Derelict - Sex Stories

Derelict

... “I could run with that response, but I’ll let it slide since you’ve been so detailed in your definition and description of head. You need to know that I’ve been watching you for a long time Miss Carmelita.” “Is that right? Tell me, what’ve you been watching?” “Your gorgeousness.” “Any one thing in particular?” “All of it.” “And you were hiding a lot underneath that coat,” I stated, noticing that street did a body good. “Thanks again for the bath, the shower, and the bath. Now, I want to show my appreciation in the best way I know how. Do you approve?” “Please, show me your gratitude,” I purred as my kitten began to drip. The Isley Brothers’ song,’ In Between the Sheets’ was playing in my mind. “Oh, I am. But first, a little foreplay...where are your cleaning supplies - bleach, sponges, scrub brush...you know – for the bathroom?” And Adam dragged the arm of the record player across the vinyl. “Um, yea...wow. The supplies are in the laundry room – down the hall and to the right,” I explained with a scowl. “You have a diagnosis of OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, don’t you?” What the hell? My Zoloft isn’t in the guest bathroom. Where’s he getting his information? “Who are you, and where did that question come from?” “Answer my question first. OCD, right?” “Yes, but...” “Let’s just say that I have experience with the disorder. Allow me restore your all white bathroom back to its former state of spotlessness. So that when I return to you, there will be no distractions. ...

... Understand? Just relax and I’ll be back in a bit.” “Sure. But when you return, I’ll require that you expound on your knowledge of my personal business. I don’t know you, and you certainly don’t know me. Your revelation seems to be coming from thin air, and now you want to clean. Clean? Does my house seem dirty to you? I guess it does. So, clean then,” I spouted. Cursing under my breath, I turned over, snatched my trapped clothing out of my turn, and closed my eyes. One breath later, he was on top of me - naked, in all of his splendid deliciousness. He gyrated and rocked in between my long extended gams until I felt the extent of his breadth. Rolling beads of perspiration added to the flood in my canal. Flesh smashed against flesh, as he rode my clit with his tip. “Fuck me,” I pleaded. The Isley Brothers’ ditty, ‘In Between the Sheets’ resumed playing. Blood-engorged mad bone massaged and pushed around my opening - first a nuzzling on the right, a slide, and then a gliding on the left. His movements reminded me of an inexperienced college boy having difficulties finding the buried treasure, until he repeated his sequence. Then I knew I was in for the most torturous delay. “Put it in!” I demanded. He moved his hand to cover my mouth and eased in three fingers, “Not yet, not quite yet.” My pleas turned to moans as I thrust my hips in an attempt to make him miss his mark. “Oh no, not yet. You see... I need to consume that pussy that’s been walking over me for well over a year now. I need ...