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For the next several minutes, I received the most thorough cleaning any woman has ever received. He slid his soapy hand across my breasts and nipples, drawing gasps from me at almost every caress. He tenderly cleaned my armpits, even when it made me giggle. He moved his hand across my ass, taking himself a generous tour of every available crevice. He also apparently was highly concerned that my clit received a thorough cleaning. What a gentleman.
He took his time, and I couldn’t help feeling like it was the most heartbreakingly loving and tender experience of my sexual life. I wasn’t sure if that was sad, or just a testament to how wildly out of control my physical feelings toward Damon were becoming.
I’d never been much of a blowjob type of person, but I’d also never considered a cock beautiful before now.
Damon’s cock was the Magic Mike of cocks. It worked out, probably had a nightly skincare routine, and looked like it liked all the same movies and shows as me. It was a cock to write love stories about, or… Maybe just a cock I really wanted in my mouth.
He chuckled. “Hungry?”
“Starting to be.” I slowly got to my knees. Damon’s cock twitched in anticipation.
I wrapped my hands around it, noting there was plenty of room for both of them as well as my mouth.
I kissed up his shaft, caressing him with my hands as I did. He moved to lean against the wall. With his head tilted back, he took a handful of my hair. “Fuck, yeah. That’s good.”
“Just good?” I asked. I plunged my head down on him, cupping his velvety head with my tongue and then swirling as my hands pumped in unison.
He let out a satisfied moan. “You feel so fucking good.”
I’d only been doing my thing for a minute or two before he gripped my hair and started using my mouth. He pumped himself into me with wild hunger, but still not roughly in a way that made me feel like I was suffocating or about to gag.
His body started to tense, and I wondered if he was about to spend himself in my mouth. But he pulled back, leaving me to gasp for breath as the head of his penis pulsed inches from my mouth.
“I need to be inside you. Now.”
“Condom,” I said, standing up. “Also, you were technically just inside me. Kind of silly to pull yourself out of me and say something like that.”
“I want your pussy.”
“Right,” I said a little sheepishly. I’d been joking, obviously, but apparently Damon was too focused to take the hint.
He shut off the water, then carried me to the bed without even drying me off. I flopped down on the sheets, immediately feeling the water on my body start to create a wet patch.
Damon towered over me, regal and proud even in complete nudity.
“It’s just sex,” I said when our eyes met.
He finished putting a condom on himself and nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
I nodded too. Except I wasn’t so sure I believed it, even though I knew I needed to. “Are there any holes in that?” I asked.
“What?”
“The condom.” I pointed to his rubber-clad dick.
Damon frowned, then did a brief inspection. “No.”
Good enough.
He climbed on top of the bed, his rigid body over mine. As he moved himself into position, his erection slid between my legs so that it pressed up against me.
A satisfied gasp slipped from my lips. I found myself lifting my hips to seek out the friction of his length against my folds.
Damon obliged, rocking his hips into mine so that his cock slid along me, gathering my arousal until I could hear the wet sound of our movement.
I was gasping already, and it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. One of his hands gripped my breast almost hard enough to hurt and the other was behind me squeezing my ass up into himself.
God, it felt too good to be safe.
Just when the sensations were reaching a crescendo, he angled his body and with a single motion, he stopped sliding along my pussy and slipped into my entrance.
I reached across his broad back, squeezing him tight. He was so warm and hard. There was a sensation of inevitability somehow—like Damon was more machine than man in this moment, and I’d set something into motion that I couldn’t dream of stopping.
Maybe that should’ve scared me, but all I felt was fascination.
He was big, and still bigger than I remembered. I didn’t care what people wanted to believe about childbirth stretching women out down there. Because either I’d gotten tighter—thank you Kegel exercises—or he’d gotten bigger.
I was desperate to be full with him, like the emptiness inside me was suddenly offensive. I needed every inch he could give. “I want all of it,” I whispered.
