by Bridy McAvoy
I had to turn my head to the side in order to breathe but, out of the corner of my eye, I watched Max turn in toward the dock, and then do a quick power up and start in. After a few seconds he cut the engine and just coasted the last fifty yards, coming to a stop halfway down the dock. I stayed where I was as he watched me, a smile playing on his face. He took his time tying off the boat and then, reaching back down into the boat, pulled out a bottle of wine.
As he straightened, he turned toward me and walked up the slight incline from the dock over the grass until he was standing on the deck right in front of me. If anything, that was a relief. Nobody would be able to see that much past his body and, in any case, he’d already seen it all. Without warning, he pulled his cell out and held it up, obviously about to take a picture.
I screamed at him. “No pictures.” I guess he heard me because he laughed and put his phone away again. I glanced down and saw he was already hard. The bastard had enjoyed teasing and humiliating me. The problem was that I was also wet and ready—I’d enjoyed it too.
After a minute of drinking in every detail, he walked to the side and stepped through the other door opening, the one I’d left open for him. I heard him slide the door closed, then the click of the lock.
“You can come through here now, Sammie.”
I eased myself off the glass, pleased to see I hadn’t actually stuck to it. That would have been embarrassing if I’d needed to be rescued. It was silly thinking that, of course, but my head had been full of junk all afternoon as I prepared myself for the experience.
By the time I reached the bedroom door, Max had sat down in the middle of the couch facing me.
“Come here, sweetie. Max has something for you. A reward.”
“You don’t need to get me to drink wine. I don’t need to be drunk.”
“I wasn’t talking about the wine.”
As I walked over to him, I realized what his hand was doing. Even as he’d sat down he’d unzipped his fly and retrieved his cock. He was sitting there lightly jacking it off as I crossed the room.
“You humiliate me like that and then expect me to just blow you? What’s wrong with warming me up a little first?”
I was standing in line with his knees by then and, reaching forward with his free hand, he ran his index finger along the line of my slit. I knew his finger would find moisture, and it came away wet and glistening. He lifted it to his lips and then sucked it clean.
“Sweet as ever. You really are my little sweetie.” He chuckled at his own joke and raised an eyebrow. “Now be a good sweetie and show me what you can do with that mouth of yours. Look at it this way, you’ll enjoy what happens later much more if you do.”
In other words, the arrogant fool wanted me to get him off so he’d last longer for the sex that would follow. Since that was often my modus operandi—and he hadn’t yet heard about, let alone experienced, my hoover technique—I had a surprise for him, hopefully a shock he’d enjoy. Although the drapes were open, I was a few feet away from the window, so less concerned about being seen.
I smiled at Max as he watched my face in anticipation. When that smile registered with him as acceptance of his request, his face split in a huge grin. What man doesn’t like getting a blow job from a pretty, naked woman? Right? He just didn’t know how good it was going to be.
Moving slowly and deliberately, I dropped to my knees in front of him. I kept my movements slow, emphasizing how graceful I was. At the same time I arched my back, thrusting my breasts toward him. I placed my hands on his knees, sliding them palms outward onto the inside of his thighs, and pressed his legs apart. He didn’t resist—he couldn’t, not if he wanted his cock in my mouth. With his legs apart I pushed in close between them. He had at least pushed his trousers part of the way down—no rough zip teeth to catch my face. I didn’t want to have to explain to my boss the next day why my chin was ripped to pieces.
I pushed his hand aside, replacing it with my own. I guess he expected me to leave my hand there to control the depth he achieved into my mouth. In fact, I was using my hand to hold his cock at the right angle so I could position myself correctly. Once there, I took a deep breath and dropped down. Pulling my hand out of the way, his cock slid straight between my lips, over my tongue and then into the top of my throat.
That move worked its magic once again. I felt him convulse around me, his hands touching the top of my head then letting go. “Shit, girl! Fuck!”
I smiled to myself around his cock, staying still, just applying some suction to it. After about fifteen seconds I slid slowly up, then off, lifting my eyes to look at him. His eyes were wide, staring down at me in disbelief.
“You like?”
“Shit! Yes.”
“Good.”
Before he could ask me any questions—ones I wouldn’t answer about who taught me the technique—I hoovered him into my mouth again. After three or four more goes he was thrusting up to meet me. I teased him now, taking just the tip into my mouth and running my tongue around it, lapping up and savoring the taste of his pre-cum. Then it was back into the throat. I kept breathing through my nose as I sucked him as deeply as I could. My nose bumped against his taut belly, allowing me to admire his muscle structure close up.
Another three or four minutes and he couldn’t take any more.
“I’m cumming!”
I pulled up, keeping just the head in my mouth to allow me to taste him properly. Blast after blast painted the inside of my mouth, just as he’d sprayed it all over my chest on the boat. I kept it in my mouth then slid off him and sat up. I went for the porn star finish too—sitting back, opening my mouth to show him his cum, then swallowing before opening my mouth again to show him it was empty. He sat there panting for breath, his eyes locked on my face as I rose to my feet. My nude body was there to be seen, but he didn’t lower his eyes.
“Shall I open the wine now?” I tried hard not to giggle.
We sat there drinking a glass of wine each. Me naked except for a pair of heels, him with his limp dick lying on a pad made up of his boxers and the front of his trousers. He couldn’t understand why I kept giggling, and I wouldn’t tell him why. After about twenty minutes he put his glass down, got rid of his jeans and shorts, and beckoned me over from the chair toward the couch. When I was close enough he pulled me down onto his lap, side-saddle. He started kissing me, then, after a couple of minutes, put one arm around my back to support me, and moved to nuzzling my ear and the sensitive area just beneath it. It didn’t take long for my nipples to harden. Under my naked hip I could feel his cock starting to heat up and grow too. Obviously it was time for round two.
He paused in what he was doing so deliciously. “That has to rate as the best blow job I ever had.”
“Why, thank you, sir. A girl likes to get a compliment. Rather that, than a bellowed, ‘Shit, girl. Fuck’.”
He laughed then playfully bit my ear lobe until I gasped. “You took me by surprise there.”
“But it was a nice surprise.”
“Oh, yeah, very nice. You can do that to me anytime you want. Anytime, anywhere.” He kissed me again and the conversation lapsed. By now his cock was at least half hard. When he broke the kiss, we were both breathing heavy. I smiled at him lazily, and stretched my back. I knew this would push my breasts up toward him a little. His hands were busy though, one holding me in place on his lap, the other one trailing a series of circles on my upper thigh.
After a minute of both of us sitting there, both watching his fingers work their way up my leg, he lifted his gaze and asked, “Bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
He went from zero to all action in an instant. Remember, he was a big guy, and he just wrapped his arm under my legs and surged to his feet. Three strides and he was at the bedroom door, another three or four and we were beside the bed. I kind of expected him to toss me on the bed and drop on top of me. Max, despite looking like a Neanderthal minus the facial hair, despite not holding doors open for me and, above
all else, despite making me display myself so lewdly, was far gentler.
He lowered me to the bed and guided me until my head hit the pillow. Before I could say anything he dropped to his knees beside the bed—in full view of the still undraped window— and dropped his face to my stomach. He kissed and licked around my belly button for a few moments then started to trail both his mouth and his fingertips south. I groaned at the sensation, knowing what was coming, and he didn’t disappoint. He used one hand to push my left leg away from him, opening me up, allowing him to explore my mound.
Explore it, he did. Mr. Bryant could eat pussy like nobody else, but Max was somehow better still. Not more, just different. His touch was more insistent but, at the same time, gentler still. It’s hard to explain—I guess he wanted to return the favor. Return it, he did. I melted into the soft bed with him leaning over me from the side, straddling one leg, while his hand caressed the inner thigh of the other. His mouth was never still, now questing, now licking, and now thrusting his tongue into me. He didn’t ignore my clit either, his tongue pressing against it to make it swell, then his fingers easing it clear of its hood so he could gently bite down on it. I screamed and bucked and swore at him—much as he had me half-an-hour earlier—but it did no good. He didn’t quit until I’d cum for the fourth time, and felt like a puddle on the bed.
I lay there panting as he rose to his feet and moved to the foot of the bed. My legs were spread wide apart, and he could see my pussy, could see the destruction he’d wrought on me. All that time he never touched my breasts, not once.
He fucked me then, his cock harder than it had been before. Obviously, pushing my buttons had got him hard again and he wasn’t gentle anymore. Not that it mattered to me—I just wanted a cock, any cock; his cock, inside me. If it had been a foot long, or four inches long, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d have cum on it.
He came inside me just as I came for the third time as he fucked me. Then he rolled off and pulled me to him, letting me spoon into him as little aftershocks ran through my body. I don’t think we drifted off to sleep, or even dozed, but I wasn’t really that aware of time passing.
After a little while he rolled over and sat up, then chuckled.
Slap!
“Ow. What was that for?” My hand automatically went to the fleshy part of my butt that he’d just spanked—hard.
“Out of bed, sleepyhead. Time for a shower. Then we can get to round three.”
“I’m too sore for another…”
“No you’re not, you’re just saying that to make me feel better in case I can’t get it up again.”
I rolled onto my back and looked at him. Partly, I’d rolled over to protect my butt. “You can’t?”
“Don’t count on it. I really want to, let’s put it that way.”
I shuddered but climbed from the bed and padded through to the bathroom. I don’t remember taking off my shoes but I was now barefoot.
He followed me, took one look at the shower stall in the bathroom and chuckled. “I’m not sure I can fit in there, let alone the two of us.”
“I know, it is a bit small, isn’t it? You want to go first?”
“You go, sweetie. I’ll wait my turn. I’ll be quicker than you, anyway.”
I shuddered. There was no doubt in my mind that by the time he came out of the shower, he’d be ready to go again. I wasn’t so sure I was, but I wasn’t going to argue—as long as he left me enough time to go to sleep afterward. The shower invigorated me again, washing away the lethargy that had infected me after having been so well fucked. Once I heard the water running for him, I dashed around the condo and tidied up a bit, making sure I drew the drapes. It was dark now, and I had the lights on as a result.
I headed back to the kitchenette and made some coffee. I didn’t really want any more wine. Two glasses had been enough—there wasn’t that much left in the bottle. Besides, I had work the next day.
Max emerged from the shower, looking buff and trim as he toweled his hair down. Lower down, his cock swung from side to side as his body swayed. Despite being old enough to have two sons my age, he clearly kept in shape. He saw me watching him and walked over to the kitchenette, trapping me in the u-shaped galley area. Tossing his towel to one side, he stood in front of me naked—statuesquely nude. His hands reached out and plucked the knot holding my towel closed, then undid it and tossed that to join his. Before I could say anything he’d pulled my body in to his, crushing me against him, skin to skin as his mouth found mine.
After a while he broke the kiss, allowing us both to pant for breath. He pressed me back until I felt the edge of the worktop against my back then, instead of pressing against me, he leaned down, resting his forehead, still damp from the shower, against mine. We stared into each other’s eyes from inches apart, our lips scarcely further so we panted in each other’s exhaled breath. Our bodies were arched apart, not in contact.
Moving slowly, his arm reached out, his fingers brushing against my stomach, moving down. I tried not to moan as his fingertips combed through the tangle of my still damp pubic hair, further down to find the closed lips of my pussy. He ran his fingers over that, sending pulses of desire racing through me. Still staring into my eyes he increased the pressure. His middle finger sank between the outer folds. My legs relaxed. I shuffled my feet apart to maintain my balance as he rubbed my mound, one finger to each side of my puffy lips, his idle finger sinking into the wet slit—a slit that was growing slicker by the moment.
My hands rose, grasping his shoulders for balance. He still had one hand left, and he brought that up to grab and pull at my left nipple, even while he continued his manual manipulation of my very core.
That technique was incredible. Within three or four minutes I found myself hypnotized by his eyes, unable to tear my gaze away from his. My hands gripped his shoulders tightly as my legs threatened to give way. He stroked me, continued to stroke, and didn’t attempt to penetrate me any further, just toyed with me. My hips started to buck against him as I flew closer and closer to the release my body now craved.
I think I screamed as I came, his finger still rhythmically sliding up and down my slit without pressing inside. I was panting for breath, almost delirious with pleasure, as he spun me around, pulling my hips back toward him, and then shoved his now hard cock into me, doggy style. I gripped the edge of the counter for balance, bent at right angles at the waist as he fucked me hard. I could feel him bottoming out in me as he forced my legs wider, almost lifting my feet off the floor with each powerful stroke.
Once again, what he’d done to me had affected him too, reducing any chance of him lasting longer. I think I came again, but I couldn’t be sure before he blasted his third load of the evening inside me. As he pulled out I dropped to my knees, but he picked me up by the simple expedient of wrapping his arms around my waist, then carried me over to the couch, where he gently laid me down.
I was gasping for air, hardly aware as I watched him slowly dress, and then head toward the door.
“Don’t forget the boating lesson at seven tomorrow. Pick me up from the middle pier at the yard. I’ll see myself out. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”
I heard the lock click, then the door slid open and closed again. The lock automatically engaged and I slumped back down. I was literally fucked out at that point and I had work the following day, as well as a boating lesson with the man who’d just fucked me to a standstill. I had no idea how I was going to cope with it all, especially if Mr. Bryant wanted anything special, and Max wanted a repeat. I didn’t have the energy to make myself anything to eat, and in fact I hadn’t eaten properly since breakfast. Yet I wasn’t hungry.
I staggered from the couch and checked the door was locked, then went to the bathroom to clean up. I didn’t bother with a shower, just used a washcloth and then almost fell into bed. I guess I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. At least the alarm on my cell woke me, or I might well have slept around the clock.
Chapter Eigh
t – Recrimination
She looked up at me. For the last few minutes she’d kept her head down, looking at the floor.
“I’m sorry, honey, this must be hard for you to hear.”
I shrugged. “It is but, remember, I’ve known about this for…what, three days now? Believe it or not, I appreciate your honesty, and your remorse.”
She took a deep breath and sat up straight, uncurling her legs.
“Remorse? Is that what you think? That I’m ashamed of what I did?”
I just looked at her, guessing she needed to get the anger out of her system. I was hoping she didn’t trigger mine, because that row, waiting in the wings, could turn into a monster.
When I didn’t reply, she continued. “I’m not ashamed of my sex life. Nor of how I behaved during that time. The only thing I’m sorry about is the fact I convinced you I was a virgin when I wasn’t.”
“So the fact you led me to believe you were a virgin, meaning I thought we were exclusive when you were putting it about, isn’t wrong?”
“One thing led from the other. I said I was sorry about that. I’m telling you all this now. What more do you fucking want?”
I could feel my own temper rising to match hers. One of us needed to keep a calm head.
“You sit there, calmly listening, while I tell you everything about my life, and I rarely see a flicker of emotion cross your face. Then, once I’m done, once I’ve opened up and poured my heart out, we go to bed. The one thing I really want you to do—need you to do—you won’t fucking do.”
“What? Make love to the woman who’s confessing she lied to me, who cheated on me?”
“I didn’t fucking cheat on you. You never asked if we were exclusive.”
“I didn’t ask if we were exclusive because, if you were the virgin you claimed to be, you couldn’t be fucking around with anybody, could you?”