“Umm, yeah. That sounds like a good plan to me.” I’ve given up any hope of sounding like an articulate human being. He’s lucky I’m speaking in more than grunts and sign language by this point. I feel a little like I’ve got whip lash with how quickly my life has changed the last few days.
I’m still slowly fondling his dick.
“Good.”
He steps closer, palming my breasts again, and resumes his interrupted assault on my mouth. When I’m a panting gasping mess, he lowers his mouth to my breasts, licking each nipple with the flat of his tongue before sucking as much of my breast into his mouth as will fit.
“Your tits are fucking perfect, Cobra. Perfect. God. See the way they spill out of my hands? I’m going to lay you flat on your bed and fuck your tits until I come all over them.”
Not hearing anything to complain about so far.
Derrick falls to his knees in front of me, grabbing my leggings and pulling them down my legs. I squeeze my eyes closed, panicking, again, because while he’s as trim downstairs as a bonsai plant, my lady parts haven’t seen a razor in months.
But bless him, because he doesn’t seem to care when he lifts one of my feet clean free of the fabric and spreads my legs wide before shoving his face into my crotch.
My brain explodes, if only from the unexpectedness of it. As soon as he starts he stops though, using his fingers to spread my wetness into all my crevices.
“I want you up against this counter, legs spread and ass out, by the time I get back. You have fifteen seconds. Go.”
Just like that he’s gone, and I’m left standing like an idiot in my kitchen, my pants and panties still covering one calf, bunched around my left knee.
“Eight. Seven. Six.”
He comes back into view, ripping a condom wrapper with his teeth and rolling it down his cock.
“Five. Four.”
Jesus. Okay.
I flip around on the counter, so the edge is against my belly instead of my back. As soon as I do, Derrick is on me, and, without warning, shoving two fingers into my pussy.
“Holy shit,” I pant, wholly unprepared for what sex with this man really means.
“God, you’re so wet,” he growls against my ear, sucking at my neck and reaching the other hand to pull on my nipples. He’s right, I am. I’m getting wetter by the second. I feel it pooling in my center, coating his fingers in my stickiness. I’m not quite sure how that happened, as I haven’t played much of a participant in the last few minutes. But I’m suddenly so ready for him, I’m almost trembling in anticipation.
He works his fingers in and out of me, scissoring the digits and rubbing against my internal walls. It feels fantastic, there’s no doubt about it. But it only leaves me wanting more.
“Later, after I’ve had you once, I’m going to take my time with this pussy. Really show it the devotion it deserves. But I can see it in your eyes, you’re a heartbeat from locking yourself into the bathroom until they lift the pandemic restrictions, and I need to show you why that would be a horrible idea.”
He’s wrong. Maybe I was going to bolt ten minutes ago. Now though? Now I’m ready to try the king sky slut on for size. No one has ever talked to me like this while we were having sex. No one has ever talked to me like this period. I like it. A lot.
He removes his hand from between my legs, only to replace it with his cock. He’s gentle and teasing, rubbing the tip between my folds, using my lubricant to slick up the already slippery condom.
When he breaches my entrance, my muscles clench down around him, and he slows to stop no more than halfway inside.
“Keep going,” I order, pushing back against him. Needing no more encouragement, he shoves the rest of the way inside, ripping a gasp from my lips.
“Alright?”
He’s pulling back out already, his hands digging into my hips.
“Uh-huh,” I pant, not sure I can use my words. It’s been over a year since I’ve had sex, and that loser was nowhere near built like Derrick is. Just like the ’65 Cobra I was named after, this is going to be rough and fast. “Go,” I beg.
He does.
His hips snap against my ass, and the last rational thought I have before my mind blanks around me is that the countertop is going to bruise my belly.
Chapter 5
Derrick
There is a God. There is a God. There is a God.
I always knew there had to be. I’m not religious. I never go to church. But spending most of my time up in the air, I always knew that somewhere above me, there was a higher power.
Being balls deep inside of Shelby? Fulfilling a long held secret desire to fuck in a kitchen, while my balls are smacking against her ass, just proves it to me once and for all.
My orgasm is building at the base of my spine, my muscles pulled tight in my gut, and I reach my hand around to find her clit, hoping to push her over the edge.
As soon as she starts to whimper, I let myself go, filling the condom with my cum. I wish I was pouring into her instead. Then, I could watch it drip from her cunt before pushing it back inside with my fingers.
Her whimpering stops as soon as I start to orgasm, and it something feels off as she gasps for breath against the countertop. She’s practically bent in half, her cheek resting on toaster oven.
“You didn’t finish,” I say, and she shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. It’s me, not you. That was freaking awesome Derrick.”
It was. It was freaking out of this world. At least until I came, and she didn’t. I pull my softening cock from her cunt, removing the condom and tying it off before throwing it into the trash. Then I help her unbend from around the counter. Her back cracks audibly as she straightens with a wince.
Great. Not only didn’t she come, but you hurt her in the process, asshole. You’re really hitting it out of the park here.
She turns around and smiles at me, sweat coating her body. I can’t resist running my tongue along her jutting collar bone, licking up some of the moisture. But I can’t let it go. It’s not in my nature.
“You have to come, Cobra. Why don’t I drop you on that counter, and I’ll lick that sweet pussy of yours.”
She blushes the most adorable shade of pink, like I wasn’t fucking her for all that I’m worth not three minutes ago, and shakes her head no.
“That’s okay. I’m good. I promise. Honestly. I...” She hesitates for a moment, looking anywhere but at me. “I never finish, like that, when I have sex. Like I said, it’s not you. It’s me.”
I stare at her dumbfounded for a minute, unable to understand her words. I’ve heard that women have trouble sometimes coming from vaginal penetration. But it’s not a problem that I’ve ever had to deal with. Not that you’re aware of, at least, taunts an inner voice.
My chest puffs out a little, my personal manhood on the line now.
“No. That’s not the way this works. If you don’t orgasm when you have sex with a man, it’s always the man’s fault. Always. Now it’s a matter of honor. On your bed. Now.” I point toward her bedroom.
Shelby cringes, her face squishing up until her beautiful features resemble a baby who smelled something foul. “See. It is me. It’s not just sex. I’ve never...finished”—I can’t help but smile at the way she can’t seem to bring herself to say orgasm—“with another person. At all. I’ve had a guy go down on me once or twice, and after a while I just had to fake it, since it became pretty obvious that it was taking longer than they wanted to spend. Seriously. What we just did? That was like the best I’ve ever had. Hands down. Thanks. I really appreciate it.”