I have to be brave, to do what comes into my head even though I have no experience and he has it all.
I can’t think about the others who have been here and what they did or how well they satisfied him.
I have to be me. Do what I can do.
Another song has come on, lurid and slow, like the soundtrack of a seduction. The universe is on my side. I slide down and down until I arrive at the edge of his boxers. The tip of him peeks out over the elastic. I tug the fabric down.
It’s more purple than I expected, the tip glistening. I look up at Merrick’s face. He’s watching me, his jaw tight, like he’s barely containing something.
I slide my tongue against the rounded end. It’s slightly salty, but mostly without much taste at all. I drag the boxers out of my way. I want to know how far into my mouth this can go.
He glides along my tongue and to the back of my throat. I shift my angle over him and realize I can do more.
Merrick makes a strangled sound. He likes this. I’m doing all right.
I pull back for a moment to take a small break. Merrick tries to reach for me and remembers I have tied him to the pole.
I smile and slide him into my mouth again, seeing if I can go farther this time. Not much. I’m maxed out.
But this is fun and hot, and I grip his hips as I do it again and again. In the movie Celia showed me, the men spurted onto the women’s faces. Is that how it is? Or is that to show something you can’t normally see but only feel?
I don’t know.
His hips thrust, which tells me there are levels a man moves up, like I do. I slow down, taking my time to gradually slide my lips off the end.
Then I shift back on my heels to look up. His face is tight, intense, like he’s working hard to control himself.
Oh, no. He will most certainlynotbe controlling himself.
I survey where we are. His hands are over his head, buckled to the pole. His shirt is up, exposing his belly. His jeans are opened, his boxers pushed down. He’s erect and standing straight up.
I could do this thing.
My gaze meets his. He glances down at his exposed body and then at me. “Marietta …” It’s a growl.
“You don’t consent?” I stand up, pressing against his body as I go. His cock is trapped against my chest, and I know I don’t have enough boobs to do the maneuver I saw where they work it between them, so I keep going. I grasp the pole near his hands and lift up, clenching my abs, bringing my legs around in the V that normally encircles the pole, but this time encircles him.
I land square on his erection, but the panties separate us. If I’d taken them off, this point might be moot.
“Marietta …” he says again, but it’s more pained.
I hold on to the pole, slide up and down, teasing him and myself.
Damn, this is hot.
My breasts are right at his face, and he looks torn between snatching me into his mouth and continuing to protest.
“Merrick, can I take these panties off?” I ask, gliding along his length. “Please tell me we can do this. Tell me you want to.”
He makes another strangled sound.
“I can do it all myself,” I say. “And nobody needs to know how it happened.” I suck in a breath as his cock catches on theside of panties and slips against my skin. Maybe I don’t need to take them off after all.
I shift, and the head of his cock is inside the silk.
“Fuck …” he says. “Yes. Ride it. Ride it however you want.”
Oh, my God. He said yes. I can do it. I can end this.
