Head

"No," she said. "Hand me that pillow."

He wanted her in the bedroom. From the moment he'd heard her car pull up he'd been hard. She'd pressed herself against him as soon as the front door shut, greeted his kisses open-mouthed. But when he'd tried to lead her down the hall to his bed, she'd resisted.

Women delay sometimes, even ones who want you. But for her, it wasn't normal. She was so submissive, so seemingly enthralled by his every touch. Up until this moment, taking the lead with her had been as natural as it was new to him. Had he made a wrong move?

He looked at her quizzically, searching for signs of annoyance. "The pillow," she repeated, jerking her head towards the couch at his back. He handed it to her. "Thanks," she said, dropping it by his feet and sinking to her knees. His belt buckle was undone before he'd fully grasped the situation. He leaned his back against the door. No reason to resist. His zipper was undone and his boxers down with the same speed he'd planned to use to pull off her dress. She gripped the base of his cock.

He looked down at her and she smiled, licking her lips. "Look," she said, gesturing with her chin. His entry-way mirror reflected them, her mouth opening to take him in, her eyes glinting at him mischievously.

He watched as she ran her tongue around the head of his cock. Then he closed his eyes as her mouth engulfed him.  He felt her gag against him, and then the flow of spit erasing the slight roughness of her tongue. Her muffled groan made him throb. "I've got no technique," she'd told him once.

"I'd choose enthusiasm over technique, any day," he'd answered. Her mouth sucked and slobbered, licked and thrust. Her hand spread slickness around his balls and the base of his shaft. It was impossible to know exactly what she was doing. He opened his eyes again to check the mirror, but her hair obscured most of her face. Instead, he saw how her whole body was shifting up and down as her mouth moved, as if she were fucking someone underneath her.

Some random words escaped him and his hands instinctively went to her head to guide her. Her wet hands grabbed his as soon as he touched her hair, and he let her push them back against the door. She was using him as a brace, pulling herself into a intelligible rhythm. The incongruity of her position struck him wordlessly, her fierceness as she knelt in front of him, gagging and drooling and moaning over and over. And then he thought nothing as her hands moved to grab his ass and thrust him into her, his hands gripping her hair in helpless need for control. His orgasm surged through him. Her mouth licked and sucked and swallowed him as his body pulsed and shook.

The door dug into his back. Her mouth was in front of him, so he kissed it, tasting the slight bitterness of his come. "Want to go in the bedroom?" she asked. He followed her.

Suck. My. Cock.

If you trusted him with your secrets from afar, can you trust him with you body when you are finally up close? Just a little something while I work on more complete stories....

“I want you to Suck. My. Cock.”

I’m not really awake. His commanding voice penetrates my somnolence, but not enough to spur a reaction.

“Rosie. Wake up and Suck. My. Cock.” His voice is low, his tone even. I can sense his body behind me, tense with arousal. I need to wake up, I know.

His hand gripping my hair helps me. He’s lifting my head. “Right now,” he says with an air of menace. I feel sick with sleep. He’s pulling my hair painfully, forcing me further from my pillow. “Get under the covers.”

I crawl under the covers, eyes still closed, until I bump into his hip. He’s warm and smells of man and sex. My head drops on to his thigh. Before my next breath, I’m asleep again.

I’m startled awake the next instant by his hand on my neck. His voice is threatening growl. “Do I have to roll you over and fuck your throat? I can find a way to wake you up.”

Fear tingles in my chest. I’m finally awake. My mouth finds his cock, succulently half hard. It curls against the roof of my mouth, a perfect mouthful, and then, throbbing, grows.

I don’t know what he would or would not do to me. I’m thrilled by my fear, but not enough to test him.

----
Last night was heat and tenderness. We met with passion long postponed: fell in love with each other’s bodies as we had before with souls. We’d fucked hard and fast and then looked into each other’s eyes and started over again, slowly. Late into the night we’d dozed and woken, caressing and kissing and whispering love words.

Now, his cock hardening between my lips, I have no idea how much time has passed. The hotel room’s perfect darkness persists even after he’s thrown the covers off our bodies. Is it morning? Could it possibly still be night? It doesn’t matter. Sleep was never part of our plan.

He’s thrusting his hips and holding my head in place. I choke and gag and struggle to find his rhythm. I want to give an amazing blow job. I want to please. But there’s no room for that in the way he’s using me. I feel sparks of  panic as I fight for breath.

“That’s my girl,” he rasps at me. “I’ve got you.” He lifts my head for a moment and I gasp a lungful of air. Then he shoves me down again, hard, and holds me there. “I’ve got you,” he repeats, comforting me as my air runs out. And lifts me again.