With my hand still clasped firmly around the bottle, I drop the arm holding it, allowing it to fall out of the sight of us both—she flinches, as the cold glass touches her skin. I hold her gaze as I roll the crystalware from the top of her knee, up her thigh, and to the hem of that gorgeous green dress.
Smiling wide enough for it to reach my eyes, I give her a simple grunt—the only hint to my mischievous thoughts, she’s going to get. Without wasting another second, I drag the bottle over her thigh, stopping briefly to tease her—swirling the opening against her clit.
Rolling the cold bottle back down the other side, I stop where her thighs touch, prying her legs apart as I force the bottle upward.
Ready or not, little bird—you're going to come.
“I have questions, and I hope you have the right answers.” She gawks at me, confusion and longing doing the Lindy in her eyes—flailing and gyrating like a joyful couple on the Ed Sullivan show. “I am going to remove my hand, then you will answer.”
She manages a nod as I take my hand away. “Did you make this easy on purpose?” My hand is fully detached now, and my dick jumps at the sight of her mouth glistening with the brilliant carmine red that pooled from the laceration on my palm.
“Answer me first!” She shouts, “Are you hurt? Is this part of the-”
I cut her off, nearly smacking my hand back on her face, enough force to make a pop. “Wrong answer,” I say as I rotate the bottle between her thighs, the friction causing her to spread them further apart. I stop just as the opening kisses her vagina, then I begin rocking it from clitoris to opening, allowing her body to provide the lubricant.
“Now, my dove, this time you'll just nod.” Mixed emotions flicker in her eyes, as I proceed, “Did you make it easy on purpose?” Her eyes widen with expectancy as she takes a moment to think about her answer, before shaking her head. I roll my neck, in an attempt, to loosen the tension that builds up with her lack of following the rules.
“Wrong answer, little bird.” She squirms a little as I slowly apply pressure, and the neck of the bottle starts to disappear. My hands are getting warmer the closer they get to her. I move my hand to the shoulders of the container as her body shows me all that she can handle.
Now coated in her discharge, I move my hand to the butt of the bottle to get a better grip, and I begin basking in the moans that escape from under my palm as I fuck her with this container. “Oh. My. Dove.” I breathe, accenting each word at the apex of my thrusts. I am nearly hyperventilating, impressed by her consumption.
“Did you. Make. It easy. On. Purpose?” The words barely leave my mouth. She nods in response this time, and a low rumble breaks free from my throat. “That’s. My good girl. Now. Do you like mefuckingyou. With this bottle?” Her eyes are slits, narrowly open as her body trembles, while my wrist slowly oscillates the object bombarding her entrance.
Her eyes roll to the back of her head as she answers with another sultry nod. I switch to my dominant hand, freeing her mouth as my other arm wraps around her waist. I pump the bottle a few more times—my need to‘collect’ stronger than a bee’s demand for pollen. “I want you to come, dove,” I whisper before I remove the bottle, lowering my gaze to find it glistening with her essence.
Strategically, I push my shemagh aside, I bring it to my mouth—licking it clean, before my free hand tangles in her hair, clutching firmly at her nape as I yank her head back forcing her gaze to meet mine. After giving her a devilish stare I return it, pumping the neck of the bottle in and out of her. Faster. Harder. Her whimpers and moans echo off the cellar walls.
Using my knee, I prop up one of her legs, spreading her wider. Then, without warning, I extend one finger... then two, resting them parallel to the backside of the glass neck. I ache for her, as my erection presses hard against my pants. Just the thought of my fingers against the glass being the same span and height of my dick, makes it challenging to hold back—from the shoulder to the mouth of the bottle and the extra width my fingers add, puts it so close to my actual size.
Damn the gods, this woman would be able to take ALL of me with no issues.
“I want you to finish for me, my dove.” I continue to pump, her noises becoming more hypnotic as I switch up the pace. “Do I need to count you down again, little bird?”
Without warning, her response nearly stops me cold. “Yes… my shadow.”
Oh, fuck.
My cock was throbbing for her—to feel her.
By.
The.
Gods!
“Three... just for you, my dove. Only for you.” I start the count, “Two... for our souls, lost and hopeless to find love.” I move the bottle faster, mostly because I am turned on as well, “One… the only one for me is you, come for me, little bird.”
On my command, she does, and I feel compelled to reward her—so I do, “Good girl.” I whisper, breathy against her neck, and she deflates in response.
No words.
No arguments.
I very gently remove everything, and I admire the bottle as it sparkles like a thousand diamonds. I lift it to my lips again, cautious to keep my face from view. This time, I don’t just lick it, I tip the bottle—the mixture hits the back of my throat, and I am in pure ecstasy. “By the gods, your taste is far beyond the expectations I set for it.” As if possessed I lick my lips, “It’s as intoxicating as your radiant gray eyes and shimmering smile. With that said, my dove,” I lock my eyes with hers, “Nothing will ever compare to your heart of pure gold.”
“May I?” I extend my hand out to her, she looks at me confused. “May I escort you to your chambers?” She nods with a small smile, and I release the straps that bound her, catching her as she fumbles weak with exhaustion, then we leave the cellar—all the while I stare at her in awe.
Please, please let me be enough for her.
