Knowing he’s never been touched here before, I’m gentle at first, moving slowly inside him. “Just give me a second to find your P-spot.” I feel around for it. “It’s a little bump about four inches in. Sometimes it takes a minute or two to find.”
“Four inches?” he screeches as he begins to freak out a bit.
I scoff. “Daylen, your cock is at least nine inches and I took it. Stop being a baby.”
“You didn’t take it up your ass.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve had more than two fingers and more than four inches in my ass before, so stop whining like a little bitch and focus. You’re going to be begging me for more in just a few minutes.”
It doesn’t take long for me to find the right spot. He gasps when I do, and then I start to massage it with my fingers.
He lets out a slight moan. “Oh wow. I…I…keep doing that.” His hips even rock a little to the rhythm of my strokes.
I gradually begin to increase the pressure and make a figure eight pattern with my fingers, knowing what it will do to him. He starts involuntarily circling his hips much more so thanbefore. He’s fully getting into it. I knew he would. It feels too good not to.
Once I know he’s sufficiently built up and on the brink, I change my finger patterns to more of a come-hither motion.
He begins moaning loudly, before yelling, “Holy crap. Holy crap. Oh god. Don’t stop. It’s building. I’m almost there. I’m gonna go off like a firehose. Fuck, Kennedy. Fuck.”
When I know he’s nearly there, I reach my hand that was gripping his hip around to his front and wrap it around his rock-hard cock, giving it three tight, hard pumps in sync with my movements in his back entrance.
He starts banging the wall with his fist, and then practically roars down the building as he loses his load all over my wall. And I meanallover my wall. There’s a lot of fucking semen. These Boner Shakes cause insane production levels. Wow, I’ve never seen anything like it.
I continue to pump him voraciously through it. The noises coming out of his mouth are extremely satisfying.
When I’m confident he’s done, I slowly remove my hands from his body. As soon as I do, he falls to his knees with his whole body shaking, completely out of breath. With his head bowed, he asks, “What,” breath, “the hell,” breath, “was that?”
I pat his head like a good dog. “The best orgasm of your life, Humblecut. It’s called milking the prostate. You’re welcome.”
He sits there wordlessly, panting, but nods his head in agreement.
“You’ll need a little while to recover,” I tell him. “I’m going to wash my hands in the kitchen. Let me know when you can stand again and then we’ll work on me.”
I leave with a giant smile of satisfaction on my face. He might not be able to walk for thirty minutes. There’s no way he’ll be able to go again, not for a long while.
I’m at the sink washing my hands when I hear his voice from the living room. “Out of curiosity, why was the spatula necessary for that?”
I let out a laugh. “It wasn’t. I just wanted to wallop you and leave marks on your ass. That was formysatisfaction, not yours.”
Before I know what’s happening, his muscular arms wrap around me and lift me effortlessly into the air. I screech in surprise.
“You are mean,” he teases playfully, “with a big mouth that would be better served sucking dick.”
He places me back down and turns me around, the front of his naked body pressed to mine. My nipples harden as they rub along his chest, immediately ramping up my arousal. God, this feels good. I’ve been starved for the touch of a man for far too long.
He runs his thumb over my lower lip and breathes, “But I do love these pink lips.”
I look up at him, realizing just how much I want him. “I have two pairs of lips for a reason. You can either shut me up or fill me up; the decision is yours.”
He leans forward and mumbles into my mouth, “My wife is insane.” I can feel him smile against my lips. “In the best way possible.”
His lips finally take mine in a hard kiss while he again lifts me and encourages me to wrap my legs around him, which I do.
His tongue pushes into my mouth, and it still tastes like strawberries. Why does this man always taste like strawberries? It’s weird, but I sort of like it. I thought it was the drink in Vegas, but it’s obviously not that. The man just tastes like damn strawberries.
I can feel him harden against my stomach. How is that possible, given the orgasm he just had? What is in those damn boner shakes? Though I suppose his turnaround time in Vegas was impressive too. Maybe it’s just him.
I can feel and hear him reach behind me to shut off the water before turning us and depositing my ass on top of my kitchen table, all without breaking the kiss. I run my fingers through hishair, basking in the intimacy of the moment. His calloused, massive hands move all over my body, leaving no inch untouched. Vegas was full of hard, aggressive hate touches. These are slightly different. Still aggressive and hard, but there’s a reverence to them this time. Hate has been replaced with something else. Savoring. Longing. Desire.
