Page 88 of Afternoon Delight
“I’m not staying without you.” I closed the blackout drapes and came to slide my hands over his bare chest.
He sucked in a breath, hollowing his stomach, then dipped his head to give me a rough, hungry kiss.
“Want to get super kinky and do it missionary?” he asked.
“If you say you want to look into my eyes, you’ll hit my hard limit.”
“Ha,” he barked, then patted his jeans. “I have condoms, but I don’t have lube. The condoms weren’t on purpose. I’ve taken to carrying them like an EpiPen. In case of emergency.”
“This feels like an emergency. Way to be a Boy Scout. I’ll run down to the gift shop.”
“No, I’ll go down. On you, I mean.”
“I thought we just negotiated that I would lie still and act like I’m doing you a favor.”
“I’m really turned on by that, actually. Why are you still dressed?”
I took off my boots and pulled off my pullover, not giving myself time to catch a case of the nerves as I asked, “What if I want to go down?”
“On me? Have at it. My cock is your cock. That’s how the saying goes, doesn’t it?”
“Not quite, but I meant together. At the same time.” Joel and I had tried a sixty-nine in the early years, but mostly stuck to straight screwing. I was invariably on top because he had literally expected me to do everything for him.
Zak dropped his hands to his naked hips, cock thickening, black socks still on his feet. “Exactly how much do you want to corrupt this missionary, Megan?”
“Excuse me, sir, but Meg is short for Margaret.” I straightened from kicking off my jeans, now down to my bra and underwear. When I saw the shock on his face, I started sputtering with laughter. “Is this really news to you? You didn’t know my name?”
“Are you messing with me? I genuinely thought Meg was short for Megan.”
“How dare you. Megan is a pretty cheerleader with perky tits and an ass you can bounce quarters off of. I’m named for my mom’s maiden aunt who never had children. By choice. She worked for a company that printed women’s magazines and wrote articles about feminism. She was built like a rectangle.” I waved at my figure, which was as square as my personality.
“We’ve established that I like magazines with women in them, so I think we would have gotten along great.” He dragged me close and kissed me, fingers working to drop my bra straps off my shoulders. His erection pressed into my belly, the tip leaking against my skin. His hand slipped into the back of my underwear, palming my ass.
I released my bra and pulled back enough to drag it out from between us, then went back to sucking the tongue that was invading my mouth.
I rubbed my breasts against his chest, loving the feel of him. In the last few years, sex had become a touch-and-go thing for me. I hadn’t been all that interested for a long time. I’d blamed stress and a stale marriage and perimenopause, but now I was feeling the want again. That horny need to fool around and enjoy the process, not just get ’er done.
I shifted so I could fondle and stroke his cock, loving the feel of it—sleek and hot and hard.
“Babe.” He lifted his head, eyelids heavy, cheeks flushed, lips shiny. “You know I’m going to come down your throat if you sit on my face and suck my cock? I’m ready to come right now.”
I circled my thumb over his frenulum, making him twitch and pulse in my grip. “I can live with that.”
He groaned and pulled me onto the bed.
It was awkward at first as we bumped around trying to get into position, but he groaned again when I closed my mouth over his tip. I moaned as his tongue began sliding between my lips, searching out my clit.
His hands never stopped moving and neither did his tongue. It was kind of distracting in the best possible way, but I didn’t have the mental capacity to be creative. I just sucked, and he seemed fine with that, pulsing his hips as I rocked mine against his face.
I wasn’t planning to swallow, but when I was getting close, he stuck two fingers in my pussy and sucked hard on my clit. A sharp twist of pleasure went through my uterus, radiating waves of sensation that reached all the way to my nipples. I came hard all over his face, moaning and writhing, completely lost to the moment. When his come hit the back of my throat, I reacted out of self-preservation, but I didn’t mind.
I felt smug and close to him as we lay top to toe, sweaty and salty and still trying to catch our breath.
“I have to get in the shower or I’ll fall asleep,” Zak said into the silence. “But that was incredible, Meg. I would’ve been happy if you had just let me cry on your tits, but that...” He rolled to set a kiss against my thigh, beard still damp. “Shower with me?”
“Sure.”
He was the king of afterplay—necking and soaping me, fingering me until I had another little orgasm in the shower.
