Erotica: “Did You Miss Me?” (Part 5)

“Hmm, oh good bitch, good,” he moaned as he placed a hand on either side of my head and pulled me in closer. I sucked his left ball deep into my mouth, while I gripped his prick and stroked him slowly up and down. I heard him swallow hard again. “You missed this, didn’t you, bitch? My balls in your mouth…. Yes, suck on them, there’s a good girl.”

I moaned into his crotch and alternated between lapping at his balls with the flat of my tongue and sucking them into my mouth, my cheeks hollowed and my saliva overflowing. I loved him giving me directions; in “real-life” he’s always been pretty much in control and, yes, sure giving me orders on what to do to him and how to do it is pretty controlling. But he knows that I get off on it, and I know that he does, too. And I know that once he starts talking really dirty and giving me orders, it means that he’s really fucking turned on.

“Yesssssss,” he hissed as I slowly let his ball slip from between my lips. “Now put my cock in your mouth. I want to fuck your beautiful mouth.”

I was so hot, and so wet. I could feel myself spilling down my own thighs. Obediently, I ran my tongue over my lips to lubricate them, took his length in my hand, let a dribble of spit fall onto the blushing head of his prick, and then lowered my mouth onto him. He gripped my long hair tightly in his hands, pulling it up in a makeshift ponytail and holding it tightly in his fist while I worked him up and down. With one hand gripping the base of his cock, I used my other hand and my mouth to suck and tease at his head, my tongue circling, flicking, lapping. He groaned and grunted, raising his hips rhythmically up to meet my eager, hungry mouth, sometimes hitting the back of my throat and activating my gag reflex. Whenever I would gag a little, he reassured and praised me.

“Good girl, good bitch, that’s it. You can take it, yes you can….. Beautiful……”

I drew him in deep and tried to relax the back of my throat. He’s not a small guy in the trouser department; in fact he’s hung kind of like a donkey. So getting all of him all the way down my throat has never been easy. But I’ve always loved how much it pleases him when I do. The first time I managed to take him all the way down, he came so hard, shouting my name, begging me not to stop, and afterwards he praised me until I felt like I was floating on air. I’d made him proud, and I’d made him surrender to me completely. It was worth the sore neck, the discomfort and the tears.

But I hadn’t done this with many men in the intervening years, and certainly none so well-endowed as him, so I was well and truly out of practice. Tears ran down my cheeks as I struggled to get as much of him down my gullet as possible. He went slowly; he was still making thrusting motions, but not so deeply that it would hurt or choke me. Instead he caressed my head, my face, my hair, and coaxed my jaw wider. I closed my eyes tightly, the tears streaming and, I could tell, mascara running down my face (honestly, it must look to him like being fellated by a panda).

“Yes, baby. That’s right. Oh, your mouth feels incredible. Good, good, bitch, you’ve always been so good at this,” he panted. “So fucking good….” He growled the word “fucking” from between tightly clenched teeth, and it was so sexy I almost came on the spot. I sped up the rhythm of my hand on the base of his shaft, and he groaned. He gave a couple of deep thrusts that made my jaw click, and then pulled out.

“Oh, fuck. Get on your hands and knees. Now.”

I willingly complied, and within seconds he was behind me, his hard, wet member prodding the skin of my buttocks as he unhooked my bra and threw it across the room. He reached his hands up under my arms to cup them, kneading the flesh and squeezing the nipples, and licked a long stripe along the indentation of my spine, up to the back of my neck, before planting a soft kiss on my nape.

“Do you want me to fuck you, baby? Like this?”

I moaned “yes” in a kind of delirium. I wanted him so much. I felt as though part of me was floating above and watching us, me bent over on all-fours like a beast of burden, him kneeling behind me with his stiff cock in one hand, his other caressing my upturned bottom and rubbing my pussy from behind, ready to prise me open like ripe fruit, dripping with juice. And yet, conversely, I have never felt so ‘in’ my own body; aware of every nerve, every synapse, every heartbeat, every surging of my pulse. I was attuned to it all.

I felt the head of his prick nudging my entrance, and moaned again, “Yes….Please, please fuck me.”

“Fuck me please, who, bitch?” he teased, sliding the head of his cock up and down my labia.

“Fuck me please, Daddy Bear!” I almost screamed the pet name out. He chuckled, and the warm sound resonated in my head.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and rewarded me by thrusting his full length deep into my cunt.

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