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I came with a hard moan. The noise shot from my mouth and flooded the sweltering room.
No sooner had my climax rushed into the atmosphere than Poet’s mouth descended. On a groan, his lips caught my pussy. His tongue rode back and forth across my groove, lapping the arousal and drawing more from me.
My moans had no time to dissolve. Instead, they began all over again.
Poet sketched my core, licking and probing my entrance apart with slow strokes. Stirred once more, I cried to the ceiling. The reverberations were frayed yet resilient. Because yes, I had stamina.
He pitched one of my thighs over his shoulder and sucked on my private flesh, pumping his tongue farther on each pass. Then his head bobbed, the vigor of his jaw reaching higher. The flat of his tongue pitched inside my walls, flicking against places that prompted me to scream.
I could not help surrendering one hand from the faucet to seize Poet’s hair. My fingers crushed the roots. It must have stung him, because he winced, yet his own sultry growl vibrated against my pussy.
Heat scorched my skin. The throb in my clit pounded like a pulse.
Poet’s tongue flexed up my slot, swirled around the peg of skin, and then he snatched the whole thing in his mouth. And he proceeded to tug. Teasingly, terribly, tenderly.
Plugging my clit between his lips, Poet drew on me. The tip of his tongue laved the crest with swift little licks. The moment I uttered a pleading noise, he sucked firmer, and firmer, and firmer.
“Oh, gods,” I wept.
Rivulets pelted us. Water sloshed across the tile floor. The mirror across the room fogged, reducing our reflections to puddles.
Poet resumed siphoning between my folds. My pussy dripped onto his tongue, soaking his palate just as the shower soaked us. Amid this humidity, he swallowed my arousal whole.
My cries narrowed to a single holler. Again, my joints braced and released. I convulsed, my cunt pulsating around Poet’s tongue as I sprang apart. To the marrow of my bones, I came for a second time, the walls insulating every shriek of pleasure.
It took a long time before my cries ebbed and my limbs buckled. Even then, Poet lapped at me, consuming my climax to the final drop.
At which point, my other hand let go of the pipe. When my palms found purchase on his cheeks, the jester caught on. He released my sensitive clit, surged to his feet, hooked onto my gown straps, and stripped the sodden garment from my frame. In turn, I inched the shirt over his head, baring all that exquisitely carved flesh to my view.
His pants went next, each yard collecting on the wet floor. The feverish crown of his cock bloated and darkened, the tight slit leaking cum and his sac hot to the touch. Every distended inch looked painful and felt glorious against my fingers.
Yes, he’d wanted this to be about me, but it never had been. It was about us. Eternally, it began and ended that way.
Naked and drenched, Poet hauled my thigh over his waist and rasped, “Care to be fucked by my cock, Princess?”
My plea came out in a whimper. “I do.”
“And can you take it?”
“I can.”
“And will you last?”
“I will.”
With a hiss, the jester pitched his cock between the pleats of my pussy, spreading me wide. I jolted upward on a moan, clasped his face, and bore my mouth down on him. Tremulous sounds rushed from my lips into his, and I tasted his growls, our tongues entwining while his waist swiveled, fucking deeply into me.
Even more moderately than the last two orgasms, Poet’s hard flesh pistoned slower, slower, slower. Each leisurely swipe of his wet cock wrought a sob from me, which he consumed with relish. By the time I came for a third bout, my heart threatened to explode, and my voice grew hoarse from shouting.
True to his word, this man proved just how much stamina I had.
Afterward, he toweled us dry, dressed me in a linen robe, and brushed my hair. And soon, the warmth of family and friends packed the suite, beginning with Mother and Nicu.
While I was sick, Poet had sought to avoid frightening his son. He’d told Nicu the episode was an accident, due to a plate of spoiled food. Although the child believed him, and further relaxed when I vouched for the fib, it took some time to fully reassure Nicu.
With his spirits restored, the boy snuggled against me for the rest of the day. His presence, along with Mother’s and our clan, revived my strength.
Surely, I needed it. Because three days later, Winter arrived.
