Chapter Eleven Lover #4
“In some cases,” I say, and for a moment I almost go into safety mode and start explaining thermal insulated blankets. Then, I realize that’s not what she means. She means it’s time for me to do my job as boyfriend. As her loved one.
Keep my girlfriend warm.
With a chuckle that I can’t control, I pull her to my lap, and nuzzle her neck, hands roaming over her arms and bare midriff.
Andrea sighs, and her hands roam, too.
Down my chest.
To the hard, thick length that’s going to rip through my jeans.
I hiss when she touches me, even though the thick denim seam.
“No-go zone?” Andrea asks, her hand coming back to cup my face.
“It’s a very much go zone,” I growl. “If you want to.”
“I want to explore every piece of you,” Andrea says, echoing my own worried thoughts from earlier. “And I could explore better if we were both under the covers and out of these clothes. What do you think?”
I think being naked with Andrea would be like heaven on Earth, and my cock throbs and dribbles a shower of pre-cum at the thought of her skin rubbing against mine with nothing between us. “Good idea,” I croak.
“Then I’ll close the blinds and shut the door so Chopin doesn’t bother us,” she giggles. “You get under the covers.”
“Right.”
When Andrea’s back is turned, I strip in seconds and slide under the covers.
Andrea comes back and kneels on the bed. Looks at me as she fluffs her damaged hair back and ties it with a little elastic band from her wrist. Wriggles her shoulders and reveals her perfect oval breasts with wide brown circles and hard, crinkly little tips.
“You do this part,” she breathes, lying down next to me, putting my hand on her hip.
This part. Undressing her where she’s most intimate and vulnerable.
Because she trusts you. Loves you. You took such good care of her, so she knows she’ll be safe.
I nod as we curl together, her half-naked body joining me under her sheets. My hand completely spans her soft lower belly, and it’s like magic when I slide my fingers underneath and hear her moan, just from the relatively innocent touch of me pulling her shorts and underwear down.
“So soft.” I marvel, fingers caressing thighs. Hipbones. The soft, curly strip of hair that’s barely there on the softest part of her.
Well, almost the softest. Inside, she must be divinely soft. Mind-blowingly soft. My hand strokes back up to her breast, and my mouth falls open when Andrea moans and arches into my touch. “These are so perfect,” I murmur, in shock at how easy it is to touch her and be touched by her.
“This is so hard. All of you is so hard,” Andrea whispers, hands slowly working from shoulders to hips—and then meeting at the base of my cock.
With a groan, I roll back, helpless. Andrea’s hands join together to make a vise around my cock, and she slides up and down. Squeezing. Sighing. “Oh, God,” I groan, a prayer of thankfulness for making pleasure and for giving Andrea to me so we can share it.
“Does that feel good, baby?” Andrea purrs.
“Nothing has ever felt this good.”
“Ooh, just wait.” Andrea giggles and slides away. Slides down.
“Where are you going?” I ask, alarmed. I don’t know how to reciprocate the cuddling if my girlfriend hides at the bottom of the bed.
“I’m going to show you things you might like,” Andrea says, scooting to kneel between my knees, covers now down around her hips like some kind of fallen cape. “There are lots of names for this. Blow job. Giving head. Oral sex. I bet you know them.”
I nod, eyes suddenly in danger of popping free and shooting across the room. “I know the words. That is not an act I’ve done or seen done.”
“So, now you can see it and say you’ve done it, if you let me. Everything in bed should be loving, and the people should both say they want to do it. I want to kiss your cock, and move on from there. May I?”
It takes me a second to ensure my eyes are properly secured and to figure out how to make my mouth move. “Yes.” I finally go with one word. That’s what I’m good at.
But when Andrea starts to softly kiss my tip, and then licks it, looking into my eyes and cupping her own breasts as she pleasures me? I can’t shut up.
“Oh. Oh, fuck, yes. Oh, my God. How is that so good? What... Why? Oh, God. Oh, Andrea.” I am deathly afraid that something inside of me is going to break. I don’t think trolls are supposed to experience this amount of gentle, sustained pleasure.
“You want more?”
“What kind of a question is that?” I half-wail. “I would... I don’t know what I would do for more, but it would be anything you’d want.”
“Mmm. I want you to tell me how good it feels when I suck your cock and rub you with my hands. Because you’re huge. And you’re not going to fit all the way inside of my mouth. You probably won’t fit all the way inside of my pussy, either. Is that okay?”
“Uh-huh. I would be very honored—oh, fuck!” Andrea breaks my sentence (and possibly her box spring) when she pulls my wide, thick crown into her mouth and sucks devotedly on it.
She looks at me with her cheeks puffed out around my tip, both of her hands sliding up and down my length hard and fast. My hips rise without my permission, and slam back, body in a spasm of bliss.
“What was that? Honored?” Andrea pants when she needs a breath of air.
“Honored to be allowed to even try to be inside of you, my Andrea,” I babble.
“Oh, you’ll fit inside. You’re just every woman’s dream dildo, in a beautiful shade of jade,” she whispers, licking the drops of precum bubbling up at the slit of my cock. “Nice. And so thick.” She laps at the tip, still looking at me like she’s branding the sight of this sexual delight on my soul.
I’m almost tempted to ask if she has any succubi blood in her, but I don’t. Instead, I’m noticing the way my cock is pulsing, and the way her hips are squirming. “Do I get to kiss you and suck you, too?” I ask, swallowing down a grimace as my cock tries to spurt.
Andrea bites her lip (which gives her an unfair advantage and would raise her overall adorability by a thousand points if there were some sort of love point system), then rolls slowly onto her back. “A lot of men don’t do that.”
“Do you prefer your man not do it? Because I am yours,” I say proudly, eagerly rolling as well.
“I would love to be kissed and licked, and sucked on—if someone really wanted to. If they really enjoyed it. I wouldn’t like it if the person just did it out of obligation.”
I want to tell her that it’s not obligation, it’s a huge present—but it’s also pure selfishness on my part. I want to see and touch those secret places I’ve been dreaming about. I am curious and greedy, and I want to hear her gasp my name. I want to feel her come on my lips.
With a grunt of primal need, I forget talking in favor of showing: on my knees by the side of the bed, her hips in my hands, pulling her pussy to my face.
I try not to stare, but I steal looks while kissing and sucking the soft skin of her inner thighs.
She’s pretty, all pinks and tans, and when I spread her legs, her semi-shaved pussy opens wider to show me how she glistens pink inside, with an almost pearly, milky cast to the wetness glistening in her center.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. Hidden treasures here. I kiss her curls and hear her squeak, then smell a fresh wave of delicious heat. So soft. So breakable.
I won’t break her. She’s safe. And she’ll be screaming my name soon, moaning it, begging for me to love her over and over.
“I love you,” I whisper, and dive in, eyes open so I don’t miss a single sight.
Gordon said he loves me. He said it just before he split my pussy open like someone pitting a peach, tongue straight into the center. “Gordon! Holy shit,” I pant, pulling my legs back to my chest.
This man’s mouth is huge. He takes my entire pussy into his wide, strong jaws and feasts. Tongue lashing across the lips and folds. Tongue deep inside. He’s moaning, too, and that only makes my pussy buzz in a way it never has before.
But when he finds my clit—I almost black out.
“Tiny little button here,” Gordon narrates his exploration for a second, and puts his huge hands down to spread my lips and thighs. He leaves me totally exposed, my tiny, apparently impossible to find (according to my ex) clit poking up.
I think other guys have decided it was tiny, and therefore not worth troubling over. Or, maybe that it was tiny, so they couldn’t go hard.
Gordon... I don’t know exactly what he thought, but apparently he realized it was an important part the second I moaned like a complete nympho from one little nudge of his lips. “That’s the best spot,” I whimper, and Gordon now has a mission.
Make my clit his dessert.
His tongue attacks with fast, hard licks, alternating with greedy sucks.
“You’re getting so nice and wet, my Andrea,” he rumbles, and I agree in a wail.
“So this is how you’ll fit me inside. You get so soft.
So slippery.” Gordon takes a break from turning me into a broken dam and licks his lips.
“Are men allowed to use their hands, too? Like you did when you stroked and licked me at the same time?”
“So very encouraged. Do both,” I beg, my hands cupping my breasts and taking turns massaging the nipples, rolling them between my thumb and fingers.
Gordon’s hands are big. His fingers are big. When one slides in as he laps up the juice I’m making, my eyes lose focus.
“Using fingers first probably helps prepare you?”
“Use more fingers,” I agree as my eyes try to fix their vertical hold.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But your pussy does such amazing things. It’s squeezing me.”
“You want it to squeeze the cum right out of you,” I babble. “That means it’s good!”
Gordon takes directions like my life depends on it. I told him squeezing was good. He puts together the pieces to find what makes me squeeze. Lapping my clit. Fingering my pussy. Pressure on my upper wall.