I've been away for a while. I'm in a major production slump. It's not writer's block. I have lots of ideas and several projects on the go, just zero ambition to put them into words. Anyway, not sure if I've shared this snip before. It's from a story that is no longer available but I think the scene works for Kayla's yummy prompt. Hope you enjoy it.
I walked into the living area and was brought up short when I found Mike perched in front of my laptop, totally absorbed in my jumble of a novel. I felt my face blush with embarrassment. How could I have left that open for anyone to see, let alone Mike?
I rushed over and slapped the screen shut. He jumped guiltily.
“I thought you said you had writer’s block?”
“I do,” I choked out. Tucking the laptop under my arm, I headed quickly towards the bedroom.
“Is that me?” he asked, stopping me in my tracks. Shit! “In your story, is that me?”
“Not necessarily,” I answered.
He took the laptop from under my arm and set it on the table, turning me to face him. My cheeks burned.
“Six foot two, blond, works construction?” he rattled off the description of the hero in my story. “Who else do you know like that?”
“Brent?” I squeaked.
“Brent has never worn doe-skin coloured coveralls in his life,” he said blandly.
I bit my lip and squirmed. “Did you read any more?” He couldn’t have got very far—he hadn’t been out here alone long enough to get too deep into it, I reasoned.
“No.” I felt a small measure of relief. He grinned. “Do you find my overalls sexy?”
“Maybe.” I smiled.
“Does that turn you on?” He kept grinning, having fun with me.
“Yes,” I admitted. “Especially when you wear just a tight white T-shirt underneath, or, better yet, no shirt at all.” I wrapped my fingers around his beautifully defined biceps. “Your muscles ripple and bulge while you work.” To my delight he flexed for me.
He pulled my hips forward against the rock-hard evidence of his bulge. “I’ll show you ripple and bulge.”
“Again?” I grinned, feeling the familiar heat creep into my insatiable body.
“Always.” He scooped me up and took me to the bedroom.
We’d been together so many times now that the burning need to just fuck quickly, like bunnies, and get to the culmination as quick as possible had passed. We took more time with each other, enjoying the foreplay, getting to know each other’s likes and dislikes, trying to prolong the inevitable.
He laid me on the bed, and I opened my arms to him, inviting him. He met me, kissing me senseless. I turned him over and removed his boxers, then let my gaze travel over him appreciatively, as he watched me through desire-heavy lids. I palmed his balls, cupping him, dragging my hand slowly, curling my fingers around the rigid length of his greedy cock. He raised his hips, pushing more firmly into my hand. The sounds he made and his reactions to my touch thrilled me and made me want to please him all the more.
I climbed on top of him, settling my wet slit firmly against his rigid shaft, resting against his stomach. I rubbed my pussy back and forth over him, enjoying the warmth and slide.
I massaged his biceps, his shoulders, his chest, working my way down. I loved the feel of his muscles playing under my palms, involuntarily flexing under my insistent fingers. I was getting more worked up as I touched him. Wetter, hotter, and my breathing spiked. I ran my palms over his ribs, caressing down his flat stomach until my fingers touched the head of his cock, which was nestled lovingly between my thighs. I even allowed my fingers to brush against my own clit, knowing it would heighten the delicious burn. And I knew he would enjoy watching me touch myself. He growled at the action and moaned as I wiped my fingertip over the small drip forming on the end of his dick and swirled it around my aching nub, lubricating it even more.
“Mmm,” he moaned, shifting his hips. He ran his hands from my knees to my hips, sitting up. He coaxed me on to my back, then slid down my body, making me writhe in anticipation of what was to come. He pushed up my T-shirt, moving it out of his way as he went. He tucked his hands under my ass, tilting my glistening pussy towards his hot mouth. He kissed my clit, closed-lipped, before he began slowly lapping, then delving, sluicing pointedly, opening me with maddening slowness, sensually with his probing tongue. My blood quickened and my juices flowed, making me weak and dizzy. Just as I began to rotate my hips in the very early stages of release, he paused and came down on his elbow beside me. He inserted two fingers into my sopping cunt, penetrating then retreating, using broad strokes. It felt really good, but I was a little disappointed that he hadn’t used his tongue to bring me to orgasm. I really liked it when he sucked my clit. But I didn’t have time to tell him, because all of a sudden the stroking changed.
He centred all of the pressure on the front wall of my vagina, stroking the soft swelling created from my arousal. Penetrating only a few inches at a time instead of going in fast and deep. Oh, my God! He’d read more than he’d admitted to, I thought fleetingly before I moaned, out loud, “Oh, my God!” in absolute rapture.
“A ‘come here’ motion,” he rasped, his voice deep with his own arousal. “Isn’t that what you wrote?” He crooked his two fingers forward and made that motion. “Come here, baby,” he invited. I almost came off the bed, thrashing at the tremendous sensation he was awakening in me. “Is this what you want me to do to you?”
I had no idea this was even possible, I thought but didn’t say, unable to form the words as he took his other hand and placed just the slightest amount of pressure over my pelvic bone while he continued to stroke shallowly with flexed fingers. This was mind-blowing. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think and I didn’t care. I had never experienced or felt anything in comparison in my life. Every part of my body was hot and felt like it had its own beat. That beat grew and spread out from the deepest, darkest core of my being. An explosion began to build. My hips bucked. “Oh, God, Michael!” I cried again as the waves of sensation began to radiate. It felt so good that I never wanted it to end.
He pulled his fingers out. “No…” I protested, pulling my knees in, trying to maintain this state of suspended climax.
“No,” he gritted out, his jaw tight with his own torrid pain. “I don’t want to miss this!” He forcefully pulled my knees apart and plunged his straining cock into my spasming pussy.
I was almost afraid that he wouldn’t be able to maintain the incredible bar that his talented fingers had set but, as soon as he started to thrust in long velvety strokes, keeping that ever-so-slight pressure on my pubic bone, it sent me into a whole other stratosphere. I grabbed on to the sheets, trying to hold myself down.
I was bombarded by one blissful, devastating, deep, gut-wrenching wave after another of exquisite, steady pleasure. I wanted to weep at the intensity of it.
“Oh, God, Hol! You’re so fuckin’ hot in here.” He shuddered as if he meant that as a good thing.
My taut stomach undulated again and again. “Can you feel it?” I panted, hoping he was feeling, on his end, even a modicum of the rapture he’d created inside me.
“Oh, fuck, yeah.” The tension on his handsome face pulled his skin tight over his jaw as he fought to hold back, trying to prolong it for me. “I’ve never felt anything this good.”
I was elated to hear that we were experiencing something new together. I held on to him as if he were the only thing anchoring me down. He shuddered, finally collapsing on top of me. I continued to move as my body and my brain tried to catch up with one another. I felt so overwhelmed and intensely rocked. I was feeling so close to him in that moment, I started to cry.
“Hey.” He rolled and pulled me into his arms. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, concern clear in his deep voice.
“No,” I sniffed. “It was just…beautiful.”
He sighed, relieved. “Then why are you crying?”
I wasn’t sure. “I don’t know. It was just so amazing. I’ve never had that happen before. I can’t even put it into words.” I’d thought my sex life was fine. I’d always enjoyed it, found it fulfilling. I’d never known until now what I’d been missing. This was the reason women had sex. “I love you, Michael,” I whispered.
“I love you, too, Hol,” he responded, wiping my wet cheeks.
I sighed heavily. I felt blissfully limp and lethargic and incredibly satisfied.
“So was that a deep spot or a G-spot orgasm?” he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Umm, I’d have to say that was a full-body orgasm,” I answered, too exhausted to be embarrassed.
“Where on earth did you learn that?” he asked.
“I thought you didn’t read it all,” I accused.
“Aren’t ya glad I lied?” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned at me like a man who was pretty proud of his prowess.
I smiled lazily, unable to keep my eyes open. My limbs felt like lead. “Mm-hmm,” I purred.
“Seriously, where did my sweet little Holly learn that stuff?”
“I wrote an article for a men’s magazine. ‘Understanding a Woman’s Orgasm and How to Get Her There’. I even talked to a sex expert and everything.”
“You?” He chuckled. “How did you get through an interview like that without permablush?”
“Over the phone, luckily.”
“Do you still have that article?” he asked hopefully.
“I have the whole magazine, they sent me a copy.”
“I’ll be needing that,” he directed.
“No, I can assure you, you don’t. You did just fine all on your own,” I praised him.
“Just fine?” He snorted. “I thought I was going to have to peel you off the ceiling.” He leaned over and circled my nipple lightly with his tongue, and my body reacted with a less intense shudder.
My tired eyes shot open. He grinned arrogantly, like a man armed with the knowledge of his power over me. He chuckled, then threw an arm over my hip and we slept.
Hop on over the Kayla's for this week's master list of Masturbation Monday participants.