Posts tagged: adult
NO doubt about it, he was under and out. His wily hypnotist flashed a hand over his eyes – no response. “Are you enjoying how relaxed you are?” she cooed in his ear.
The sound emitted from him reluctantly. “Yes.”
She picked up on this cue. “You’re so very, very relaxed and enjoying being relaxed so much that you’d rather listen and relax more and more, wouldn’t you? It’s OK if you don’t want to talk, you can nod and feel just as relaxed.”
He nodded, relief washing over his face at the reduction in demands.
“So just follow my voice, my voice that’s so relaxing and sexy. Do you like my relaxing and sexy voice?”
He nodded. “My voice is very sexy, isn’t it?” Nod. She felt the clench of her Kiegel muscles, and took a moment to breathe and calm herself. She’d have toy, rock hard and blitzed, soon enough. “My voice is very sexy,” she leaned down and whispered in his ear. “My relaxing voice is so very sexy that you’re getting aroused right now.” His lips parted. His breathing increased. “My voice makes you think of the most turned on you’ve ever been. You remember how turned on you were – you were so horny. You’re so relaxed, listening to my voice, so turned on, so very horny, just like you were when you were the most aroused ever. Listening to my voice makes you just that horny, even more horny, aroused, relaxed and wanting sex.”
Victory. The bulge in his jeans pronounced itself as her target made a moaning noise. “Close your eyes and feel that arousal. I’m going to count from 10 to 1, and by the time you reach one you will be so horny, so turned on from listening to my voice that you will do anything to have an orgasm. You have never been so horny before, and you so want that climax. At 1, you will be completely, mindlessly horny, willing to do anything to cum. Now, what happens at 1?”
“So horny…” he mumbled. “What happens at 1?” she asked again, knowing that she was probably torturing him.
“Do anything…to cum…”
“That’s right, sleepy slave. At one you will be willing to do anything to cum.”
I closed my lips over his shaft, gently pushing down with my hand. His hand gripped the back of my head. Keeping my thumb at the tip and stroking, I pulled off and gave him a dirty look.
"You know better,” I told him sharply. He let out a sharp bark that turned to a gasp as his cock was absorbed in my mouth again – but he used his hands to stroke my hair and shoulders instead of limiting both my sense of safety and my ability to perform. I could feel the pressure building, the telltale bulging of the vein and expansion of his cock.
“Stop,” he gasped. “I want to be in you when I cum.”
I switched my mouth for my hand, stroking slower, slower.“You sure?”
“You’re still dressed,” he said. This time he did shove his hand in my hair, pulled me toward him, up across his body. His leg shoved into the bottom of the kitchen sink. He scooted us across the floor. His mouth found mine again, hungry, demanding. His lips tracked their way down my neck, across my shoulders. My skin told me how long it had been since I enjoyed a man’s touch – I quivered as he made his way across my body, pausing to strip any clothing that dared intercede between mouth and skin.
After a languorous eternity I found myself staring up at the knife rack on the kitchen counter as Mark swirled his tongue between my legs. If my breathing around Mark had been rapid before, now I was in medical trouble.
The first orgasm shot through my body with almost no warning – I could feel the hardness of the tile against the small of my back as it rolled through before I kicked a table leg. He continued to lick as I started. “Stop,” I told him. “Stop,” I said again, actively pushing on his head.
The sensitivity after bordered on painful. He nibbled on my thigh, making me squeal, before he looked up, grabbing a kitchen towel to wipe off his mouth. “Nice to see I accomplished something,” he smirked at me.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I failed. He laughed. We both fell silent, looking in each others’ eyes. My hand reached sideways, instinctively, for the condom. Without breaking eye contact I opened the package, not looking down until I needed to check that it faced the proper direction before rolling it down Mark’s beautiful cock. I couldn’t resist playing a little as I did so, stroking him until he was even harder than when we had started. He placed a hand on my wrist.
“Last chance to bail,” he whispered.
“I’ve come this far,” I said, kissing him, and then climbing over him and lowering myself down. “Your turn to experience this floor on your back.” His grin became a look of glazed arousal as I shifted my hips on him, squeezing and grinding – pausing with distraction every so often as I came.
He placed his hands on my ass and stroked my breasts here and there, “Mostly I’m doing it for me,” he admitted. “You have fantastic looking breasts,” before his own orgasm finally took him, rocking his hips upward uncontrollably into me.
We both rested for a moment before I grasped the condom and rolled off of him. I rested my head on his shoulder at a slight perpendicular. I didn’t know what to say. Mark broke the silence. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” I answered. I stood up, gathering my clothes. “I’ll shower first.”
Mark pulled himself up. “Let’s save some water,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me into the bathroom. As the water fell over us, he pulled me into his arms, kissing me again and again.
I stopped him, giving myself as much space as the narrow tub would allow. “Look, I enjoyed this but we haven’t exactly been on the same page. Honestly, I should have just stopped hanging out with you.”
Mark pushed wet hair back from his face, away from his eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t. Life wasn’t as good without you around,” he said. “I’ve just had my head up my ass, taking all my crap about other women out on you. It wasn’t until you stopped seeing me that I realized all the stuff I was putting on you wasn’t about you at all.” He coaxed me closer, kissing me on the lips, slowly but not too wet, feeling the wholeness of my mouth with his own. “I’m not good at this myself, Zee,” he said, holding me while looking in my eyes. “I want you. I don’t like it when you disappear on me. I think about you when you’re not here, wonder what you think of things – I’ve started to dial you and hung up before send so many times. When I found you sleeping on the couch last night, I almost burst. It was like I’d found something I loved that I’d misplaced and thought I’d never see again.”
I sighed. “I haven’t liked how I feel around you for a long time,” I admitted. “But I still feel it. Maybe for now it hurts less but it’s going to take a long time to trust you.”
Mark faltered at that, a look of pain rippling across his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But you don’t regret just now, do you?”
I had to smile. “No, I don’t regret just now. You’re much better than I expected.”
Mark let out a sharp laugh.
The front door slammed, causing us both to jump. “Honeys, we’re home!” Betty caroled.
I gave Mark a panicked look. He simply shut off the water and handed me a large towel.
He likewise wrapped one around his waist. “It’s not like we’re not both going to tell them,” he said.
Before I could protest, he opened the bathroom door. Bob and Betty stood in the kitchen, back from their movie. “
Nice job on the dishes,” Betty said. “Bob, you owe me $10.”
Bob gave Mark a dirty look. “I had money on you waiting until tonight,” he said. He gave me an up and down look. “Huh. You really do have great legs.” He reached into his wallet and handed Betty some money before meandering into the living room. We could hear the beginning of an episode of Invader Zim.
Betty gave us both an assessing look before leaving the room. “Mop the kitchen floor before you leave,” she said to us before joining her new husband in the living room.
A hand dangled a mug of steaming life above me. “Here, Zee, coffee, Zee.” I reached a hand above me from my prone position on the couch, and another hand wrapped my palm gently around the warm mug. I sat up, pulling from my stomach muscles to slow my ascent and avoid spilling any precious bean on my favorite pajamas.
As I took a sip, I blinked my eyes a few times and focused. I was still unsure as to the location of my glasses, but I was pretty sure that it was Mark who sat at the end of the couch I just crashed on. “So how have you been?” he asked, as though we were in some Minneapolis coffee shop, on one of our casual (boring) evenings out that ended with him excusing himself and me eating my way through a bag of Cheetos in frustration.
I wiped the crust from my eyes. Any attempt to look alluring and distant was utterly fucked; Mark had ambushed me. He then trapped me with coffee, my greatest morning weakness. It was unfair.
He leaned towards me from the couch arm in jeans that fit perfectly and a dark blue button-down shirt that fit him exactly. I forced myself to grip the mug; my hands wanted to do other things in my weakened and typically horny morning state. I sipped the sweetened blackness.
Three weeks of perfectly good avoidance, swept away by our best friends’ wedding to each other and my inability to afford a hotel. “Fine,” I finally answered, gulping more coffee and then yanking blankets off myself.
I sat upright, moving to the farthest side of the couch from him. A-ha! My glasses rested on the end table next to my side of the couch. I slipped them on, and tried to ignore the bedheaded version of myself reflected in the television set.
The muffled voices of Bob and Betty carried from their bedroom, just a few steps from my couch. The clock on their VCR - why in the hell did those two still own a VRC? - read 6 am. Their appointment with the Justice of the Peace was at 8.
According to Beth’s planning meeting the night before, it took half an hour to get to the courthouse. Given my state after the drive, it might take me 45 minutes just to look not-homeless. I scalded my tongue swallowing the remaining coffee in one gulp. “Ow, fuck!” I said, shoving the mug in Mark’s hands before stumbling toward the bathroom.
Mark be damned, we had a wedding to get to.
The bathroom for some reason was behind the kitchen; I emerged from it in the pale blue dress I chose to stand next to Betty on her wedding day. Mark greeted me by the door of the shower, silently proffering another mug. Mark opened his mouth to say something, but was disrupted when a loud thunk and Ben swearing “Damn coffee table!” interrupted us.
Ben appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, otherwise undamaged, and headed over to the coffee maker himself. Betty followed behind him, and we all stood agape. She looked amazing in a white skirt suit with white tights and black heels. A string of blue pearls at her neck perfected the look.
I looked between Betty and Ben, and tried to suppress my eye roll at how they’d kept me up all night loudly rehearsing for their wedding night. They both looked flushed and satisfied – the kind of satisfied advertised by romance novels and De Biers commercials after a wedding.
“Get her fueled, Mark?” Bob asked, setting down his mug and straightening his tie. I didn’t bother glaring and I knew that Betty would kill me if I poured coffee on him right then. They had fought for hours over what he would wear to the wedding, and the white shirt and blue striped tie was the only alternative to his one man 1970s lifestyle theme.
In Bob’s mind, he was helping. He didn’t know that I managed to stumble to my day job before my first cup of coffee every single day without any assistance. Mark looked vaguely disappointed. “One depth charge, and she shot through the shower before I could inhale.”
Bob grinned lecherously at me. “Aw, Mark, you missed a photo opportunity!”
This time I glared, and Mark deftly removed the mug from my hands before I could use it as a weapon. “Wedding!” I barked, and marched out the door to the car, grabbing my coat on the way.
I can’t remember the last time I wanted to fuck a man so badly. There was no romance to my fantasy. I just wanted Ethan to drag me into the bathroom at the reception hall, kiss me so hard I couldn’t breathe and run those delightfully long fingers under my dress before jamming his fingers into my pussy. I wanted him to rub my clit with his thumb while I bit his shoulder to muffle my screams as I came.
I knew from his slow, patient demeanor and that devilish twinkle in his eye that he was the sort to bring a woman slowly, because the squirming gave him just as much pleasure as the ride.
He would get out of his lucky lady every shiver, mewl and orgasm he could before finally bring that wonderful, oversize cock to her body. Christ and Fate and Vegan Jebus, I wanted him to have exactly that way with me.
The catch, of course, is that nothing between us could ever be casual. I don’t do one-nighters no matter how much a man makes my clit twitch. Ethan’s slow deliberation meant evaluation of heart and mind – as well as body. We might not aim for forever, but the time we had would mean more than just a one-off fuck. We also shared too many people in common to be open about any affair we might have. While he and I were on the same page about sex and morality, we were surrounded by convention and no matter who consented to what in private, the people we loved expected to do right as they defined it, not as we did. My husband was fine with erotic dalliance in theory - but I’d never tested it. And my best friend, Ethan’s sister-to-be, was of a very traditional mind when it came to me defiling future family members.