“Move your hand,” I say and I lean forward. I then spit on his dick and watch as a sizeable bead of my saliva lands near the rim of his head.
“Fuck,” he says, his voice breathy. And then he quickly gets to work fisting himself.
I try to match my thrusts to his rhythm, but the truth is, I’m so far gone myself, it’s difficult. It’s divinely difficult to keep an even pace, to twist my hips the way I want to with each thrust. I’m too magnetised watching Charlie grip his length, noticing the way his breath is altered, coming and going with no predictability or logic. I pray it means he’s nearly there, because I am painfully close to coming as it is. And yet it’s like whatever I’m chasing is more than an orgasm. It feels like a bigger release, a bigger implosion, a bigger event than just a sexual climax.
“Shit, Mina,” he gasps, his hand going faster than ever. “I’m so close.”
Thank fuck.
“Come for me, Charlie. Come on my dick.” I say, watching eagerly for his reaction to my words, and when it comes, it’s even better than I hoped. His eyes blow wide, his mouth falls open and his whole body tenses, muscles coiled tights, veins popping in his dick and his forearms.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck!” Charlie calls out and a second later his hand stops moving and comes off his dick entirely. I’m transfixed, waiting to watch his ejaculation but it doesn’t come. Somehow, I still keep up my rhythm, rutting into him as I hold onto his knees, and I’m about to look up at him, to ask what’s happening when I see it happen.
Untouched, his dick springs to life and spurts out a thick jet of white cum, all over his stomach. Charlie brings his hands up behind his head and curls up to look at himself, and together we watch as more cum spills out of him. His abs tense as he grunts out more groans and whimpers and they are the kind of noises I know could get me off alone.
Maybe that’s why I pull myself out of Charlie, step back off the bed in a hurry, and loosen the harness in the same motion. I step out of it and my underwear hastily and then climb back onto the bed, I come up to Charlie’s side and even though he’s still breathing heavily, still sighing contentedly to himself, I grab hold of his hand and grip his two middle fingers in mine. Keeping them poised upright, I slide down onto his digits, not in the least bit surprised that I’m so despicably wet that it makes a noise we both hear.
“Fuck, yes,” I say as I start to roll my hips.
“God, Mina,” he whispers, his eyes still wide and open. “You’re fucking unreal.”
“Touch my breasts again,” I say and he sits up to do exactly that, playing with my nipples one by one.
“Can I lick them? Suck them?” he asks and part of me wants to shout at him for asking me such a stupid fucking question when I’m so close, so desperately close, but I manage to bite back the reprimand knowing it’s much better for me to simply agree.
“Yes. Please,” I even manage to say.
His mouth is warm and wet on my breasts and his tongue gets busy licking and lapping at my nipples. He also keeps his fingers long and straight inside me.
“Curl your fingers,” I tell Charlie. “Stroke my front wall.”
It takes him a little while to understand what I mean, but once the pads of his fingers are pressing up against one of the most sensitive spots inside me, I let out a long, heavy exhale.
“Right there, yes, just like that.” I grab hold of his head and keep his mouth on my breasts.
“Mina,” he mumbles into one nipple. “You are so fucking sexy.”
It’s exactly the kind of unimaginative praise I would expect from a man, and yet it works, it fucking works perfectly, breaking down the last hurdle to my orgasm which crashes into me, forceful and full-body. It’s a stampede of rockets charging through my legs, my stomach, my chest and I feel my pussy clench hard against Charlie’s fingers. As I continue to ride them, I dig my fingers deeper into Charlie’s hair and hold onto him as my release wrecks my body, leaving me trembling and breathless. It’s the kind of orgasm I know is going to stay in my veins simmering away for hours afterwards and this realisation crushes me, making me finally let go of Charlie and fall onto the bed.
“Shit, my fingers,” Charlie hisses and I realise I’ve made his hand, which still has two fingers inside me, bend at an almost impossible angle.
“Fuck, sorry.” I move so he can free his fingers and in doing so I roll onto my side, facing him.
“So,” Charlie says as he lays back and looks at me.
“So,” I repeat because more complicated, more meaningful words are beyond me right now. I’m still not breathing normally.
“That was something,” Charlie says.
“It was,” I eventually agree.
“Did you… was it… Did you enjoy it?”
I can’t help it. I scowl at him. But in my defence, it’s really a rather stupid question. “Did you not see how I just came? Did you notfeelhow I just came?”
“You mean the part where you nearly broke my fingers?”
“Yes,” I say and ease up on the scowl. “I really am sorry about that, but just so you know, for us sapphics a broken finger or two is just par for the course.”
