Glamour Shots, Chapter 22 - Sex Stories

Glamour Shots, Chapter 22

... the underside of my chin. She continued to rub that same sensitive spot on my cock, her fingers greasy with semen, laughing as she watched me pump several more spurts of creamy cum all over myself. Very quickly my belly and chest were coated in my own fluids. I was gasping, my body wracked with muscle spasms as she continued to torture me even after my geyser had tapered off. “God, Alli, stop!” She laughed. “I don’t think so!” And she didn’t! My sweet, loving, innocent wife had, for some reason, decided that she was going to drive me insane with sensations that rode that razor’s edge between pain and pleasure; I was shuddering, sweating. Her slick, cum-coated fingers torturing my hyper-sensitive cock were too much, and I convulsed as if I was holding a live electrical wire. She just laughed again. “You seem a little twitchy tonight, my dear.” I choked out a tortured laugh. “Alli, baby… for fuck’s sake, stop! I think I’m dying here!” “But what a way to go, right?” She squeezed my aching balls with one hand while rubbing the head of my penis with the other. I groaned. “Ohhh, fuck! God! She-devil!” She giggled again. “If I stop, do you promise to eat my pussy?” “Of course! Yes, anything, just please have mercy!” “Two orgasms, minimum?” She was smiling broadly as I squirmed. “At least… whatever you want!” My nerve endings were raw, my stomach muscles aching from being tensed so long. Laughing, she finally released her grip on my slippery, tortured cock, which bobbed and twitched ...

... with uncontrollable spasms; she moved so that her jeans-clad crotch was over my face, one of her tall heels digging into my hip. “So tell me, have I soaked through my pants yet? Can you tell?” She was almost too close to my face for me to focus, but I could see that she had indeed saturated her new jeans, a dark oval of her moisture bracketing the center seam. I laughed. “Horny slut! Yes, you’ve drenched them, juicy girl – they’re due for a trip to the laundry.” I nuzzled the dark wet spot with my nose as she wriggled against my face. She pressed herself to my face. “Laundry? No, these bad boys are dry-clean only!” I leaned away and looked up at her. “Really? Wow, the wonders of modern technology! Blue jeans you can’t wash… what’ll they think of next?” She laughed as she gently slapped my face. “Smarty! It’s the rhinestones – plus, if they shrank even a tiny bit I’d never get into them again!” I reached around and squeezed her tightly-clad ass. “Well, that part’s true. You look hotter than hell tonight, in case I haven’t mentioned it.” “Mmm, nice – and thank you. But I think I prefer you as my pussy-eating boy-toy rather than my fashion critic.” “I can’t do both?” “Not at the same time.” I laughed. “Valid point! Are you going to take off those hot, wet pants, or am I going to have to chew my way through them?” She laughed as she climbed off of me. “Take them off, definitely! I kind of like ‘em, don’t you?” “Very much… all the more since they were free.” Kicking her heels off, ...