“God,” I breathed, pushing back involuntarily as he thrust his tongue into my waiting *.
The scratchy beard covering his chin dug deliciously into my clit, and I was on the verge of coming when he pulled back so abruptly that I cried out in frustration.
“Alright, we can go now,” he said sternly.
I looked over my shoulder at him, saw the gleam in his eyes, and knew he was joking.
Narrowing my eyes I gave him the stink eye. “You’ve already got me on the brink. How about you just finish the job?” I asked, wiggling my ass for effect.
He grinned and slowly worked the zipper of his jeans down, unbuttoned them, then lowered his pants from around his hips just enough that he could free his erection without much maneuvering.
I licked my lips causing him to grin at me.
He knew how much he affected me, and I didn’t care one bit.
“Michael,” I urged, pushing my hips back against him.
His eyes darkened, and he lined his cock up with my entrance before slowly easing inside.
I gasped and threw my head back.
My hair flipped over my back, and Michael caught it, fisting it into his hands as he pulled back his hips.
Then he sank back inside, pulling my hair to urge me to move back against him at the same time.
I obliged, throwing my hips back so hard that a loud smack filled the room where our hips collided.
He grunted.
“That’s the way you want to do this?” He asked casually, as if he wasn’t driving me crazy with his slow movements.
“Yes!” I screamed.
He obliged that, too.
Pulling his hips back until the meaty head of his cock stayed notched in my entrance, he rammed back inside of me so hard that my knees lifted from the bed.
“Ahhh,” I moaned, lightening coursing through my veins as the erotic staccato of his movements lit me up like a firecracker.
Pleasure was building in my core.
My previous orgasm barreling back towards the finish line as he slammed into me, harder and harder until the only thing I anticipated was the delicious pain that shot through me each time he sank inside of me.
His free hand, that wasn’t pulling back on my hair, found a home on my ass, squeezing it tighter and tighter until I was sure he’d pull my ass off.
But soon I didn’t care because I was coming.
The erotic pain, the pure pleasure, and the excitement smashed through me all at once, and I spontaneously combusted.
Or so it felt like.
Maybe it was an orgasm.
But I wouldn’t call what I had with Michael ‘normal.’
What we had was fan-fucking-tastic.
“I’m coming,” I gasped. “Please!”
He knew what I wanted.
His hand left my hair, and the other left my hip.
One traveled to my clit while the other went to one of my breasts: pulling, plucking, and tickling.
My personal bottle rocket exploded into a full blown fireworks finale as I clamped down on him so hard I heard him curse and pump his hips impossibly faster.
“Jesus,” he grunted.
Then I felt the hot splash of his come pouring into me, filling me up, and marking me as his.
He pushed forward one final time and stayed planted, panting with exertion.
“You know,” he said. “I don’t even muster up this much sweat when I run.”
I groaned.
“I can’t complain.”
And I couldn’t.
If I had to deal with the sweat to get the pleasure I just had, then I’d take it every day of the week and twice on Sundays.
He pulled out of me, leaving me feeling bereft.
I was on my belly on the bed, and I could feel his essence leaking out of me in a gush.
Yet I didn’t have the energy to care at that moment.
“Get up, woman,” Michael slapped my ass.
I flipped him off, no doubt leaking come all over the bed.
I’d change the sheets when we got home.
There was no way I could move right now.
Well, that is unless Michael were to pick me up.
Which he did only seconds later, wrapping his big hands around my waist and standing me up.
“Clean up, pull up your pants, and let’s go. I can just hear my mom screeching now,” Michael teased.
Horror filled me.