Page 23 of Rather: The Therapist

“Ahhhh. Ummmm. Yeeeees.”

She squirmed under my influence, barely able to keep her ass on the sheets. I honed in on her clit, sucking it into my mouth and circling it with my tongue. The distance between her legs began to shorten. Soon enough, I was trapped between her thighs, exactly where I wanted to be. However, the tightening of the space made it difficult to move how I wanted to. How I intended to.

“Loosen up,” I breathed, drenched in her gratification.

Not wasting even a second, I pulled her clit back in, assaulting it over and over again.

“I– Oh God. I can’t.”

“Yes,” I paused and then got back to work before finishing my statement.

“You can.”

“I caaaaaaan’t.”

She had reached the tippy top of her mountain. She was in the homestretch, just before homerun. I pushed her legs further apart with the hand that wasn’t lodged in her insides. With the same hand, I replaced my tongue, desperate to see her unfold. Desperate to see her bloom.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes closed as she began to chase that feeling.

“Open your eyes.”

“I can–”

“Open your fucking eyes and look at me,” I growled.

Those orbs landed, socking me in my chest.

“There you go, dear.”

“Ummmm.”

“How you feeling?”

I asked, determined to distract her, prolonging her climax.

She shook her head from side to side, ready to close her eyes and be taken to that far away place.

“How you feeling?”

“Ahhhhhh. I’m going to cum.”

“I’d like that a lot. Would you?”

She nodded with low lids.

“Eyes on me, baby. Eyes on me.”

Completely and utterly engrossed in the moment, I observed with a dick harder than the bricks used to build the dwelling we were in. She was sex. She embodied the word so beautifully. Without sticking my dick in her, I was oozing. And, pre-cum wasn’t a factor. My dick was spitting up on the floor as she unfolded.

Unraveled.

Untangled.

Unearthed.

Untied.

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