by Bitsi Shar
His tongue is buried deep into my folds. He is making slurping sounds like he is sucking on his favorite shaved ice ball. I smile at the ridiculousness of the moment like its not happening. I rub my eyes to make sure there is indeed a bad man between my legs and there is one indeed. I cock my knees, pull myself up on my elbows and watch his licking action. His eyes lock with mine—all drunk, scary, and lustful. He brushes his lips against my lips, bites on the button that is turning into a hard little nub at every graze, and then brings his tongue out to lick juices trickling out at every urging of his tongue. He makes satisfactory sounds with every lick. Each sound hits my core, makes my vagina clench and release more of my juices into his waiting mouth.
“You are so juicy. I love it.” Just that makes me almost come violently into his mouth. And he is nowhere done. He stretches my parted lips with his fingers to dig in deeper with his tongue. The long sweep of his tongue makes me come so hard that I break into a sweat and feel my body convulse like its being electrocuted. My lower back careens up and sideways involuntarily. He holds me down with his mouth, all the while lavelling away at my center like he has found his foundation of elixir. I need him to stop—my nub is sensitive and throbbing. I need a break. But he is not ready to give me any. He keeps his mouth locked to my lips, his face is immobile as it lies buried in my core. I think he instinctively knows that I am raw and that I need a moment. He is giving me a moment. I know, though, my time is ticking and he is waiting for me to relax my muscles just that much for him to send his longest muscle into overdrive and all for the sake of my pleasure! What a man! I smile to myself. And I guess that relaxes my muscles just enough and he takes his opportunity. It takes me less than thirty seconds to explode all over again.
This time I know I am screaming, so loud that I am sure the neighbors can hear me. I am sure the calls have been made and the police are on their way. Of course I am praying that they don’t. That would be so complicated, not to mention embarrassing. I am sure somehow my parents will hear about it, not sure though what version would they hear—of me coming all over my boyfriend’s face or me with a boy alone in the house. Being with a boy alone could drive them to put me under house arrest. The whole imagined situation was too much to take. So I just enjoy my release. The non-existent arrest can wait.
I lie there feeling exhausted and satiated at the same time. I am sure he is too, at least his tongue has to be! He is motionless between my legs. I am about to say something when he looks up. His mouth is coated with my juices. And his eyes look shifty—like he is in some trance. He smiles a wet smile as he starts a slow glide up my body. My body starts to hum again. He is laying sweet kisses along his ride. I can feel each kiss right through my core. His full weight is now on me. I am squished but I don’t think I want to mind. It is a feeling of being overwhelmed physically. And I don’t think of protesting even as my body instinctively wants to free itself from the constraint. His face is right above mine. I can smell myself on him. There is something completely disgusting and erotic about smelling yourself for the first time and that too via someone else! I know he wants to kiss me with those lips. I am not sure if I want to taste myself.
“Hey, hey . . . look at me.” My eyes are closed somehow.
“Hey, babe, c’mon look at me.” He whispers again. I open my eyes.
He slowly raises his right hand, takes his middle finger to his mouth, sucks it off, and then says, “You are delicious, babe. I could eat you for hours.”
I avert my eyes, unable to take the compliment. It is just too erotic to acknowledge. As I feel myself flow down there, I feel him harden against my belly. He kisses me hard as he rolls me so I am atop him. I like this. I think I like being in charge. I kiss him back, hard and then begin my slide down his body. Slowly, planting kisses along the way just like he had. I feel him shiver and groan at each touch of my lips. I am encouraged to be brave and head towards his man zone. I am not sure if I want to encounter something that is apparently so big or at least feels like that. I close my eyes and touch my lips to his dick. He lets out serious groan that echoes in the room. Hmmm! I am holding him now. I start stroking him—up and down. Slowly at first and then with some vigor. He pants a little. I am even more encouraged. I circle the head with my tongue lightly at first, wetting it. Slowly I take his shaft into my mouth. I am careful to keep my teeth away from the soft muscle. But I inadvertently graze it. And his moan is deep and guttural. He likes it! So I try it again. And he moans again. His shaft is in my mouth, all the way.
“God, baby, your mouth is so warm on me. It’s so, so warm. I just love it.” I am encouraged by his compliment as I suck on him harder, all the while twisting and massaging his length. I don’t even know how I know what to do.
I am a natural I realize. I guess not all is theory. It is really practice that makes anyone perfect! And I for one was born perfect! I smile as I continue sucking him loudly as if enjoying all that this giant lollipop had to offer. I wish it was honey and chocolate. Ah! That gives me an idea. But his hand his holding me steady to the movement on his shaft. I guess I am not going anywhere very soon. I close my eyes as I continue with my physical task pleasuring this man who pleasures me everyday with just his words.
Suddenly, I am pulled up so I am face to face with him. His mouth latches on to mine so hard that our teeth are grinding. I am sure some of the dust is being devoured in this kiss. His tongue darts in, licking the bridge of my mouth, tangling well with my own. This is so erotic that I feel leakage between my legs, my vagina contracts like its about to push forth a baby! In my head, I am thinking, “this feels so good” because I really cannot speak, literally. And then his finger finds my wetness. He strokes my nub slowly at first and then faster to match the sucking motion of his mouth. I am on fire.
“C’mon, baby, come for me, come for daddy.” Oh, god! Those words just push me over and I come so hard that there are tears running down either side of my cheeks.
“Oh, baby, let it out. You needed this, didn’t you. Oh, my poor baby so crazy for daddy . . . can’t control herself. Aren’t you a bad girl? You shouldn’t be acting like this with strangers, you know. Spreading your legs every time I say “spread,” letting yourself be fondled and teased mercilessly. Not so diffident, I see. So full of surprises, baby.”
My eyes are squeezed shut. His words are gliding over my overheated body like dry ice—making it more sensitized in its post-orgasmic state. He is kissing me again—just sweet, sweet kisses all over my face, my neck, my chest, my forehead. I am crying now. I cannot take so much sweetness from a man. No man was ever this tender or kind or gentle or so giving.
Suddenly something dawns on me, “You didn’t come!” I blurt out. His lips pause for a second on my forehead as I feel his body shake. He is laughing! The SOB is laughing! I push him off me in my annoyance. He is heavy. He doesn’t budge an inch over me. I push and land some puny punches over his chest. He not only wards them but takes my arms, pushes them over my head as he continues to kiss my lips. I am being soothed. I continue to push when he says, rather quietly, “Don’t, baby. Let me soothe you. You have to let me soothe you.” And just like that I am soothed.
I open my eyes to smile at the face above mine. His eyes are charcoal black, boring into mine with an intensity that belied the choice of his words earlier. The heat rebuilds between our bodies. I squirm under him. He settles in even firmly over me—his hardness fitting into my emerging wetness. I am not sure of what to do so I just increase my squirming. These are not sensations I am familiar with. I have never had them in any measure before. And yes, I want more. I definitely want more. I am aching for more. He knows it. He wants to give me more because I feel him slide ever so slowly over my body, kissing each part he crosses to his destination—my cunt.
“Spread for me, baby” he says. I oblige. I spread as much my yoga practice can allow for. He breathes over my heated cunt hard before he puts his lips ever so gently on my lips. His mouth moves first in clockwise and then anti-
clockwise direction, gently charging my lips with his. He slowly increases the pressures as he moves back and forth. He does nothing else except keep up the pace on this erotic play. Just when I feel I can’t take it anymore, his tongue darts to begin licking trails between my lips. He makes slurping sounds as if he is tasting the best honey ever or whatever is sweeter.
“You taste so sweet, baby. Better than any honey I might have tasted,” he confirms. He sucks so hard for the next whatever minutes that I feel like I either need to pee or come so hard that I might pass out. As if realizing my state, he suddenly let’s go. No! I moan my protest because I am incapable now of articulating anything.
“I have to enter you, baby.” I nod.
“Are you on birth control or something?” Birth control? No, of course not. Why would I be on birth control? It’s not as if I was expecting you to be in my bed licking me like there is no tomorrow! So no, I am not on birth control. Why? Do you have something against condoms?
“Babe, are you on birth control?” I hear him again. Obviously I haven’t said any of the above. It’s all in my head.
“No.” I say, finally. He leans back, takes his wallet from the side table, fishes out a condom, all the while smiling at me.
“Pleased are we?” I throw back at him. He just smiles wider. And before I know it, he is sheathed and is slowly weaving himself in. He is big and I am tight. He knows it. He likes it. He savors it like one does a good glass of wine. Sure, I’ll call my vagina a good glass of wine since we both enjoy wine anyway! He enters very slowly so I feel none of the pain that might be associated with such foreign invasion. I don’t even know when he is deep inside of me and then he stops moving completely.
“Oh, baby. This is absolute heaven. You don’t know how good this feels,” he whispers to me. Oh, I know. I know and I can certainly feel him deep, deep inside of me. He starts to pump me slowly, gradually increasing in tempo. The friction is setting off a mini fire in me. I cling to him.
“Oh, baby wants me to hug her while I fuck her. Here, you go, baby. Here’s a big hug for you. Daddy wants to give you a big, big hug.” I don’t know why but no matter how cute or corny his words may seem, they were having an interesting affect on me—my vagina flexed harder, grabbing his penis and squeezing it.
“Ahhh! Babe—what are you doing? Now why are you flexing your vagina, baby?” He is looking straight into my eyes as he says this.
“Why, baby? Why are you squeezing daddy so hard? You are such a greedy little girl.” “Take, baby. Take all you can. Take everything daddy has to give you. Be my greedy little girl. C’mon. You can do it.”
I begin giggling! I can’t help it. He is so cute even when he is trying to be sexy. But I know giggling is not good for what is building here. It is bound to change or subvert the course of a perfectly good orgasm. And damn if I was going to be the saboteur of a good state of being. So I stop giggling immediately and focus on our connection down under. He hooks my legs further up so he can get deeper and oh, he does. I didn’t think it was possible but I see it is. It is all about positioning too. But instead of pumping me harder, he slows down. He let’s go of my leg instead asking me to crouch on my back like a frog. He crouches too without his penis breaking its contact with my vagina! Wow! Yoga, anyone?
“Look at me, baby.” I do. “Now touch yourself without looking away.” Oooh! The sensation of him filling me and my index finger teasing my nub is sensational.
“Oh, baby, please don’t stop, don’t stop, no matter what happens.” “No, baby, I won’t. I love seeing you like this, all unraveled.” My eyes close in ecstasy.
“Open your eyes, baby. Don’t ever close them on me.” I open them and watch him gather his spit on his index finger and rub it all over my already sensitive nub. I nearly die from the affect again. The wet nub being rubbed mercilessly with the short quick pumps does it for me. I scream and cry as I come, waves on waves of orgasm split me. I push and kick him hard in my orgasmic glory. He continues pumping and rubbing me as I spill the last drop of my juice all over his penis. I am thrashing all over the bed because my over sensitized body cannot take it anymore. I need him to stop and not stop all at the same time. He doesn’t stop. I know for sure now that I am going to die. His body covers me now as he continues his pumping.
“Ask me not to come inside you, baby. Beg, plead, baby.” So I do.
“Daddy, please don’t come inside of me, don’t do it.” I say it again and again. Every time I say it, I feel him grow inside of me, if that was at all possible. Finally, all my pseudo pleading results in a loud, heartfelt groan of a big man coming hard. His head collapses between my breasts as he heaves with great effort. I smile for I like the affect my vagina has had on his senses. This heaving to me is a good sign, I think to myself as I slowly drift into an exhausted sleep. I hope, as I sink deeper, that at some point he would extricate himself from my vagina so the poor, tight crack can breathe again! Then again, who was I to ask control of my own body? Who does that? Certainly not me, certainly not after what my poor body had endured in the best way imaginable.
Chapter Twenty-One
Something jerks me awake—like I am falling down a flight of stairs without any ropes or harness. My eyes open just before my head is about to hit the mosaic floor in my childhood home in Gurgaon. Its dark still. I can hear the rain on the windows. Is it really raining on the first day of the new year? Ugh! Its going to be a dreary start to the year. Hope the damn streets are not flooded again. Transportation will be a nightmare as would commuting even if one found transportation by some quirk of fate.
And why am I thinking of such logistics first thing in the morning? So antithetical to what happened last night in my bed? I turn to look at the other side of the bed. He looks fast asleep. His breathing looks even. But I am proven wrong the moment his arm snakes out to grab mine. Before I can say, “what,” I am lying on top of him, bound to his chest and torso with arms that feel like iron bands. His eyes remain closed as he brings his mouth close to my left ear.
“Babe, will you do one thing for me?”
“Depends on what “that” thing is?” I retort.
“That thing, babe, is all for you, for your pleasure. So don’t ask questions, be a good girl, do what I am about to ask you, ok?”
“Ok,” is all I could eek out.
“Now, I want you to reach between your legs and rub your clit for me. Do it now.”
I reach down and begin to rub my clit. My hands are moving slow. It is morning for god’s sake and I am so sore down there from all is penetrative services. And I am not a woman who is horny in the morning, ever. Yes, if you didn’t hear me say never, here it is again. “NEVER!” So I rub my clit not expecting fireworks or even the slightest leakage. I am a broken drain pipe at night. I leak away to a veritable flood. That is my time to seek oblivion with anyone who will lead me there. Mornings just don’t work. I am hoping (though not expecting) him to change my mind here. So I work away at my clit, letting off short moans, fake ones, for his sake. I crack open an eye to see his lips curved into a slight smile as if he just read every single thought I had!
“Why are . . .?” Before I can finish my sentence, I am laid on my back and he is above me, still with his eyes closed, still smiling his small smile.
“I am smiling because I know exactly what you are feeling right now, you lazy cunt! It is a good thing that I am all wired to go. So here is what you will do now. You listening, baby girl?” He opens his eyes to look at me nod my head in the affirmative. I haven’t opened my eyes yet. Like I said, its too early in many, many ways.
“Okay. I am going to flip you. When I do that slowly slide up my body, rubbing your pretty cunt against me all the way to my face. And then baby, just sit on my face. I want to bury my face in your cunt. Just that. Got it?”
“What?” I am shocked and excited all the same time.
“My cunt is probably smelly and funky and not conducive to smell guided sex right now!” I huff and protest.
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br /> “Baby, first, I LOVE smelly and funky, especially your kind of smelly and funky, and second, you sitting on my face with all your juices draining into my mouth is exactly how I want to die.”
“WHAT?!” “Die, are you crazy?” “Why would you speak of death, you crazy ass-hole?”
“Shh---hhhhh! I didn’t mean to say die in like literally die. I meant the figurative “die,” baby—me coming with your cunt in my face is quite equivalent to death, a momentary death of senses from Richter less intense pleasure,” he concludes with a flourish.
I have no words and I feel stupid. He takes further advantage by flipping us around another time so now I am above him, my t-shirt no longer covers my nether regions. I slowly slide up his torso towards his face. My cunt is now aligned with his face. I titillate him by hovering an inch above his face and then slowly lower myself over his semi-open lips. He groans like a parched man who has found the elixir of youth in the desert. I am emboldened by his helplessness. I grind myself a little into his face. He groans more. I grind a little harder. He can’t stop groaning. I think the man likes it! His tongue darts out at repeated intervals to tease my clit. I am getting as excited as he is now. The continued assault on my clit is about to click open the dam. I can feel the floodgates opening with every single, wet lick. I can feel him touch himself as he keeps on cleaning my clit with this mouth and tongue. His tastings increase in intensity as he continues touching himself, hard and fast. I am grinding harder too gleeful for my own impending pleasure.
One final lick and a final tug, we both go over the edge—I put one hand on the wall in front of me and the second one is like a fist in my mouth. His head is now squeezed like a melon between my clenching thighs. It doesn’t bother him for he continues to moan and lick my clit dry.
“Mmmmm, you taste so sweet, my sweet. So deliciously sweet. I knew it. I knew you will be my sunflower and honey grafted together in a deliciously, tight vaginal container.” Oh, god. He totally needs to stop with his attempt at sexual poetry or prose or whatever. It’s just too corny sometimes. Yet it produces the exact opposite of corniness—a delicious state of sexual hibee jeebees. Not sure how he does that (maybe his voice?) but I know anyone else would be out of my house and my life with just one such utterance. I guess you like the eccentric in those you happen to like in spite of yourself.