, salty cum on my neck, chest, breasts. You jerked your cock hard a few final times and then we were left there, chests heaving. You leaning on the edge of the couch. Me on my knees, smeared and smutted up, covered in you.

We stared silently. Shaken and victorious at the same time.

You broke the silence first.

“You were going to ask me something?”

I laughed. A full belly laugh, because I got really giddy after sex and that was the funniest fucking thing I’d ever heard. And that made you laugh. Which made me laugh harder.

“Ohmygod, I was. But I forgot my own name for a minute.”

“OK, then, shower?” you said, helping me to my feet. I teetered a moment, and giggle.

“We are the most well-showered humans on the planet.”

My legs buckled a little, which made me really giggle, and you swooped me up and carried me to the bathroom.

“I’ll have you know that I’m very tall, and very solid, and very heavy and you shouldn’t be just picking me up whenever you want,” I said.

“I like knowing you can’t walk because of me,” you replied.

And I forgot words because that’s some sexy shit.

“Shower, then you can tell me what you wanted.”

Shit.

I still had to tell you what I wanted in the next scene.

Shit.

I grinned as you set me on my feet and smacked my ass as I swished into the shower. You wanted to know what I wanted next, and honestly, with your strong hands massaging the shampoo through my long hair, I couldn’t imagine wanting anything more.