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“I should. Definitely get on your cock.”
I wait until Violet pushes up and sits on my thighs before I withdraw my fingers. She shimmies up, then rises and grabs hold. She doesn’t sit right down, though. Now that she’s had an orgasm, Violet goes into tease mode. Her head drops, her eyes focused on where she’s rubbing the head of my cock over her clit.
“Hello, Super MC. Are you excited for beaver hugs?” she whispers.
Some of the intensity dissipates. It’s not uncommon for Violet to talk to my dick like it’s going to answer her.
I flex so it kicks in her hand. She jumps and giggles. “Ohh! He’s really excited, isn’t he?”
“It would appear that way. Maybe you should stop with the teasing and give him what he’s looking for.” That I also refer to my dick as a person is probably something most people would suggest therapy for.
Violet takes my comment seriously and shifts her hips forward, lining us up. I tense when she lowers herself, taking in the head, and all the aches in my body flare until I relax again.
“You know…” She stays like that for a few seconds. “If Super MC could breathe, sex would kind of be like breath play, right?”
“What?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“You know, those people who like their air supply cut off during sex.”
“I think you need to take a break from some of those smut books you’re reading.”
“It’s Charlene’s fault. She’s the one who keeps recommending them.”
“Can we not talk about Charlene when we’re about to have sex, please?”
“Right. Sorry.” She drops down until her ass rests on my thighs.
I groan and ball my hands into fists—which makes my right shoulder sing with pain—and wait for her to move. I can’t decide whether I like being at her mercy or not. Violet circles her hips, and her soft moans keep me in the present instead of hanging out in my head, feeling sorry for myself. I feel badly that she has to do all the work, but it’s pretty fucking hot watching her.
“Is it good? Does it feel good?” she asks.
“So good.”
She keeps moving over me. I know she’s taking it easy, unsure exactly what makes me feel good or bad. While I appreciate the view, I’d like her closer. Besides, she’s more likely to come again if she’s rubbing up on my pelvis, and she can’t really do all the work and rub herself at the same time.
“C’mere.” I crook a finger.
She leans forward and puts a palm on either side of my head again. Her nipples brush my chest, but she holds her own weight. “It’s a good thing Sunny’s been forcing me to do all this yoga, eh?”
She’s sweaty, and her cheeks are flushed. She looks gorgeous and sexy. “Definitely a good thing.”
She does some more hip shifting and moaning. “This takes a lot of coordination.”
“You’re doing awesome, baby.” I clasp the back of her neck and bring her lips to mine.
She has a hard time keeping her rhythm and kissing at the same time, so I let her go after a minute. She stays nice and close, though, boobs bumping my chest as she rides me. I decide I don’t mind it all that much. I do what I can, but I’m limited in the thrusting department for the time being.
I know she’s getting close when the cock-love chanting starts. Which is good, because I’m right there with her. Her arms are shaking; she’s struggling to hold herself up. Normally I’d take over now and give her another orgasm, if not two. “You almost there?” I ask.
She nods frantically. “I can’t—I’m gonna—” Her muscles lock. “Oh, God. Your cock is amazing.”
That’s the sign we’re good to go. I let the orgasm slam into me while Violet continues to moan. When she’s done, her arms give out, and she flops onto my chest. I grunt, but grit my teeth against the spike of pain in my ribs. Most of the time, after sex, we cuddle for a bit. Violet likes to keep hugging my dick until it’s mostly soft. We go through a lot of sheets that way, but I don’t mind since I’m not the one who washes them.
I stroke her back and kiss the top of her head, enjoying the weight of her, even if it’s making my ribs ache.
“Oh, shit!” She quickly flips over to her right. It’s definitely one of her more graceful moves. “Sorry! I forgot about how broken you are!”
“I’m not broken.”
“But your ribs.” She skims the tape binding me together. “And I was lying on you.” She grabs her pillow and pushes it next to mine, then snuggles into my good side.
“I’m not made of glass.”
“I know.” She puts her hand on my chest, over my heart, and sighs. “That was a lot of work. I’m so sweaty.”
