I let him kiss me. He smiled at me, and I half-smiled back. I let him walk out of my house with my self-restraint in his back pocket. Over the next few weeks, there wasn’t a day that passed that didn’t find us together, making quite a mess of one another. Delight lit my eyes when I’d greet him at my door each morning, excitement for a repeat at lunch, and sweet pity for his aches after work. He’d kiss me as though he needed it to breathe, and his hands groped until he worked my breathlessness into an aching moan. It never got old. No matter where we were, whether I was bent over or riding him, or on my back or side, it was always the chase that ensnared me. His pursuit made me succumb without fail.
He was never frustrated or too impatient to work me up. Rather, he enjoyed watching my smile of anticipation slowly morph into the wide-eyed gaze of unsteady quarry and then the desperate frown of a woman focused on keeping herself contained. He’d often turn off playing music or the nearby television, tell me he wants to “listen to me”, and groan in approval when the breath I’ve been restraining builds into a cry of ecstasy. Every day, a few times a day, I was being worked over. I couldn’t keep clean panties. Daniel peeked in my hamper a few times a week, looking over my collection of laundry and grinning each time he’d notice a couple extra pairs since the last pair he’d personally removed.
The thought of his lips on my skin and his fingers stuffing my hot, swollen pussy kept my slit too wet to keep from changing constantly. Every time I tried pulling his hands away, my own hands were popped or my ass was smacked – hard enough to be a punishment. It startled me. He’d tear his lips from mine and offer me a warm reminder, “Alyssa, move your hands, baby. Do you want me to stop?” I’d shake my head and bite my lip trying to fight the orgasm he was working on. He made me absolutely drunk with passion, and I sat up at night wondering how anyone could ever make me feel so incredibly good. I wondered why he wasn’t mine as much as I was his, and I was kızılay escort reminded of his marriage.
“Good afternoon, Alyssa,” came his voice from my earbuds one afternoon.
“Good afternoon, Daniel,” I said with a smile and an imagined curtsy.
“I thought maybe we’d go on a little getaway soon.”
I was silent as every question that mattered raced through my head and burned on my tongue. I had asked him in the weeks past what his intentions were, and though he’d told me he wanted to pursue a relationship with me and finalize his divorce, I never believed him. I was reasonably skeptical, and I couldn’t help wondering what he’d tell his wife and daughter about his disappearing for a few days.
“How do you propose we go away together? You have a family, remember?”
“My wife and I have an understanding about my daughter, and I don’t plan on telling her anything other than that I will be out of town.”
“So I’m just supposed to take off with you for a long weekend? And then what?”
“Actually, I was thinking it’d be more like two weeks…”
I was astounded at the suggestion and couldn’t manage a single word.
“Alyssa, I’d like you to take a break and relax. I want you to drop everything you have going on with the move and the renovation and come with me. Let me help you unwind. We can get away and clear our minds together.”
“I don’t know that that’s a good idea.”
“I’m suggesting it, and I’m the only one with holdups, right?”
“I guess. Where would we go?”
“I was thinking Fiji might be nice.”
“Fiji… FIJI?! You mean Fiji, Fiji?”
He laughed at my excitement, “YES, Fiji, Fiji! How ’bout it?”
“I’ll think about it.” I was trying my best to maintain my self-control, knowing I’d already shown my hand.
“Well, while you’re thinking about it, why don’t you open your door?”
“I don’t know if I should do that either,” I giggled.
“I strongly suggest you allow me access. I’ve been thinking kolej escort about tasting you since I woke this morning, and now I’m convinced you’re what I should have for lunch.”
I fell silent.
“Alyssa? Baby?”
“Y-yeah… I’m here.”
“Let me in, babe. I need to suck on your sweet pussy, and today, you’re going to let me.”
My lips were slippery with arousal, and the lace of the boy shorts I’d put on that morning was tickling me. By the time I arrived at the door, I was grinning from the intolerable tickling sensation. Daniel was faithful in his approach. He knew I was already aroused, but delayed slipping his hands past my waistline just to slowly torture me. He wanted me to want it, and it always worked. He squeezed my nipples through my shirt, somehow pinpointing them on the first try, even when I had a padded bra on.
That day, I had nothing more than a t-shirt floating over my breasts. They were heavy, and he’d arrived just before I’d put on a tank top. He lifted my tee with his fingers, grazing my golden tan skin as he went, and found my left nipple with his warm tongue and lips. I was fine until he started flitting the tip of his tongue across the surface of the very tip of my nipple. The sensation was so delicious, I started running from him, but he caught my wrists in his hand before I could move and tossed them about his neck. I held on tight and let my head roll back as he ran his fingers from sternum to pubis.
Suddenly, he filled his left fist with my hair, pulling my long, dark curls toward the floor and with his right, reached past my pajamas and lace panties and grabbed at my pussy, palming and massaging it, squeezing my lips between his fingers and palm. He patted it gently, and shoved his finger in to make me cum. Daniel had done this so many times, I was second nature to him. Once I’d filled his palm with my own fluid, he knelt down and parted my lips and licked and sucked my clit so sweetly I thought I’d pass out. I just wanted to maltepe escort lay down. My every muscle was tense, and my thighs were shaking.
He looked up at me, licked his lips and said, “You taste like water. Sweet water. The kind people used to make with cane sugar.” He was serious. He was kneeling between my thighs and comparing my taste to an old southern glass of sugar water. I would’ve laughed if I could’ve managed to think straight. I couldn’t speak, but only shifted my hips backward before he spanked my thigh.
“Don’t pull away, baby. Let’s go lay down, so I can do what I want to you.” He stood up and backed me down from the door of my hotel room to the bed. When I stumbled backward and sat, he immediately lifted my legs over his shoulders and pressed my knees up forcefully. His tongue pressed against my clit, ran down between my lips, and shot in and out of my pussy as he sucked diligently on my secreting hole. No matter how I squirmed, I was spanked and told to keep still, and he made me cum more times than I could count before he let my legs fall and came up to meet my mouth with my wetness on his lips.
He didn’t hesitate, but slipped the head of his dick into my dripping pussy and watched me lose my shit with a grin on his handsome face. He loved watching me come to tears on his hard, relentless dick, pleased in knowing he could make me cum whenever he wanted. He stroked slowly and looked down frequently to admire the generous coating of pussy juice on his dick as he pulled out to his tip. He held my head in his hands and told me to look at him as I came, and he pierced me with his intensity and pumped my pussy harder and deeper for an orgasm I couldn’t stop.
Oh, how he loved owning my pussy, knowing that he’d earned every nail in his back and every cry of joy. He relished that I relied on him to use me in such a way that my pussy would drip, and my heart would pound. It’s something I couldn’t get from anyone else. He knew I was his possession. Since the very first time, he had laid claim to my hole, and pleasing me was a sport for his ego. How could I avoid addiction to a man whose sole goal wasn’t to get off, but to be the cause of MY orgasms – as many as he could give me at a time. He was pounding the shit out of my cervix a few times daily as it was. What was I going to do for two weeks in Fiji with a man that’s capable of fucking me to insanity?