Chapter Thirty-One #2
My overflowing tits that are so heavy they sag to the side while I’m lying down.
This little place on my waist that he said calls to him in a way that makes him want to sink his teeth into it.
My soft tummy with a slight bulge that also makes him want to take a bite off, especially the area around my belly button.
My hips, all cushiony and plump, that he said he loves to grab while taking me from behind.
He called them handlebars that he could use to go to town on my college girl snatch.
Before moving down to my thighs that he said make him dream of soft, fragile things full of sweet cream.
Followed by my thick ass that he said makes him come just at the thought of it shaking.
In fact, he deliberately fucks me hard so he can watch it shake and jiggle with the power of his thrusts.
“Your body’s a fuckin’ dreamland, darlin’,” he growled before rolling over me once again and settling between my thighs. “It was made to fuck. To play with. To love on.”
Then he proceeded to do just that. Love on my body while I watched him do it.
I specifically remember him using that word, because like a beggar who’s only ever been given scraps, I latched on to the L word.
I let myself pretend that he meant what he said.
That he really loved me and that was his way of showing me.
It wasn’t; I know that.
But it could be mine.
If he won’t let me say it to him, then I’ll show him. By being brave.
So when he finally gets up and off the bed, I take charge.
Without hesitation, I pull my dress up and off my body.
I take off my bra and panties next, and I do that without blinking so much as an eye.
When I’m all naked in front of him, I put my hands on his wildly breathing chest and walk him in front of the mirror.
His eyes are on me the whole time I’m pushing him, his jaw clenched, his cheekbones high and taut.
When I’ve positioned him in front of it, I go for the hem of his T-shirt.
I pull it up, and after a beat of staring down at me, he lets me continue.
Good. I would’ve fought him otherwise. His hat was already knocked off in the battle of our mouths back there, so in one clean move, I take the garment off and drop it to the floor.
Then I go down on my knees and unlace his boots.
One by one, I take them off before moving up to his belt.
Which is when he stops me.
He grabs my hand and stares down at me. “You wanna run the show, darlin’?”
I look up at his muscular frame, his broad shoulders and sculpted torso. On my knees, he looks even bigger, larger than life. As large as the sky, as tough as the land he works. I could never move him, could I? But I have to try. I have to. Or at least die trying.
“I want to make you as crazy as you make me.” Then, just to be defiant and bratty, I add, “Daddy.”
His frame shudders and his stomach hollows out. “Yeah?”
I lift my chin, feeling the kind of determined I’ve never felt before. “Yes.”
“By blowing him in front of the big, bad mirror.”
“And fucking him in front of the big, bad mirror too.”
He runs his eyes over my face for a moment or two before muttering to himself, “Yeah, don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”
“Get used to what?”
His grip on my hand flexes. “How young and naive you are.”
“I’m not—”
“Have at it then, baby,” he cuts me off. “Make me a goner but you should know somethin’.”
“What?”
He leans down toward me, down and down, and brings our mouths together, whispering, “I’m already so far gone for my baby; more than she could ever be for me.”
I open my mouth to protest. To tell him to stop lying because if he was so far gone, he wouldn’t be sending me away, but he doesn’t let me.
He swallows down my words again with his mouth and kisses the hell out of me.
I don’t know how long it is before we come up for air, but when we do, he growls, “Now, suck your daddy off with your cocksucking mouth like you mean it, and bring him to his knees, yeah?”
So I unbutton his jeans in a hurry and with a finesse that I could never have imagined possessing just last week when we were at the cabin and he was trying to punish me for worrying him.
And when I get to his cock, all leaky and throbbing like it always is, and put it in my mouth, I could never have even dreamed of swallowing him down in one go.
But he changed all my dreams, didn’t he?
I told him to give me dreams and take away my nightmares, and he did just that.
He’s made me suck his cock so much in the past week that I’ve become an expert at it.
That my cocksucking mouth practically inhales his dick instead of struggling and me freaking out, and I can’t help but preen under the growl he emits.
I can’t help but hum around his length, making him go insane. A little trick I learned about my husband last week. He loves it when I make noises around his cock. He loves it when I scratch his thighs with my nails and use my tongue to lave the thick vein that goes up and down his hard dick.
He especially loves it when I gag on his cock. When I choke and my spit runs down his length.
He loves it when I drown him in my saliva and make a mess of my tits with it.
And since I’m doing all of this in front of the big, bad mirror, I also put on a show for him.
I know he loves it when my tits jiggle and curves shake.
So I deliberately make them. I deliberately, exaggeratedly go up and down his length so that my big tits not only shake but also smack against each other.
I even turn toward the mirror while still sucking his dick and pull at my nipples.
I squeeze my tits. I heave them up in my hands and bring them together over and over, playing with them.
And I have to say, I get why he loves it. I get why he loves looking at me in the mirror because God, I am beautiful.
Out of shyness, I’d only look at myself in flashes before and mostly stare at him staring at me.
But today, I keep my eyes on myself, and yeah, I understand why.
I am a woman in love, sucking her man’s cock.
Of course I am beautiful. I have thick, gorgeous curves that my man goes crazy over.
That he dreams about. How can I be anything but stunning, like he calls me?
How can my glistening thighs and spit-drenched tits be anything less than breathtaking? How can my wide hips and the soft rolls of my tummy that he holds on to so he can fuck me harder ever be anything less than glorious?
I could stare at myself forever.
But that’s not what this is about. I need to focus on making him go crazy.
And nothing makes him crazier than me locking eyes with him, so in the next breath I do that.
I look at him in the mirror to find he’s already been watching me.
And God, he’s almost in a trance. His eyes glazed over, his chest gusting with breaths, and every muscle in his body clenched and standing in stark relief as he watches me suck his dick.
Plus, when he realizes that I’m looking into his eyes, his knees buckle and his thighs shake. His hands in my hair become painful and his face turns mean.
Before he yanks my mouth off his dick.
I’m not happy about it, but I like that trails of my spit connect my swollen lips to his dick.
I like that even he can’t sever our connection.
He shakes my head with his fist and makes me look at him, not in the mirror, as he growls, all angry-like, “You wanted to make me crazy, didn’t you”—another shake of my head—“well, you got it. You’ve got me so riled up that I’m this close to sayin’ fuck it and goin’ to town on your gorgeous porn-star body.
So you wanna fuck your daddy, darlin’, now’s the time.
Because pretty soon, playtime will be over and once your daddy gets goin’, he won’t let up until he’s wrecked you and trashed that college girl pussy. ”
How is it that he can say the sweetest things in the scariest of ways. And how is it that I feel myself falling harder for him.
I attack him then. I push him down to the floor and get ready to take a ride.
And again, if not for this past week, I would never have dreamed about being able to do it so easily.
Being able to fit his fat cock into my tiny hole, let alone riding it on the top.
And thank God, I can, because this is amazing.
It’s fucking life-changing, having him so deep.
It feels like he’s almost touching my throat.
It’s transcendental, tunneling my fingers through his chest hair as I twist my hips on his cock, making him shudder and shake underneath me.
All that power at my mercy. This is what he said riding a horse feels like, didn’t he, and Jesus, I get it now too.
I’m riding my dark stallion, and nothing could ever compare to this.
Not one thing could compare to bending over him, dangling my sticky tits over his mouth like ripe fruits, and watching him lean up to catch a nipple in his mouth, blindly almost. Because I’m making him lose his mind with my fucking.
Not to mention that when I grind my clit on the base of his cock, he almost jackknifes up, growling in my tits.
Not a single thing could compare to watching it all happen in the mirror.
My ripe and flushed body riding my husband’s cock.
But maybe what he says is true.
I’m so young and so naive that I can’t handle riding him like some sort of a cowgirl because I’m coming within five seconds of doing this and watching ourselves in the mirror.
My pussy is clenching on his cock, and I’m moaning from the ecstasy of it.
From the sting of his teeth on my nipple.
I’m so gone for him that I don’t even protest when he sits up and takes charge.
I guess playtime is really over, and it’s his turn now.