Page 64 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

My hand sinks into her hair and I begin to take control, pushing her head down a little further with each bob. When I look down at her again, her eyes are closed, but she’s only taking me about halfway into her mouth. That won’t do.

I growl and pull her head down, feeling her throat stretch while she chokes. I don’t keep her there long, letting her remove me entirely from her mouth. When her head lifts, there’s saliva dripping down her chin and I lean forward to kiss her. I taste the slightest hint of my saltiness in her mouth when my tongue explores her. Her eyes are closed when I pull back and relax against the couch again.

“You’re not done,” I growl.

Honey grins and returns to work, sucking and forcing herself to deepthroat me. My breathing comes in faster with each constriction of her throat and I have to pull her off me.

“I think,” I pant, “it’s your turn to take control.”

Honey grins, raising an eyebrow, and when she speaks, her voice is lower, velvety smooth.

“So you want to be a good boy?” she asks. I nod enthusiastically. “You want to make me happy?” I nod again, and she stands to allow me to take her place.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She moves between me and the couch but doesn’t sit. Instead, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her bike shorts.

“You want to make me feel good?” she asks, slowly pulling down, revealing herself.

My mouth waters and I nod. When her shorts are around her ankles, Honey kicks them off and then pulls off her shirt in one smooth motion. Without allowing me to fully appreciate her tits, she turns to kneel on the couch, facing away from me.

“Show me,” she orders. “Use your mouth and make me feel better than I did when I got home.”

“Fuck,” I breathe, the sight of her making my cock ache to be inside her.

I crawl forward until I can kiss the backs of her thighs, then trail up to her ass. My throbbing erection is still hanging from my pants and I can smell her arousal. I inhale deeply through my nose and sigh, salivating. When I press my tongue to her clit and lick upward, I don’t stop until my tongue reaches her puckered asshole. Honey moans in front of me.

“Good boy.”

I like praise. I’ve known that for a while, but the words from Honey’s lips have me dying to sink my cock into her. I shove my face into her pussy, devouring, lapping at her. Honey reaches back and grabs my hair tightly, trying to pull me further forward. My nose is practically in her ass when I slip my tongue inside her and she gasps.

I want to make her come on my tongue. I use it to swirl around her clit, not stopping even when her hips try to pull away. My arms wrap around her thighs, pulling her back toward me so I can torture her more. She whines my name, wiggling her hips as much as she can while I hold her. I want desperately to talk to her. I want to praise her like I did before, but I worry if I stop, she’ll lose the momentum. I won’t be the reason her orgasm eludes her.

I continue my attack until she cries out in beautiful agony, her back arching, pussy gushing and soaking my face. Without stopping, I wonder in the back of my mind if she can squirt. I’ll have to try to find out next time.

When her orgasm subsides, I pull away from her, trying to catch my breath. She turns to grin at me.

“What are you waiting for?” Honey asks with a grin. “Be a good boy and fuck me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

I’m on my feet in seconds, practically tripping in my haste to pull off my jeans. I don’t want anything in the way. I grab her hips, burying myself in a single thrust. Honey cries out again, her head thrown back while I begin a punishing rhythm. The sound of her wet pussy taking every inch of me fills the studio, loud and wet and lewd. If I wasn’t rock hard already, I surely would be just by listening to those sounds.

“Oh, god, Honey,” I grunt, my release closer than I want it to be already. “Use me,” I beg. “Fucking use my cock.”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she pants. “If you stop, I’ll have to punish you.”

“Maybe I want that,” I retort, continuing to piston into her.

She can’t keep up the banter, moaning when I sink my hand into her hair and pull her head back slightly.

“Good boy,” is all she can whimper. “My good boy.”

Fuck.

“Yes,” I moan, my voice rising. “I’myourgood boy.”

I’ve been hers from day one. Hers from the first time I saw her, standing there in the doorway. She may look like the girl next door, but the woman is a fucking demon–respectfully.

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