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A combination of a huff and whine escapes prior to her removing her finger.
Lowering her jaw.
Sliding it so slowly across her tongue that my balls clap together for an encore.
“Fuckkkkkk,” is accompanied by me abandoning my teasing tugs to point at my hard dick. “Sit.”
Her brown eyes light up like a Christmas tree.
“Now.”
No gracefulness or large production occurs next. Arley snaps her torso upward, struts over a couple steps, yanks her panties to the side, and crawls onto my cock like it’s the only place she’s ever fucking belonged. Jaw clenching heat whirls around my shaft, mercilessly drowning it in so much ecstasy, my toes scrape against the hardwood in search of stability.
Her head immediately falls backward on a body arching cry at the time her slick muscles relentlessly squeeze, “Slater!”
As much as I want her screaming – and can never get enough of it – the last thing we need is the crew of the Cock Block Enterprise swooping in here to ruin the moment.
They’ve already been putting big numbers on the board for the week.
We’re the ones that need the fuckin’ win.
Pun intended.
I clamp one hand across my wife’s mouth and use the other to cup her ass. “They wake up, you don’t come.”Gripping both cheeks tighter, I bore my stare into hers. “And I wanna feel you comin’ on my cock, baby.” An arrogant smirk slips into place. “That’s my real gift.”
Angel Cake’s whimpers hit my palm convincing me to replace my hand with my mouth. Aggressively, my tongue takes off after hers, anxious to match the frantic rolling of her hips. While I love to see her feet planted on the bed, hands pressed to my chest, frame bouncing in place on my dick, there’s something even better about the way she grinds. How she uses my cock to ceaselessly caress her clit. How she usesmeto givehereverything she fucking wants.
Needs.
Feeling Arley’s knees continuously dig into my thighs while the points of her heels scape against my fingers leads them to flexing, wordlessly commanding she goes faster.
Even harder.
Two hands greedily grab the edges of my flannel and begin yanking me into the frantic bucking. Delivering lashes to her tongue is momentarily ceased in order to pull back and rest my forehead against hers. Watching the way she works my dick, drenching it, my jeans, my boxer briefs, and my balls just enough to have them desperately swelling up to feel any additional ounce of wetness, once more tempts me into letting go too early. Rather than focus on controlling that ending, I speed hers up. Yank down the bows to expose her nipples. Yank up the string between her cheeks to add feathering rubs of her back hole. Steal bite after bite after bite of her bottom lip until it starts to swell like her pussy.
Until she can’t stop shaking and shuddering and stuttering.
“Slater,” my wife pants, breathing so uncontrollably choppy, it has me sliding my mouth back on top of hers, desperate to both give her air and take the bit she has away. Her nails claw at my shirt, the ends of two managing to scrape the skin underneath, adding just enough of unexpected savagery that my cock kicks in warning. At the sensation, Arley pulls back to plead, “Give me a real gift too.”
“Fuckkkk,” is grunted prior to me brutishly meeting her tempestuous thrust for thrust.
I wildly jerk around and around and around as her sopping wet pussy covetously clamps down on one final orgasmic scream. “Slater!”
The combination of her repeated shouting and quivering and manic bucking leaves me no choice but to grab a hold of her throat at the same time blazing hot bursts splash against the still quaking muscles. Loving the vibrations that come from being able to feel her literally screaming my name has me effortlessly adding my own, encouraging Arley to ride the aftershocks I can see are overwhelming her system.
Unfortunately, the opportunity to get lost in the view or give her another reason to have more is heartlessly robbed. Loud barks are quickly followed by familiar stomping that informs us that we succeeded in fuckingandwaking our daughters up.
Arley’s groaning is attached to an adorable pout. “Shit.”
“I’ll take care of ‘em,” I happily volunteer, letting my thumb deliver a loving stroke to her throat. “And then I’ll come back here,” my palm slowly descends to enjoy another teasing touch of her tits, “to take care of you…all…over…again.”
She tucks her bottom lip behind her teeth for just a brief second. “Promise?”
“You know I’m a man of my word, Angel Cake…”
“That I do, Cowboy.”
It doesn’t matter if it’s about getting a seemingly impossible job done or merely remembering to lock up post my afterhours visit to The Hunt Locker, I will always follow through.
Because that’s the type of man I am.
And for my family?
That’s the man I’ll always be.
***
