It was an erotic act of self-preservation that, to her chagrin, went totally wrong.
Just one night removed from not only having her arched and taut ass blistered by my hand but also her pouty little nipples twisted, sucked and tweeked, Leigh chose to be pro-active behind the bedroom door via one of her infamous oily hand jobs.
The fact that her cunt had been pounded viciously that fortnight only fueled her efforts to show her appreciation in a most delightfully tactile manner. She figured, knowing how much I adore her expert ministrations of my cock with her slick hand, that I would also be appreciative and show some mercy on her various sore orifices, protrusions and fleshy parts that delight in being spanked.
And to an extent she was right. As in right then her right hand felt oh so right.
I can’t help myself. She’s too tempting to just take. And I was in the process of doing just that through the exploration of her curves, still debating exactly what the fuck I was going to do to her, with her, on her, in her. She was receptive, her under the sheets ass grinding making a crow bar out of the flesh of my cock. As I have stated previously, there are erections, then there are Erections, and every now and then there are ERECTIONS.
I was ERECT. And it hurt so fucking good. When you have to briefly entertain the thought that the amount of blood trapped in your cock may actually cause its skin to rip from the pressure, that the veins are throbbing so hard you can take an accurate pulse…that is good pain. And the velvet that is her milky white skin had me downright giddy with the ache.
Leigh purred (I adore when she gets that way) as my hands traversed her curves. But the way she jumped when fingertips brushed nipples or made that short, shrill gasp of air when the same raked her ass cheeks with fingernail claws hinted at her conundrum of being very sore, yet also becoming extremely aroused.
That’s when she took matters into her own hands. Literally.
Sliding out of bed I just assumed she was going to the bathroom. Her bladder is the size of a sweet pea, I swear. Many erotic evenings start with the echo of a flush in the background. I’ve come to accept this, although she knows I don’t particularly like it. It’s a mood breaker, but better to have a small wet blanket thrown on the fire now than have a king sized wet blanket 27 minutes later when her bladder explodes.
My job during all of this is simple – keep the ERECTION. This requires a trick I am sure all you ladies are well versed in as far as maximizing the girth and length of the erection you are playing with – bending it downward. And while I profess to not knowing the biological mechanics of such a move, I do know it makes whatever state of arousal I am in that much more intense as well as painful. Painful as in suddenly my cock felt like it just grew an inch in both directions.
When Leigh does this its exquisite in its agonizing intensity. When I do it it’s merely a kinky life-preserver. What is there stays there. So as her naughty ass sauntered to the commode my right hand went into a zone defense to keep this once every so often hard on as hard as I could.
Not the most romantic sound, I admit, but by now I’ve almost become Pavlovian when I hear a toilet flush late at night. I swear my cock twitches as that water swirls, knowing full well in less than minute she will be back, empty, horny and ready to play.
The door opens, the light from the bathroom momentarily bathes the dark bedroom, the dull whirrrrrr of the fan now more obvious. With a click night once again swallows the room, rendering only shadows visible. Cock in hand I watch a curvy silhouette cross moonbeams from the windows at the foot of our bed. The sound of bare feet padding across a hard wood floor mixed with window and ceiling fan blades droning is, aside from my pulse thumping in my temples and grip, the only sound audible.
pad pad pad pad pad sssccrreeeeeek
Oh, The Drawer™! Leigh decided to raid our stash of sex toys in her top dresser drawer. Most likely it would be Papa Smurf™ the mini vibe coming out to play. My cock pulsed at the thought of what could be done with that.
Some awkward fumbling sounds, silence, then sccreeeeeeek
pad pad pad pad pad pad pad pad
Ohhhhhhhh, I know! She has a handful of The Magic Oil™!
Handjob! Fuck yeah!
I moved over to give her room to sit on my side of the bed. With a flick of her left hand the sheets were tossed askew, then with the same hand she relieved me of my erection watching duties.
The next few seconds are among those which I freely admit to coveting. Waiting for that palmful of lubricating oil to be gently poured all over the head and length of the erection in her stranglehold. Then….
Bliss. Nirvana. Heaven. Free Coffee. You name it. It’s all that plus a slice of layer cake when that now empty yet extremely slick hand makes that first stroke of my glistening erection.
I groaned loudly as my hips tensed and rose to receive this anointing by an angel. Her fingers barely touched the skin of my cock. It was deliriously intense to become so aroused, so swollen, so slick so fast yet so slow.
She rolled her hand at the top of each stroke to ensure the by then almost purple head got full attention, taking much delight in the way her palm and fingers caressed the frenum over and over and over with the grace of an angel but the intent of a demon.
My breath got ragged, my hands gripped the base of the headboard as I held on for dear life. I moaned loudly with each eye rolling stroke. They grew firmer, yet still so fucking slow. I thought I was going to pass out.
She thought she was getting off easy by getting me off hard.