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Speaking of hands. She puts the other on my thigh. I don’t want it there, so I pull down my briefs a little more and take her hand and put it on my balls. A crease appears between her eyebrows.
She doesn’t know what to do.
So I show her. I show her how to squeeze them. Play with them. Work them.
She gets into it. She gives my head one last lick before swallowing my crown into her mouth.
She swallows again, hard.
“Jenny.” I don’t recognize my voice. “That’s. Fuck. So fucking good, baby.”
She keeps me there, taking shallow, short sips of my cock. Her head bobs. Her hand works my balls. There’s pressure everywhere inside me now, coiling tighter, climbing higher.
I watch the muscles in her back work as she moves. I love that she has hips. An ass.
I want to fuck that too.
Her hair is pulled into a bun on the top of her head. I dig my fingers into it anyway and pull, guiding myself a little farther inside her mouth. A little farther. And then, when she’s bobbing down to take me deeper, I thrust and hit the back of her throat.
She immediately gags, eyes watering. My heart thunders as I wait for her to pull away. Smack me across the face for daring to defile her this way. For entering a place I wasn’t invited. Her mouth and her throat—they’re not the same.
But godfuckingdamnher, she just firms her grip on my shaft and guides me deeper into her throat. She’s gagging again and I say, “Honey, don’t hurt yourself.” I try to pull out but she just holds me tighter. Takes me deeper.
Sparks shoot from my balls to my tip. My hips begin to rock. I’m desperate for more. For everything.
Do I fuck her tonight? Or do I save that for tomorrow? The next day?
What if there is no tomorrow, though? What if Tuck really does bring over a shotgun and threatens to kill me if I don’t leave his sister alone?
What if Jen wakes up in the morning and regrets everything we did tonight? She could hate me for pushing her this way. Yes, she asked for it. But she said herself that she didn’t know what to askfor.
Now she’s naked on her knees in my living room, deep-throating my cock while I try not to come in her mouth so I can fuck her instead.
I do think she needs to be fucked. That guy I told off at the bar, he definitely wasn’t fucking her right. He’s the wrong kind of selfish. The kind that’s not curious. That’s small-minded and superficial. Part of a game he plays to maintain the upper hand.
My kind of selfish—it’s freedom. For me and for my partners.
But I think more than being fucked, Jen needs to learn to be selfish too.
I have an idea. Giving her hair a tug, I let her take me deep one last time before I pull out of her mouth. I’m slick with her saliva. I know I’ll taste my cum on her tongue when I kiss her.
I tug on her hair again. Harder. “Up.”
She rises to her feet and then I’m kissing her. She does taste salty. She tastes like she’smine.
I fucking love it.
Her kiss is more ardent now. Looser and messier and hornier. Smiling against her mouth, I say, “Talk to me.”
She groans. “What?”
“You like it when I fuck your mouth, don’t you?”
She nods.
“Nuh-huh, baby. Say it. Tell me what you like.”
Breaking the kiss, Jen breathlessly replies, “I like it when you fuck my mouth.”
