Chapter Fifteen – Wren #2
After I come, he withdraws his hand from between my legs and releases his hold on my wrist above my head. I’m about to ask him what he’s doing, but he gets to his knees and works to undo his pants. I prop myself up, eyeing what he’s doing, and when he pulls out his erect length, I audibly gulp.
It’s a cock all right, rock hard and very much calling my name.
He’s on his knees over me, and he scoots forward, bringing that cock closer to my face. All without saying a word, he tells me what he wants me to do: he points at his hard cock, and then he brings a finger to his mask, to where a mouth would be.
I flush for a whole different reason. “I’ve never—”
He stops me by taking me by the chin and bringing me closer to his cock.
I have to sit up to reach it with the position we’re in, and even then, it’s not quite level, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
I part my lips and open my mouth, and he sets a hand on the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, and forces his cock into my mouth.
It’s… not something I’m prepared for. My mouth has to open as wide as it can, and although I don’t have experience doing something like this, I’m pretty sure it isn’t just the mouth he’s looking for.
He’s also looking for some sucking action, I think.
Some swirls of the tongue. Stuff to spice it up every now and then instead of having his cock just move in and out.
I do what I can. I keep my mouth open as much as possible while also trying to get into it and act like his dick is a piece of candy or a lollipop. Low, deep grunts come from him, which inform me without words that I’m doing well.
Or maybe he wants me so badly it wouldn’t even matter if I messed up majorly.
He doesn’t go too deep when it comes to guiding my head along his cock. If he would push his cock as deep as it could go, I’d definitely choke, so I’m glad he’s taking my inexperience into consideration.
I taste what must be bits of precum on the tip of his cock every now and then, and when I do, I make sure to run my tongue over it to gather it up.
His hand tightens on the back of my head, and he starts to rock his hips in sync with the bobbing of my head.
My thighs squeeze together. There is something insanely hot about this, how lost we both are in each other, to the point where I bet neither of us can think straight.
Why think straight when not thinking at all feels so good?
The masked man lets out a muffled moan, and seconds later a burst of hot, salty cum erupts in my mouth. It startles me, seemingly out of nowhere, but once I realize what it is—that he’s coming—I force myself to relax and take it.
It’s only when he pulls his cock out of my mouth that I can fully swallow, and as I do so, the man pushes me back down to the ground and yanks down my pants and the panties beneath.
He doesn’t take them all the way off, just bunches them to my knees; it’s all he needs to do.
His cock, still hard even after finding a release in my mouth, glides between my thighs and rubs along my clit for a few moments before he pushes himself inside of me, uniting us in a way his fingers simply couldn’t.
I gasp, suddenly so full and still so ridiculously hot. He comes down upon me, holding himself over me as he sets the pace, and I surrender everything I am, everything I will be, to this masked stranger. At this point I don’t recognize myself, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
This new me is a dirty girl, I guess.
Moaning, I take every thrust, every pump of that hard cock, and I take it with pleasure.
He takes hold of me at the base of my neck and squeezes ever so slightly, enough to make me lightheaded, but not enough to make me completely dizzy.
It only adds to the pleasure inside of me.
Combine that with the assault happening between my thighs, and I erupt again.
This orgasm lingers, drawn out as he continues to make me his.
He uses his other hand to bunch my shirt up, and seconds after that hand finds my chest, his thumb runs over my pebbled nipple and makes me squirm.
He then, while keeping one hand around my neck, abandons my chest to grab my right hand by the wrist. I assume he’s going to pin it above my head again, but I’m wrong.
No, this time he lifts my wrist and brings my hand to his mask, all while continuing to pump away between my legs.
I suck in a hard breath, barely able to realize what he’s telling me to do.
Is he saying I can take his mask off now?
What makes now different than before? Whatever.
I shouldn’t question it. I should just curl my fingertips around the edge of that mask and take it off his face, reveal his true self to me so the mystery of my masked man is a thing of the past.
It’s funny. I wasn’t as nervous coming here, alone, as I am about taking off that mask.
I’m dying to see the face beneath it, and yet a part of me still worries.
What if I don’t like what I see? He’s still inside of me, still claiming me and making me his; there will be no pushing him away, no undo button. We passed the point of no return.
The masked man is slow in letting go of my wrist, leaving the rest up to me.
After filling my lungs with air, I hold my breath as my fingertips dance around the edge of the plain black mask.
Inside my chest, my heart beats wildly, and when I finally tug that mask off, when my arm and the mask fall to the blanket we’re on and I stare up at the face above me, I can’t help but gasp.
I whisper his name, “Reese.”