I’ve always enjoyed taking my time, especially with her. I like the anticipation, the slow climb, the build-up, as much as I like the release itself. But there’s nothing slow in the way I dive in, covering her perfect little cunt with my lips and tongue.
At the first warm and wet flick, she breaks eye contact with a small cry and lets her head fall back on the bedding. If I weren’t so fucking frenzied, I’d have missed the sweet spot, licked around it until she begged for mercy. But I’m all out of patience and subtlety, so I lock right onto her clit and do what I know will work well and fast.
Since she hasn’t touched herself in over three months, Andrea is insanely reactive to the touch of my tongue. In seconds, she’s panting, breathing ragged, thighs trembling. Her hands come to my hair, clenched and guiding.
I only change strategies every few seconds to lick lower, where wetness gathers before trickling down her ass and onto the mattress. She’s so slick under my tongue, I could do this for hours.
But as much as I’d like to take my time, I’m in fucking agony here, my aching cock pressed into the mattress. So, I show no mercy as I lock my mouth onto her clit again. There will be time for teasing and savoring later.
“Aah, baby!” she cries out.
Making her come was always easy, and I’ve only gotten better with time. But this… this is effortless. There’s no challenge to it, so when she shatters in less than a minute, crying out my name and arching off the mattress, I don’t stop. If anything, I go faster and harder. For several seconds, her breathing halts, so do her jolting and the tugging at my hair. Prone to an orgasm so powerful her brain glitches, she can’t do anything but endure it.
Then, in the trail of the first one, a second orgasm hits her. Once more, she screams, hips buckling under me at the savagery of her pleasure. I hold her there, preventing any retreat, feasting on her. Under my tongue, her clit throbs with every wave, and knowing she’s clenchingso fucking hard has me nearly busting my load. Jesus fuck, if I hadn’t come fifteen minutes ago in the shower, I certainly would have come on the mattress like a fucking teenager.
Andrea’s screams resonate in the room, almost worrying in their intensity. She tries to pull away from me, twisting her upper body to haul herself higher on the bed. Fisting the sheets and clothes thrown on it, she struggles to drag herself away, only to realize it’s pointless.
Not only is my hold on her hips strong, but her own legs betray her, clenched around my skull to keep me there. When her hands return to my hair, they can’t choose what to do. Push me off or pull me in?
Just like she isn’t used to my cock anymore, she’ll need time to learn how to endure that much pleasure again. But not right now. There are more urgent matters to tend to.
The moment her second orgasm begins to fade, I let go to crawl my way up her spent body. God, she’s so fucking beautiful, all pink in the face and satiated like she is, the thin hair around her face even curlier from the dampness of her skin. Hopefully, my overzealousness didn’t completely satiate her. Not until I get my turn.
Andrea’s heavy limbs welcome me when I move on top of her, weak arms wrapping around my shoulders and her legs rising over my hips. She’s pliant under my lips when I kiss her again, her tongue lazy against my frenetic one. She’s still basking in the aftermath of her back-to-back orgasms, and I use that to align myself with her once more.
She’s regained enough of her senses to mumble, “I saidoneorgasm, Alexander.”
“Would you rather I edged you for five minutes?”
After a couple of seconds to think about it, she shakes her head.
This time, when I push in with a firm thrust, there’s no resistance. She’s still tight enough to make me groan, but the loosened slickness of her allows me to get in until the base of my cock meets her damp curls. There isn’t an ounce of pain in the soft cry she lets out. It’s all pleasure. All bliss. I can’t hold back a moan at how fucking good she feels.
My mind wants to take a moment to rediscover this sensation, but my body has another thing in mind. I back up and thrust again, hard. She’s so fucking perfect under me, so tight, and wet, and warm… And those sounds she makes, hiccups of pleasure, breathy moans, soft cries… I can’t control myself. But I need to. Fuck, I need to get a hold of myself, or I’ll come in seconds and leave her wanting more.
When I realize how dangerously close I am to coming, I plant myself into her and stop moving. I have to think of something—a distraction, anything that isn’t her and her perfect face and tight pussy. So one of the two doesn’t pose as much of an issue, I press my forehead onto her temple and close my eyes.
How long do we need to keep this up to make up for those three months apart? A week? Two weeks?
Under me, Andrea tries to writhe, to keep the momentum going, but I press harder onto her, preventing it.
“Lex,” she protests, frustrated.
We used to fuck at least twice a day. Often thrice. It can last anywhere between five minutes and an hour, depending on how many orgasms I want to give her. We were averaging two point eight orgasms for her per session, which should bring us to at least twenty-eight minutes per session, including foreplay.
I’ll go with an hour and ten minutes per day, where we fuck three times every other day, which would be a low average. Over the hundred and five days I was away, that brings us to seven thousand, three hundred and fifty minutes—over a hundred and fifteen hours. We’d need breaks in there, to eat and to rest. I’d say three hours every two hours is—
“Are you doing math in your head?” Andrea asks, making me realize I’m whispering the whole thing.
“Yes, I haven’t had to do this in fifteen years. It’s embarrassing.”
“Not for me, it isn’t.” Given the lightness of her voice, I can tell how much she enjoys this. “Especially since you came what, twenty minutes ago in the shower?”
“Stop talking, Andrea.”
I’m about to return to my calculations when she cunningly says, “I can’t wait to be full of your cum. I’ve missed it so much. The feeling of it seeping out of me and making its way down my legs…”
“Stop talking,” I mutter, sensing my balls draw up tight at her words.
