Friday morning, Belle wanted some. I was still in my funky mood and not entirely interested in giving it up, but damn if my hormones didn’t betray me. All she had to do was put her hands in the right places and show me her tits and I was all over her.
She came with my face planted firmly against her snatch, my tongue pressed hard against her clit. I rolled over next to her, hand grasping the hard steel tube between my legs, seething.
“How do you feel?” she asked, knowing I had not been myself lately.
“I want to fuck you so bad,” was all I could say. It was true. The cock was throbbing in its prison. It had been nearly six weeks with only a brief trip out when I was sick. I wanted to feel her hot pussy envelope her hard cock. Really. Bad.
“Well, you’re still going to have to wait,” she said. I’m only half way to my next orgasm, sometime around the end of December. “Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll let you in for a little bit so you can remember what it felt like, but not right now.”
The thought of being let out and allowed to fuck her, even without coming, has been with me ever since. Countless times each day, hand on my crotch, thinking of being free and balls deep, hot and wet. I really can’t stop thinking about it.
Tonight, as we went to bed, she knew I wanted it and I had a pretty good idea something was going to happen. Once the kids were asleep, she told me to get naked and I plastered myself against her, slowly grinding the steel into her leg, my lips against her chin and throat.
“Do you deserve it?” she asked, knowing clearly what was on my mind.
“What?” I stumbled. “I…I don’t know. I don’t know if I deserve it. But I want it. I want to fuck you so bad.”
“That’s not the same.”
I continued to nuzzle her and kiss her and wait out her judgment. I wanted the steel off. I wanted to be inside her.
“You don’t deserve it,” she finally said. I whimpered and the cock surged. She told me I hadn’t been keeping up with my duties lately, which is true, and that I needed to shape up before she let me fuck her, even without coming. I lobbied back, reminding her of all the things I had done in the previous 48 hours, desperate for credit. Desperate to salvage the opportunity.
“Don’t whine,” she said firmly. “You told me to make it hard. This is the hard part. Do a good job and maybe I’ll let you out. In the mean time, I’ll let you give me an orgasm.”
It’s true, I had told her it had to be hard or it wouldn’t feel real. But fucking hell, all I wanted was a few minutes out. Just a little fuck with nothing to show for it afterward but a hard, wet dick. But no. I could feel the desire within me that had been building and feeding itself for days buckle and snap under the finality of her position. The door had closed. I would have to try harder to make her happy.
A few minutes later, I had Mr. Darcy out, but not in the harness. I was fucking her alright, but with the life-like, Thumper-sized dildo in my right hand. I pushed it home, all the way to the base and flicked my index finger over her clit. She started to writhe and squirm and I could imagine how hard she was clamping on the dildo deep inside her while the real cock, her other cock, pouted in its tube. She came with her ass off the bed, head back, hand clutching mine hard, silent scream contorting her face.
After a little glow time, I pulled Darcy out, sucked him off, and placed him back in the nightstand. She fell asleep, sated. I wrote this, still hot, still horny as all fuck.