Page 20 of Service Included

And then we were stretched alongside each other’s bodies, our feet hanging in the air at the end of the couch, and I understood the reasons for this deep design. That’s when I told him that I was a good girl. I’m not sure he believed me, because he laughed low and deep in his chest, and said, “Yes, yes you are,” in the way that I know means not at all. So I clarified. I used the word virgin.

Did I mention that Mr. G is a lawyer? He’s always good with a response. His answer was, “We can accommodate that.”

Before I could reach out to him, Mr. G moved over my body, his knees on either side of my hips and his weight dipping that section lower than where my shoulders rested. Finding myself in the position of the horse and not the cowgirl was fine, as long as he didn’t expect me to run a barrel course. And no bridles. I wasn’t going to wear a bridle.

Readers, is it terrible to admit that the idea of a riding crop had a certain appeal?

With his body straddling mine, his penis was front and center, pointing at me. I could smell it, earthy and wild like a forest animal. If I’d had a carrot to offer, I imagine his penis would have reached out and bit it, that hungry bugger. Feeling like taming that beast, I grabbed for his buttocks, same as I would reach out to haul a set of tack. My fingers barely dented those flexed muscles, his buttocks were that taut and firm.No marbling in that meatwas the thought on my mind when he surprised me again.

“Not yet.” He removed my hands and stretched my arms over my head until my fingers bumped into the cushioned side arm. “Pa—”

“You don’t have to say it.” I deliberately stuck out my lower lip. “Paaaay-tience.”

“Mary.” The hint of consequences in his tone provoked goose bumps along my bare flesh. Or maybe that was the result of the way he transferred my wrists to one of his. I was stretched below him, and I hoped he’d use his free hand to flick my nipples like he had before. “Look at me, if you please.”

I’d thought I was, but I guess he meant his face. “Yes, sir?” Perhaps that emerged more saucily than I’d intended, because his nostrils flared and his lips thinned.

“You will hold on to this couch.” He folded himself and lowered his head to my breasts, which meant his own shoulders blocked my view of that bobbing penis and its promises.

But then he latched onto my breast with his hot mouth, and I couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Sir.” Between my legs, I felt his cock, and yes, it was a cock now. It was a bad, bad cock pressing against the thin little cotton crotch of my thin little panties. And that bit of fabric was wet from the both of us and all I wanted to do was arch into it and rub my pussy cunt because I’d become all the wicked words I ever knew and a whole lot more I made up on the spot. They were running through my head as fast as his tongue flicked my tit. With his fingers twisting my other nipple and all those feelings in me, I couldn’t believe I didn’t tear the cushion. I wanted to crush his waist, I wanted to pull his hair, wanted to take my hands and squeeze any part of him that I could reach, but he wouldn’t let me.

“Are you…” He pushed his cock against my panties until I felt the fabric mold his body the way I wanted to. “Going to grab me?”

“No. Sir.”Fuck—my heartbeat thundered the ultimate forbidden word—fuck.Then I sensed the gusset of my underwear being pushed aside and a finger entered me, his finger. The feeling of another person coming into my body to deliver pleasure, connecting with me for the first time, was everything the magazines had promised.

The world had narrowed to the couch, so I could even hear the tiny sounds his finger made going in and out of my pussy. And I could feel the tip of his cock smudging my inner thigh. More pressure, more pleasure, and I realized he’d put a second finger inside me. Every sensation was a thousand touches. Every sound was a blast. Every breath, a thunderstorm. All of him was seeking and pressing while I was rising and reaching, both of us reaching for more.

“Don’t let go.” No smoothness left in his voice, nothing but clawing need while his fingers pistoned in and out of my wet pussy. He went faster, and I was wetter, and then another touch, this one on my—oh, there, the special place—and that made me speak the Lord’s name in vain. Whatever he wanted, that’s what I would do to keep his hand creating those feelings, but my throat wouldn’t unlock to tell him. I needed to scream at him to release the coils tightening around me, but no matter how wide I opened my mouth, how much I gasped for air, I was mute. And then I was shouting. I was pinned, but flying.

Sometime later, I blinked at him. I felt dazed and soft. He cradled my cheek with a hand that smelled of me. We were sweaty everywhere our bodies touched, but at the same time, I didn’t think we were touching at enough places.

“That was beautiful, Mary.” He said my name deliberately, more often than anyone else did, almost like he could claim me by using it. “Youare beautiful. Especially when you come.”

No one had ever said anything remotely like that to me. My lips felt dry, my tongue too wide for the inside of my mouth. I had to swallow before answering. “Thank you, sir.”

I couldn’t move, but he rose back to his knees. Either his cock had become more defined, or my vision had become clear as a hawk’s, because I thought I could see the pulse of each individual vein. Even the tiny changes in his skin became as distinct as the gloss on the end. But instead of letting me stare, he reached into the candy box we’d left on the floor. And then—this memory gives me warm chills, if those can exist—he grabbed his penis in one hand, and smushed a chocolate-covered cherry all over himself, creating a cap of chocolate with cordial filling dripping from the end.

I couldn’t let that goodness fall, so I parted my lips and raised my shoulders to signal him, and then presto! His penis was there. As soon as I opened my mouth, like when I sing, the head slid past my lips and teeth.

“Suck me.” His voice sounded ragged, interrupted by his breathing, and the command astonished me because it was so unlike his polite reminders to be patient.

My tongue traced the tight skin around the rim of his head, from one side to the other. It wasn’t quite like candy, which gets smaller when you suck, not bigger. I tried to swallow him, but no matter how fast I sucked, my mouth was full. Then fuller. His eyelids squeezed shut. He tilted his head back as if he was in pain, but the whole time, he thrust in and out of my mouth, so I was clear on the fact that he wasn’t. In real pain, that is. His suffering was more metaphorical.

“You may. Let go. Of the couch.” The words slipped between his clenched teeth, timed with his thrusts.

I immediately encircled the base of his shaft with my thumb and fingers and dug my other hand into his hip. I could taste a flavor that I guessed was semen. I’d heard people call itcum,and I’d had no idea what it would taste like or why anyone would taste it, until this moment in which all the reasons, all the whys and hows and hot thrusts of wondrous stickycumbecame clear. If saltwater taffy was less sugary and more wet—that’s not a good comparison, but I imagine you understand. Every time he pulled away, I slurped to get him back, and he groaned. When I let myself relax, he could push deep into my throat.

Then he pulled a trick-riding move worthy of the main arena at the Ellensburg rodeo. He swapped directions and ended facing away from me. I was left looking at the tight curves of his butt and the groove where they linked to his spine, until he pulled my hips and scooted into a position where his knees were behind my head. Understanding hit. In this position, I still had his stick to lick, and now he could reach where my panties covered, well,not very much.

Sharing this makes me need to get up and walk around; even my fingers feel agitated as I write. Also, my bra feels as if it shrank in the laundry.

Mr. G must have only needed one hand to support himself, because somehow, he yanked my panties away and pushed a finger into my slippery pussy again, but this time, his mouth followed. He licked the crease where my thigh met my body, which drew the nerves from deep inside to the surface. With his legs on either side of my head, his musk completely surrounded me. This was the most unfair position, because that blue-eyed handsome man was in me and around me and I was writhing and moaning, but I couldn’t see one bit of what he was doing. I couldn’t tell his fingers from his mouth. It was all of a piece. I could feel, and react, and even drown in his scent, but I could not see.

He bucked deep while we found complementary motions, like the pairing of a pumpjack at a well. There we were, his rod going in and out of my mouth, and his mouth all over my pussy. When his tongue speared me, I needed to spread open, which was a very peculiar feeling because I’d always felt like I should hold myself tightly together. I didn’t know a man’s tongue, which is soft when you’re kissing, could become a muscle on its own to spike into that part between a woman’s legs. But it dove at the place I liked to touch. I was so wet already, but his mouth added more, and his fingers helped his mouth, or maybe his tongue helped his fingers. Pleasure heaved my hips off the couch, hard into his face, while his cock went deep into mine. I needed two mouths. One to suck him and one to scream, because my lungs were screaming, my heart was screaming. I wanted to yell his name, yell the wordYes, yell all the stuff I said after I rode cleanly through a barrel course. Mostly, I just wanted to yell.

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