She reaches forward and starts unbuckling my belt, and fuck. My hopes get raised. They get raised all the way up.
They wouldn’t be the only thing that’s raised, except my dick is still wherever the fuck she put it. Somehow I can feel him straining against whatever he’s wrapped in, just trying to get free and get the fuck over here so he can be as close as possible to whatever is about to go down.
Jen’s voice is a purr, and it strokes a silken caress all the way down my middle until my toes want to curl in my shoes. “It means you did a good thing today. A very good thing. And I want to reward you.”
“R-really?”
She nods. Then she whips my belt from the belt loops of my jeans in one fluid motion. “Hold out your hands.”
I do, and she wraps the belt around my wrists, fastening it tight, trapping them. I have a newfound appreciation for bossy Jen.
At least I think I do. “And you want to reward me and not punish me for the uh… the dildo? You’re not still mad at me?”
Her hands go to work on my fly. “I’d stop talking right about now if I were you, Adam.”
“Yeah. Uh-huh. OK. Except can I just say I’m sorry? I get it. It was a pretty selfish gift. I get why you were pissed.”
She’s just gotten the zipper all the way down. She pauses, and my stomach drops thinking maybe I’ve already messed this up.
Then she smiles. “You really have changed.”
I figure now is a really good time to start taking her advice, so I don’t say anything else. I just hope that’s a good thing. I mean, it’s gotta be, right?
Jen slides her hands inside my pants and pushes them over my hips, and I smother a groan. She takes a moment to cup my ass and squeeze, and her nails drag over my skin making my excitement do a crazy dance in their wake all the way around to my thighs. She cups her hands over the place my dick would go and makes a little sympathetic tutting sound. “I bet you missed your cock today, huh?”
She has no idea. Everything she’s doing is just making it worse.
I think she knows that, though.
Jen grins. “Let’s get you put back together, then, hmm?”
“God, please!”
I wait motionless as she walks across the living room to the little console table where she stashes her handbag and pulls out a package wrapped up in a bright blue scarf. She doesn’t have to tell me what’s inside, I know the moment her hand closes around it because my knees don’t want to hold me up anymore. The package throbs in her hand, and she beckons me over.
Stepping out of my discarded jeans, I follow her into the living room, praying this is going to happen the way I hope. What I wouldn’t give to be inside her tonight. To watch her cum around my cock. Is she gonna let me, though?
Unwrapping my cock, she hands it to me carefully. “Hold it in place. Don’t let me catch you playing with it, though.”
“I won’t.” My voice comes out all cracked like I’m a fucking teenager all over again. The things this new Jen is making me feel, well, I could be. I feel clumsy in my own body, like my hormones are raging out of control and demanding all my attention. “God, you look amazing in that lingerie,” I whisper.
I’m rewarded with a quick smile before she gets on her knees.
She makes quick work of reattaching my cock, and all the while I’m hyper-focused on her hands on my skin, the brush of her knuckles as she makes neat stitches all the way round. Then she leans in to cut the nylon cord. I can’t help it. My cock jumps against her cheek, and she flicks her eyes up to mine with a knowing little smile, and I’m dead—flattened by that truck all over again. Precum leaks from the tip, and my hands shake.
It feels like I’ve been wanking for an hour and am about to explode except I obviously haven’t touched it all day.
Fuck!
Standing, Jen pushes me back roughly until my calves meet the sofa and I fall back into a seated position. Then she straddles me, lifting my bound hands until they’re up above my head while she slides into place over my huge erection.
Holy fuck, just the pressure of her there, trapping me against my belly. I don’t even have words. All I know is I’m one wet slide away from heaven, and the torment of feeling her heat pressing down on me without being able to do a bloody thing about it is going to be the end of me.
“Oh god, Jen. Please. Can’t you feel how much I fucking need you?”
She tips her head down, and her hair cascades loose over her shoulders, making a sort of tent around us. “Oh, you mean this? You need this?” With a roll of her hips, she grinds her panty-clad pussy over me, and it’s everything and not enough at the exact same time. The pressure, the friction. God, the movement is so close to what I need, but I need to feel how wet she is for me. I need to be coated in her. I need her walls hugging me tight.
Most of all I need to see her eyes roll back in her head as I hit that spot deep inside her. That spot I know no other guy can reach the way I can.
