And when I’m done, he’ll throw me to my back and he’ll eat me out until I’ve come a dozen times.
And then we’ll fuck.
And fuck.
And fuck.
Oh yes, this is the plan.
Maybe we’ll work a shower in there, during which we will…you guessed it—fuck.
My sex is slippery, weeping with arousal from thinking about all the things I’m going to do with man. Soaked. Slick. Begging for his tongue. Demanding to be filled by him.
My nipples ache, standing on end.
Tunis feels like a thousand years ago, and a blur. A moment of pleasure in a sea of trauma and tension.
I wiggle under the blankets, biting my lip. As if to make it easier for me, Apollo rolls to his back, snuffling, sighing deeply, thrusting his hips gently as if in an attempt to relieve the pressure.
Don’t worry, my lover. I’ll help with that.
I frame his hips with my hands in the darkness under the blankets and find his flesh with my lips—his thigh, a soft scruff of hair. Kiss upward. My nose nuzzles his balls, and I flick them with my tongue. He inhales through his nose—he felt that. I rest my palms on his belly, slide them down under the fat thickness of his erection, lifting it off his belly. My cheek rests on his navel, and I lift him to my mouth. He moans in his sleep as he fills my mouth. My tongue slides against his ridged, salty flesh. I pull away, slowly, slathering my tongue against his skin. He huffs, and his hips lift. I flicker my tongue against the now-moist tip of him, tasting his pre-cum.
Already, Apollo? Good. Give it to me. I want it all, I want you to wake up coming, wake up to my mouth around you, sucking you dry.
I lick the tip, around the side. Cup his balls and massage them, squeeze them. He breathes out, soft and a little hoarse, not quite a groan.
I have to lift the blanket for a moment to get some fresh air, and then I take him back into my mouth again, this time pulsing around him, lower with each pulse. I cradle his heavy, taut balls in both of my hands and pull him toward me, lowering my mouth around him as far as I can, swallowing around him.
More.
He grunts in his sleep as I swallow around him, and then I back away, licking him with wiggling, slathering movements of my tongue.
He’s coated in my saliva, now, and I use it as lubricant to caress him with both hands, pumping him gently, steadily. Keep pumping him as I take the fat, plump, lovely head into my mouth, suckling around his cock and stroking it—petting it, kissing it. Loving it.
He gasps, groans. His hips push.
“Mmmmm…” A wordless groan. “R-r-rrrrrrin….” He gasps. “Rinna…”
I don’t answer with words. Instead I do the thing I know he like best, when I blow him—I twist my hands as I stroke downward, while working the upper few inches of him with my mouth. Slowly at first, and the more swiftly. Once his hips are working, moving with me and giving me his need, I hold the pace there. No faster, not hurrying him to the edge.
Will he wake up?
I’m curious to find out.
I’ve woken him up like this before, and he’s always woken up. Usually, he stops me before he comes and we make love—if I don’t come during, he fills me with a dildo while eating me with his mouth, and he makes me come until I’m weak and limp.
But I kind of want him to not wake up. To wonder if it was a dream. Or to wake up as he’s coming, shocked, gasping awake.
I steadily pleasure him, hands twisting on the downstroke, mouth moving around his head, tongue all over him. He rises to it, then, moaning in his sleep, hips helplessly beginning to thrust. He rolls a bit, hands wandering as if hunting for me. I let go of his cock briefly, just long enough to guide his hands to my head, into my hair—they knot there, instantly, and his groan of relief is a beautiful thing.
I pause, lick the tip again, let him fall back from the edge just slightly. Not too far. And then I start again, just the way he likes it, with the twist and the tongue. He groans, and I feel him pulsating in my mouth, feel that vein on the underside of his thick long perfect cock pulsing against my tongue. He groans again, a long low sound in his chest that I feel as much as hear.
“Rin…” he murmurs. “Rin.”
More, then. Faster. Until his hips are pushing hard, fast.
I feel him prepare to burst.
