She was struggling with my boxers (and I half-ignored it), her hands reaching in from the waistband and fly at (nearly) the same time. I was preoccupied, however, with other matters, my hands spreading apart her (warm and soft) ass cheeks, thumbs pointed inward and pressing against the outermost of her (wet) pussy lips and my mouth making greedy sucking noises as I lapped down and up rapidly from clit to asshole, my tongue left to drag and split puffy pink skin.

It was punishment (really), her mouth bending down and fighting the fabric to wrap her lips around the head of my cock. She’d already ground herself against me (minutes before), legs on either side of my lap, leaning back so her breasts were out of reach, her hands on my shoulders pinning me back to the sofa back, hips rocking to some invisible melody. And it wasn’t long before the boxers became wet, my cock straining against them and pressing upward. Still she ground harder, spread her thighs wider, and flirted with the idea of fucking through my underwear.

Retaliation (now), of course, was the deliberate act of keeping my ass firmly on the couch while shoving my face into her until my tongue settled into that rhythm of slurp-slurp-twirl, the pad of my thumb pressed firmly against her asshole pulsing in time with the twirl, until she gave up, holding her upper body with hands on my hips and letting the weight of her body settle on my face and jaw, smeared with her surrender.

Hooking my other arm around her waist as she squirmed more (and more), I was determined to lick and suck until I was finished, my lips pursing and pulling at hers, sloppily consuming my way to her orgasm until she shuddered and shook (nearly kneeing my shoulder), body collapsing on top of mine. I continued to scoop and slurp, drinking in my fill of her taste and breathing in my fill of her scent.

“Take your time,” I finally said, unwrapping my arm around her and leaving her limp on top of me, a trust held in a grasp let go.

(24-February, 2011: Hello again, Fleshbot!)