“You know what we both want, Tinkerbell, don’t leave me hanging!” he grinned, so I grinned back and slowly, lingeringly licked the slick, glossy tip a couple of times, enjoying his soft gasp, then sucked the bulbous head into my mouth, savouring as always the saltiness, the musky tang, and the faint background sweetness that was so much a part of my man. As I sucked him, his smell wafted over me, that scent-complex unique to him, not sweat, or soap, or cologne, but the clean smell of his skin, the warm freshness of his own bodily oils and secretions, and the faint, salty, ozone tang of the lubricant pouring from the tip of his cock. Mark always smelled fresh to me, like a gentle sea-breeze, and I was addicted to that scent.
As I sucked, I could feel his body tensing and relaxing as he fought the urge to ram that thing in my mouth, to face-fuck me; Mark wouldn’t do that to me, which is why I loved giving pleasure to him. While I suckled on him, my hands alternated between squeezing and fisting that gorgeous cock of his, and gently squeezing and stroking his scrotum, urging him to give me what I wanted now. I could hear his breath shortening, and his pulse, drumming in that wand of flesh in my mouth, was rising as his own climax approached, so I sucked harder, wanting the finish, wanting my man to have what he’d just given me.
His breathing was becoming louder, and beginning to hitch as he struggled to hold himself back, prolonging the pleasure I was giving him, and as I squeezed his scrotum I could feel the change as it went from loose bag of skin to tight, ridged saddle under the base of his cock. One more suck and a healthy squeeze of his shaft as I pumped him, and he gasped explosively as his fat cock jumped and twitched in my mouth.
This was what I’d been waiting for. I clamped my lips around him as a stream of thick creamy spunk jetted out of him and hit the roof of my mouth, then another, then another, filling my mouth and barely giving me time to swallow before I was filled again. Mark’s spunk tasted, as always, salty and creamy, with a delightful background tangy sweetness, delicious and wholesome, and though I’d only ever had one other sample for comparison, when I’d thought he was gone forever, I knew this was the taste for me, this was what my man had for me, and it was what I wanted from him, and only him.
The jets of sperm stopped, until only a trickle ran from the end of his cock, but I sucked every last drop out of him and polished the head with my tongue before grinning and sticking my tongue out to show him I was finished. Mark, as always, grinned when I did that.
“You dirty girl!” he smiled, climbing off me to slump down next to me and once more curl his hands around my bum, pulling me closer so our bellies were touching, his still-erect cock sandwiched solidly between us. I raised an eyebrow and grinned at him.
“You love it, Mark Jameson, don’t you come it with me!” I retorted, leering at him as I rubbed myself against him, rolling his cock between us and making him gasp. Mark leaned down and kissed me.
“Every time I go away from you and the babies it feels like I’m in free-fall, I feel so lonely and lost, and it doesn’t go away until I walk back in the door; coming home always feels like Christmas; promise me it’ll always be like this, Tinkerbell!”
I swallowed the suddenly enormous lump in my throat, love for this beautiful boy-man flaring huge and possessive inside me.
“I promise you, Lost Boy, it will, oh it will!”
I couldn’t help the tears that spilled down my cheeks as once again the little boy who needed to be held and loved re-surfaced, all the lost days of his stolen childhood showing in his eyes. I’d nearly lost him once; he’d nearly been taken from me forever; he’d even thought the unthinkable, and that fear for him still lurked deep inside me.
“I love you Tinkerbell!” he murmured, wiping my tears away with his thumbs, then pulling me close to kiss me long and tenderly, showing me with his lips what his heart was feeling.
I eventually surfaced for air, my body tingling with the impact of that kiss, aware, too, of the hardness trapped between us. I grinned and reached down to give it an experimental squeeze, seeing the laughter in his eyes as I did.
“What shall we do with this, Peter Pan?” I grinned, the need to have my husband inside me, locked away deep in my body, suddenly rearing up inside me.
“Are you ready to take me back to Never-Never land, Peter?” I asked him softly, seeing the smile spread across his face, like a new dawn rising.
“Always and always, Tinkerbell!” he breathed, kissing me again as he rolled me onto my back and reared above me, his cock prodding and nudging at my swollen labia, teasing me, torturing me even as I squeezed and fondled him, massaging his balls and making his cock rear up even stiffer, harder, and more angrily engorged. Every time I tried to guide him into me, he grinned and pulled back, instead sawing the ridged underside of his penis against my sensitive, swollen labia, torturing me even more.
“Mark!” I hissed, and once again that smile flowered as he slowly pushed forward, once more stretching me as he slid into me, filling me as only he could, lights flickering in my peripheral vision even as he began fucking me, prelude to the orgasm I knew he’d give me. I began to move against him, meeting him as he thrust into me, those lights flickering brighter now as wonderful feelings uncurled and spread through me, taking me with him as he sped up, pounding into me as I humped madly back up at him, until, with a searing, soundless explosion inside the very centre of me, my orgasm flared through every fibre of my body, all my senses fleeing as the pleasure overtook me.
Dimly I heard his groan as I tightened around him, but the sensation of his cock swelling inside me and pumping me full of his own special tribute was real, and present, the feel of his body-heat pouring into me cutting through all and telling me that my man was here, with me, making love to me, because he loved me. That knowledge alone was enough to send me off again, Mark groaning as I tightened around him again and again, milking him of every drop of his male essence, wringing him dry.
We lay in the afterglow, Mark next to me, holding me close against him, while I rested my head on his chest, rejoicing in the nearness of him, the warmth of him against me and the sound of his heart beating, the realisation of the dream I’d once thought gone forever. I was drifting away, warm and comfortable, when Mark stirred restlessly. I know his moods and manners intimately, so I knew he had something to say, maybe not important, but it was bugging him, so I rolled onto my side so I could look into his lovely, dove-grey eyes and maybe get him to share.