Identity

May 19, 2013 5 Comments by ximenawrites Cock Worship

I’m not just a warm hole.
I want to feel, know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you wanted to fuck me, not the idea of me.
That you jacked off thinking about doing things to me, and having me do things to you before you found the courage to tell me so.
Me, not just a woman, a body, a cunt.
Me.
Taken, not used.
Fucked, yes, not fucked over.

 

◊     ◊     ◊

 

“Heya.” A wave of soap and mouthwash made her feel suddenly tender. She must’ve made a face, because he started to speak. “I know you don’t like the smell of cigarettes, so I…”

“I don’t care.” She pressed against him. His body tensed as she traced the line of his throat.

She kissed him. Her hands were claws on his shirt, and something tore. He stuck a finger through the hole in the cotton and smiled. His lips were pink from her lovebites. “This is my favorite shirt. Was, anyways.”

She looked suddenly cold, even though she was flushed. “Fuck…” Her pretty face grew even more crimson, and she started to walk away. He took her in his arms and hugged her tight enough that her breasts ached against his chest, but her grip loosened, and then dropped away.

“Wait, what’s the matter?” He brushed his scruff against her temple, but she pushed him away. He didn’t understand until she gathered up her purse and started to put on her coat. He blocked the door. She stared at the ring he still wore on his finger, even though his wife had left him for another over a four months ago.

“This was a mistake.” Her hand trembled as she tried to pull him out of the way. She gave off a heat that hardened him. He’d watched her, wanted her for months (God forgive him, longer than he’d been single, much longer) and he refused to give up his chance.

He stuck his finger in the hole and pulled until the shirt tore in two. “See? It’s no big deal. I have other shirts in my bag.” The door behind him locked with a portentous click.

She dropped to her knees, and her purse’s contents spilled all over the floor. He felt her overheated mouth on the belly exposed by his ripped shirt, fingers pulling at his fly. He wasn’t wearing underwear, so her mouth was sucking on the tip of his cock before he could instinctively help her with her bag. She wet him with saliva and her lips slid hotly on him. He looked at the papers tacked to the wall, the dusty light fixture over his head as she squeezed his ass and pulled him rhythmically into her mouth. If he looked down and saw her beautiful face, her eyes glassy with desire he would explode then and there and possibly embarrass himself. She sucked him deep and flexed her throat muscles on his cock. His knees shook, and her hands moved down and held them still as she licked and sucked slowly.

He tried to be the macho man and pull her up, but she remained on her knees. She shook her head slowly, stroking and never taking her eyes off his dick.

“I’m not done yet.”

“But I will be if  you keep going like that,” he said. He leaned on the door and caressed her. Her chin was wet with saliva.

“Fuck my mouth.” She licked up the underside of his cock. He’d been married (and divorced) twice and fancied himself as being a worldly man, but no woman had said those words to him outside of his kinkier fantasies. It was almost daunting.

“Uh…” He jutted his hips out and held her face in his hands. He could feel her high cheekbones, the smoothness of her skin. He really liked her, and he didn’t think it was right to treat her like a-

She tugged gently on his balls to get his attention.

“Fuck your cock into my throat. I want to feel you come in there.” She looked in pain as she stroked, but the memory of her breathy laughter at his jokes threw him. Had it been that long since he’d seen that look on a woman’s face when she was with him? Maybe.

Her delicate chandelier earrings swung crazily on her ears as she sucked him. She groaned on him and made him groan in return. She slapped his ass, making him jump. “Now. Please.”

He’d been conditioned by the love of two submissive, relatively cold women to touch softly, tread lightly, but this woman was different. She didn’t open her mouth to be fed like a baby bird, not touching unless asked. He’d respected their fragility in the name of love. This woman had the same graceful movements as the type he was attracted to, but she did not act like one who waited to be fed.

She stood up and guided his hands underneath her sweater. The hardness of her nipples underneath the thin material of her bra made him grunt. He caressed again, although he wanted to squeeze and tug. She laughed her laugh, put her hands over his and squeezed. She let go and kissed him, but his touch remained gentle. Her tongue slid into his mouth, snakelike, and she sucked at his saliva and moaned. She moved his hand down her pants, where her slippery wetness, even over her panties, made him lose strength in his knees.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” she whispered as she unzipped and pulled her tight jeans down past her hips. He slid a finger between her lips, but she pushed him down to his knees, giggling. “Help me get these off. They’re black.” He stared at her pussy as she lifted first one leg, then the other. His lips tingled. He pinched her clit between his fingers and tugged at it. “Go ahead,” she said. He licked it softly, first one side, then the other, but not directly. Her thigh muscle tightened against his cheek as she moved her hips.

“Hey, sugar?” She tapped the top of his head.  He groaned a response between licks. “Suck it.”

He stopped licking and guffawed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Isn’t that a bit … homo?” He spread her open and gave her a hungry look. “I mean, it’s not big enough to suck anyways.” He licked a slow circle around her.

“How about if I said that about you?”

“Good point.” He flicked the hard tip of her clit with his tongue and sucked it into his mouth tentatively, holding it there. It sent a tremble down her body that fascinated him. It was so easy! Was this all he’d ever had to do?

She jumped and tapped his head.”Not so hard! Do it like you’d like to be done.” She smiled and ground against his mouth. He was surprised she couldn’t feel his face burning against her thighs as he sucked. She guided him with hands and hips. He was disoriented, lost, he couldn’t think … he took a deep breath.

“That sounded so sad,” she said. She tugged on his hair softly to get his attention. He got up, dried his face with his ruined shirt, and took it off. She traced the hard muscle of his chest and the line of hair down past his belly. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I’ve never been called beautiful before,” he said. He hadn’t known how good it would make him feel. She rubbed her naked body against him and caressed his balls.

“That’s too bad,” she said as she kissed his clavicle. He unconsciously arched and raised his arms, coaxing her lips to his chest, then stiffened in embarrassment. It was so feminine of him. Why did she do that to him? Even before this, when they just spoke he felt himself want to let go to her. It wasn’t a new feeling, but she made him feel it too strongly to resist.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he said. He turned her around roughly and slid into her. He hadn’t wanted to take her like that, not the first time, but he had the urge to show her who was the man. She put her cheek up against the wall and breathed softly. It was if she were letting him do it. His hard on started to go away. Why was it going away?

“I really, really like you,” he said, panting. His fingers dimpled her hips.

She grabbed his ass hard, then slapped it again. “I really like you too. You think I let just anyone do this?” She rolled her hips into his and established a quicker rhythm.

“No, of course not.” He hardened quickly, but he still tried to hug her. She shook out of his tight embrace, but kissed him soft and deep. His grip on her hips tightened again, and he thrust once.

“Harder.”

He leaned into her and thrust again. She was tight with arousal and he didn’t want to hurt her. His ex-wife had always complained about being hurt. He’d gotten used to fucking without getting his balls wet years ago. She gave him an impatient look and bore down on him. “Harder. I was made for this, damn it, you won’t hurt me.” It was as if she’d read his mind. She squeezed around him. “Don’t you want to?”

“But, won’t it hurt?” He caressed the top of her cheek. It was slippery with a sweat that suddenly smelled far more enticing that her perfume ever had.

She sighed and pushed him out of her. The deliciousness of the sensation made him rock on his feet. She pointed to an armless office chair. He sat and his cock stuck up comically. She looked at him as he looked at her. He wanted her to do all sorts of things, nameless things, but he  pushed those thoughts back. They were not befitting a lady like her.

“You have a beautiful, beautiful cock, didya know that?” His mouth fell open. “I wanna feel it in me to the balls.” She spread her legs and sat on him in one swift, graceful movement. Her smile broadened as she ground into him, and she looked joyful. She leaned back and spread her lips. The veined column of his cock looked dun compared to her pink. Her clit twitched as she tightened rhythmically around him until he grunted again. She rubbed her wet hand into his face and giggled again.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice was small.

“I like to look at it going inside me. Makes it more real, somehow.” She squeezed around him and sighed. “Hurts a little. I love when it’s like that.” She rubbed her clit and moved a little on him. He took her waist in his hands and watched, slack-jawed, as she masturbated on his cock. First it was just the slightest little twists of the hip as she rubbed her clit, but as it grew her thrusts got deeper. Her breasts jiggled just inches from his face, but he was frozen in place. She got up – nearly flew up with her eagerness to get on her knees to suck him. She cooed at how slick he was now.

“Pussy juice is so much better than spit for this,” she said as she jerked his shaft, then the head of his cock disappeared in her mouth. Her tongue was gentle and her hand was rough, and he discovered he liked the contrast. A lot. Before he could tap her in warning she let go and stood up. “Close call.” She had tasted his orgasm approaching. She sat on him and guided his fingers to her pussy. He gasped. She wasn’t just warm, she was hot. Her swollen flesh swallowed his fingers easily. “Touch me for a while.” Her pussy muscles grabbed at his fingers, resisted perfectly when he pressed into her hollows. He’d loved doing this even after he’d had proper sex – there was something about being able to feel inside her, to stretch and stroke and caress and observe her reactions to the pleasure he gave her without being distracted with his own pleasure.

“You’re good at this,” she sighed, already trembling. “Really good.” He felt safe now, in control as he fingered her. Her clit was hot and hard under his thumb, and his mouth watered. Fuck the macho bullshit. Now, the thought of sucking was perfect.

She tugged at his wrist and made him groan. He’d wanted to make her come, and knew she was close. It wasn’t only her with that skill.

“You ready now?” she asked.  She slid off his lap and leaned against a narrow table, spreading her legs and beckoning. At first the question confused him, but he got it quickly. She wanted him to fuck her like he wanted to…like she wanted him to.

He stood up, hopskipping with his jeans around his ankles, and sank into her.

Categories: Cock Worship, Copulation, Erotica, Oral Sex, Pursuit, Short Story, XimenaTags: Cock Worship, Copulation, Erotica by Ximena, Femdom, male sexuality, The Erotic Writer, Ximenawrites