Page 81 of Return To You

“Do you like it?”

“I want it. With you, I want it. I want you to take your pleasure with me.”

My dick weeps at her words. “But do you want it?”

She slides a hand between her legs and her eyelids lower as she nods timidly. This woman is utter. Perfection.

I place myself at her mouth, and good god she’s hungry. She reaches over to turn the shower off. Then she sucks me off, checking on me to see if I like it, what I like, until she places both my hands on her head and motions for me to fuck her face.

So I do.

I could do this for hours. And I want to. But I don’t want to put Grace through this for too long. So with a little regret and immense thankfulness for how she likes sex with me, I pull her off my cock. “I’m gonna come, babe.” I hope she stays on her knees, so I can come on her face, or at least her breasts, but she takes me deep inside her mouth, and I hit her throat. She grabs my ass to pull me tighter, bobbing her head, sucking with her tongue, her cheeks, driving me wild with just a little teeth, and I empty myself in her. And I groan like never before. And I hold her head against my crotch, the tremors of my orgasm shaking my whole body. And when I’m done and she pulls out, she swallows one last time and as she stands, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and straddles my thigh.

“Fingers,” she whimpers, and my god I can’t believe it, but she’s drenched, drenched from giving me head. She comes on my hand, on my thigh, and once her shaking subsides, I kiss her, and we both slide down to the shower floor and catch our breaths.

“Do you think I have a problem?” she asks in a small voice after a little time has passed. We’re still on the shower floor.

I stroke her back. “What do you mean?”

“I-I just like sucking you off so much. It makes me wet just talking about it.” She wiggles in my arms.

Ah fuck. My dick stands at attention. Again. “Yeah, no, I don’t think that’s a problem,” I chuckle.

She nods, then after a few more beats swallows loudly.

“What is it?” I prompt her.

“Are-are all women like that?”

I look down at her. “I don’t know about all women. All I know is, you’re perfect.”

Another loud swallow.

“What?” I ask teasingly.

“Am I? Perfect doesn’t sound very sexy.”

“Ah. I see. Hmm.” How can I put it without scaring her away? “You’re my dirtiest fantasies come true. How’s that?”

“Now that’s perfect.” She seems to think about it. “Fantasies? Name one.”

“Fucking against the wall. Fucking in the shower.” That’s two. I could go on. Fucking you in my jersey.

“You never had sex in the shower?”

Ouch. “No. You?”

“No,” she says immediately. “But you seem so… experienced, I figured you’d done it all.”

I have taken the exploration of the woman’s body quite seriously, and especially the foreplay that leads to a woman craving a man. But sex in the shower? “Sex in the shower is… it’s just too intimate.”

“And yet here we are,” she says.

And I don’t know what to answer to that. What does she mean? That we’re not intimate enough for that, or that we are?

twenty-six

Grace

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