I kiss my way down her neck, and she moans softly at every touch, making my erection pulse with excitement. I can’t believe this live wire worried she’s not sexual, when in reality she’s the most sensitive and reactive woman I’ve ever been with.
“Inhale through your nose, sweetheart. Do you smell that?”
“Mmm. Vanilla. I love it.”
“It’s edible.”
“Ooooooooh.”
I try not to laugh. Even in the midst of sexual arousal, this girl is like an adorable cartoon character come to life.
“Inhale again,” I whisper, after I’ve gained control of my urge to laugh, and Amy follows instructions while I continue kneading her shoulders. When her muscles feel sufficiently supple under my palms, I guide my little puppet onto her back on top of the towels. “Do you trust me, puppet?” I ask.
“With my life,” she whispers back. And the thing about Amy O’Brien is I know she’s being literal. This girl would place her very life in my palms without the slightest hesitation, without realizing I’m not even close to worthy.
“Nothing should cause you any pain,” I whisper. “But you might feel uncomfortable and anxious, right before you feel fucking amazing. You’ll probably feel like you need to pee, right before you have the best orgasm of your life. But you need to trust me when I tell you to relax and push through it and let go. For this to work, you have to trust me and not resist what I’m telling you to do.”
When Amy nods, I open the drawer of my nightstand, pull out four soft cuffs, and begin slipping them onto her ankles and wrists. I’ve never tied anyone up for The Sure Thing before. At least, not ceremoniously, like this. The two things have never gone together in my mind. But I need to pull out all the stops with Amy. Thanks to that video, and me being her lifelong Fantasy Man, she’s got the highest expectations regarding what’s about to happen to her. And I’m hell-bent on exceeding all of them.
After securing each cuff to its nearest bedpost, I step back and admire my handiwork. Amy is glorious right now. Naked and spread-eagle on the bed. Twitching and panting with anticipation. My cock straining, I grab the vanilla oil and dribble it onto her bare torso, thighs, and pussy, that last spot making her moan. I massage her hips and thighs for a bit, making her yearn for the moment when I’ll get to work in earnest.
For a while, I don’t touch anywhere near Amy’s pussy. I already know I can easily get her off the usual ways. But getting her to come as hard as this technique is designed to do—getting her to let go that fully for me—will require a much longer than usual build-up.
When Amy begins gyrating and writhing against her straps with enthusiasm, I grab the chocolate sauce off the nightstand. I drizzle it onto her hard nipples and breasts, and then lick it up with fervor while letting the tip of my cock slide up and down her slit.
The effect on Amy is hard to miss. Just this fast, she’s going batshit crazy on me. And that’s a mighty good thing, since I am, too.
When the chocolate is gone, I stretch open Amy’s pussy with my fingers, all the way, baring her swollen clit to me. I blow on her pussy as she moans with excitement at every subtle stimulation. Then I flicker my tongue against her hard, swollen bull’s-eye, teasing her some more, before leaning in to . . .
Holy shit.
Amy’s having an orgasm already! I wasn’t expecting that.
As Amy groans and writhes through her pleasure, I slide my fingers inside her, straight to her G-spot, and stroke that swollen patch as her body ripples and clenches around my fingers, in an effort to keep that orgasm going for her as long as possible. Clearly, it’s nothing but a simple clitoral orgasm, based on what I’ve done to her thus far and what I’m feeling inside her. A run-of-the-mill O that’s an insult to the intense kinds I’m going to be unleashing from deep inside her soon. But, hey, she seems to be enjoying this little appetizer, thoroughly, so good for her.
Not giving Amy’s body a chance to regroup from her little orgasm, I begin stroking her G-spot with firm, confident strokes—and it’s easy to ascertain the effect on her. That her pleasure is quickly skyrocketing with each precise stroke.
Breathing hard, I lean in and give Amy a deep, passionate kiss that tightens my balls, and she replies by gasping into my mouth in a way that tells me something big has just happened inside her. A sharp tightening, I presume. Whatever it was, it’s clearly shoved her right to the very brink of ecstasy.
My heart crashing, I press my lips to her ear, still stroking her G-spot methodically. This is it. The moment I need to push her into the abyss with a steady stream of dirty talk.
“You’re hot as fuck, baby,” I whisper, my dick throbbing and seeping with wetness. “You’ve got delicious, perfect tits. The tastiest pussy I’ve ever eaten. You feel so fucking good when I fuck you—tight and warm and perfect—it’s like your body was made for mine.”
“Oh, God, yes,” Amy chokes out, thrashing against her four bindings.
“Come for me,” I whisper. It’s something I never say, simply because it’s demoralizing for both parties if it doesn’t work. But this time, I have zero doubts. She’s on the bitter cusp of realizing. The ragged edge. All she’s waiting for is my command. “Come now, baby,” I grit out. “Do it. Relax. This pussy is mine and I’m telling it to give me what I want.”
With a guttural growl, Amy releases forcefully, which sends my own pleasure spiraling, along with hers.
“Fuck me,” she whispers as her body comes down. “Colin, I want you inside me.”
“I haven’t even done The Sure Thing to you yet,” I say, smiling.
“What?” Amy shouts. Not surprisingly. I figured she’d lose her mind to find that out.
“Those orgasms were appetizers,” I say. “I’m laying the foundation to get your body ready to be turned inside out.”
Amy’s eyes saucer. “Oh my fucking God.”
I laugh heartily at her expression. “Relax now, sweetheart,” I say. “Let me take care of everything. You’re about to feel something you didn’t even know was possible—something a session with a vibrator can’t even come close to achieving for you.”
As Amy releases a string of excited, incredulous sounds, I return to the top drawer of my nightstand and grab the toy I’ve stowed there—an egg-shaped vibrator about the size of my palm that features a rubber spout that’s perfectly designed to encapsulate the hood of a woman’s clitoris. Unlike other vibrators I’ve enjoyed incorporating into my fun, this beauty never touches a woman’s most sensitive nerve endings, but instead blows streamlined puffs of air onto its target. Which means, it’s perfectly designed to complement my piercing. Thanks to this genius invention, I can stimulate Amy’s clit, gently and precisely, as we embark on The Sure Thing together, while not worrying I’m over-stimulating it. That’s important for a guy like me, with a hoop of metal attached to my dick. Because it means Amy’s clit will still be open for business for my piercing by the time I get around to finally fucking her at the end of this magical carpet ride. Which, of course, is the whole point of this for me, besides giving my partner pleasure. Getting to experience the holy grail for myself.