AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The last night of their trip, his ass had throbbed even before she’d pulled down his pants. The light scrape of cotton and elastic over the burning skin had made him instantly hard. Tamara had licked her lips, gazing at his straining cock, and wrapped her fingers lightly around it.
Dermot whimpered.
“You’re a bad, bad boy,” she whispered, her fingers tightening until they gripped his cock with a delicious pain that made it even harder. “Would you like to be a bad, bad man?”
“Please,” he begged.
She pushed him to the floor. He landed on his ass, the pain making his vision swim and forcing a bead of come from the tip of his cock.
“Lie still, and don’t come,” she’d ordered. Then she’d knelt on the floor, straddling his hips. His rigid cock disappeared beneath the mysteries of her miniskirt. She shifted position, and the head of his cock touched hot, wet flesh. Then his cock was pushing past her slick skin, sinking deep inside her. She rose up and down on him, faster and harder, until his tender ass was banging against the floorboards with every stroke. He gasped, fighting for control, struggling not to come, when everything was heat and wet and pain.
“Now, Dermot. Come now,” she ordered.
“I…I can’t.”
She rode him harder, her breath coming in harsh gasps. He grunted and strained beneath her, but the weeks of spankings had trained him to endure her painful pleasures without coming. He couldn’t convince his cock that this time, it was okay to come.
“I’ll just have to make you come,” she panted. Leaning forward, she slid her hands beneath his shirt. It was the first time she’d touched him anywhere except his ass or his cock, and he trembled even harder as her nails scratched over his stomach, blazing a trail up to his nipples. She flicked the twin erections with her sharp nails, then rolled the hard pebbles between her fingers. He groaned in agony, waves of heat pouring straight to his groin. He bucked beneath her, slamming his ass against the floor, rocking his cock against the tight walls of her vagina.
He felt the cool wetness of tears running down his cheeks as his head thrashed wildly from side to side. He was blubbering like a baby. That’s all he was, a baby. He wasn’t man enough to come inside her.
“Please Tami,” he begged. “Make me come.”
Her fingers tightened on his nipples. With a hard thrust, she took his cock deeper than ever, until even his balls nestled in the wet welcome of her flesh, at the same time she savagely twisted both his nipples. White fire flashed a burning path to his groin, where it sparked an explosion he couldn’t contain.
His body arched up from the floor and she covered his mouth with her own, swallowing his hoarse cry. Then he was coming, flooding into her, his entire body rigid and shaking as the orgasm tore through him.
Her inner muscles clenched around his cock, pulling the last of his come from him. Then he was swallowing her cries as she shuddered and shook above him, at last collapsing limply on top of him like a quivering human blanket.
Their fused mouths gentled, becoming a slow, deep kiss. Dermot sighed as their breathing faded to normal, and Tamara lifted her head.
She smiled with an almost feline expression of satisfaction. “My poor sweetling, I made you cry.”
Her tongue swept over his cheek, gathering the dried salt of his tears. He closed his eyes and groaned.
“Yes, you did. Please, do it again.”
Dermot smiled, warmed by the memory. Then he realized he’d stopped walking, and had been absent-mindedly rubbing his cock while he was lost in the past. His rigid cock was stretching the lines of his Armani slacks in a way the designer had never intended.
He cupped his balls, thrusting against the heel of his hand. What the hell. Maybe he should find a nice, dark tree to lean against, drop his pants, and toast the bride the way she deserved.
He lifted the lantern in his other hand, looking for a suitable spot, when a flash of white to his right caught his attention.
He dropped his hand to his side. He wasn’t letting some paparazzi catch him fondling himself in the woods. Shrugging out of his suit coat, he draped it over his free arm and held it before himself to shield his erection from sight.
“Who’s there?” he called.
A woman’s silvery laughter floated through the trees.
He turned off the faint path he’d been following and threaded his way between the wych elms, ashes, and sycamores. Their branches swayed suggestively, urging him on, as if someone had run between them a moment before.
He burst from the trees into a small clearing, no more than eight feet across. The twined branches of the trees on the far side of the clearing formed an impenetrable wall. The woman he’d followed had disappeared.
“Where are you?” he called.
Airy laughter tinkled from his right, very close. He lifted the lantern higher, throwing a beam of light to the far end of the clearing, and realized an elm he’d thought was part of the surrounding trees was actually a foot or two inside the clearing. The woman must be hiding behind it.
“Who are you?” he asked again.
