A Valentine's Day He Will Never Forget - Sex Stories

A Valentine's Day He Will Never Forget

... tickling his earlobe. “Would that drive you crazy?”

“Fucking hell, please, stop.” His cock throbs with every syllable.

“I don’t think you want me to stop at all... I’d be sitting on you just like this, moaning, pretending that he is about to slide his cock into me or grunt into your ear, telling you how rough he’s fingering me and how much I fucking love it. Like with Jack. Remember?" Of course, he remembers. "You came just watching him trying to fist me (or something bordering on) and me howling the place down. Fuck, that was the best night ever. But this one can even be better. Tell me, baby, tell me you want him to fuck me on top of you while you are tied up, unable to do anything about it, unable to see any of it.”

Only my hot pants-style lounge shorts and his boxers are separating skin from skin; his length rests between my labia, his head throbbing on my clit. I'm driving both of us to insanity with my words.

“Tell me you want it,” I grind my teeth together with such force that I'm surprised not to have dislocated my jaw. “Tell me you want it, and you will not regret it.”

He opens his eyes to the sight of me shredding my skimpy loungewear, rolling down his boxers and locking the door.

“Say yes, baby.” I study his face with my best Harley Quinn impression, my silky black hair brushing against his chest as I kiss and nibble on his nipples.

“Yes, big fucking yes,” he hisses in bitter surrender - his sane and smart senses sailing away in front of my ...

... very eyes. He's mine. Just one of my toys. But, by far my favourite one.

“I want you to have a taste of what this little fantasy is doing to me.” I clamber on his face clumsily while mumbling something like, "I came up here to offer you blueberry pancakes, but I just can't help it - now, I'm dying to be your breakfast instead."

His muffled moans are a far cry from a protest. I know he loves it when I take charge like this, and the surprise element of doing it in the morning when he's just woken up makes it all the naughtier.

This bed is ill-suited for any kind of lovemaking, but especially this kind and I can’t wait to get rid of it. The mattress is too soft, too sinky, and don’t even get me started on the ugly brownish shade of faux-leather frame. But, it has a nice wide and low headboard, one that can support my body on my elbows perfectly – to get comfortable on his face.

“Just a little taste,” I repeat. “Think back to that scene. Imagine his new, unfamiliar flavour on me. I know it turns you on. I know it fucks with your mind knowing someone else just enjoyed my wet cunt, doesn't it? You perverted little fuck." He likes it when I call him that because I purr into it and my harsh, continental R’s are drilling the message into his sick little mind.

Supporting myself on my knees, I make sure I don't give him what he wants just yet. I tease him with the sight and smell of my obvious need. "Beg for it! Tell me you want to taste his cock on my pussy!"

But ...