by Lanie Jacobs
“And the Les Paul? You don’t play out with that? Please, I don’t want you to be a stupid person.”
“Nope, that stays in the house with the security system turned on. I’ve got a nice Strat that I use for gigs.”
“Well, it’s good to know those beauties aren’t going to waste. It’d be so wrong if they were just props taking up space in some rich guy’s apartment.”
“You don’t believe that I actually play, do you?”
“I never said that.”
“No, but you’re sort of implying it. Do you need to me plug the guitar in and show you what I can do?”
“You make it sound like a threat.” I laugh and turn back toward the kitchen area where I see a familiar little white bag with the words Condom World emblazoned in purple and gold letters. “Are those for me? Aw. You shouldn’t have.”
“I’m just following you’re orders.”
“Oh, my.” I laugh as I tip the bag over and spill its contents out onto the long kitchen table. “Extra large? Who’s the one making threats now? Or is this a promise?”
“Oh, it’s a promise. A great big fucking promise.”
“All guys think that right before their wives enter them into the tiny penis competition.” I pick up one of the condoms and check the expiration date. These baby’s are factory fresh. Micah has my official stamp of approval. I toss the remaining condoms back into the bag and fold the top over. “Men, as a rule, have a very warped view of what an inch actually is. I’ve always suspected it’s a genetic abnormality, like colorblindness.”
“There’s a measuring tape in the drawer by the fridge, Smartass. You can see for yourself.” He put his hands on his hips and like a laser beam coming into focus my eyes are drawn to the thick bulge straining against the constraint of his jeans.
Okay, from here it looks damn big but looks can be deceiving with some guys. For all I know he’s got tube socks stuffed down his shorts. “You’re an arrogant little nugget, you know that?”
“No, I’m just honest.” He’s giving me that smile again. The one from the other night. The one that says he knows that he’s got me exactly where he wants me and it’s only a matter of time before I’m begging for it.
I move away from the table. Head over to the fridge and get the measuring tape out of the drawer. It’s one of the cloth ones that rolls up on itself. I’m sure it’s perfect for taking the vital statistics of male members. “Whip it out.” I hold the tape by one end and let the other end fall to the floor. “Come on, Mr. Big. Let’s see that cock you’re so proud of.”
He’s got his hands on his zipper. He’s not blinking or hesitating. “You sure you got enough tape?” He laughs as he pulls the zipper down and pulls the button open.
“It’s a three foot measuring tape. If your cock is three feet long you’d die every time you got a hard on. You’d be freeze-dried in a medical museum. Walruses have five foot dicks.” I move closer and try my best to maintain eye contact but it’s difficult. He’s got bright red boxer briefs peeking through the opening of his pants and that cock is looking bigger every second. “Let’s see what you got for me.”
We’re standing so close I can feel his breath moving over the top of my head. I have to tell myself that it’s okay to look down as his fingers hook into the wide elastic band of his briefs and start pulling them down. He’s nicely manscaped. Not overly so, but good and trimmed.
I’m trying to stay calm and focused but when he pulls the red fabric back and the biggest damn cock I’ve ever seen in real life springs out. Yes it springs like a fucking happy bunny the day after Easter!
I have to tell myself not to drop down to my knees and put it in my mouth.
“That is amazing.” I’m just staring at it now. Staring and not moving like a drooling idiot. It’s so long and thick and the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen.
“I told you it was big.” He reaches out and grabs up hold of the measuring tape. “Are you going to perform you duties as official cock reporter.”
“Oh, my god,” A nervous laugh leaves me without permission. This can’t be good. I don’t do nervous little laughs unless I’m really rattled. “Does this make me the dick-ta-phone?”
“I was thinking dicktationists.”
“I like that one better.” I take the measuring tape out of his hand and remind myself to breathe. “I suppose I better do this thing.”
“Is that a promise?” He’s got his hands on his hips again and is looking way to confident.
“Why don’t we get this bad boy measured up first,” I say as I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and slip the metal end of the measuring tape under my thumb so it won’t slip. “Let’s start here.”
“You’re the expert.” His voice wavers a little as I slide the tape up the length of his shaft.
I’d like an accurate measure of this awesome thing so I’m very careful. Everything has to be done perfect and slow until I reach the very tip. Letting go is difficult. I have to close my eyes for a second and try to store the memory of this moment deep in my brain because this will make the best fantasy induced vibro-marathon session later in the week.
Mental note. I need fresh batteries.
Reluctantly I drop my hands away from his cock and read the lucky number that my thumb has marked off. “Eight inches,” I stammer. “That is very impressive.”
“Now you have to measure it around. Length is nothing without circumference.” He puts his hands over mine and guide me back to where I was seconds before. It seems Micah likes this little game as much as I do.
“True.” I say and wrap the tape around the thickest part of his dick and read the magic numbers aloud. I feel like the girl on the channel six news who reads the mega lottery numbers to the waiting public. “Who wants to be poked with a pencil when you’ve got a deli pickle at your disposal? Six point eight inches around. You certainly have a mighty manstick in your trousers, my friend.”
“Mighty manstick? That’s the best you can come up with?” He takes the tape out of my hand and tosses it on the counter behind me. His cock is still sticking out of his underwear.
It’s looking at me. Pleading with me to give it the attention it deserves.
There’s no way I can’t wrap my hands around it and give it a friendly stroke.
Micah looks down. He’s watching as my fingers curl around his cock.
“Do you mind?” I ask as I give him another stroke from base to tip. “It looked lonely.”
“Thank you for taking emotional health of the mighty manstick into consideration.”
Micah groans as I give twist my wrist on the next stroke and then pushes me up against the side of the fridge.
I let keep my hand right where it is and smile because I know we’re finally getting down to business.
Chapter Four
“
I hope you weren’t kidding about the rough sex.” Micah presses his mouth against my ear, and scrapes his teeth along its outer edge.
It sends a shiver up my spine.
“No joke,” I say as I dig my fingers into his forearms and pull him so close to me that I can feel every inch of his hard body. He smells exactly as I’d remembered and I’m don’t want to let go of him any time soon. “I never joke about getting spanked.”
“And hair pulling? Do you joke about that?” He slides his lips over my cheek until he reaches the corner of my mouth.
And here we are again, the little voice in my head sings.
Isn’t this the exact same maneuver he pulled the other night?
I tell the little voice do go fuck herself. I’ve been waiting for this kiss since Wednesday night and I’m not about to start second guessing my chance to have a roll in the hay with the most fuckable guy on the planet.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Micah whispers the words onto my lips as he teases them open.
“Which one?” I whisper. “You have so many.”
He slides his thigh between mine and rocks it bac
k and forth under my skirt. “The one where I pull your hair.” He presses his mouth to mine and slides the tip of his tongue across the edge of my bottom lip. It’s just enough teasing to make me want more
My panties are totally soaked.
“Pull my hair.” The instant I say the words he buries his fingers deep into my hair and curls them into tight fists. I hold my breath. So many guys don’t get this part right.
Micah pulls good and hard and I moan my approval.
“Is this what you want?”
“Fuck, yes.” I close my eyes and move into his hands as he pulls again. Between the pressure of his leg dry humping against me and the tiny shards of pain from the hair pulling I might actually be in heaven. “Harder.”
He coils his fingers in my hair and pulls down.
This is old school hair pulling.
“God,” I moan, “that feels so fucking good.”
His mouth catches mine, it’s so hot and his tongue is slick. I can imagine what it would feel like against my naked skin.
I squirm against him, pressing my breasts to his hard chest and rubbing my wet cunt against his every helpful leg.
He breaks the kiss and moves away from me with a deep groan.
“Open your eyes.” He orders.
I do as I’m told.
He drops his hands to my waist and pulls me away from the fridge.
“Where are we going?” I let him guide out of the kitchen. It’s a decent assumption that I’m about to be shown his bed but I he stops when we reach the dining table.
“Turn around,” he says before spinning me away from him so I’m facing the table. He places his hand in the middle of my back, bends me over the edge of the table and lifts my skirt up over my ass.
It’s a more direct approach than I’m used to but I appreciate his honesty and enthusiasm.
“If you want to get spanked you’ve got to lose your panties.” His words are smooth as they come out of his mouth. “Unless you’d rather I spank you with them on. Probably won’t be nearly as fun.”
“Take them off.” I spread my legs and push my ass up to meet his hands as his fingers slip under the thin elastic band. “Please.”
A small sound of approval escapes him lips and I feel him slide my panties over my backside and down my legs. I step out of them and wait for what’s going to happen next.
“Exactly what kind of spanking are you looking for, Jane?”
I can’t think when he says my name. It’s just a word. The thing other people say to get my attention. But when he says it I want to cream my jeans.
“Jane, do you prefer my hand or would you like to feel my belt on your ass?” He laughs as he slides the leather strap through belt loops and places it on the table next to me.“If you don’t answer my questions the first time I ask I’m gonna start making this up as I go along.”
“Start with your hand” I stammer my answer.
“And then?” He runs his hands down my back and stops at the curve of my ass to give me a good swat. “What should I do when I’ve got you all warmed up?”
How can he expect me to answer anything when he’s got his hands all over me? At this point I can barely think.
He slaps me again, this time covering both cheeks with one hand. I never realized just how big his hands were until he was spanking me.
“Answer the question, Jane?”
Another slap.
I can feel the moisture growing between my legs.
This time he aims for the underside of my ass and really puts his back into it. “Answer the question or that’s the last one.”
“The belt.” I have to fight up through the haze of warmth and pain to find the words he wants me to say. It’s a struggle. I don’t want to have to talk or think right now. I just want to leave the decision making to the guy giving the spankings. “Use the belt.”
“Thank you.” He smacks my ass one more time before sliding the belt off the table and folding it in on itself. I dig my fingernails into the table and wait.
I tell myself that he knows what he’s doing. My ass is warm but not burning. This is good, I think as the sound of the leather cutting through the air reaches my ears. This is very good.
The belt lands right in that lovely place between the curve of my ass and the tops of my thighs. Not every person’s sweet spot but I love it there.
It hurts. It really fucking hurts.
But I like being hurt so it’s all good.
“Thank you.” I groan as the belt crosses my skin again.
“Beg.” His lips are pressed against my ear. “Beg for another one.”
“Please,” I gasp as the belt hits me again.
“Please, what?”
“Please hit me again.” My voice comes out in a hot squeal “Please, give me another one.”
This time the belt lands against the back of my thighs and I hiss at the sharp pain of it.
“Open your legs” He runs a hand between my thighs and pushes them apart. “Don’t move.”
I close my eyes and wait for the next cut of his belt. It doesn’t come. Instead he’s dragging his fingernails along the tender welts on my back end. It’s a piercing, painful feeling and I find myself pushing my ass into his touch.
The strike of the belt lets me know he was only lulling me into complacency.
“Do you want another?” He laughs as he hits again. “And another and another and one more on top of that?”
“Yes,” I groan. “Please, don’t stop.”
Micah laughs and gives me a nasty little swat on the ass with his hand.
His fingers travel along the cleft of my ass until they find the wet lips of my cunt. “What about this?” he asks, tracing the tender seam with his index finger. He doesn’t wait for my answer before slipping his finger between the folds. “What are we going to do about this?”
I move into his hand as he circles the tiny bundle of nerves at my center.
“You’re wet.” He sighs approvingly and slips a finger deep into pussy. “Is that for me?”
“Yes.” I groan as he fucks me with his hand.
“Say it. Say that you got wet for me”
“I got wet for you.” I gasp as the belt comes across my ass. Fingers, a belt and dirty talk? It’s like God found me the perfect guy to fuck. “You make me wet.” I grind my cunt into his hand and wait for the next hit of the belt. “You make me so fucking wet. I want you to hurt me and fuck me.”
Micah slides a second finger inside me and pumps harder. “You want me to fuck you?”
“Oh, god” I groan, he’s pulling his fingers out of my hole and rubbing them over my clit. Over and over in tight, fast circles. “I’m gonna come.”
“Not without my permission.” He rubs faster and gives me a swat on the ass.
“Oh,” I suck in my breath as my legs tighten and start to shake.
“Not yet.” He slips his fingers back inside me for a second and then pulls out to tease my little button again.
“Stop,” I groan “I’m gonna come. Please stop.”
“Do you want to come, Jane?”
“Yes.” My voice is high and tight and I can feel my body going right over that edge.
He pulls away from me and gives my ass one more sharp cut with the belt that sends a wave of pleasure rippling through me.
I feel like a spring coiled tight on itself and is ready to go off with the slightest pressure.
“Not yet, Sweetheart.” He rakes his wet fingers across the backs of my thighs and lets out a deep laugh. “You have the most beautiful skin. It looks great with a few welts on it. I can’t wait to see what it looks like in the morning.”
I don’t say anything. I’m too sexually frustrated to remind him that I don’t intend on being here for an early morning inspection.
“Come on.” He buries one hand in my hair, grabs a handful and pull me upright as he reaches for the bag of condoms with the other hand. “You and I have some serious fucking to do.”
****
*
Micah somehow manages to lead me though his apartment and stripping me of all my clothes by the time we stumble into his bedroom. If I’d been counting it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes until I was standing at the side end of his bed with my calves pressed against the comforter.
“Lay down.” He bites his lip smiles.
It’s all the encouragement I need to lower myself back onto the mattress. I scoot up to the headboard and wait for him. I’m assuming he’s going to strip down and join be but he only stares at me.
“Open your legs.”
I take a breath and tell myself that now isn’t the time to suddenly decide I’m a shy little flower. “Like this?” I ask as I move my knees apart.
His eyes go straight between my legs and I have to fight with myself to keep from slamming them shut.
“You’re perfect.” He runs his hand over the thick bulge in his jeans and smiles down at me. After he tosses the bag of condoms on the bed beside me “You have the most beautiful cunt I’ve ever seen. After I tie you up I’m going to eat you till you scream.”
“Tie me up?” My pussy floods at the words but my brain can’t quite keep up. No one’s ever tied me up before.
“And eat you to you scream.” He moves around to the side of the bed. “That’s the most important part.”
Micah’s still wearing that grin. And his pants. Damn, I’m buckass naked and he’s still sporting jeans. Seems he’s more of a control freak than I pegged out to be.
“Arms over your head.”
“What if I say no?”
“I’ll flip you over and spank your ass again.” He raises and eyebrow.
“And what happens if I want to have my ass spanked again?” I’m starting to take a shine to the idea of being his little plaything. It seems to have some really nice perks.
“I’ll go into the kitchen and find a spatuala and make you sorry for being such a damn brat.”
“But I might like that?”
He sits back, I can see the outline of his thick cock pressing against his hip. The guys barely tucked back into his boxers. Both my mouth and my cunt go wet at the sight. Like Pavlov’s fucking dogs, without the bell of course.