Tasha sat up straight, and looked down at Tom, his forehead resting against her mound, his right hand still under her bottom but no longer squeezing, his left arm now resting atop her thigh. Tasha wasn't sure what just happened, except that this beautiful man just gave her the orgasm of a lifetime, and now he seemed to be kneeling in shame at her feet. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, caressing his head.
"Mmmmm....." she moaned again. "It is nice to meet you, Tom. That was unbelievable."
"Mmm-hmmm," Tom affirmed.
"You OK? What's wrong?"
Tom looked up at her, but couldn't make direct eye contact. "I came, too," he told her, and then looked away from her. "So embarrassing. I don't know what happened there."
"What do you mean, embarrassing?"
"I came," he repeated. "too soon. I couldn't last."
Tasha wasn't sure why, but this endeared him to her. It was sweet, and vulnerable, and made her want him even more. She got down off the couch, sat in front of him, her legs on either side of him.
"Heyyy...." she cooed, and put her hands on his face. "We've got a long night ahead of us. Don't sweat it."
Tom seemed to relax, and smiled at her. She smiled back. They locked eyes. Tasha wanted so badly to kiss him. She leaned in towards his face, ready to plant one, and he jerked back, pulling his head out of her supportive hands. Her expression changed; she looked startled.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "You won't kiss me?"
"No, I do. I just thought- uh. I mean. Is that allowed?" he asked.
Tasha's eyes turned sharp. "The fuck do you mean, 'Is that allowed?'"
"Nothing," he said. "I mean. I thought we weren't supposed to kiss. Like it was against the rules."
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!" she Tasha shouted. She stood up, and angrily wrapped the robe back around her, tying the belt with purpose. She stormed off, back towards the bathroom. "I'm not a whore!"
She slammed the doors behind her. Tom, still on his knees, became aware of his mess drying up, his black pants starting to stick.
Chapter 3
"Just leave me alone!" Tasha shouted through the doors of the bathroom.
Tom was leaning into the doors, his right arm up against them with his head leaning into the crook of his elbow, his left hand knocking insistently.
"C'mon, Tasha," he said. "I'm sorry. Really. What can I do?"
"You can go fuck yourself, is what you can do. 'Cause you certainly won't be fucking me!"
"I don't- I didn't want this," he said. "I thought I was respecting you. What the hell do I know, anyway? I told you, I've never done this before."
He sounded sincere. Tasha wasn't sure what to do. Had she overreacted? No, she decided. He clearly implied that she was some kind of prostitute who wasn't going to kiss her John. But then she really wanted to kiss him. Like, really. He was so good looking, almost perfect, pretty much her fantasy in terms of physical type, and she wanted so much to kiss him. Maybe that was what was bothering her. Maybe that's why his fumbling around intimacy pissed her off so much. Not because he thought of her as some random hole to lick and penetrate, because she was pretty sure he didn't. Even the way he said it, the way he told her he didn't know he was allowed to kiss her, had something of a tender note to it. His tone was caring, even. Or was she just convincing herself? Was she looking around the marble tiled luxury of the bathroom, feeling the warm comfort of terrycloth on her post-orgasm body, and convincing herself that Tom wasn't some kind of unfeeling monster so she wouldn't have to let go of the present and future? What the hell was wrong with her? She met him on a sugar daddy website. Her intentions were pretty clear just from her signing on to it. She was going to keep some man company, and fuck the cash out of his pockets. Why was she carrying on like some high school girl trying to lock up the basketball team's center forward? She drew another bath.
"Are you just going to ignore me?" Tom shouted through the door.
Tasha grabbed the bottle of bubble bath off from the neatly arranged display of soaps and shampoos. She turned it upside down and emptied half of it into the oversized tub.
"Tasha?"
She watched the bath slowly fill up, the bubbles multiplying exponentially. She walked over to the doors and put her ear up to the crack between them. She could hear him breathing. She waited for a couple of minutes, curious what he would do next. He just stood there, listening, waiting for some kind of direction from her. Tasha like that he wasn't demanding. Last year, she'd date some guy who would not have remained this calm. He'd have busted the damn door down minutes ago and gotten in her face. Tom just stood there, breathing, listening, waiting, hoping. She felt herself warm up to him again. Her tension seemed to lift away, her muscles loosened. She thought about 10 minutes earlier, and Tom on his knees and her feeling how much he wanted to consume her, waiting for him to maybe take it a little too far and get rough—but he never did. He took his slow, sweet time, he was there for her, and he wanted her so much that just making her come made him come. Without a word, Tasha unlocked the door, and turned for the bath.
When she was halfway to the tub, she heard the door open, but she told herself not to look back at him. She undid the belt loop on the robe and removed it, letting it fall to the floor. For three glorious seconds, Tom watched, open mouthed, as the sight of her body lowered took steps toward the tub, and then stepped down into it. In the surrounding white of the bathroom, the marble tiles and gleaming sink, he watched her strong shoulders narrow to a tiny waist, and expand back out to a strong, thick backside the he wanted so badly up against him. The darkness of her skin seemed to be its own kind of light; any color could shine bright if it stood in contrast to its surroundings. Every step she took was a symphony of movement, her feet working with the legs to carry her forward, her ass swinging exaggeratedly back and forth to some unheard rhythm. Without so much as acknowledging him, she stepped down into the sunken tub. She sunk down, her ebony skin appearing to be swallowed whole by the white bubbles about to overflow out of the tub. Tasha turned around in the tub, she leaned back to get comfortable, eyes closed.
"Look," Tom said, "Can we—"
Tasha held one finger in the air. Hold on, the finger said, and quickly he shut his mouth.
"Would you turn the water off?" Tasha asked, her eyes remaining closed. "I can barely hear you over the water."
Tom knelt down and twisted the cold, and then hot, faucet to the off position. He started to speak again.
"I just want—"
Tasha's finger, which hadn't left it's "Hold on" position, started wagging at him. Not yet, it told him.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. He stayed kneeling.
"Stand up," she told him.
"OK," he said, raising his body, "but I'm not leaving till we've spoken."
"Take off your clothes," Tasha commanded.
"Is this some kind of power trip?" Tom asked.
"Take off. Your Clothes," she repeated, but she gave him a playful grin. No, the grin said, this isn't a power trip. Tom did as he was told. He started with the shirt, which was already unbuttoned and hanging over his frame loosely. She could make out an impression of his build, but when he took it off completely, Tasha drank him in. His broad shoulders and chest narrowed like a V toward his waist. H had strong arms, but not grossly muscular. They were formidable without being overly defined, just her type—strong, but not vain. When Tom began to unbutton and unzip his pants, she was caught a glimpse of the dried stain just at the top of his left leg. It made her smile—she felt a surge of pride in making that happen without even having to do anything. Tasha watched him intently as he pulled off is pants and boxer briefs in one motion. He was half hard all over again, and she felt a rush of warmth spread through her body. Tom stood there, unashamed but clearly nervous, waiting for her next direction.
"Come on in," she told him. "The water's fine."
Tom lowered himself into the tub and sat at the opposite side. He got comfortable, waiting for her to s
ay something else. Tasha sat silently, staring into his eyes, and gave nothing of herself. After a moment of silence between them, he spoke up.
"Look, I'm really sorry for what I said."
He waited for a response. Still, she gave him nothing.
"You have to understand. I wasn't sure what protocol was. Or is." Tom labored to make his point. "I tried not to assume anything, but I see that that in itself was an assumption."
"I just wanted to kiss you," Tasha admitted. "You made me feel so good. And then you made me feel like shit."
"I know," Tom said. "Really. I'm sor—"
"No, I'm sorry," Tasha interrupted. "I had no right to get mad at you. I know where we met. What were you supposed to think?"
"I shouldn't have thought that. I didn't think that. Honest." Tom suddenly became aware of a foot on his right thigh. "Does this mean we're OK?"
"Maybe," Tasha teased, batting her eyes at him. She moved her right foot to his other thigh, and began to rub up and down his legs. Tom leaned his head back and felt as her feet slowly moved back and forth; every so often one would graze along his cock and he wanted her terribly all over again.
"Look," he said. "Maybe we need to establish some ground rules. Going forward, I mean."
Tasha removed her feet from his legs and planted them back down on the bottom of the tub. Tom looked incredibly disappointed, but before he could ask what he'd done this time, she repositioned herself on her knees in front of him. Tom watched as her tits emerged from the water and then sunk back down, half covered by bubbles. He felt two hands grip him gently, stroking back and forth.
"Mmmm, Tasha," he said. "Should we continue this discussion later?"
"No," she said, a devilish smile overtaking her face. "Keep talking. Just in case another fool thing comes out of your mouth and I have to leave, I didn't want to go empty handed."
They laughed together and Tasha felt close to him. She wished she didn't but she did.
"OK, well," Tom said. "I like you. My work prevents me from ever meeting someone, and I just wanted some companionship. I can take care of you, can make it so you never want for anything. But when we're not together, we're not together. Does that make sense?"
Tasha was squeezing him tighter, rubbing up and down the shaft of his cock slowly but firmly. He moaned softly at the increase of pressure.
"Yeah, that makes sense. I'm not as needy or possessive as I made myself seem." Tasha felt Tom pulsating in her hand, like he was trying desperately to get harder than it already was. "You live your life when I'm not around, and I won't bother you."
She began twisting her hand around him as she squeezed, working him up to a frenzy. Tom reached with both hands to grab her waist and pull her closer.
"But you have to promise me something," Tasha said. Tom's head was all the way back, leaning on the edge the tub and facing straight up to the ceiling.
"Anything," he said.
Tasha climbed up on his lap. She positioned the head of his cock just under her pussy and lowered herself onto him. The feeling of him inside her sent shivers up and down her body. It felt like she kept lowering herself down, Tom going deeper and deeper inside of her until her pussy swallowed him whole. When she had completely surrounded him, his head lifted up to look at her.
"When we're not together, we're not together. I get that. But when we are together?" Tasha asked. "We're fucking together. You know what I mean?"
Tom didn't have to answer. He knew what she meant. He ran his hands up the side of her body, tracing the contours of her curves, thumbs reaching front-side to rub her tits as they passed. His hands landed on either side of her face and pulled her close. He felt her tits up against his chest, his cock up inside her and their lips met. He planted kiss after kiss on her, his tongue flicking at her quickly as his own lips would close around it. Finally, their mouths opened and their tongues met. They swirled around one another as Tasha's hips began to grind up against Tom. The sounds of the water splashing and their lips smacking and each them moaning in pleasure were all that the could hear. Tom moved one hand down Tasha's back and grabbed onto her ass, pulling her into him. She was thrusting hard, back and forth, trying to get him deeper in her than was even possible.
"Oh, shit, yes," she said. "I want you to fuck me. I want you to feel you come all over me."
Tom dipped her back so she lay across the surface of the water, one hand behind her head, one hand on her ass. It felt so round and firm in his hand as he supported her on the surface of the water. Tasha was floating, in the tub and Tom had gotten up on his knees, pulling her into him. He watched his cock disappear into her, and just the sight of her dark skin enveloping his pale flesh drove him wild. The white bubbles outlined her shape, and her arms reached for his, grabbing hold of his a forearm and bicep. She continued to gyrate her hips against him as he thrust into her, slowly, methodically.
"Tom...." she moaned. "I want you to come. I want you to feel me, feel my pussy, and come on me."
Tom pulled himself out of her. Tasha looked at him with confusion.
"What—"
"Flip over," he told her. "I've got see that ass. Got fuck you from behind."
She smiled out of one side of her mouth. "Mmmm, Tom," she said, "Yes!"
Tasha righted herself and then turned around. Tom put his hands around her waist as she slowly bent down over the edge of the tub. As she lowered her upper body towards the floor, her ass seemed to grown wider and rounder in contrast to her tiny waist. Tasha planted her feet at either side of the tub and pressed them outward for stability. Tom's hands moved down from her waist just to where her hips extended out away from her body. He grabbed onto her hips like they were handles and thrust into her.
"I want to fuck you so hard," he exclaimed, "Want. To. Pound. You!"
Tasha was being pulled back into him as he was pushing forward into her. She felt him slide slowly out, and the force his way back in. Hard. Each time a little hard, each time a little better.
"Uhh!" she exclaimed. "Yes! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"
Tom's slow rhythm picked up pace. Her ass slapped against his skin each time, water exploding out in all directions.
"Unnnhh! Fuck! Yes!" Tom grunted. He was beyond turned on. He was hard as he'd ever been, his hands all over her curvy, meaty body. He waned to sink his teeth into her, consume her, and he channeled all that want into every thrust of his cock into her pussy.
"Shit, baby, yes," Tasha kept saying. "Ohhhhh....ohhh!"
The sound of her voice just made him more swollen with tension, He felt it building up inside, his balls were aching to let it out. Faster, harder.
"Yeah, baby," she said. "Come on me, come on, baby, I need to to feel you come."
Ripples of force traveled up her skin. Every thrust, every collision of their flesh sent her waves up her body inside and out. Tom was thrusting so fast and so hard he couldn't sustain it. Something had to give. He moved his hands down just a little more so that he had each ass cheek in his grip and he spread her ass wide. Just that sight was all he needed, and quickly his cock was out of her pussy, and on top of her, nestled between her cheeks and still sliding back and forth. He put a hand down on his cock and pushed it hard on her body, still moving back and forth.
"Spray it all over me," Tasha said, "Fuck, please, I want your come all over me!"
And with that, Tom couldn't hold back any longer. He came hard, all over her back, her ass, a little in her hair. Tom let out a long, satisfied groan, as his body convulsed over Tasha's, and every time he looked at his white hands on her black body he felt like he would come again, if only he had anything left. Tasha rested her head in her arms on the bathroom's tile floor, her ass sticking out the water in the tub.
"Mmmmmm," she moaned, satisfied. "Rub it on me, Tom. I want to feel your come all over me."
Tom reached up and began to rub it in, massaging it into her, running his hands up and down this body he felt fortunate to have right in front of him, taking whatever he could dish
out. He fell back into the tub. He grabbed Tasha by the waist again, and pulled her back onto his lap. She could feel his still semi-hard cock pressing up into the crack of her ass, and she instinctively moved around a little bit, rubbing it and getting every last bit of pleasure out of feeling a man up against her body before finally settling back down into his arms. Tom wrapped his arms around her, one up around her tits and the other around her stomach. He began to kiss her on her back, and her neck and Tasha felt so warm and connected that she turned herself around began to kiss him passionately.
"I really like how you fuck me," she told him, and then traced her tongue along his lips.
"Good," he said. "Because I'm going to want to keep doing that."
"Mmmm, anytime," Tasha said.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, each catching their breath and contemplating on the nights events so far.
"A little bumpy there for a bit, but we seemed to pull through OK," Tom said.
Tasha liked the sound of him saying "we," and then quieted the voice in her mind that was comforted by that. You still don't know shit about him, she told herself, and that's not why you're here!
"I'd love to take you out for dinner," Tom said, "It's getting late, we should get going soon."
"I don't want to go anywhere," she said, in a satisfied voice. "I just want to put that robe on, and crawl into a bed with you."
"Well, I'm famished," he said. "Room service, it is."
"Fine by me," Tasha said. "So long as I don't have to put any clothes on. I barely packed anything, anyway"
"We'll fix that tomorrow. Did you decide about work tomorrow?"
Tasha had forgotten she'd ever had a job. All that existed was this hotel room, the bathtub, and this gorgeous white man who'd just fucked her like she'd always wanted.
My White Sugar Daddy Page 3