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A groan escapes me as I bite my bottom lip when my suspicions are confirmed. He’s not just taking a shower; he’s taking care of the massive hard-on that I left him with. Before I can talk myself out of it, which I could surely do, I slide out of bed and quietly make my way into the bathroom.
I love that he doesn’t see me, that I can take a moment to watch his hand work his thick, hard, veiny cock. The walls of my pussy clench together, and I silently scold her for being so needy when it comes to the man who just got us off three times—once with his fingers and twice on his tongue.
I move quietly into the double shower behind him with a washcloth in my hand. I make sure to move so he can see me grabbing the soap.
When he slows his strokes, I shake my head. “Don’t stop on my account.”
He turns, facing me, and his lips twist up. His hand is on his cock, slowly stroking it as I take the wet washcloth and run it up his spectacular abs.
“You come to help me out, Whit?” He smirks.
“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
I run the washcloth down his left thigh, and I don’t stop until I’m on my knees. I wrapped my hand around his, and together, we stroke his long, thick shaft.
“You remember that time in the back of the old Bronco?”
We continue working his erection together.
“How could I forget?”
“There is a great possibility that if you don’t get up off your knees, I’m going to beat my speed record.”
“Is that so?” I can’t help but laugh.
“Whitley, it truly is.”
“That might be a good thing because I don’t know how long I can keep my mouth open as wide as it seems it might need to be.” I bat his hand away and lift to my knees.
His eyes widen as he bites his lower lip when my hand alone moves up and down his shaft. I press the tip of it against my tongue, pumping him once, twice, three times, before sucking his thick, fat crown into my mouth.
“Fuck,” he sputters as one hand slaps against the shower wall and the other grips the back of my head.
I suck deeper, taking more of his length in, and watch as his eyes roll and his head fall back. He releases my hair, and I work him with my hands, both of them in sync with my mouth, rolling my tongue over the tip, then sucking on it while stroking him. I’m learning his body, what he likes and what he loves. And there is not one move I make in which he doesn’t react in a way that would make me believe he’s not loving this. The most mind-blowing thing is, he’s not alone. I love the taste of his flesh in my mouth. I love licking the pre-cum from the broad tip and sucking all the way down as far as I can go. I even like the way I gag slightly when I take it deeper than I should have. I’m sure I’ll be doing that again. It’s empowering. I take him out of my mouth and stroke him faster, and then my tongue traces down the bulging vein and the underside of his heavy cock and then back up.
“Fuck yes, fuck yes,” he groans. “Fair warning: I’m gonna come so hard that I’m a little nervous about what it’s going to do to you.”
“I guess we’ll have to find out together.”
With him as deep as I can go, my palms resting on his thick, muscular thighs, I move back and forth faster now, harder, and without the use of my hands.
“Fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes!”
I feel the first hot burst of his cum hit the back of my throat and swallow it quickly. The second I’m not as prepared for, but I manage to swallow that down too. It’s the third that ends up dripping just a little out of my mouth. I look up, and before I can wipe it away, his thumb slides across my lips, and he holds it in front of me.
“I don’t want you to miss a drop.”
The thing that I find unbelievable is, neither do I.
After we wash each other’s body, we kiss a lot. None of his kisses are the same, they all seem to have different meanings. I can’t wait to figure them all out.
With one of his shirts covering my body, I lie in bed as he’s grabbing us some water in the other room, I get a text.
I roll over and grab my phone.
John Paul:
Good night, Whit.
