Blow Me Away
I was on my back on the bed looking up at Mrs. AP as she came into the room. She smiled as her gaze caressed my naked form, the sparkle coming into her eyes with an intensity that’s been missing for over a week. In slow, measured movements she closed the door behind her and peeled her shirt over her head, swaying her hips gently as her delicious breasts emerged from cover. She tossed her shirt to the side and crawled onto the bed, her eyes hungry, her smile dancing dangerously. Her lips met mine with a ferocity that still surprises, amazes, and entices every time. Never have I ever been kissed by anybody who can put so much intensity and emotion into the seemingly simple sensation of pressing together two pairs of lips.
Her hand trailed down my chest, teasing all the sensitive and tickly spots before spiraling lower to brush against my hardening cock. I felt her smile against my lips as her hand wrapped around me and squeezed. My cock became her stress toy, her hand pulsing around me as she tested how hard she could grip me before I cried out in that swirling kaleidoscope of pleasure and pain. She pulled back, grinning a cheshire cat grin, and shifted to her knees before turning and lowering her tantalizing lips to the throbbing head of my rock-hard cock.
She scraped her teeth against the edges of my head, dancing on that knife edge that borders too much pain, causing my moans to escalate to the edge of gasps. Was I enjoying this? Was it too much? My body was awash in sensation, my cock head enveloping the whole of me, and my brain ceased to function. All I could do was process the feeling of her against me, my hand on the hot, smooth skin of her back. My hips bucked, my back arched, my head rolled back, and suddenly it was gone. My cock throbbed in the open air as I felt Mrs. AP move. Opening my eyes I saw her gazing down at me like a hungry wildcat, her lips parted seductively as her deep breathing made her breasts rise and fall in a hypnotizing rhythm. On the edge of my consciousness I heard her ask “Should I stop?”
Stop? After that? Fuck no! Suck me down like you’re dying of thirst and I’m the fountain of youth! All this my brain screamed in an instant, but what came out of my mouth was a more controlled “No, please keep going.” She grinned again before reaching across me to grab the strawberry flavored lube out of the nightstand and then sliding down to sit between my legs. As the lube slid forth onto my cock she caressed the head and firmly slid her hand up and down my pulsing shaft, squeezing at the base before slowly sliding her hand back up in an agonizing, exquisite tease.
Her hand began a firm, slow pump of just the shaft of my cock, ignoring my sensitive head completely. Priming me, feeling me throb, she waited until I was harder than steel and impossible to bend before leaning forward and lowering her head to mine. The added pressure from her pumping had made my head extra sensitive, and the slow pressing of her lips against and around me was the sweetest torture I’ve ever felt. Her head slowly bobbed in time with her hand, pressing and caressing and enveloping in a deliberately slow rhythm. I swam through the sensations, awash in pleasure, feeling the edges of subspace and orgasm both teasing me, encouraging me deeper. I looked down at her, the serene, intense, focused expression on her face as she took my cock in, her eyes closed, and the visual of her sultry lips wrapped around my cock made my throb even harder.
She must have felt it, because she slowly released my cock from her sweet lips and sat up, one hand still stroking and caressing me, as she smiled lovingly and lustfully up at me. Teasingly she asked “Do you turn yourself on when you’re writing on your blog? Does your cock get hard in your pants? Do you rub it through your pants wishing I was there?” Each question was emphasized by a squeeze of my cock, her ministrations making it difficult to concentrate on what she was asking, which I suppose was her delightfully sadistic point. Through my moans and gasps I managed to answer “Yes, sometimes I get turned on remembering everything we do, but I don’t do anything more than just push my cock against me and try to keep the pressure from hurting.” Her eyes flashed again, a wicked grin spreading across her lips. “Oh, you have pressure, do you? I should help you relieve that.”
She shifted, sliding her legs under mine as she grabbed more lube and spread it between both her hands before taking my cock in a two-handed grip. Her hands slid up and over my head before caressing back down, twisting and caressing and stroking in an elaborate dance no Russian Ballet could ever match. My head rolled back again, my moans and gasps mixing with the sounds of her strokes to create a sexy symphony. Her tempo remained constant, but the pressure in my cock grew. I gave in to the sensations, letting myself fall and drift in a sea of erotic pleasure.
My entire body became one giant pleasure receptor. Every new caress of my cock triggered reactions in my legs, my toes, my arms, my fingers, my neck. I could heel her fingers caressing my spine, dancing on my face, stroking the backs of my calves, and all without leaving my cock. I was reduced to moans, incapable of speech or thought. Every stroke of my cock sent me deeper into that floating freedom of subspace and pushed me closer to orgasm.
Suddenly I felt Mrs. AP’s mouth around me again. Her hot embrace brought me out of the depths, gasping for air, and I saw her sitting tight against me, her hands stacked around my cock before it disappeared between her lips, her breasts pressed tightly against the backs of my thighs. She sucked on me and the sensations pulled me back under, the pressure in my entire body now gathering and building like a growing storm. I was a slave to her whims, my moans escaping me beyond my control. She shifted, I think, and suddenly the pressure was rising, pushing, barreling toward my cock for release. My moans became louder, insistent, echoing back on themselves, and somewhere between them I might have called her name. All I knew was nothing in the universe could hold back this rising tide, and in one long, loud, bellowing moan I erupted into the hot, waiting mouth of Mrs. AP. She milked my cock into her mouth, then released me to pour over her hands as she stroked me endlessly, prolonging the release, increasing the sweet agony of having a sensitive cockhead stroked after orgasm, until I was nothing more than a twitching, groaning, moaning mess. Her hands released me yet still I pulsed and throbbed and twitched, by senses overwhelmed by my explosive release and the resultant aftershocks.
Mrs. AP grabbed the wipes from the side of the bed and cleaned her hands, her face, and my still-sensitive cock before settling down next to my prone body. She snuggled into me as we kissed long and deep, the taste of me still on her tongue; sweet and tangy, like a ripe fruit. She remarked that she hasn’t felt me cum that hard or long in ages; it seems the pressures from the last week had built up in more than just my emotions. Surely and slowly I felt my body melt, and my mind grasped desperately to hold onto consciousness as Mrs. AP grinned and we shared how incredibly talented she is and how much she derives pleasure from bringing me pleasure. We talked of love, and forever, and how wonderful we are together, our voices growing more hushed until she dreamily rolled me over onto my stomach so that I could drift off to sleep.
Sleep I did, perfectly sated and incredibly relaxed.
This was a Wicked Wednesday post. Visit the Wicked Wednesday page to see other participants.
Stay SINful, friends.