Are you good?” he asks her, as he drives himself all the way up inside her again. She wants to answer him but she cannot. As he fills her ravenously with his cock, she returns each painfully pleasurable stroke with a reciprocating arch of her ass, meeting his stroke.
He is pummeling her pussy now, and she bites harder into his flesh. He likes it too, going deeper, harder into her. Everything about this position that makes her feel like she has officially graduated. She wants to turn and look at him but she knows that this is not necessary. He keeps on moving himself inside her, melodically teasing her as his manhood threatens to remove itself completely from her, with the beginning of each thick, erotic stroke.
Sophie has another orgasm, and she starts to think that he could fuck her forever. She would like that. She would like that a lot. She starts to think of how she could get to stay here all night, really not worried about missing her 4AM. If she misses it, he will miss it too. She has discovered the capabilities of her body now and she really wants to enjoy this journey. She knows somehow that there is no need for her to ask him if she can stay the night. She knows somehow that this will be up to her.
When he finally has a massive orgasm, filling her with his hot lava, she coyly starts to think of how to coax him into teaching her the next lesson. She wants to take him in her mouth, wanting suddenly to taste his milky tide on her tongue. She has had no practice with this though, but she is comfortable enough with Jamal to give it a real try.
As she begins to lick herself off his dark, slightly soft dome , she finds it incredibly erotic. Her jaw opens wider as she takes him deeper into her mouth. Her tongue dances lustfully, as she feels flushes of warmth between her thighs, as she ravenously resurrects his scepter.
As she works her mouth up and down his chocolate tower, she is glad that she was such a stickler for routine. If she wasn’t, then she would not have met Jamal on her early morning jog, and she might have lost her virginity to a lesser man…
●●●●●●●●
Sweet Doctor::
The lamp above Dr. Blumfield’s exam table was so bright that I had to close my eyes.
“What seems to be the problem, Missus Rogers? I’m not seeing anything wrong here,” Dr. Blumfield said as he put his surgical mask into place and slid the cold steel of his scapula between my legs.
I lay back, my feet clamped into the stirrups on the exam table, a belt around my midsection that he said was ‘medically necessary’ but I didn’t believe him on that count. It did feel good though, cinched around me so tight that it pinched a little bit.
“Yeah, I see no problems. In fact,” he paused, “you’re absolutely soaked.”
Dr. Blumfield squeezed my lips between two fingers. “Mmm, so fucking wet. If I came home to you every night, this cunt would be so raw from fucking that you’d barely be able to walk.”
A latex covered finger slipped between my folds. He ran it up me, then down me all the way to my asshole. Two more lazy strokes followed and then he pulled away from me, fiddled with something by the exam room’s sink, and came back. Dr. Blumfield pushed my folds apart and drew near my body. Only the vaguest hint of breath came through his mask, but the what little came through sent a shiver up my back.
He slid a finger deep inside my sex-slicked pussy. He turned it, curled it against my front wall, shooting sparks up my spine. When I made a little whimper, he jammed it in harder and touched my puckered ring with the other fingertip.
“Doctor Blumfield, I – I’ve never – please, no – my husband…”
He stuffed another finger in my snatch and worked half of his pinky inside my ass.
“If you wanted me to stop,” he whispered, “you wouldn’t be arching your back and dripping down my wrist. You like this, don’t you, Alex? You make little moans every time I stick my finger deeper in your asshole. If you wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be chewing your lip like that, and acting like you haven’t had a good, hard cum in years. You haven’t, have you, Alex?”
Dr. Blumfield drove all three fingers deeper. His index finger slid up my slit and ground against my clitoris. As wrong as it felt, especially when my husband Walter was waiting for me outside in the car, the doctor was right. I didn’t want him to stop. I had not felt like that since, well, ever, probably.
“Oh my, how careless of me. I’ve forgotten an important part of the procedure. Please, excuse me.” Dr. Blumfield pushed away, my asshole sucking at the finger inside it as he pulled out. He stood and walked around the table.
Sterile butcher’s paper crinkled underneath me as he pulled two armrests out from either side of the exam table, grabbed one of my wrists and bound it, motionless, with some kind of leather strap. He buckled it tight, so tight that it pinched my skin, just like the belt around my belly.
“Doctor Blumfield,” I began to protest before he clamped a hand over my mouth.
“No, no, Alex. The slave doesn’t speak.” He moved behind me. “The slave remains silent.”
Slave? What the hell is he talking about? My better sense told me to scream, to bite him, to claw at him with my free hand.
Then, I felt his hand on my cheek. Warm, soft.
My better sense did not have a chance.
I consciously calmed my breathing. He stroked me again.