Page 85 of Sideline Play

Biting my lip, I nod, “Have to be sure though.” I kiss the hollow of his throat before flattening my tongue and languidly licking the buttercream up his pulse.

His fingers dig into my ass, the material of my dress bunched and fisted in his hands, as I seal my lips at the top and suck on him, his rough swallow pushing against my mouth.

“Yep,” I breathe, kissing the blooming red spot, “It’s you.”

Scooping up his own massive helping, Remi shakes his head, “I’m not convinced.” His fingers disappear up my dress where he starts to transfer it down my inner thigh, as he reclines back on the carpet. “Come sit on my face so I can see for myself.”

Reaching for the hidden zipper on the side of my dress, he snatches my wrist and pulls it away. “Leave the dress on."

I drop my zipper and instead grasp either side of my dress’s slit and further spread it open to reveal my only undergarment being the pale blue lace garter adorning my left thigh.

“I wanted to go with green, but something blue is the superstition and?—”

“And we don’t mess with superstitions,” he finishes with quiet awe, his large palms caressing up my thighs to my bare butt where his fingers sink into the muscles, pulling me down to his mouth as he growls, “Fuck, my wife’s pussy is so wet and pretty.” With his tongue licking up my thigh, he asks, “Who’s all this for, baby girl?”

“You,” I whimper, knees wanting to close and trap him under me when he doesn’t go further.

Making direct eye contact with me, Remi asks, “And who am I?”

“Daddy.”

Nipping at the crevice of my thigh, he admonishes, “Try again, wife.”

Whimpering as his breath grazes my flesh, I murmur, “My husband,” crying out when my answer rewards me with the instant satisfaction of feeling his tongue plunge into my pussy.

Hiking up the material of my dress, its layers overflowing in my arms, I sit down further on his mouth, bouncing and rocking with each of his shallow, curled thrusts. An entire day of delayed gratification, of not having my husband’s hands and lips on me, his fingers or cock inside me, sprints forth and turns my breath short and my pulse thunderous within seconds.

When he spanks me and roughly grips my hips to force me down until I’m truly sitting on him, a desperate, keening mewl escapes me as I answer his demand and begin to rub myself on his tongue, lips, and trimmed scruff, the dueling sensations overtaking me as they become all I can feel.

It’s fast and hard, a true burst of tension inside me when my orgasm hits. No build up. No hanging in the balance. No split second of time freezing as I fall. Just sharp, blinding, fumbling release that has me crumpling over Remington as my eyes screw up tight against the stars and my hips writhe and chase every pulsing contraction of my cunt until I’m panting and twitching.

But instead of taking the edge off, my orgasm has only made it worse. The lazy strokes of my husband’s tongue as he laps at my cum doing little to help. Clenching my thighs around him, I bear down on the sensation, trying to urge him along, seeking more pressure, more friction, more anything.

My voice is a broken whimper as I implore him for more, my hips rhythmless and frustrating as I hump, grind, and writhe to no avail. Without even trying, Remington has edged me and broken me down to little more than a sobbing, needy mess. An entire day without his cum, without him inside me, hardly feeling his touch has me going through withdrawal. Thefast, too quick release is not nearly enough. I need more, am desperate for it, and still he restrains my hips and maintains his maddeningly slow pace.

“Daddy, please,” I cry, actual tears starting to well up in my eyes as the pressure low in my belly expands. “Give me your cock.”

“I love when you beg for my cock,” he chuckles darkly, knowing full well what he’s done to me before grazing his teeth over my clit, a stuttered grunt leaving me as my cunt contracts but not enough to fall over into euphoria. “Ask me nicely.”

Being at my husband’s mercy has my pussy so wet, I can feel the heat of my arousal at the tops of my thighs. Feel the slick he was unable to capture on his tongue slip free of me. I’m wound so tight, I don’t hesitate. I beg and plead for his dick, his fingers, something to fill the void between my legs. I’ll give him anything, say whatever he needs and wants to hear so long as he takes care of me and the raging inferno he’s caused in my blood.

I’m so far gone I don’t even realize he’s no longer under me until I feel his hand around my throat, his grip just enough to direct my head up to where he wants. In the glowing warmth of our living room windows, I see the small smile that graces his lips, the dancing flames of the candles and fireplace providing just enough light that the windows have become semi-distorted mirrors.

“You look beautiful, Scar,” he hums, kissing my temple. “Your tight little cunt weeping for my cock. So desperate to come you have tears rolling down your cheeks as you beg for it. And your pretty dress all rumpled and gaping open.

“I wanted to be gentle with you. Make love to you sweet and slow. Take my time and worship every inch of your body before finally sliding home. But that’s not what my wife needs right now is it? You need to have your Daddy fuck you and fill you with his cum, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

Removing the hand around my throat and bringing it to grip and dimple my hips, he pushes me away from him to better look at my puffy pussy, tongue wetting his lips as he growls, “Say, ‘Please,’ baby girl.”

It’s debauched. Filthy and shameless. We aren’t even undressed, his suit pants opened and pulled down just enough to free his rigid, veiny cock and my gown rucked up around my hips. And yet it’s perfect. I wouldn’t have tonight any other way. Not with this burning need to have my husband take me for the first time as his wife. The excitement for it built up so high, I can’t imagine any other kind of love shared between us tonight to be nearly as satisfying.

He’s gliding through my wetness, coating himself with me, moving at a speed that would suggest he isn’t as desperate to come in me as I am to have him. It’s a lie though. His reflection shows the truth, revealing how firm he’s gripping the base of his shaft. How hard he’s working to control himself. The harsh pinch of his brow and tight set of his jaw. Still, I play along, meeting his eyes in the window and pouting, “Please, Daddy. Please may I have your cock and your cum?”

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he muses before notching his head at my entrance and slamming home with a brutal thrust that has me screaming as I bow down against the intrusion, offering even more of myself up to him.

“Fuck, baby,” Remington hisses, already retreating before pounding back into me. “So perfect.”

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