by Jamie Knight
“And this?”
Uncontrollably, I shudder. I shift on my knees, feeling my pussy lips reaching out to hold him. “Your tongue.”
“Doing what?”
“Licking me,” I say, quickly gasping for air.
He’s not just licking along my lips, my flaps of skin anymore. He’s bending down and beginning to swirl and curl that tongue into my hole. It soaks and juices for him. My clit aches and quivers, before his lips even clasped around it. The moment they do (I feel it as he is putting weight on the mattress, scooting underneath me), I cry out. I buckle, but don’t lose my balance. More of me is now in between his lips, and he goes down on it.
Ambrose licks and sucks my clit roughly, hungrily. He eats its chubby slickness as if it belongs to him now and forever. He moans and gulps, grabbing my thighs and squeezing. Forcing them apart, as he deepens his exploration and his penetration. His tongue laps forward and back along my clit and lips, before thrusting into my hole — swirling along my textured opening. I groan, feeling myself shaking. Again, he asks me what I feel, and again I tell him.
“I feel you licking my clit. Sucking on it, and scooping out my pussy with your tongue,” I say, hearing and feeling my voice quiver. My stomach follows suit.
“What does it feel like you’re about to do?” asks Ambrose.
By the right, mocking way he speaks to me, I know he knows. He knows I’m about to come, but he wants to hear me say it. He continues dragging and circling his tongue along my clit, on the underside of my hood.
“It feels like I’m about to come,” I say, feeling just that begin to shake and rattle through me. Before I’ve even finished saying those words, I do. I come quickly and violently, immediately seeing stars. Feeling dizzy and warm. But it doesn’t stop there. Just as the warm, tingling energy begins to subside, it builds up again. It folds in on itself and rushes forward under a new wave of attention from him.
“And now?”
I pant, gripping the sheets. “It feels like I’m about to come again,” I say, and proceed to do just that. He’s barely doing anything at all, practically blowing on my clit, poking my folds with the barest edge of his tongue, and I’m creaming, clenching and writhing on his tongue, as I feel something spill out of me. Spray like a jittery, fountain.
“What are you feeling now?” The words are heady and resonate in my ears, buried under the sensation of my wet, quaking pussy.
“Quaking,” I breathe, feeling something else welling up inside me. More liquid, molten love. “Like a melting. Turning into lava, magma.” Saying this, that’s all I can picture. My body — my flesh and bones — I’m melting like the core of the earth, while my lust, my hard, pulsating clit takes over. “Like I’m going to explode. Boil over.” As I dribble out these words, that’s exactly what my body does. Release more fluids of pleasure. I feel them streak and splash down my thighs. Underneath the force of that orgasm I sway, lost in the spinning, swirling fog of color in my darkness. It’s a wonder I’m still kneeling.
I am, but I’m very badly — and very thoroughly — shaken.
Chapter Six - Ambrose
I love how my little plaything is behaving for me. I’ve gotten everything I wanted, but as I pull back from pleasuring her a moment, I realize something terrifying. Out of spending time with her, I’m beginning to get something I didn’t expect: real and true emotion toward her, not just the usual lust. The way she’s quaking and having to work to catch her breath, I feel breathless toward that. I feel the quiver and her body coming to my soul, my heart, and that’s when I’m determined to have her as more than just my toy, my distraction.
I want her as my satisfaction for more than one night.
Of course, the moment I think that, I shove it away. That’s not who I’ve been, who I can give myself permission to be. Not now. Not yet, and maybe not ever. As Ambrose White, there are certain things I’m not allowed to do. And falling in love, growing dependent on my company for the evening, that’s forbidden to me. I made that rule for myself over twenty years ago, and I don’t plan on breaking it now.
Focusing my attention on my girl’s beautiful curvy and exposed ass, her folds of delectable, blushing flesh, the glistening wet slit before me, just begging to be fucked, I decide I’m going to take her for real. I’m going to have her virginity for myself.
Satiating that hunger, that’ll turn off these ridiculous thoughts of wanting her for longer. I ready my cock in my hand, stroking it. My movements are slow and methodical, but it doesn’t matter. My cock is hard and full. Hot and ready to fill that virgin pussy, savor the tightness before I stretch it out, leaving my indelible mark.
Shifting my way up to her ass and beginning to glide my cock’s tip around her silky skin, I murmur, “I’m going to take your virginity now.”
To this, I just feel the girl tremble. Her folds get slicker. Her juices stick to me before I’ve even done more than just slide my shaft across the front of her. Her clit, still hard and beady from my work on it, glides across me momentarily. I moan at the small tickling sensation but remind myself to get back in control. I’m not the virgin here, she is.
She’s just the new girl, not a whole new world, Ambrose. Get it together. With these thoughts, I pull my cock from its path along the front of her lips and clit and reposition it in front of her hole. I spread her cheeks and skin there, dabbing my head in and out of her teasingly, testingly. I’m doing it for my sake — to sample her wetness and readiness for me, no other reason.
She moans, shakes with every whisper of me so I decide to play my game with her some more. My game of “feel and tell”, knowing that it’s more for me now than any control over her. “What does that feel like to you?” I press her hole with the tip of my head then pull back out.
Again, she quivers and whimpers. “It feels like your cock,” she breathes, “your head, but it feels even better than it did in my mouth.” I hear her whine in hunger or discomfort. “It has so much more texture, so much more warmth when I feel you spreading me down there.”
“Do you want more? Do you want the whole thing in you?” At this point, I can’t keep the arousal from my voice. It’s husky and thick, the same as my cock. As it is, I have it positioned to go straight in and straight to the ends of what she can tolerate, the moment she answers me.
“The whole thing, yes, please! Please give it to me, Mr. White!”
“So be it,” I sing, and plunge straight into her.
The moment I feel my head and shaft split her warm lips, and dip into her hot, wet depths, that’s the moment all oxygen leaves me. All thought and control leaves my body, and I go from one thrust to pounding. Quickly and brutally I move in and out of her, feeling like a virgin all over again. I grab a hold of her hips, kneel back, and bring her back to me. With eyes at that angle, I watch my dick slip in and out of her hole as I pound her pussy as hard and fast as I can. Leaning back more, I suspend her above me, growling at her to tell me everything that’s going on. How big and delicious I am to her.
Just asking her to do this tightens her pussy around me even more than it already is. But it’s her words to me, it’s those little things, that fill my cock up to near bursting. “It’s so huge, so filling!” While there is some strain to her voice, some bits of pained breathing, she’s in ecstasy. She’s drooling for me, even as she speaks. “It’s even better than the picture I had in my head. It’s so manly and strong, Ambrose! Fuck me harder, so I can feel all of you! So, I can get down every last inch of you!”
“Shit,” I groan, feeling my cock threaten to shoot its load in her right now, before she’s gone. Get it together, Ambrose! You’re the experienced one, not the virgin! So, act like it, and don’t come prematurely! Even as I chide myself in this way, I know it’s hopeless to resist her. I didn’t think having her describe those things to me would be so fucking hot, but it is.
To distract myself, I start fucking her harder. Plunging deep inside her, as I change our position. Fr
om being on our knees, I push her so that she is sitting on me, and then curled up, legs behind her head, presenting her lower lips to me. Through all this movement, I never lose my position inside of her. I never come close to slipping out. When I have her right where I want her, I go back to fucking her as hard and fast as my body will let me. The slapping, wet noises are delicious to me, but I want her to tell me about them. So, I say, “What you hear? What do you feel?”
I continue pounding her pussy. Karen answers me, over squealing, dragging breathes. “I can hear your cock going in and out of my pussy! I can hear my pussy being wet for you!” She groans and shutters, enjoying the latest noises. “I can hear your cock stuffing me full, stretching my dirty hole!” She squeals again and continues, “I can feel all my juices flowing for you! Sweet sticky, juices! Naughty juices from my fucked, virgin pussy!”
Again, my shaft strangles. My balls clench, and I have to fight off cumming in her right then and there. “Good girl,” I growl, picking up my speed. Now I’m slapping and grabbing her ass as I thrust my cock up into her depths, her molten, quaking center.
Her breathing picks up, and the shakes that were in her pussy and hips are now in her entire body. “Please, Ambrose! Please let me see you!” she screams, buckling against my girth, the deep fucking I’m giving her. “I’m about to come! Please let me see you as I do!”
As much as I want to give in to her request, I can’t. I have to make sure that she’s learned her lesson, and that she knows I’m in charge. That I meant what I said about being a man not for everyone’s gaze, even hers. “That’s up for me to decide. I may decide to reward you in that way, I may not. You will have to be satisfied with either, my girl.”
Whether she’s upset with me or not, it doesn’t show. The moment my voice caresses her ear from behind the cover of the mask and her spiky sunset of hair, she creams. On me, on the bed below, marking the sheets with her glistening, silky cum. I moan at this, feeling my cock get extra warm and stimulated with her fluids flowing around me. I get even more speed and sensations from her, and I’m hopelessly gone after that. The moment I hear the extra squishy and spongy sounds from her pussy, I explode. I fill her full, watching as some of my cum leaks beautifully from her. Like frosting in a lava cake, my pale love dribbles out of her, covering the sheets as well.
Exhausted, I kiss her tenderly — something I always do but never feel tender about — and help her get under the covers. I climb under myself, unable to deny what I’m starting to feel for Karen. Underneath the typical feeling of satisfaction and release, I’m feeling bound. I’m connected and chained to her in a way I never thought I would ever feel.
As I drift off into a fuzzy, drunken sleep, I’ve got one thing on my mind. Doing this all over again when we wake. Then for another night. For as many nights as she’ll let me.
Epilogue - Karen
Having my virginity taken in total darkness was beautiful. In that deprivation, I felt things I never thought I would feel. I saw colors and designs no earthly experience would’ve prepared me for. And, as I slip off to sleep after being so thoroughly loved and dominated, those otherworldly colors and designs become my dreamscape. They create the backdrop for a whole new gallery of paintings. Paintings concerned with this club, all the sights and smells and feelings. But particularly of Ambrose, my mystery man.
Even if he never shows me his face, even if I get nothing more than his body against mine, his cock in and around my body, I’ll paint him anyway. I’ll paint his soul, capture it in those paintings, and let everyone know just what kind of masculine love touched my life. Even if he is never anything more than a series of sensations, he will have his body in my work. He will have his essence and be immortalized, captured for all to enjoy.
This pledge drifts through my dreams, and in that moment, even though I’m committed to capturing them in my art, in whatever way I’m blessed to, I’m still hungry for him. I thirst for a single glimpse of his face, even if it only lasts a second. I could make that second last an eternity, if only he’d let me.
****
I don’t know what time it is when I awake. I have no idea how many hours have passed, or if it’s days and nights that have passed, it feels like an eternity. All I know is the familiar darkness around my eyes. The feeling of the silky blindfold on my lids and the bridge of my nose.
On instinct, I go to remove the blindfold. As I do, I feel the heat of him all over my body. I’m tempted to relieve myself of the darkness, the black horizons, but I stop myself. I freeze, remembering Ambrose’s words. “That’s up for me to decide. I may decide to reward you in that way, I may not. You will have to be satisfied with either, my girl.”
My respect for him, for what these last hours has taught me, that makes me leave the blindfold alone. I put my hands down and away, deciding to listen for him instead. I use my other senses to paint a picture for me. The moment I go still and silent, resigning myself to the darkness again, I hear him.
He’s in the bed next to me, breathing softly. Rhythmic and slow. I can tell he’s dreaming peacefully. As I listen, I swear I can even hear the smile on his lips. The joy in his soul. I reach over (albeit a little clumsily) and stroke his chest, his arms. To my delight and surprise, they are toned and sculpted. Muscled and strong, but still defined and slim. Not muscled out like a bodybuilder, but not thin or horribly skinny either.
I lose myself in stroking him, building my picture of him in my head. Though my fingers can’t give me any indication of his skin, hair or eye color, I’m happy to have him so near. Touchable and caressed, even if I never see any more of him. Just as I’m about to risk taking my fingertips to his face and tracing him, I feel his hand come up to hold mine. He weaves his fingers in between mine, kisses the top of my hand, then all of my fingers.
“I never sleep at the club, my girl,” he murmurs. He sounds tired but happy. Satisfied. “You wore me out.” He strokes my face, the area below the mask lovingly. “But it’s not something I’m dissatisfied with.” His fingers brushed over my lips. “Quite the contrary, I’d like to feel that way again with you.” There is a heavy, curious pause. “You have two choices. You can either get out of my bed now, leave this club and never see me again.” I stiffen at this, knowing that’s exactly what I don’t want. I never want to leave him, even if I have to stay in his blindfold for the rest of my life. “After all, I don’t typically spend more than one night with any woman.” He lets out s heavy, shattered sigh. “But you, you might just be different.” There is another grating pause. Now the silence is worse than the dark.
“What’s my other choice?” Desperation sits in my voice, but I don’t care that he hears it, or that I feel it in my soul. Now that I’m here with Ambrose, I don’t want to leave. He’ll have to kick out me himself if he wants that.
“Your other choice,” says Ambrose, lingering on his words and on his caressing of my face, “your other choice is to stay and fuck again.” Another pause, resonating with equal desperation. “What’s your choice?”
“Stay and fuck,” I say. Now I don’t care about seeing him when I orgasm. I just care about staying with him for as long as he’ll let me, for as long as he gives me that choice. To prove that I’m different, that I’m worth him keeping around.
I think I hear him sigh in relief. I think I hear him thank his lucky stars under his breath, praising God I didn’t think he believed in, but I’m not sure. The next thing I know, he’s got my legs up and around his thick, muscular shoulders, and his cock in me. It slides in between my lower lips and deep inside before I’m even aware he’s moved. It drops into my core, like wedding rings down our fingers. As he reaches the edge of my walls, the tip of my cervix, I know I want no other man than him.
We are perfection together. We are two pieces of the same puzzle, and I say as much as he begins to pump in and out of me. “You feel so good to me,” I say, feeling tears collecting on the underside of the mask. “You feel like my other half. Like the man
who is meant to fit me, no matter where he goes.” I groan, feeling his long, strong shaft cozy into my depths. “You make me so full. But not just in my body. In my life too, Ambrose.” Tears escape the fabric shield on my eyes, the silken top layer of the blindfold, and go streaking down my cheeks.
Ambrose says nothing. Instead, he continues to fill me with him. The only thing he does differently is add a few fingers along my clit to stimulate as he rolls and thrusts in and out of me. The stretching, aching sensation in me is a beautiful ribbon of pleasure and pain. Unforgettable. It is the outline, the backdrop to my vision of him. The one I’m going to paint when I return home, though I don’t want to think about that anymore. I don’t want to think about being in a place without him.
More tears glide down my cheeks, but these are not just from premature grief. I have a deep love for him. These ones are also infused with pleasure. Overwhelmed from all the sensation racking my body. His cock is filling me to the max. Plugging and cradling me beyond anything I felt last night. But it’s his fingers, his thumb, rolling and swaying over my clit, that’s making me cry and gasp like a mad woman. I’m reaching for him, for his comfort and strength, but he just continues to plunge himself in and out of me. Ride me like a wild, foaming wave.
My clit jams in between his fingers than, and I feel fluids beginning to rise. They bunch in my pussy, ready to leak out and spray as they did before. But just as those fluids start to come, just as my hips and back shoot off the bed, suspended there by the lust and the feeling of lightning cracking through my veins, the blindfold comes off. In a blinding, shocking moment, I get an eyeful of him. Of my Ambrose.
And he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. Dark and curling hair, he looks like a noble out of a different century. His strong features only added to this, with his cheeks and chin, having fine, sharp lines. His eyes, a dark, commanding brown, pierce into me with both love and lust. I’ve never loved a person’s eyes, never thirsted for the light in them as much as I do in that moment. I drink all of him in, murmuring, “I feel you inside me. I feel you getting hot and heavy. Come. Unleash your load in me, my Ambrose. Paint all over.” I work to focus on him as another orgasm rattles through me, just as I feel him release. As his liquid love escapes him, Ambrose’s eyes glow slightly golden. They shimmer with tenderness and sensitivity I never imagined I’d see in him, let alone feel.