He watches me with hot, hooded eyes when I twist open the lid, dip my index finger inside the sticky goodness, then pop it into my mouth. I’m not as in love with peanut butter as Brandon, but it sure does taste delicious when it elicits a prolonged moan from Brandon. I didn’t hear his moan, but my pussy most certainly felt the amazing buzz it created.
Brandon is even harder now, and the goodness dripping from the crest of his cock pops an awesome idea into my head. While walking toward my bed, I circle a thin layer of peanut butter around my nipples and down my stomach, stopping just before the apex of my pussy.
When Brandon’s hands shoot out to grab hold of his midnight snack, I slap them away. “Nuh-uh. Where did your chivalry go? Women must always eat first.” It’s harder to sign with mucky gunk on my hands, but I manage, somewhat.
After scooping a generous serving of peanut butter onto my index finger again, I set the jar down before pivoting around to face Brandon. He falls onto his back with a cocky grin when I push on his shoulder with my spare hand. Once I have him flat on my bed, I draw the peanut butter over his skin like his body is a canvas and I’m Rembrandt.
A vibrating hum simpers through Brandon’s body when I drag my tongue along my masterpiece, lapping up every drop of peanut butter off his silky-smooth skin. My lips raise against his taut skin when he mouths, “I am never going to make a PBJ again without getting hard.”
The further my tongue travels down the bumps in his midsection, the higher his backside lifts from my bed. He doesn’t work out as rigorously as he did when my father was in charge of his training, but he’s maintained his strength and his delicious six-pack.
When I reach the thin patch of tight blond curls across his groin, Brandon’s chest rises and falls as erratically as the pulse in between my legs. I’m dying to suck his impressively large cock into my mouth, but I can’t help but tease him for a little.
“Mel…” He pulls a face like he’s in pain when I creep back up his stomach. “You can’t do that to a guy. It isn’t fair.”
“I missed a bit. No peanut butter can be left behind.”
I lick and nib at the blob of nutty goodness I purposely left sitting on his right nipple before peering up at him with glistening, bliss-filled eyes. I’m an orphan with no known family members whatsoever, yet I feel like the luckiest girl alive when a pair of wide, lust-crammed eyes wink at me like I could tease him for five days straight, and he’d never get mad. I’ve suffered a lot of heartache in my short life, but there have been good points as well.
Brandon is by far the greatest.
Spotting the poignant expression on my face, Brandon flips me over like I did to him earlier. He does it gentler than I did because he’d rather take a knife to the heart than ever hurt me.
Although I feel a ball of muckiness sitting low in my stomach, I act annoyed at his interference in my game plan. “Hey! This isn’t your show, buddy.”
“You have eaten,” he signs as his mouth lowers to my breasts coated in his favorite condiment. “Now it is my turn.”
He pretends like he can’t wait a second longer, but I know him better than that. He’s keeping my head out of the dark, nothingness void it has tiptoed toward many times the past seven months. I’m happy, Brandon makes me incredibly happy, but sometimes I’m lonely too. My therapist says that’s okay. Soaring highs can make the lows seem lower than they are, but she wants me to find a healthy balance between them.
I want that too. I just don’t want to do it by lessening my crutch on Brandon as she’s suggesting. She’s judging our relationship by only seeing one side of the story. To an outsider, our dependency on each other could seem weird, but to us, it’s perfectly normal.
My mind goes far from an empty void when Brandon’s tongue reaches a section of my skin not sticky with peanut butter. He peers up at me staring down at him, patiently waiting for my wordless permission to devour me.
I give it to him without a smidge of hesitation, incapable of denying him. He’s never been rough, in or out of the bedroom, but even if he wanted to be, I’d never stop him. If he needs to clutch my hair to get him through the greediness of my sucks when I am giving him head, I’m okay with that.
Just like I’m more than okay with this.
“Yes, BJ,” I sign in my head when he drags the wetness of my slit up to my clit before he sucks my clit into his mouth.
As he entices my clit with quick, rapid-fire hits of his tongue, he slides two fingers inside of me. It’s not as uncomfortable as the first time he fingerfucked me, but it still has a pang of pain attached to it. His fingers are still carrying some of his baby fat.
His skilled fingers plunge in and out of me as he draws my clit into his mouth with long, controlled sucks. The sensation is amazing. I’m quivering all over within a matter of seconds. College fucking shouldn’t be like this. From the stories I’ve heard from my girlfriends, you’re supposed to get drunk, fumble out of your clothes, then pray he gets it in before he comes.
That’s never been the case with Brandon. Our make-out sessions last for ages, and he never comes before I do. I’m not even sure he came the first time we had sex. He was quick to dispose the blood-smeared condom that had me wanting to crawl into a hole and die, but I still noticed it was minus the liquid our second attempt had.
The night we stumbled into adulthood is long forgotten when a climax blindsides me. I usually feel the long, tingling build-up before exploding, but tonight’s creeps up on me unaware. It doesn’t weaken its brilliance, though. It’s one of the strongest I’ve ever had.
As I grip the bed sheets, Brandon laps up the evidence of my arousal with teasingly long licks. He growls into my pussy, loving how quickly he sends me toppling into ecstasy before shifting his focus to the bundle of nerves throbbing with need.
With the sensation roaring through me still fresh, the quickest tug on my clit with his teeth sends me freefalling for the second time. I tremble violently, certain I won’t survive another orgasm but desperate for another.
Brandon bites, kisses, and licks my sex before he peers up at me. “More?”
My hair sticks to my sweaty temples when I shake my head. “Not yet. I can’t.”
Never one to take anything unwillingly, Brandon kisses my aching clit for the final time before crawling up my body. I don’t know where his condom magically appears from, but he has it rolled down his shaft before the cleft of his cock gets anywhere near my drenched slit.
“Do you want to swap positions?”
