Like a graceful ballerina dancing as The Swan, she lifts her arms, and I remove it. There she stands, nude and beautiful, but I don’t dare peruse her body lest I start gaping and drooling and coming inside my pants like a college freshman faced withHustlerfor the first time in his life.
I lean in and kiss her shoulder, running my lips over her collarbone. She puts a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I remove it, then hold her wrist. Taking the purple scarf around her neck, I tie her wrists and slip her arms over my head. With a palm atthe small of her back, I pull her closer to me. My dick might blow a hole in my pants. “Put your tit in my mouth.”
She lifts her breast, and I open my mouth so she can put it inside, arch her back, and gag me. I love tits. If I had two mouths and were an octopus, I could stroke her pussy, poke her ass, suck on both tits, and make out with her all at once.
But I’m just me. Two hands, one mouth, so I gotta make do with what I have. Accepting I’m just a man doesn’t make me any less greedy to do all the things to her at the same time.
Spine arched, she throws her head back and moans as I lap on her tit, thinking how one day these titties will fill with milk and squirt that healthy white protein-rich goodness in my face. For now, I’ll settle for pussy juice.
I grab the back of her thigh and hoist her up so she straddles me. With her spread wide open, I don’t move her closer over my dick. I don’t want her to know how hard she makes me. Power is everything, and I’m not ready to transfer it to her just yet.
I bend my head to suck on her other tit when she slams her mouth on mine, then jerks back as if she’s done something bad or perhaps impulsive and now she’s horrified by it.
“Come here,” I tell her and slip a finger inside her warm place.
I groan before she does. I want to be inside her, plundering and pillaging and seeding. My jaw tightens, lips pinching as I try to rein in my control. I slip another finger inside her, thumb at the clit, pressing, sliding back and forth while she softly kisses my mouth, moans with her lips on mine before tilting her head and kissing me.
She’s romantic. Cute. Needs kissing and attention and all the nice soft things most women need and I’m ill-equipped to satisfy.
I almost feel sorry for her for marrying a cold bastard like me. Almost, but not quite, because she’ll find a way with me likeshe found a way with her tongue in my mouth and her hands at the back of my neck, pulling my head forward, sliding her hips toward my dick.
I grip her waist and stop her, then pump my fingers inside her, looking for the soft swelling inside I can stroke and make her squirt or at the very least cum hard.
Biceps flex as I pump.
She’s riding my fingers now and still kissing me, and when she snatches my tongue between her lips and starts sucking, I lose it. I place her ass on the chair and grab her throat, squeeze, and pump her pussy with all my might. She’s choking, can’t escape ’cause her hands are tied and on me, and I’m pumping her so fast and hard that her entire body shakes.
Her eyes roll back, her body locks up, and I know the moment she’s gonna release.
I slip her arms from around my neck, bend at the knees, and put my tongue inside her hole. My wife grabs my head and screams, legs shaking with tremors, and then I feel it on my tongue. Sweet pussy juice. I lap at it, moaning at the back of my throat because she tastes great and tangy and I love it.
Having lapped up all that I could, wishing I could somehow squeeze out more, I wipe my mouth and stand. Spread eagle, her long legs and great body on display, I take my time to peruse it while she breaths loudly, having just come off a high. Smiling, I slide my hands into my pockets.
Do not stroke your dick. Do not.
Okay, I touch it from the side. It’s hard as a rock and ready to rule this pussyland in the bedroom.
She downs the whiskey, gently places the glass on the bar, twirls it, then crosses one leg over the other. Wait, what? I don’t think so.
She clears her throat. “It’s getting late.”
“It’s not even ten yet.”
“Yeah. I have to be up early.”
“Not tomorrow.” She sighs and stands and I pay attention to her foot and if she favors one foot over the other. It doesn’t, so this is good. “You just got married,” I remind her, a bit upset she’s unwilling to take time off to spend with me when I’d cancel my fucking life to be with her. Oh shit. That power transfer? Yeah, it’s already happened.
“I’m not married yet.”
I steady my breathing and give her my neutral expression, the resting asshole face, the one I use when I don’t want anyone to get a read on me, but her body is calling my dick and I can’t be trusted to make decisions now, not when I know I like her a lot. My heart is in this marriage.
I wanna make this work with this woman and no other. The second I saw her, I knew I wanted to keep her. I don’t need eighty fucking years to get to know her to find out she’s the one. The fact she feels she’s not married bothers me. I think it hurts my fucking feelings, and it definitely hurts my dick.
I want to order her to sign the marriage license. It’s on the tip of my tongue. But I can’t, because that’s what I’d do with reluctant business partners or associates who won’t do what I say. My wife needs… I don’t know what exactly. Time? Fine.
“I’ll give you fifteen to freshen up, then sign the papers so you can be married, because I signed them the second I saw them.”
“I can’t sign them.”
