Mall-hater finds fun while shopping.
Erm, let's move on, shall we?
So, now I've shared a little about my life, what am I going to write this steamy story about?
I love it when my man comes on top of me, Missionary-style, his Sebastian and tongue both deep in corresponding tandem, my breasts bouncing, his gaze locked with mine, my hands on his arse, caressing his buns, fingering his hole, teasing him, urging him on, deeper, harder, faster -- just needing to be pummeled -- his groin pressing my clitty, and his fingers squeezing my nipples. I always experience the same delicious dilemma at this time: I enjoy wrapping my legs around him, urging him on with my hammering heels, and feeling him bucking like a uncultivated, nasty, rabid animal atop of me, and yet I am devoted to spreading my pins as far apart as they will possibly go, exposing every last millimeter of my glorious pussy and hyper-sensitive clitoris. Somehow, for some reason, it helps me to cum harder.
What can I say? I'm an enigma.
Well, and that's my tale and I'm sticking to it. J
Uh, what was my point?
Oh yes, although this is one my favourite ways to have his excited penis enter my eager lurve canal -- most especially when its the first time and nothing else will satisfy the pent-up lust but high-speed and frantic, combative friction -- for some reason only known to the Goddess herself I laid one fleeting glance upon Tristan earlier this afternoon and knew I intended to ride him hard and put him away wet, as the saying goes.
"Take off your trousers and get down on all fours."
"Uh, Elizabeth! What --?"
"Shut up and do it, now."
And, by-the-by, to whichever lay spirit floating out there in the ether that possessed me, I thank you.
To my lustful amazement, T did as he was bid, with alacrity no less. With my clit already on fire I slowly stepped in front of him, slipped my Juicy sweats off and strapped on my dildo. His eyes bulged and his lips were pursed, as he crawled a couple of steps toward me.
"Who's your Daddy, Tris?"
"Uh, you, you, you are," he stammered.
"Look me in the eye when you're talking to me, Boy," I demanded as I began stroking my own first-ever Sebastian, "and address me with a little respect. Say Sir, yes, Sir."
"Sir! Yes, Sir!"
"Now, tell me you want me to fuck you."
Uh, uh..." Tris practically gurgled at me in shock.
He was sitting back on his heels and his cock was twitching and growing by the second. That beautiful teardrop hole of his was whimpering for my tongue but there'd be time enough later.
As my confidence soared, I continued.
"So, you think my little lady-cock won't do the job for you. It's a mere epigone for you? Is that it?"
Still with the glazed look, so I stepped up to him smartly and slapped him. May the Goddess have mercy on me if I didn't have a mini-O right there on the spot and I teetered a little in my heels!
Skin-on-skin seemed to rouse him and he growled my name as he struggled to keep his own emotions in durance.
"Beth," he warned.
I hesitated then, wondering if he wasn't going for it the way I unmistakably was with my glutinous feminine fluids all but running down my thighs I wanted so badly to fuck him.
I've always maintained that one of the highest sexual compliments a woman can proffer her man is contained in those sweet juices between her legs. The more moist she is when her partner finally slides his fingers for the first time below stairs, the more flattered he ought feel: today, with Tris, I was about as drenched as I've ever been in my life. My panties are soaking my chair as I type and my over-sexed and needy clitoris cries for more, every time I think on his mouth.
As we stood there in that brief second, our exchange hanging by a thread and able to go either way: to Heavenly, erotic release or to Hell via Awkward Station, T reached down and began stroking his vivified penis.
Now, if there's anything sexier on this planet than watching your man fondle himself, then Folks, I've yet to find it.
That last thought has just sparked a memory long fo