John Smith/Jane Smith, explicit.
"Oh, don't be such a baby," Jane said.
"I'm really not sure about this," John said.
She pushed him backwards onto the bed and kissed him hard and sweet and dirty; goddamnit, she knew what it did to him when she licked at him like that. Fuck, he was going to end up giving in anyway, might as well make the best of it beforehand, so he rolled her over onto her back and slid his thumb down her belly from her navel, slyly, grinning into her mouth as she moaned delightedly and hooked her legs around his thighs.
Some time went by.
"Okay, remember now, no rushing," he said, craning over his shoulder. She smacked his ass open-handed and went on buckling up the harness around her hips. "Ow! Look, I'm just saying!"
"You know it's only going to take longer if you don't relax," she said, and snapped open the case, and jesus christ almighty --
"No way in hell," he said and tried to get his wrists loose: what the fuck had he been thinking to let her tie him up. She'd used the good silk cord, too; his last-ditch knife was on the bedside table, too far away to get at with his teeth; and the new headboard was made of solid oak. Fuck, he was screwed.
"Now, sweetheart, just trust me," she said, straddling his thighs; he could feel the thing sort of poking at his left butt-cheek, and she was snapping open the lubricant.
"You're going to use a lot of that," he said, and he sounded kind of whiny to his own ears.
"Of course I am, darling," she said, and slid the first finger inside him.
"This is really not," he said, starting to pant, "really not -- Jane -- wait -- no, serious-- seriously," going up an octave, hips squirming, trying to get her fingers out or maybe further in, and thank god she kept her nails short. The tube in her hand made more squirting noises. He buried his face in the pillow and groaned.
"All right then," she said, sounding so pleased. She took out her fingers and started slicking up her -- her dick, and put the head of it up against his ass and started pushing. "Tell me if I'm going too fast."
"You're going too fast!" he said.
"Mm, relax, this is going to be really good," she said, and kept on leaning. He heard himself make a little whimpering noise, just before the head popped inside. She worked the rest of the way in smooth as silk, thumbs rubbing the sweet spot just behind his balls, and he never stopped making noise; he couldn't stop and she wasn't going to stop, and fucking christ this was good.
She started a nice easy motion, long fingers teasing the head of his dick, other hand on his hip moving him with her: rotations, rocking, a little back and forth, loosening him right up until he was sliding with her in counterpoint, pushing himself back on the downstroke to meet her.
"You've really never done this before?" she asked.
"No!" he said.
"Because you know, darling, we agreed no more secrets."
"Jesus!" he yelled, as she dicked him again, right there. "Okay, okay, once," he said, shuddering, "but it was for a fucking job, okay? There was no other way to get close to the guy."
"Did you like it?" she asked, almost purring; she was getting down this nearly -- this perfect rhythm, slide and back in and one hard thrust right at the end of the stroke.
"No," he said, "yes, maybe, I don't know, yes, okay, yes, jesus," and she was doing him hard and fast now, staccato, a little simmering jealousy in the mix behind every stroke, and that only made it fucking better. "God, he was good," he gasped, "he really fucked me, you know, just goddamn pounded me, made me scream -- "
She shoved his hips up and forward and slammed into him, and he made a high whining noise in the back of his throat. "I'm going to make you scream," she hissed into his ear, biting the lobe. "I'm going to make you beg."
"Yeah, sure you are," he said breathlessly, grinning with half his mouth, eyes closed, playing with fire, and the next thrust burned him straight down to the ground.
= end =
All feedback greatly appreciated!
And now there will be brunch, and then back to work.