Page 91 of Light Up The Night
"Mmmm," I say, "I find that an eminently enjoyable act to perform. Is it enjoyable for you, Riley?"
He only looks at me, but the expression speaks volumes—if only because I am already learning what his expressions mean. This one is disbelief that I could ask such a thing, as if my question is a statement of the glaringly obvious.
"Shall I continue?"
"I'll beg, if that'll help," he growls.
"Tell me what to do?" I murmur.
"Just…" he breaks off with a groan when I wrap my lips around the head of his cock. "Oh, fuck,fuck! Now—now swirl your tongue around me and…and—ohhhhmyfuckinggod—” his eyes cross when I do as he instructed; he bobs his head up and down a few times. "Like that. Not far, just around the head. And use your hands like you have been."
I obey his instructions faithfully, swirling my tongue and bobbing up and down on him so he slides through my lips and against my tongue. All the while, I pump one hand around the thick base of him and caress his balls the way he likes so much.
He enters a state of paroxysm, then, not breathing, seeming unable to so much as groan, his whole body arched and tensed. After a moment like that, he sags back to the mattress, gasping a ragged breath. His hands go to my head, stabbing his fingers into my hair, gathering it into a mass on the top of my head.
I watch him as I perform oral sex on him, and find myself entranced by the faces he makes, the way he contorts his body. And then he starts to groan and grunt and his hips flex and push, and his grip on my hair tightens until my scalp tugs.
Yes—oh yes, he likes this very,verymuch. The feel of him in my mouth, now that I am growing accustomed to the strangesensation, is not unpleasant at all. Not in the least. In fact, I believe I might even come to enjoy this act, were I to have the opportunity to do so again. I find his silly, mindless, desperate reactions endearing, arousing, and strangely adorable.
He is lost to this world, and to everything save me, and my mouth, and my hands. To the pleasure I am giving him.
It is intoxicating.
Addictive.
He must surely be ready to orgasm soon. This is the event I want to see, to feel, to experience. But he said not to hurry. The longer I make this last for him, the better it will be.
And in truth, I am in no hurry. I can breathe quite well through my nose, obviously. I slow the rhythm of my hands and go lower with my mouth…and then fast and shallow, and then fast and deep, playing with depth and rhythm the way I did with my hands. Now, however, there is the added variable of my tongue, and how I use it. Not to mention my hands.
My goodness, this is rather complex, is it not? A fun kind of challenge, one might say.
I taste a rush of the clear fluid he called precum—pre-ejaculate, my memory informs me. Soon, then. I hope. I want it to happen; I am very eager for his orgasm.
He is grunting now, and his hips are moving, flexing—thrusting him into my mouth. I adjust for his movements, allowing him to provide the movement he seems to need, now that he is near to release.
"Cadence!" he gasps. "I'm…oh fuck, oh fuck! Fuck!”
"What, Riley? You are what? Tell me."
"So close. Fuck, your mouth is so good. Oh fuck, it's good. So fucking good." He tightens his grip on my hair, subtly holding my head in place while he thrusts. I trust him to release me if I so indicated.
"Oh fuck, I'm gonna come, Cadence. Oh fuck…yeah baby, just like that. Don't stop!" I find myself unable to stop from going faster the closer he is to orgasm. I pump him with both hands now while using my mouth around the head of his thrusting cock, and I taste him leaking, feel him throbbing against my lips, feel the heat of him and taste the salt of his skin, and I let him thrust into my mouth until he is frantic and grunting.
"I—ohhhhh god, oh god—ohfuckohgod." He tugs on my hair twice—why I am not sure. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna come—now, Cadence, I'm—shit!" The last is not a sound of release or pleasure but a sudden realization.
He pulls me away so his cock slides out of my mouth, and he pushes my face to the side. I still have my hands on him, and while I cannot claim to know why he removed me from his cock when I know without a doubt how good my mouth made him feel, I know he must have his reasons, and I trust them, so I stroke him with both hands as fast as I can.
With a wordless, guttural shout, Riley thrusts once into my fists, arched off the bed, and then…gasps, breathless. His eyes fly open and find mine, and then we both turn our attention to his cock.
A stream of viscous white fluid erupts out of him and splashes in a stripe up his belly. And again—he grunts and gasps, and ribbon after ribbon of semen shoots out of him, and it seems the more I stroke him through his orgasm, the more crazed he becomes, his whole body jerking helplessly, spasming as he groans and thrusts into my hands.
I see now why he pulled away. Had he not, I would have been surprised by the eruption of his orgasm. Once again, I know the medical, anatomical explanation of human intercourse. I have witnessed it both in person in various circumstances—my roommate, for example—and in informational videos. Butnothing can prepare one for the real, live, in-person experience of a man's ejaculation.
After several long seconds of orgasm, the flood of semen ceases, becoming a dribble and then nothing. There is quite a voluminous puddle of the stuff on his belly.
Curiosity convinces me to swipe my index finger over his tip, catching a smear of the fluid on my finger, which I lick away. It tastes like precum, only more intensely flavored.
I meet his eyes, and see bemusement in his expression. "What?" I ask. "Why do you look at me so?"
