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His cock twitched, growing harder. And harder.
“And…” she started and stopped. He waited with bated breath.
“And what? Go on.”
“He wanted me to touch myself while he watched. So I want you too…to touch yourself before I lick you.”
His work pants’ thin material was way too tight around his crotch. Her eyebrows arched with amusement at his pronounced bulge.
“Come on,” her silky voice egged him on, he could almost feel her tongue on him. “Lose the pants. Touch yourself.”
She was so soft and feminine and proper. Then she said filthy things.
“You want me to touch myself?” He was hoarse. He’d never before masturbated on command.
“If you don’t want to, then it’s okay.” Her eyes didn’t leave his bulge.
“No, Dafna.” God, she was breathtaking. And immensely vulnerable, even if she acted like she was in charge. “I want to. I want to do everything with you. But be patient with me.”
“Let me undress you,” she said and when he nodded, she unbuttoned his pants, her slender fingers scraping his bulge, making his rock-hard cock jerk. Her teeth bit her lip as she drew his zipper down slowly, the weight of the movement creating delicious pressure. A tug directly at his balls because she reached the zipper's end. He stood up and let his pants drop down. He found the sight of his engorged boxers ridiculous, but she smiled and licked her lips. Her index finger rubbed his clad balls, going up along his leaking shaft.
“Yes, Dafna,” he whispered, knowing what to say to her, “there is nothing I want more than to do as you tell me.”
She inhaled sharply, her pupils dilating. He thought briefly about the distillery owner coming to check on them, and how embarrassing it would be. But he didn’t want to stop Dafna, afraid that if he did, she would retreat back to her shell.
“Take your underwear off,” she ordered him. He lifted the heavy chair to create more space between them. Then his underwear joined his pants around his ankles, and he sat down, his legs spread, and grabbed his cock firmly in his right hand. Out of years-long habit he smeared the pre-cum on his head, then palmed his length, squeezing hard, the way he liked. Dafna’s eyes were trained on him, turning him on like mad. His cock fattened, filled with fresh blood, warmed by the heat in Dafna’s eyes.
“Dafna, I won’t last long.” He stroked himself, sensing the well-known strings in his groin. She dropped to her knees in front of him.
“No way. You finish at my pleasure.” There was steel in her tone. He didn’t think it was possible, yet he got harder. Where had she learned to speak like that.
“Answer me,” Dafna ordered.
“Okay, I...” Her cool fingers replaced his, which was immensely better. They curled around his hot shaft, and he relinquished all control. “I finish at your pleasure. Oh shit, this is so good.”
“Say my name.” She echoed his demand from The Thinking Nook.
“Dafna.” Her mouth closed around his cockhead, and he grasped the chair to stop himself from thrusting into her. Her tongue teased the tiny slit, gathering his pre-cum.
“Dafna,” he repeated, trapped in the tenderness of her wet, hot mouth.
She plopped him out, her slender fingers enveloping his length. Down to his base, then up, wrapping his cockhead. She upped the pressure, and he lifted his butt from the seat, his core muscles straining. Squeezing more forcefully, her second palm cupped his balls. Her fingers pushed his base from beneath. It was almost too much. She brought him to the brink. An odd thought stole into his head that he’d need to wipe the floor later.
“Say my name.”
The order drove him higher.
“Dafna,” he groaned, and then her warm mouth was on him again. He watched in fascination as she eased the entire length of his cock down her throat. His sensitive cockhead flesh hit the back of her throat. Oh, fuck.
“Dafna,” he warned, “I’m close.”
She withdrew her mouth halfway and then swallowed him whole again. His eyes rolled backwards in his head, in pure ecstasy. Her teeth scraped just under his cockhead, and then before the slight pain registered, he was drowning in the whisky heat of her mouth.
“Dafna,” he whimpered. Pure volcano gathered at his loins, a hair’s breadth from erupting. She released him and grasped his twitching shaft. Pumping his sleek cock fast, gripping him better than he ever did.
“You may come,” she whispered.
He slumped back in the chair, his head hitting the back, and obeyed with all his might. She milked him for all his worth, his balls held firmly in her palm as he exploded, inhaling the scent of whisky, leather, and semen.
