Page 44 of Missing Linc
I like this man. I like him a lot.
And he likes me, too.
Did I hit the jackpot or what?
“You’ve got a point there, sailor,” he says.
“Sailor?” I raise an eyebrow.
He laughs and covers his mouth.
“I have no idea where that came from. Or why,” he says, and that makes me laugh.
God, I can come just hearing his laugh.
I push him fully on his back and climb down to his glorious dick that's leaking and pulsing with need.
It’s gorgeous and tasting it is another experience in and of itself.
I cover his crown with my lips and test his size in my mouth before I take more and more of him.
His cock throbs in my mouth, sending me into a frenzy of need and heat.
He takes locks of my hair in his fingers and caresses my head, but he doesn’t force or push my movements. He lets me have complete control, and damn it, that’s hot.
“Turn around. I want to taste you,” he says.
I lift up to glance at him and smirk before turning my body over him and lining up my front hole and dick with his mouth.
When I return to my job at hand—literally—it’s so much harder. The job, not the cock. Although that’s also hard.
His tongue wets my t-dick and my flaps, and his hot breath gives me goosebumps down there. And those goosebumps ain’t helping keep me off the edge.
I take him in my mouth and try to swallow his entire length, but even with a little bit of effort and a lot of gagging, I still can’t get to the root.
Damn. That’s hot.
I pull at his skin instead and jerk him off the rest of the way since I can’t do what I wanted. And that seems to do the trick because his tongue freezes in my hole for a few moments and he breathes heavily, moaning, groaning before he goes back to eating me out.
But he doesn’t stop there. With both hands, he pulls apart my butt cheeks and rubs a finger over my butt hole.
I clench against him, and he removes the finger.
When he puts it back on me, it’s wet and slippery, and I have to pull his dick out of my mouth to breathe as he inserts it in me. His thumb of the same hand reaches over to my front, and he slips it into my other hole while his tongue flicks over my dick over and over again.
He’s trying to kill me here. There’s no other explanation.
I lean back against him and rest my head on his stomach. This is… it’s hard to multitask when it feels like my body is about to explode.
But I don’t want to come, either. Since starting testosterone three years ago, my orgasms have changed. They’re more intense, more knee-buckling, firework-exploding kind of stuff, but also they take more out of me so it’s hard to get horny again sometimes.
It was an adjustment at first. But an adjustment I was all too happy to make. Living in a body I’m comfortable and happy in is the best feeling in the world.
“You need to fuck me. Right now,” I say, getting off of him and turning around so I can kiss that beautiful, magnificent mouth and lick that talented tongue of his.
He opens his drawer, takes a condom out, and puts it on with a skill I haven’t seen in anyone in a long while, rubs some lube over his length and I guide his dick inside me with rushed, clumsy moves.
So what? I’m a dick-thirsty queen. Sue me.
