by Ashlee Price
We both needed more, and we both were ready.
Langdon’s hands finally found my breasts. It was barely a touch, fingertips glancing off my nipples. My body shuddered, lungs ceasing to function as those fingertips traced the bottoms of my breasts. His lips finally touched my neck, but only so much that I could feel it, and hardly that. I wanted more, my body was screaming out for it, but I also wanted to wait, relishing what he was putting me through and anticipating what he was going to do with me next.
His body moved closer to mine, his long cock already stiffening, rising to caress my inner thighs as it reached greater heights. My lips quivered, dampness collecting in humid droplets to run down my naked legs. His thick manhood pushed gently against them, my flowering pink already creeping out to greet it but finding only the top of that mammoth shaft, not the penetrating head I was hoping for. But the weight and pressure were unmistakable, and I almost worried about taking him in. I’d never had a man of that size, but in that flash of half-thought I knew he probably understood that, that few of the women he’d known—and there had to be dozens—were prepared.
But he was.
Langdon’s mouth finally met mine in a kiss that was electric and startling, unique and exquisite. His tongue playful and engaging, just like him. Once our contact had been made, our hands and bodies moved quickly. The slow build had created a passion that overtook us, throwing our bodies together. Our cheeks glanced against one another, my forehead against his strong chin as our lips found each other’s again and again. His hands sank from my breasts to my heated loins as my legs spread to welcome him. But instead of entering, he rested two fingers on the little muscular button where the top of my lips met and gave it a firm little push, rubbing in tight circles with just the right amount of energy. My body convulsed, my hand automatically locking around his wrist to bring him in harder, but Langdon resisted.
“No rush,” he whispered into my ear, and my arm relaxed, hand still clinging to his but no longer trying to lead him. “We got all the time in the world, baby. There’s nobody here but us, nobody anywhere but us… just you… just me…”
I nodded, brain fixed on those two fingers, turning from clockwise to counter.
He said, “Say it.” I wanted to, but I couldn’t respond. He repeated with just a little more force, “Say it, Sheryl.” Hearing my name on his tongue, in that roguish accent, was almost enough to coax that hiding creature out of me once and for all, but it wanted more, and Langdon and I were happy to oblige.
“Just you and me,” I managed to say, though I don’t know how.
“Good, baby, very good.” He replaced his fingertips with his thumb and slipped his two fingers inside, a move so swift and clean I could only spread my legs further to encourage him. But by then I was having a hard time staying on my feet; my knees were threatening to buckle. His thumb kept up the circular motions on the outside of my vaginal mound while his two fingers reached around to meet it at the same point from within. He’d found my G-spot as if he’d known where it was the whole time, and I knew instantly that he had. This was a man who knew what a woman wanted, how a woman’s body operated, even better than she did—or at least better than I did. Pressing outward from within and downward with his thumb, Langdon was holding the center of my entire body in his fingers. Their counterclockwise swirl made my approaching orgasm roar with frustration and fear. It knew the time was coming, and so did I, and I could hardly wait for it. I’d been waiting all my life.
Yet waiting just a little bit longer seemed all the sweeter.
Langdon pulled me with gentle force down with him to the bed, where he sat on the side of the mattress. He was behind me as I sat down, both of us facing the same direction. I leaned forward a bit and reached around, positioning his huge head at the parting of my lips. It was the first contact of my hand and his hammer, and my thumb and fingers had no chance of meeting around that incredible girth. I set the head in and lowered myself, but once again Langdon stopped me, crouched on bent knee, just his head inside me. He knew what he was bringing to me, and just how to bring it.
Langdon eased me down just a bit. The pressure was already impressive. I knew it was going to tear me apart, but I wanted to throw myself down on him, even if it meant splitting myself up the middle. But Langdon wouldn’t allow it, and I had no control over him or myself. I was his tool, his protégé, his to guide and mold, and I was happy, ecstatic, to be just that and nothing else.
He held me in place, then pushed me up just a fraction of an inch, a tiny movement that sent crackles of energy racing up my body and into my ribcage where my heart was pounding faster.
“More,” I hissed out.
“More? You want more?” I nodded feverishly, but his hands hand found my sides, just above my hips, and his would be the last word. “Just a tiny bit, eh?”
“No, all of it,” I whined.
Langdon just chuckled a bit and pulled me down another luscious inch or two, his thick member pushing against my insides. He stopped again, letting me rest where I was: hungry, even starving for more. Tears pushed out of my eyes and my mouth curled in a twisted and frustrated frown.
“Please,” I hissed, knowing it was no use. “Pleeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzzzze!”
Without a word, Langdon pulled me down just a little bit more. Another inch or two of that endless pole reached up and into me, stiff and unyielding. There was no frantic grinding, no overeager buck-jerking as with the other men I’d known, but would never know again. Langdon was hardly moving at all, gently shifting me down and sideways in an almost imperceptible increase of pressure to one side and then the other.
Almost imperceptible.
“You’ve never had it like this,” Langdon said, “nice and slow, enjoying every second of it, baby! No more rushing around, no more chasing, no more running, no more hiding.” I knew what he meant, the many things he meant, but the one in particular rang with special truth.
He pulled me down just another few inches, leaning me more heavily to the left while increasing the pressure against the right side of my clit. Nerves jumped and danced as if in joy at their delayed discovery. My pussy wept tears of joy that ran down the length of Langdon’s cock beneath me.
Langdon pushed me up, each of us savoring the inches as they glided across my clit. Measuring the motion perfectly, he pulled me back down again. My legs and his arms were in perfect synch as I traveled up and down his length, finally finding a steady rhythm, the movement I’d been craving.
In Langdon’s hands I was a puppet, a tool, an extension of his own body, of his desire. He swirled me clockwise on that terrific dick and then pulled me down again, continuing to raise and lower me over him. My heels slid against the carpet, but I held my footing as Langdon’s rhythm quickened, faster and deeper.
Visions of my dream struck me; the position, straining to look back at a man who was somehow foreign to me, alien, yet entirely welcome and even in some mysterious way familiar.
The dream had been continually in the back of my mind, but the doubt that stood alongside it was gone. This is the man I was dreaming about, I thought to myself, but… how?
And then reason and thought were stampeded by mind-dumbing pressure and the buildup of tension much further south of the brainstem.
“You wanna come,” Langdon said as he read my mind, his sixth sense plumbing my secret depths the same way as his cock. He was piercing me from both ends, and the effect on my mind was even more powerful than the effect on my body. The two together were an unstoppable force.
And I didn’t want to stop it.
Langdon pulled me deeper and thrust harder, raising and lowering me with increasing speed, manipulating me this way and that to make every hidden corner of my clit light up, sizzling, burning. And I could feel his own body responding, that twitching meat inside me crashing and smashing and writhing, holding back its scintillating package.
Unseen behind me, Langdon let out a long, knowing growl. “Oh, I see… you’ve never come before,
have you? Have you, my little angel?” I clamped my eyes shut and shook my head. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay…”
“No,” I whimpered, “I… I can’t…”
Langdon stopped pumping me at a low point on his cock and held me tight, immobile, his mighty hands wrapped around my wrists, wrapping my arms in front of me, locked in his grip. His face at the back of my ear, he cooed, “Of course you can… you can and you will.”
“I… I want to, but…”
“Now you listen to me, Sheryl, you listen very carefully.” He held me in those strong arms, and my legs straightened just a bit to keep myself from being pulled all the way down on his endless dong. “I’m going in seven times, Sheryl, seven times. Then six, Sheryl, six. Then five, then four. On the last stroke, you’re going to come for me, you’re going to come for yourself—”
“I… I tried!”
But his voice was strict, ripe with an authoritarian baritone. “You’re going to come for us both, Sheryl, come like your head’s going to explode, is that clear?”
I nodded, forcing out a breathy, “I will, I… I will…”
“Good, Sheryl, good… Here we go.” Langdon’s arms and my legs worked together as my body rose up and then sank down for the first of the seven, then the second. The third brought me down further, my legs cramping, hairs standing up on the back of my neck. The fourth and fifth strokes matched the third, but the six was deeper, and at the seventh Landon held me down, closer to him than I’d been, his cock locked in me, muscles pulling, my entire body clamping and cramping around him.
“That’s seven, Sheryl, seven!” After a knowing silence in which we remained motionless for what seemed like hours instead of a few mere seconds, he said, “You can feel it, that hot beauty simmering inside you. Yeah, she’s coming out, Sheryl, you can already feel it. But not yet, Sheryl, oh no, we’ve got quite a long way to go yet, li’l one, a long, sweet road.”
I burst out in a joyful sob, lower lip pouting as we began our second cycle. The first of the six was an easy stride, slow like the others. Then a regular rhythm began to eat up the rest of the round. “Three… two… there’s six, Sheryl.”
The next five came even faster. My body was jerking and my eyes were rolling up into the back of my head. I reached back, trying to cling to him, find his hair and grab hold. But I was only flailing—and I loved it.
“Four, Sheryl,” Langdon said, louder. His words rang in my ears as we both pounded into each other in a mutual countdown to ecstasy.
“Three!”
“Two! It’s here, Sheryl, it’s here!”
But before he called the final number he held me tight, pulling me even closer. Our rhythm shattered and my body followed suit. Holding me close, he said, “One more, Sheryl, just… one… more… round…”
I cried out, “I can’t take it!”
It came anyway, hard and fast. He’d primed me to take it by then. “Seven!”
I didn’t think I’d survive. My orgasm was already rising and throwing itself against the walls of my loins, its prison. No longer content to hide, now my orgasm demanded release, and it would rip the walls down to have it.
“Six, sweet Sheryl, six!”
“Five!” I shouted out, unable to recognize the sound of my own voice.
“Hurry,” I screamed. “God, don’t stop, don’t ever stop!”
Langdon paused and my body twisted with the sudden motionlessness. My lips clamped down on him, milking him in a desperate attempt to keep moving, keep fucking.
“You’re ready, Sheryl, you’re ready!”
“God yes!”
“You can’t wait any longer!”
“No, noooooooooooo!”
“Now, Sheryl, now!” He struck me with that last final plunge, pulling me down and holding me tight, his voice a dazzling command in the back of my brain. “Come for me now, Sheryl! Now!”
And my body could not defy him. That orgasm had been twenty-three years in the making. It was a lifelong mystery finally solved, and it celebrated inside me, laughing and splashing, giggling and wriggling, racing off in every direction at once. My throat closed, my jaws locked, and my upper body pressed against his naked chest behind me.
He could feel me tremble, and I knew that he was enjoying my orgasm almost as much as I was. “Oh yes,” he whispered to me from behind, “there she is, there she is…” I couldn’t move, and we sat on the side of the mattress for what seemed like hours.
Then Langdon leaned back slowly. My body was still lying on top of him—and his still-hard cock was still inside of me. “Now it’s my turn,” he said with a little smile I couldn’t see but could hear… and share.
Chapter 6
I woke up in bed with Langdon. His fingers were gently combing through my hair. I looked up from his chest to see him smiling at me, an expression both serene and devilish.
“Mornin’.”
“Good morning,” I answered. My body felt like it had never felt, both exhausted and refreshed, stiff and strained yet somehow loose, flexible. But I knew instantly why I felt different, and he was lying right next to me.
“So… your first orgasm, eh?” I broke out in self-conscious little gasp, but I knew we’d come too far to be worried about such petty little things. There was nothing to hide from him now and no reason to hide anything. I just nodded, burying my face in his chest out of sheer childish embarrassment.
He gently raised my face from his chest, fingers under my chin so our eyes could meet. In a voice very low and growly, he said, “You mustn’t think it had anything to do with you.”
I couldn’t help but say, “I guess I know that now.”
Langdon lay back and chuckled, shaking his head. “American men, think they’re the cock of the walk.”
“It wasn’t their fault,” I had to say. “They just weren’t… well, they just weren’t you.”
We lay together in a long, sultry silence, Langdon gently stroking my head. I didn’t want to ask, but I knew I had to. “So… what now?”
He gave it a little thought. “Shower, maybe.”
“No, I mean… I don’t just fall into bed like this.”
“I know that, Sheryl. I knew it from the first time I set eyes on ya.”
A sad silence hovered between us, threatening me with a truth I didn’t want to know.
“But you still got what you wanted. And I guess I did too.”
“So… no worries, yeah?” I wanted to feel the same way, and I determined there and then that no matter what happened I wouldn’t let the outside world destroy that moment, that night we’d shared, or the memory.
I knew it was pretty likely that memories would be all I’d wind up with in the end.
Langdon asked me, “When is my meeting with the bossman?”
“You meet with Mr. Alister day after tomorrow, noon.”
Langdon considered, scratching his chin as his brown eyes juddered around the room before finding my own baby blues. “Alright, tell you what: You’ve got some things to do, I imagine, and I have one or two things to look into myself. Why don’t we part ways for now, take that meeting, see how things go?”
My stomach sank. See how things go. I knew what that meant.
***
I knew Langdon was right, and as much as I wanted to stay with him, I had to get back to the items on John’s list. I found the mink coat John wanted me to pick up for his wife, and a few other items, and then I went straight back to my apartment to stow the stuff away until the holiday just a week or so later.
Ricardo wasn’t there when I got home. I was a little disappointed. Ricardo was not only my roommate and my best friend in New York, he was super-fun to gossip with, just like one of the girls. And I knew he’d have a special appreciation for the juicier parts of the story.
But I was content with some silence in the meantime, knowing he’d be home soon enough and our girlish giggles would probably fill the rest of the afternoon. A knock on the door startled me. Buzzer must be out again, I re
asoned. Can’t wait to get out of this crummy old building.
I walked up to the locked door. “Who is it?”
“Margaret Alister.” My stomach turned with quick nausea, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I had nowhere to run and no place to hide. “Let me in, Sheryl.”
Even on the other side of the door, she was intimidating. I unlocked the door and forced a smile. “Mrs. Alister, hi.” I stepped back. “Come in, please.” Margaret did step into the apartment, looking around with a disgust and disdain she didn’t even bother to hide. Her perfume instantly filled the room, the cracks in her makeup becoming apparent at such close proximity.
“I can’t stay,” Margaret said, muttering, “thank God.”
“Well, that’s okay,” I said, keeping a light tone against my every impulse. “Can I get you something, lemonade?”
“Have any Scotch?”
“Um, no, I don’t think so.”
“Then nothing.” Margaret’s eyes scanned the room, then found me as I approached her. “Let me get right to the point, Sheryl.”
“First, if I may… you know where I live? And wasn’t there a doorman on duty?”
“I know everything about everyone who works for my husband, darling. And your doorman had a hundred-dollar cup of coffee to go pick up at the local Starbucks. Really, if you’re going to survive in business, you’re going to have to learn how to play the game, darling.”
I could only shake my head. “What’s your game, then?”
“Oh, sweetie, that’s just what I’m here to ask you.” I didn’t have time to ask her to clarify. “Come on, Sheryl, let’s drop the act. You’re out shopping at Tiffany’s… for your mother? I know what my husband pays you, so I know your story is full of shit.”
“Mrs. Alister, I—”
“You’re out there with my husband’s credit card, buying yourself the Christmas gifts he can’t be seen buying for you. Don’t deny it. I can tell a liar when I see one.”