He's still up on his knees and hard as a rock, I lean over to take him in my mouth again, but he doesn't want my mouth. He moves to place himself between my legs. So I pull my knees back and he enters. God it feels good. He slides in easily as I'm very wet from my orgasm. He holds for a beat, and then starts moving in and out. He leans down against me in the classic missionary and starts sucking on my nipple, switching back and forth between my tits while keeping up his pace below. At this angle, he's rubbing on my clit every time he enters and it feels really good. Plus there's like this bee-line straight from my nipples down to my clit. Every suck goes directly to my clit. It feels fantastic. Then he lifts up again sitting back on his knees. He's still inside me. Automatically my hands go behind my knees and lift up. He helps by grabbing my ankles and pushing them toward my shoulders placing me in an angle to hit my g-spot. I like this position as it also allows me access to my clit if I want. But I don't go for it this time. I'm still in the afterglow of the first orgasm and just enjoying the feeling in and out. After a few minutes I feel the change in pace. He's close. A few more pumps in and out and he freezes, spurting inside. Then he collapses next to me.
I get up and head for the bathroom. I've never enjoyed the feel of cum oozing out of me. When I get back, he's watching the porn. It still surprises me to see him doing this. He never watched porn before I left. He was so stuffy and uptight about it. Insecure. Thinks his dick is small. It may not be the biggest out there, but it's definitely not small. As far as I'm concerned, it's absolutely perfect. It's not skinny or short and has a really great shape. Anyway, he's watching the porn and waiting for me. As I get back in bed, he starts playing with my tits. He gets really turned on by them. I don't see the appeal. They hang down almost to my stomach, nipples pointing straight to the ground. Although I must say I have good nipples. I'm guessing somewhere between ? and ? inches hard and they're ALWAYS hard. I lay back and enjoy the manipulation and look at the screen again. He's got it in his head that we're going to have sex twice, so I let him play. Plus it feels nice.
He leans over me and starts working my nipples with his mouth again. I lay back and enjoy. I could be done right now. I'm pretty satisfied. I already had the one orgasm, and it was really, really good. But Doug's not standing for that. He has a mission. He wants to make me cum from intercourse. I've never been able to do it like that: only ever with fingers or mouth (or my toy of course). But he wants to try. He says he wants to take me from behind. He knows that's more likely to hit my g-spot. On screen, the guy is going down on the girl. But I've seen this one, I know they're about to go at it doggy style. So I get into position facing the TV. I want to watch while he's in. I can't believe he's already hard again; it's been less than 10 minutes. He pushes in placing his hands on my hips. I'm watching the screen as he moves slowly in and out. He wants to make this last. Slowly he moves in and out. It feels nice. I rock back and forth with him.
After a few minutes he says, "what if I want you to suck me again?" Again, still not quite getting this whole tell me what to do thing. He pulls out and lies back. So I turn around and lean down and take him in my mouth. He tastes like me this time. Not as hard as before, but still respectable. I work him in and out of my mouth while playing with his balls. It doesn't take very long before I feel the change. I know he's close, so I move my hand to the base of his cock and pick up the pace going quickly up and down moving my hand with my mouth and sucking hard. Then he cums. I feel it warm and salty in my mouth. But I don't stop right away, I keep up the licking and sucking until I'm sure he's done and then I swallow.
I lay back on the bed again. I kind of want another orgasm. So I grab this bottle of Excite—it's a clitoral stimulator and I really like it. I put some on my finger and start circling my clit. He watches me for a second and then joins in; curving his fingers to my g-spot while I work my clit. It feels really great. He picks up the pace and gets into it. With his other hand he starts pulling at my nipple. In and out, so great. I know all I have to do is change the pressure a little on my clit and I'll cum, but I don't want to yet. I keep steady as he works my g-spot. Faster and faster. I can feel it. Almost there. I change my pace to match. Lift my hips as he keeps going in and out. Almost, almost. OOoohhh. I get over the edge again and I pick up the pace on my clit and get that one too, half a second later. I can feel my muscles tighten and loosen over and over again. Phenomenal. When I finally stop, he takes his hand away. I'm freezing now and grab the sheet. He pulls it over me and starts to put his arms around me. I sit up instead and look over at the TV. On screen are two lifeguards, man and woman heading for a lighthouse. I don't know why there's a lighthouse, but they go there and proceed to get it on. I lay back and start touching myself again. Doug says, "You're doing it again?"
"Why not? One for the road." I very quickly rub myself with a purpose and it only takes about a minute if that. Mostly I do it just because I can. Then I get up and start to dress. He takes the hint and does the same. Pretty good afternoon. I don't feel guilty at all.
The End.
Late Night Phone Call
The phone rings, pulling me out of a deep sleep. I glance at the clock as I reach for my cell on my bedside table. One a.m. Who would be calling me at this hour? My mind whirls with possibilities as I fumble my phone while trying to answer it. My husband is away on business, could there have been an emergency? Did someone I know die? I finally push the answer button and mumble a slightly coherent, "Um, hello?" without even bothering to look at the caller I.D.
"Did I wake you?"
Your familiar voice is in my ear, both comforting and confusing me at the same time. We never call each other out of the blue like this. It's always pre-arranged, at times when I am sure my husband will never accidentally come home to find me masturbating to the sound of your voice.
"Why did you call?" My words are somewhat slurred as I try to push away the sleepiness and confusion that clouds my brain. "Is everything ok?"
A low chuckle reverberates in my ear. "I just thought I should call and make sure you have sweet dreams tonight, since you are sleeping alone."
My mind struggles to work, trying to remember how you knew I'd be alone today. In a flash I remember our emails a few days before when I had tried to set something up for earlier today. You had a dinner to attend tonight, and told me you wouldn't be home until very late. I had dropped it, assuming that meant you'd be busy and couldn't make a "date" with me. I had no clue you meant to call me when you returned home.
You're quiet as I process this. You understand me better than anyone else, and instinctively know I'm piecing the puzzle together. When I finally utter a breathy, "Oh..." you take this as a signal to start.
"What are you wearing?"
From anyone else, it would sound cheesy, but from you those four words are a turn on. Mostly because I know you want to visualize what I look like as I lie back in bed, half asleep still but becoming aroused. Had I realized you were going to call me, I would have worn something silky to bed or even nothing at all. Instead I threw on my P.J.'s when I climbed into bed, expecting no more than a good night's sleep.
It occurred to me for two seconds to say I was wearing something sexy. But I've never been able to lie to you, a trait that you tend to exploit from time to time. Instead I tell the truth.
"Thin black cotton tank top and black plaid boxer shorts."
"Any underwear?"
"No." That wasn't a lie. I never wear a bra to bed, and my panties were riding up on me today something fierce so it was a relief to rip them off as I was changing for bed tonight.
A noise somewhere between a purr and growl escapes your lips. Apparently you like the fact that I'm going commando under my P.J.'s. The next thing you say makes me catch my breath.
"Play with your nipples through your tank for me."
Without hesitation, my left hand runs up the side of my body, over the swell of my full breast and to its most sensitive point. With my right I'm reaching for my Bluetooth on the beds
ide table, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder while I switch it on. Once I'm completely hands free I pinch my right nipple too, feeling both getting hard through the thin fabric of my top. My quick inhale tells you I'm obeying your commands.
After a few minutes of listening to me breathe heavy as I rub my nipples I hear the unzipping of your pants. I know you are starting to stoke yourself, which means a new instruction is coming next.
"Lift your top up but don't stop playing."
Instantly I do, switching to rubbing my knuckles over each hard exposed nipple, enjoying the way the hard bones against the soft, silky skin feels. My breaths quicken from my action, a signal to you to issue a new command.
"Pinch your nipples."
As I do I moan. This reminds me of the nipple clamps you made me buy last month. My fingers try to pinch as hard as the clamps do, and I feel myself getting wet. Somehow you know this.
"Slip your hand under your boxers and tell me how wet you are."
Still pinching my right nipple, I move my left hand down my belly and under my waistband. I desperately want to touch my clit, but know that will come later. I plunge two fingers into the wet opening of my puss, amazed at how much of my juices there are already. As I tell you this I begin moving my fingers in and out, moaning as I do.
"I didn't say to do that yet."
Disappointed, I stop. Reluctantly I pull my fingers out, trying not to drip any of my juice on my sheets. As my hand comes out of my boxers I wonder where I can wipe off my slick fingers. You have other ideas.
"Put your fingers in your mouth and tell me how you taste."
Opening my mouth I insert them and suck off my fingers. You can hear my soft licking sounds as I clean them, moaning about how good I taste. I can tell this excites you, but I wish it was your cock in my mouth instead of my fingers. I mention this, but you just laugh and tell me maybe someday. There is still a little humor in your voice as you speak again.
"I want you completely naked."
Like a flash I whip off my P.J.'s and tell you that I am. You chuckle at my eagerness but it obviously pleases you. You instruct me to reach under my bed and pull out my box of toys. You know every one that is in there, but you have your favorite.
"Take out your butt plug. I want to hear you put it in."
With a smile I grab the requested toy and my lube. I narrate my actions, knowing you are imagining me lubing it up and placing it at my tight backdoor. As I roll over on my side to push it in I can hear you rubbing yourself. This always is your favorite part.
I groan as my toy enters. I slowly work it in, pushing in further each time after I pull it out slightly. I can feel my asshole widening while I work, my groans and moans becoming louder as the toy stretches me. I finally am at the largest part of the toy, trying to ignore the pain. I give one last push and anchor the toy firmly in my ass, which is already pulsing from my ministrations. I lay back down, panting lightly as the pain recedes and I feel that fantastic full feeling from using my plug. You know before I even can tell you that I'm completely plugged and ready for what's next.
"Now you can rub your clit."
Before the words are even out of your mouth, my right hand finds its way to my swollen nub. I move my fingers quickly over it, too hot to take my time tonight. From my loud moans you know I'm closer than I normally would be at this time. My muscles clench already, causing my ass to tighten around the plug. I yelp but don't slow down.
Your own frantic stoking matches the pace of mine and you tell me you need to hear me come. I'm getting closer by the second, feeling my orgasm build. Your words keep coaching me to my climax, and my own moans are so loud I can barely hear what you are saying.
Suddenly it breaks, and I scream as my pussy snaps rhythmically and everything goes white for a split second. I'm vaguely aware of your moans as you come at the same time I do. I keep rubbing myself, feeling the pleasure wash over me while my body shakes from the intensity while I come down. I rub until I can no longer move. Panting, I lay on my bed as my pussy and ass spasms sporadically as a reminder of what I just did.
You catch your breath first and tell me to pull out my plug. I do, and with that comes out all the tension I had before you called. I smile and tell you how good I feel. You laugh and tell me I'm welcome. I feel like saying something sassy back to you, but am too loose and relaxed to put up a fight. You tell me to have sweet dreams, and give me one last instruction for the night.
"I want you to sleep naked so when you wake in the morning it reminds you what we did tonight."
As if I could ever forget.
The End.
Sweet Little Devil
Leslie felt the wind kiss sensuously on her cheeks, and blew blushes into them. It was a very cold night, but she had no coat on her shivering, petite frame; only ropes tightly wound around her hands and ankles, and the gag between her luscious lips. But she was not alone. In this lovely night of cold, the moon shone brightly over a huge ship with dozens of captives lining up its clean deck.
Her mistress, Miss Prufrock, was very agitated beside her; before, her high hair had looked tight and neat in its bun, but now, it was in a messy array of hair sticking out like a wounded ball of wool. She had a dirty gag between her very thin, very cruel lips, and was fidgeting in anger and incredulity at her imprisoned state.
Like the other prisoners, they were sitting down or squatting or otherwise; and Miss Prufrock in her elaborate, brocade dress of fiery red, looked most out of place here, and in what she considered a very embarrassing unladylike position; the pretty lady of twenty-three years had been tied with a tight rope snaked on her hands and connected to her ankles. And as a lady of high rank in society, she was very indignant over this coarse treatment.
Next to her, Leslie, who, though cold and trembling, sat demurely and quietly in her position; legs folded beneath her, with her wrists tied securely and tightly to her ankles so much that it numbed her. She was forced to arch her back, creating a space of graceful curve behind her. She wore an ugly, plain black dress, the Prufrocks' servant's uniform for the personal maid.
Leslie, nineteen years old, who had worked for the Prufrocks ever since she was seven, worried over her mistress. Though her mistress had been unkind and sadistic to Leslie over the years she had been with the wealthy, noble family, Leslie's compassionate soul did not like to see her mistress suffer through any indecency committed to her, and prayed that her young mistress and all the other prisoners would be able to escape from this unfortunate event safely.
A brawny man with dark chest hair sprouting out of his tight tucked-in shirt appeared with a few number of equally, physically monstrous men. They were pirates; they had attacked the ship Leslie and her mistress had been on, killed the ship's captain and as many of the ship's crew as they could, and captured the people travelling on it, who were mostly young people—excluding a couple of elderly persons.
Now, they were in the mercy of these uncivilized men. There had been rumors about pirates that Leslie had heard before stepping on this cruise—of how they attacked, killed, raped, and kidnapped people, demanding hefty ransoms for them and selling them into slavery—the first she had ever taken since entering the Prufrocks's mansion, but she had never dreamt of ever meeting one.
They went on looking at the prisoners, leering and sneering and spitting and taunting. One kicked a young man, and his fiancee screamed into her gag. The huge sailor grabbed her, ripped the gag off, and forced a sloppy, brutal kiss upon her. She quieted down and with tears in her eyes, huddled closer to her fiancee. The sailor laughed cruelly, joined by his cohorts. It stopped abruptly, when their captain appeared. "What d'ya think we should do with them people, Cap'n?" asked one. "Looks good 'nuff to sell, don't they?" said another.
The Captain was a tall, lean, and well-built man, and he had an aloof, cold expression. There was no visible compassion or kindness in his features, but there were ferocity, brutality, and the hints of a cold-blooded nature. He went about inspect
ing his captured goods, surmising what prices they could bring him if he sold them, should they not be bought back by ransom. Leslie saw him, watched him with fearful eyes as he used his sheathed sword and gloved hand to occasionally prod on his prisoners.
Leslie trembled for her mistress, for she knew her mistress was a very pretty lady, and was well-endowed with womanly features. But when he reached Miss Prufrock, she glared balefully at him, daring him to do something at her defiance. "Hmmph," he said, his unmoved expression showing that he was unimpressed by her show of boldness, or of her often-admired beauty. She was pretty of course; though her hair looked messy, her lips too thin, her nose too small, and her cheeks too shallow, she was still quite pretty. He had seen many girls like her before, on the land and on this ship. She should fetch a reasonable price should he have any need to sell her—but he doubted that he would need to.
He passed her, and Leslie's heart lifted for her mistress, only to plunge into the depths of gloom when he stopped upon her. Leslie ducked her head down, trying to hide her face with her thick tresses of light blond hair. But he wouldn't let her get away easily; he used his long, sword to sweep a volume of her hair aside to catch the face beneath. He jerked her face towards him roughly with his hand. Doe-like eyes the color of calm sky stared back at him, tremulous and depthless in their deep emotions. Her chin quivered in his hand. When he saw her face, his heart dropped. It was such an exquisite, beautiful face. He had never seen anyone who had ever matched her beauty in its innocence and its goddess-personified loveliness. What's more, he knew this face. He remembered this face from a long, long time ago.
In an instant, he shocked Leslie by kneeling on one knee in front of her. "Are you a virgin?" he asked in a harsh, impatient tone, as he jerked a black glove off one hand. The question shocked innocent Leslie, and she blushed at his audacity. When she didn't answer and avoided his ferocious gaze, he grabbed a handful of her skirt and wrenched her skirt up. From her gag, Leslie screamed a muffled scream of surprise and protest; loud sneers and ribald comments greeted her from the unsympathetic sailors, who thrilled at her misery, and leered at the glimpses of snowy thighs that were slightly exposed from the skirt bunched somewhere near her knees; she struggled but her hands and ankles were tied very securely and his large hand was already making its way purposefully between her thighs. Leslie tried very hard to keep her thighs together, but he used both his muscular arms to easily rip them wide apart. He leant into her ear to deliver a quiet, spine-chilling threat, "If you fight me, I will fuck you right here in front of everyone." Leslie trembled, and big tears of anguish over this crude action spilled over her smooth cheeks.
Daddy's Bedtime Taboo Sex Stories Page 41