Chapter Eleven Lover #5
A second finger. “Oh, fuck!” I screech, then hold his wrist still so I can ride the two thick sausages now lodged inside of me, stretching me. If Gordon is getting the craziest peep show of his life, I’ll apologize later.
Except Gordon seems to think he should thank me for riding his hand like a mechanical bull at a cheesy western bar.
“Good girl, Andrea. So good to me. So good to come on me and let me share your pleasure,” Gordon praises, kissing my thighs and putting his free hand under my bottom to lift me slightly.
He rises, puts a knee next to my hip, and at the steeper angle proceeds to finger me until I’m screaming and shaking—and maybe squirting.
I don’t know. I just know things are wet, my legs are boneless, and Gordon is inspecting me for damages in the aftermath.
Like, actually kneeling back down and taking stock, gently kissing and petting every inch of me with soft little cooing sounds. “Are you hurt? Was that too vigorous? Did my tusks jab you?”
“I love you, and that was the best sex ever, and we haven’t even had all the sex. Just the first round of sex.”
Gordon blinks at me. “Well... I don’t think it would be a comfortable fit, my Andrea.”
“Not at first, but pretty damn quick after. Trust me. It’s going to be amazing. And special,” I coax, and maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should say one mind-blowing orgasm for me is enough and offer to finish Gordon off by mouth.
But I’m greedy, not just for me, but for him. I want him to know how much I want him. I want to feel him inside of me. Share the deepest connection.
“I think you might die if I fall on you,” Gordon whispers, looking around furtively, like the secret sex police might jump out and arrest him.
“Hey, didn’t you say that the Orc chef and his human wife had a baby? And he’s about your size?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then it must work out okay,” I smile reassuringly.
“And if you’re worried about falling on top of me, I can always be on top of you.
” I say this like I’ve been on top before—for more than three minutes, that is.
Or that I’m confident I can actually take something the size of a giant green cucumber, instead of my ex’s discount skinny hot dog dick.
But Gordon looks relieved and sprawls trustingly on his back, watching me with a set jaw and big “puppy love” eyes.
“You are all the blends of sexy, handsome, and cute,” I sigh, and it comes off like a cross between a complaint and a compliment. “There’s nothing wrong with that, by the way. I just don’t know how I got so lucky.”
Andrea thinks she’s lucky? I must have saved an angel or a saint at some point, and this is my reward.
I rest my hands on Andrea’s shoulders as she sinks onto my chest, head above mine.
She kisses me, and my filthy mind has a field day, realizing she’s twirling her tongue with mine, the very same tongue that thrust into her soft, silky pussy.
Her mouth, so prettily pressed to my lips, was wrapped around my cock earlier.
“I’m the lucky one. How is a woman who is so lovely and perfect, the beloved teacher and musician, every fantasy I’ve ever had?” I whisper between kisses.
Andrea’s legs glide atop mine, stopping when her soaked pussy rubs against my cock.
Her thighs close around my length, and we moan together as she rubs us together without sheathing me inside of her.
“This version of me is just for you. The naughty, slutty Andrea is only for her boyfriend,” she confesses.
“Not slutty. Perfect,” I correct, biting back a guttural grunt as her wetness coats me.
Andrea puts her hand just under the head of my cock, cupping the thick tip in her palm. With a soft gasp, she presses her mound to my tip, her hips and hand working together.
I can tell right away that it’s a mismatch.
My tip doesn’t fill the tiny slit of an opening, even though I know two fingers managed to squeeze inside. No, the head of my cock is roughly the size of the entire pink morsel between Andrea’s legs. “Andrea?” I hiss.
“I’m almost there,” Andrea hisses back, wriggling, rubbing her clit against my cock. For a few moments, that’s what we do, my hand joining hers.
“We can come like this,” I urge, knowing I won’t last long. So much for the troll stamina I mentioned.
Andrea nods, kissing me, our hands tangling between our legs, directing her wet heat to my dripping cock, massaging each other with our most intimate pleasure zones. I can feel her shudder against me—and the shuddering leads to a straining cry, a push of pussy past its limits.
“Ungh!” Andrea screams out a desperate noise—and my tip slots inside of her, forced in by gravity and helped along by an orgasm.
Speaking of which—Andrea’s spasming walls grip and flutter on me, and her eyes roll back. “Gordon, Gordon, ohhh, oh God, that’s so good. So fucking good,” Andrea sits on top of me and rocks.
The sight of her with her eyes closed, face slack with pleasure, breasts swaying, and hair tumbling loose would be enough to make any man hard.
Any man come.
“Oh, no,” I whisper when I feel the pressure inside of me breaking free.
You bragged about stamina, I think as my cock takes charge and completely blows my reputation—and just plain blows.
“Are you coming?” Andrea gasps.
“I’m so sorry,” I half-whimper.
“Must be really good, huh?”
“I’ve never... What are you doing?”
Andrea licks her lips, winks, and keeps riding my cock as it fills her, moaning as her own orgasm ripples through her.
“This is the perfect lube,” she whispers, continuing to rock on my hardness, making obscene squelching noises, her pussy filled with my cum, and her walls wrapped tightly around me.
More and more of me.
“Move with me,” she urges. “Your cum is making it easier to take more of you. You’re still hard, too.”
“Watching you makes me hard. Instantly hard,” I explain.
“And as far as I know, some males need rest time in between encounters. I don’t know if I do or not.
My guess is—” I swallow as Andrea leans back, sits down hard, and shows me her pink pussy spread around thick green inches, swallowing more now.
“That I’ll last longer this time.” At least a little longer...
Her walls fight me at first, but the cum I just produced makes everything so wet and slippery. Her pussy sinks down and devours inch after inch, stopping halfway down my cock.
My Andrea’s face is contorted, real, and vulnerable, no veneer of politeness or poise. Her hands grip my forearms as I hold her while she bounces, chanting, “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh fuck!” A little babble of unfettered, real pleasure that comes with scrunched-up eyebrows and bright, sweating cheeks.
My God. She is so beautiful. So real. I’m dreaming, but this is real. Just watching her would be enough of a high for me, but my body is the cause of her pleasure, and hers is the cause of mine.
I don’t know if I can survive this. My heart is racing, and my hips start to meet hers. I’m losing track of the rhythm, losing track of how hard I should go. “Andrea,” I rasp, grabbing her waist.
“Gordon. My Gordon. This is... This is so good. Is it good?” Her voice is a frantic gasp.
I didn’t know anything could feel this good. This is better than her mouth. This is... Well, I shouldn’t admit it, but if this is how succubi feel, I understand why it’s hard to reform.
Andrea is mine. Andrea loves me. We could do this often. Every month. Every week. Every day.
My head spins, and I have to stop thinking. Just feel. Listen.
Creamy, wet sounds. Squeezing, clamping walls. Her hot skin sliding and slapping against mine.
Me. Inside of her. Trusted enough to be loved and let in.
“Gordon!” Andrea’s long, whimpering wail takes me by surprise. One second, she’s riding, and the next, she’s splayed out on my chest.
She came. Again.
My ego and cock swell. “Am I doing good?” I check, even though I’m almost certain I am.
Andrea nods. “Best. Sex. Ever.”
“Ever?”
“As in no comparison.”
“And we’re not done, right?”
Andrea beams at me and tugs on my shoulder, slowly rolling us to our sides while we’re still interlocked. “Not even a little.”