23. Pants Off, Marshmallow #2
Something else I will never forget? When, in the middle of the stadium, Mabel stood up on her tiptoes and put her lips on mine, claiming me on the world stage.
The kiss itself was chaste enough, but I did find myself feeling dizzy when she tugged my bottom lip between her teeth, winking at me when she pulled away.
And yeah, maybe there were a few tears shed that I tried and failed to subtly wipe away, but who could blame me?
I was leading my country to the start of the Winter Games with my dream girl at my side, my ring on her finger, and the taste of her lips still on mine.
I am literally living out all of my dreams.
Especially now that we’re back in the Village heading to our room. I’m two steps behind Mabel, watching her hips sway side to side, her every curve hugged by the tight leggings she has on.
“I don’t care how uncomfortable these stupid beds are. I cannot wait to lie down.”
“Sleeping the day away wasn’t enough, Marshmallow?
You’re already ready to call it a night?
” I ask as Mabel swipes the key card to our little room, which is blissfully warmer than the frigid temperatures we had to endure during in the open-air stadium.
I like the cold, snowy air as much as the next guy, but I’m looking forward to being able to feel my toes again.
“Who said anything about calling it a night?” Mabel winks, slowly pulling at the zipper of her anorak jacket as the door clicks shut behind me.
My mouth instantly goes dry. It doesn’t matter that she’s only revealing more layers of clothing underneath, watching her pull the zipper tooth by agonizing tooth down over the swells of her breasts, her flat tummy, all the way to where the bottom of her jacket rests on the top of her thighs is the most tantalizing seduction I’ve ever seen.
Mabel’s hair is a little messy, flat on top from being tucked under a beanie all night, and the ends are wild and knotted from the wind.
Her skin is flushed pink from the cold, the tip of her nose redder than Rudolph’s.
She slips off the jacket and pulls the Team USA crewneck over her head, revealing a blue, long sleeve-thermal that molds to her curves like it’s been painted on, and when she takes a few steps backwards and falls back on the bed, sitting up just far enough to lean on her elbows, my cock swells so rapidly that I feel immediately lightheaded.
“God, baby girl, you are fucking stunning,” I rasp.
Mabel crooks her finger in a come-hither motion, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from coming in my pants again.
I quickly rid myself of my top layers, and climb on top of her in just my long underwear.
Definitely not the sexiest I could be, but Mabel doesn’t seem to mind.
When I’m hovering over her, she wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips, yanking me down into a searing kiss.
It’s hard, hot and full of tension, as wild and fierce as her mess of red hair.
My cock nestles against the juncture of her legs, my body finding itself right at home in the cradle of her hips.
We’ve gone from zero to sixty in no time, and I am ready to take this ride with both hands in the air.
We’re a tangle of limbs and tongues and teeth as we kiss, grinding and bucking and seeking friction through our clothes.
Everything feels frantic and uninhibited as we yank at layers, breaking our kiss only long enough to pull shirts over our heads.
I barely even look when Mabel unhooks her bra and tosses it to the side.
I just press my bare chest against hers, my chain resting like ice between our heated skin.
“Ryder,” she gasps when I drop my mouth to her neck and bite down.
“Mabel,” I growl, grinding my erection up and down the valley of her pussy.
I need to get these damn pants off of her, but, fucking hell, I can’t bring myself to stop touching her long enough to do it.
I kiss and suck my way over her collarbone and down to her breast, where I flick her little diamond nipple with the tip of my tongue.
“Ryder, wait. Should we slow down? I don’t want to rush you, baby.”
Dropping my forehead between her luscious tits, I let out a long sigh.
She smells like honeycrisp apples and sweat, and it takes everything in me not to ignore her question and lick a path down to her pussy so I can suck on her clit.
But I’m a grown man with some semblance of self-control, so I roll on to my side and prop myself up on my elbow, and Mabel does the same.
It isn’t until Mabel snaps her fingers in front of my face that I realize I’ve been staring at her naked tits for who knows how long.
So maybe I don’t have that much self-control, but I’m trying.
“I appreciate you checking in,” I say, twirling a lock of Mabel’s auburn hair around my finger. “But I don’t need to slow down. I don’t want to slow down. I want you, only you, desperately. Now, if you’re in, I would very much like to make love to my wife.”
Mabel crinkles her nose, the movement making her freckles dance on her gorgeous, flushed face.
“I so want to be grossed out by your use of the phrase ‘make love’, but that was seriously romantic, Rye Bread.”
“Get those pants off, Marshmallow. I’m taking you to pound town. Better?”
“Oh dear god, please go back to making love.”
We’re both in a fit of laughter as we wiggle out of pants and find ourselves tangled back together, grappling for dominance until I concede, falling on my back and letting Mabel straddle my thighs.
She’s gloriously naked, all pale skin and freckles and messy red hair teasing the pink tips of her pointed nipples.
One day I’m going to take my time with her.
I’m going to trace every arch and line of freckles with my tongue, committing every delicious inch of her to memory.
But today is not that day. My every breath is labored, shaky, and when she settles her weight onto my thigh, letting me feel the slick heat of her pussy on my skin, I let out a pathetic whimper.
“How do you want me, Ryder?” She asks, and I gently grip her hips. She starts to rock forward and back at an agonizingly slow pace, her pussy leaking arousal all over my thigh while the swollen bud of her clit grazes my skin over and over.
“When I imagined this, you and me, it was always just like this. You on top, where I can see every inch of you, using me to feel good. Is that okay?”
“Ryder wants me to ride him. How sweet is that,” she teases. I try to think of some witty retort, but when she wraps her soft hand around my leaking cock, my hips buck so hard I nearly knock her off me.
“Fuck, Mabel, get up here. Ride my face first, baby girl. I need to make you come because the second I get inside you, I’m not going to be able to—”
I’m cut off by Mabel crawling up my body and settling her pussy right over my open mouth.
The sweet, tangy taste of her arousal floods my tongue and I growl, lapping at her folds and seeking more, more, more of her.
The pressure of her weight on my face is smothering in the best possible way, depriving my senses of anything but her and the pussy I’m dying to bury myself in.
I squeeze her hips and try to pull her down onto me even further, wanting to eliminate any space between my mouth and the heaven between my wife’s thighs.
Spearing my tongue, I dip inside of her, licking her honey straight from the source.
All the while, Mabel moans and bucks on top of me, grinding against my face while I fuck her with my tongue.
“Fuck, Ryder. Your mouth is so good. You love this, don’t you? Such a good husband, letting me ride your face.”
My cock strains, aching and leaking against my stomach.
Even with the poor appendage untouched and neglected, I have to recite the alphabet backwards in my head to keep from blowing my load all over Mabel’s back.
I reach around her thigh, finding the sweet berry of her clit and begin worrying it in tight circles.
Mabel’s moans get louder, her body trembles, and then my face is soaked in a fresh wave of her mouthwatering cum as she cries out her orgasm above me.
I never pull away, forgoing my need for air and letting her ride out the waves of pleasure on my tongue until her body goes slack.
Only then do I help guide her back down until she’s lying on top of me, chest to chest.
Mabel reaches to the pathetic little side table, rooting around without taking her eyes off mine until she finds what she’s looking for—a square, foil packet with the Winter Games emblem on one side. Waggling her eyebrows, she sits up, dangling the condom between two fingers.
“Bless the International Games Committee. They may not condone sexual relations between athletes during the Games, but their commitment to providing enough condoms to supply a small army anyway is commendable.”
I bark out a laugh that simmers in my chest when Mabel takes the packet between her teeth and tears it open.
“Still good?” she asks as she pulls out the condom.
“Yeah, baby girl. I’m still so fucking good.”
“I’m finally getting my hot, clandestine Winter Games hookup.”
“I’m honored to be your first, Mabel.”
I watch in awe as Mabel grips my dick and rolls the condom over me.
The taste of copper floods my mouth, my bottom lip bleeding from how hard I’ve been biting it.
I’ve never seen anything as beautiful, sensual, erotic as my wife lovingly putting an International Games Committee branded condom over my aching cock.
Until, of course, she lifts her hips, sliding the tip of my dick up and down her slit, still soaked with her cum and my spit, until I’m positioned at her entrance.
I’m frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but babble out my consent when she asks again if I’m ready.
The moment Mabel sinks down, and the breath leaves my lungs in a painful gasp, I find myself thanking every god, the IGC, and the inventor of vulcanized rubber for the miracle that is the condom.
It’s too fucking good. Even like this with a thin barrier between me and the hot, slick grip of Mabel’s pussy, it feels too fucking good.
If it weren’t for the condom, I’m sure I would’ve come my brains out at first contact.
She sinks down slowly inch by inch, and I can feel myself groaning, whimpering, gripping Mabel’s thighs like if I hold on tight enough, I might be able to suppress my orgasm a little bit longer.
“Ryder,” Mabel moans. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at us. Look at how sexy we are when your cock is buried in my cunt.”
Fuck, I hadn’t even realized my eyes were shut.
When I open them, I think I must have died and gone to heaven.
I’m all the way in, the split of Mabel’s pussy meeting my groin, her pretty little clit winking at me below the strip of short red curls.
In the shadows of the room, I can see every highlight of her curves, the dips and valleys between her carved abdominals, the swell of her breasts and the buds of her nipples.
I’m so overcome by the sight of her, my wife—my love—wrapped around me that I almost forget the tight chokehold her pussy has my cock in.
Until she starts to lift her hips, sliding my cock out and back in at an agonizingly slow pace, rocking forward to drag her clit over the root of me.
It’s too good, too perfect, I can’t, I’m gonna…
“Ryder. It’s okay. You don’t have to hold back with me. I want you to come, okay? Come for me, baby.”
The orgasm that tears through me is painful, vicious, a tornado whipping through my middle and leaving nothing but shattered parts in its wake.
My whole body convulses, my stomach twisting and my heart galloping behind my ribs.
Mabel’s praise, the gentle, sexy words slipping from her pretty pink lips and the continuous rock of her perfect hips as she uses me to work herself into her own orgasm on top of me are the only things keeping me anchored to Earth.
My balls are weeping, my cock oversensitive and throbbing.
When I think I can’t take anymore, Mabel throws her head back and comes with a silent gasp, her nails digging half-moon arches on my stomach.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Those three words echo in my skull as Mabel falls on top of me and my softening cock slides out of her pussy. I hear her mutter a few beautiful words of her own.
“First and only, Ryder. First and only.”