Five Jonas
Five
Jonas
Two orgasms on my tongue and my perfect destined tugs my horns, hard.
I slowly manage to pull my face up. I blink, struggling to focus.
I had been so incredibly turned on by her taste, her soft flesh, the way she humped my face, I had had to pull out my cock and cum.
I didn’t even need to stroke myself. She brought me to orgasm with her pleasure alone.
“I’m not done,” I say, as my eyes meet her brown ones.
“Jonas,” she half-pants and half-whines.
It makes me grin. “I’m gonna spoil you, baby girl. Let me eat that pussy some more,” I mutter against her dimpled belly.
“No.” Another whine. “Fuck me, please.”
I groan. “Oh, fuck, princess, I want to. Let’s see, hmm?” I hook my fingers in her soaking wet panties. She raises her ample ass and a vision of fucking her from behind hits me hard. I groan again. Her brown curls are soaked with my saliva and her pleasure.
She whimpers and leans back. I place a hand on her belly. “Lay flat, baby.”
She drops obediently, thighs spreading and hips wiggling.
I part her pink labia with my fingers, then drag them up and down her slit. She whines more. I slip two fingers into her.
Her channel is tight, hot, and wet. I groan at the feel of her, but shake my head.“Too tight, baby girl. No cock for you.”
“Nooo,” she practically wails, head snapping up.
I grin, kissing her thigh again.
“See, if we were at my place, I could use a toy on you, princess.”
A sharp snarl leaves her mouth. “No used sex toys, thank you very much.”
I blink. “No, no. New. This sweet little cunt only,” I say, as I thrust my fingers inside her. “But don’t worry, my hands are talented.”
This is my sweet little cunt, I think to myself. The only one I’ll pleasure again.
I grin as her hips rock again. I climb onto the bed, not slowing the curl of my fingers. I lay down next to her gorgeous, nude body. She throws her arms around my neck, immediately tucking herself into my body.
“What about you, Daddy?” she breathes.
I chuckle. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”
I rotate my hand, my thumb easily reaching her clit, which I circle firmly. “Cum in Daddy’s hand, princess,” I whisper in her ear before I nip her neck.
Her body tenses, and her breathing slows. We’re gonna have to work on that, get her breathing deep for a harder orgasm. But not right now.
“That’s my girl. Give it to Daddy. Don’t you dare hold back on me.”
She squeals, teeth gritted, hips humping into my touch.
I work her hard through the orgasm, her soft arms around my neck as she buries her face against my chest. I kiss her head again and again.
Her body slowly relaxes, and she drops a hand to grab my arm.
“Enough,” she murmurs, her hand not large enough to circle my forearm.
I let out a noise. “Daddy decides that, princess.” But I ease up on my touch, slower and slower, until I pull my fingers out, pat her pussy approvingly, and raise my hand to lick my fingers clean.
When I finish, I notice she’s staring at me, huge eyes wider than normal.
I smile. “What? You taste incredible.”
She smiles back, shyness gone. “It’s your turn.”
I chuckle, my cock throbbing. “We can focus on you, baby,” I offer.
“Nope.” She grins. “I felt that huge, hard cock. I heard you cum. But you need another release too, Daddy.”
Hearing her call me that, when she’s not deep in need of an orgasm, does wonderful things to me. In fact, I feel my cock drip inside my boxers; I had tucked my cock away after I made a mess on the floor.
She climbs onto her knees, and her eyes take in my body. I stretch, a bull preening for his mate.
She purrs in appreciation and places a tiny hand on my chest. It slides slowly down, her fingers playing against the band of my boxers.
I moan, eyes closed. “Fuck. Princess, please touch me.”
She makes a noise that is clearly delighted, obviously enjoying how much she affects me.
I grab the band of my boxers, and she helps me tug them off.
“Oh, goddamn,” she breathes. She looks up at me. “You’re pierced?”
I chuckle, my heavy cock laying up my stomach. “What, the nose ring didn’t give it away?” I catch her staring at the twelve silver barbells. “You can explore, baby.”
Her hand reaches right out at that and attempts to wrap around my dick, though of course her fingers don’t reach. Her thumb cautiously rolls over one piercing.
“I thought these went on the bottom?” she asks quietly, her fingers now playing up and down my ladder.
“If they were on the bottom, then they’d only rub your internal clit when I had you on your knees.”
She makes a sound of need. She likes that idea, huh?
“I like that position, baby, but they are much more… versatile on the top.”
Margo climbs onto her knees over my legs, her sweet face near my leaking cock.
She inspects me further, though her one hand is still tight on my dick. Her other hand slides down my belly to carefully stroke the sensitive skin of my sheath.
I bite back a low and explain, “Keeps my cock from flopping around when I’m not hard.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Yeah, I see why that might be a problem.”
Chuckling, I shift my hips a bit. Her hand drags lower and lower, until she’s finally touching my balls.
“They are huge,” she breathes.
“Evolutionary thing. Need as much seed as possible to make a babe.”
She plays ever so gently with my balls. I struggle to stay still and not start to hump and thrust. I want her to learn my body, to feel comfortable touching me, not be scared I’m gonna turn wild the second she does.
But eventually, I can’t take anymore. “Princess, I’m gonna shoot in a minute here if you keep that up.”
She giggles. “Maybe I want that, Daddy.”
I groan, and she leans in, trying to fit her little human mouth over my cockhead.
She just manages, and I bite my lip, trying to keep from cumming.
I’m so big, and she’s so small, she can’t suck my cock the way she obviously wants.
She’s trying to work me in and out of her mouth, hands stroking together up and down my length.
Seeing the futility in that, she pops off the tip of me and starts to lick and kiss my head.
I groan yet again. Her tiny human tongue forces its way into my slit and I buck.
“Okay, that is quite enough,” I mutter as I sit up and scoop her into my arms.
“What are you doing?” she asks, a tinge of outrage in her tone. “I was enjoying myself!”
I rumble, pleased. “That’s lovely, princess.
I’ll let you suck my seed out next time.
Right now, I need this,” I say as I place her on her feet.
I sit on the bed and pull her to me, her gorgeous face to mine.
Cupping my cock, I rub my snout against her shoulder.
“C’mere baby, and let me fuck your thighs. ”
She whimpers at that and slides closer, thighs spreading.
I tuck my throbbing cock there and grab her hips.
I shift her angle a few times, and when she gasps, I know I found it.
Her thighs clamp tightly. My cock has been dripping and her cunt has too, so we’re wet enough for this.
Not for penetrative sex, but a little frotting? Hell yeah.
“Me sitting will keep me from being too… forceful.”
I thrust a bit, and she moans, her hands going to my horns to keep herself upright. I kiss her, tongue pressing into her mouth, and she melts, opening to me. “And we’ll rub that horny little pussy and clit right along my piercings. That okay, baby girl?”
I thrust again, and she nods, lost. I stay seated but begin to fuck her thighs with short, fast thrusts. The softness of her plush thighs is going to do me in quickly. I want her to cum first though.
“C’mon, baby, cum on Daddy’s cock. Wet my dick, princess,” I snarl, hands on her hips to help us fuck.
She whimpers, still holding my horns, but collapses on my shoulder as I take her.
“Give it to me,” I pant roughly. “Cum, Margo. Cum now, with me,” I grit out.
The first squirt of seed escapes my cock forcefully, and my body lights up with pleasure. Margo lets out a little scream at that moment, rocking against my piercings hard.
My seed erupts again and I pant, “Good girl, that’s it,” to her clear pleasure. We thrust and rock and cum all over each other. It seems to go on forever, and I’m lost in the touch, scent, and pleasure of my mate.
When I wake, the light is dim through the sheer curtains. I stretch, content, and am already considering the best way to please my mate this morning. The hot tub’s uses need exploring, I think.
My hand does not touch Margo’s plush body, though. I turn my head, expecting to see light from the bathroom. Nothing.
I stand, running my hands over my hair as my tail twitches back and forth. She’s making breakfast, surely.
But the open living area is empty. My eyes fly to where she left her purse last night.
It’s gone.
I cross to the door, tugging it open. I stand in the open door, naked as a calf, but the hallway is empty.
I slam the door and spin. I dig through my slacks, grabbing my phone.
But I realize I don’t have her number. She had just taken the address to meet me yesterday and then we uh… got busy.
I turn and slowly drag myself to the kitchen counter. There, on a piece of hotel stationary, is a note.
In elegant, scrawly writing, “Had fun. Thanks for an unforgettable night. Best, M.”
Best? Best?
Heavens no. She’s not gonna bounce on it and bounce. Not a chance am I letting her get away with that.
Is sitting in a “Kyle’s Toilets: You clog ‘em, We clear ‘em!” van outside your destined’s townhouse a particularly gallant thing to do?
I’d like to think so.
It’s day five of my stake-out. Or, as I am calling it, “Operation Bull Support Escort for Safety and Security.” OBSESS for short.
Margo has a pretty solid routine, and while that makes my life easier, it also makes it easier for her to be abducted.
Her shop is open ten to six, and twice now she’s stopped at the local food co-op.
She carries her own cloth bags, one with the logo of Hades Hops, a local brewery.
I had investigated there and found that she is a member of the mug club, and they often meet on Saturday afternoons.
She likes to putter around her garden in the mornings, a hand-thrown coffee cup in one of her tiny little hands and a watering can in the other.
She doesn’t seem to go to the gym or have a pet.
Nor does she smoke, neither weed nor cigarettes.
She lives alone and drives that beater old Subaru.
She seems friendly, but not overly so with her neighbors. I’ve checked the member lists for several nearby churches, and she’s not a registered member of any.
Suddenly, her door opens. I duck down, eyes on the tiny TV screen that shows multiple camera angles that are built into the exterior of the van.
She’s in an adorable vintage baseball tee shirt with bright green sleeves and some black leggings that show me her incredible, voluptuous ass. She has an odd bag over her arm. When she turns to get into her car, I get a better look at the bag. Not one I’ve seen her carry before. Leather, maybe.
As she pulls out of her parking spot, I quickly pull on an enormous cowboy hat to cover most of my horns and climb into the driver’s seat. I follow as far behind as I feel I safely can.
When I pull alongside an old bowling alley, I frown.
A date? I park next door and watch as Margo strides in, tossing back her loose braid and grinning, obviously excited.
I pull out my notebook and make a few notes.
If she bowls regularly enough to have her own ball, maybe it’s not a date? I pull up the alley’s schedule online.
Well, that’s not fucking helpful. They have mixed leagues five nights a week, including this one.
I frown harder and chew on my pencil. I better order some SmoreDash or something; I might be here for awhile.
Three days later, I’m at The Taverna. Well, upstairs, in Rosie’s flat.
I’m cooking us pasta for lunch. Margo is firmly at her shop for the day, so I don’t need to worry about her right now.
She has enough heavy tools and lovely neighbors that I trust she could bonk anyone who tried to harm her and run for help fairly easily.
“So, the acquisition on Petal Ave?” Rosie asks as she slithers in from the back balcony. She curls her snake tail up as she straightens.
“The accountant and the record shop owner signed last week. It’s just the mechanic left,” I offer, willing myself not to think of Margo squeezing my cock near to death with those thick thighs of hers.
“Perfect.” Rosie smiles. “I was thinking we might consider a street near there for our next set. Would you scout them this week?”
“‘Course,” I answer as I turn to grab the parmesan.
I hear feet on the stairs, but the entrance is well-guarded so I’m not concerned.
“Hey,” Alex, one of our nieces, says, “I have a Margo Blume here to sign a contract?”
Hearing my destined’s name causes me to spin, block of cheese in hand.
There she stands, her mechanic’s jumpsuit tied about her waist and a tiny-strapped black tank top under it, showing off the tops of her large breasts. I blink, utterly stunned, both by her beauty and by how unexpected the sight of her is.