Puppet Master, Act II

(If you haven’t read Act 1 of Puppet Master do so here)

She nodded in the affirmative, making a “um hmm” sound between groans as her self abuse intensified.

I continued. “Hungry for what?”

A pause, then a dry “For you” escaped her lips. “For what part of me?” I replied. Now she made eye contact. I knew exactly what she was thinking…

Don’t make me say it

Leigh, for all her wondrousness, does not like to be made to vocalize her desires. At all. So of course I focus on this and place her in a conundrum to make her pull her own trigger, if you will.

“You know….” she offered in desperation. “No, no I don’t” sternly greeted her desperate plea, “Say it. Say it or I’ll stop”.

Mind you I was just lying next to her at this point and was not actually doing anything to her. Well, physically at least. For I also know that as much as Leigh hates to be forced to vocalize her lusts, she also lusts after being forced to do things of a sexual nature. Adores it.

A long pause, then “Your cock….”

“My cock what?” I offered cooly.

Her eyes blazed. I fucking love this. She does too, but would never admit it. She’s thinking you fucking bastard but says “I want your cock in my mouth”

I smile, for more reasons than the obvious, as I roll onto my back and guide her head down to my hips. She makes the obligatory protesting sounds. We are both winning this round.

My smile soon yields to a slightly perplexed look of amazement as the velvet lava that is the oral cavity she owns goes to work. And here all this time I thought it was other parts of her anatomy that got hot and wet from rough foreplay and fucking with her mind. Who knew?

Well, I knew! Fuck, was she hungry! And hot? Damn! Her mouth was braising my engorged dick like a chef would a tenderloin with melted butter. Over and over her lips slid the length of my cock, turning her head slightly on the upstroke, then repeating the motion. When she placed her fingers on the exposed shaft and slowly started working them in a feathery unison with her mouth I saw the writing on the wall. It said “YOU’RE GOING TO COME LIKE A FUCKING LOCOMOTIVE IN ABOUT 2 MINUTES!”

I could feel my breathing getting shorter, my hip muscles starting to tighten, feet stretching, toes curling. It was starting. I knew what would put us both over the edge. I snaked the fingers of my left hand through her matted auburn locks and, once satisfied I had a good handful, slowly squeezed my hand tight until her head became the last of my morning’s puppets. She moaned loudly with a mouthful of rigid dick at this transgression. She fucking loves for me to use her this way. I love that she lets me. The physical sensation is merely icing on the cake. Gobs of hot, sticky icing.

My orgasm started to build. I knew this from the sensation deep in my hips. She knew this from how my already painfully swollen cock grew thicker and harder as blood surged to it in preparation of the explosion of cum to come. I wasn’t forcing her head to move any faster or harder than she was already, so it caught me by surprise when right as I started to build she..started…to….slow…..down……her…….oral……..assault.

I know what payback is, and she was being one right then. That fucking bitch was going to string me out. You see, she knows a trick. A very good trick. An insanely good trick. To make a man’s orgasm easily last ten times longer and just as more pleasurable, you slow down the friction at the point of no return. Keep doing what you’re doing, just exaggerate it. So for a world class blow job she makes her mouth a little wider, her strokes a little longer, her touches more deliberate and the pace, with each stroke, slower.

And slower.

This, on my end, turned about a half minute build up into a minute’s worth of pre-climax hysteria. Oh, I was going to come. It just wasn’t when I thought I was. But when I did, with a groan that could have been mistaken for the start of the zombie apocalypse, I went almost catatonic. The scream that escaped me was more like a death kneel. Dry. Retching. Primal. My eyes rolled back as her mouth tied a silken thread around every nerve ending in my body and pulled them all at once right out of the head of cock firmly embedded in the back of her mouth.

I somewhat recall that scream fading into a staccato echo as I frantically grasped with my free hand for something, anything to hang on to. My pillow became a faux life preserver as stream after stream of hot semen filled Leigh’s mouth. I must have came for at least half a minute, easy. On subsequent gasps I made more unrecognizable sounds that resembled an infant’s wail, a snarl, growled panting and, finally, heaving sobs of collapsed relief. I released Leigh’s head from my viselike hold and she staggered off to the bathroom, I swear grinning from ear to ear.

Minutes passed. Gasping like a hooked trout on a line I was doing a damn good job lying down without holding on, thank you. I finally found the strength to roll over and join her. Together we floated on a sea of down feathers as I held onto her like a life raft, wondering exactly who was who’s puppet…

Until tomorrow morning.

– Scot

4 responses to “Puppet Master, Act II

  1. Oooo gosh. You’ve just made a mess of me. That first part would have to be the best way for a man to wake me up. This almost had me moan. I’m certainly hot enough and definitely awake. Too bad I’m alone in my bed.

    Excellent writing. You had me desperate to finish.

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