I wasn’t planning on having my first orgasm so soon, but I should have been; you never fail to bring me right to the edge. As I have told you before, just watching you suck my cock is more erotic and exhilarating than actually feeling others do it to me. I know I am close, and you know it too. There’s no holding back.
“Where would my good girl like her reward?” I ask. “Would you like to swallow it, or wear it?” I expect you to take me out of your mouth to tell me. I wonder if you’ll pretend to think it over a bit before giving me your answer, which you’ve undoubtedly decided before we even got started. But instead you keep your lips closed tightly around my throbbing cock. Your point made, I keep fucking your throat. I’m so close I almost can’t stand it.
As my hands tighten in your hair you know your reward is close. It takes me only a few more forceful thrusts to erupt deep in your throat to a score of intense, impassioned moans. You don’t stop sucking until I am completely drained, and the sounds of your own pleasure and satisfaction are unmistakable. My thrusting slows, becomes more shallow and less assertive – almost passive – and then stops altogether. As you clean me with long, deliberate licks, the audience applauds. There are even a few stray cheers.
As the ovation dies down, you fall back against the lounge chair. The back rest is lowered all the way, giving us a completely horizontal surface to fuck on. As I catch my breath I watch your breasts slowly rise and fall. Then I look out at the crowd and see some of our spectators pulling their pants back up and gathering their personal effects. I clear my throat and address the congregation.
“We’re not finished!” At my words, the spectators look toward us again. Those who appear to be heading for the door stop in place. I pause here not for effect or emphasis but because I really don’t know what to say. I hadn’t planned on anyone leaving after my first orgasm, so I hadn’t rehearsed this announcement beforehand like I did my previous one.
I continue: “In fact, we’re just getting started. I am known for having no refractory period.” At this, I gesture to my cock, which is still standing upright, the head red, swollen, and angry. “So we’re going to keep going for awhile. If you’d like to continue watching, you are all welcome to stay.” I consider reminding them of the rules I set forth at the start of our performance, but so far they’ve done a good job being respectful, and at any rate, security knows what to do if anyone gets rowdy. I see no reason to reiterate the point like they’re children.
Now I turn to you. “Where would my good girl like my cock?” My voice is loud enough to be heard, but it’s clear that I am speaking to you and for you, not for our audience.
“In my pussy first, please.” Your legs spring open, and I look over at the crowd in the hopes of feeling their excitement as you show them everything that belongs to me. They are excited; clothing is once again being doffed, and now there are fewer spectators fully dressed than partially naked or even completely naked. I imagine their pleasure, even as I acknowledge that it will be nothing compared to ours.
I get onto the lounge chair and kneel between your legs. We both ache for me to fill you, desperate for that first moment when I slip inside your pussy. So naturally I take a few minutes and tease your lips and your clit with the head of my cock before giving you what you need. Your defiant whining is punctuated by moans of pleasure. You pull me close to you, we kiss, and soon I am home.
I move your legs up onto my shoulders and thrust, my fingers playfully strumming your clit. My cock is so deep inside you that your breaths become gasps. With every movement, the head of my cock glances against your G-spot. You grab my hips and move me back and forth, a gesture of assistance that is as exciting as it is unnecessary. I feel you squeezing me, pulsing around me, and it occurs to me that the audience might like to watch us both cum at the same time. But the thought barely registers in my mind before you climax noisily.
I can feel your nails raking my hips and my waist as your body goes rigid. You take your legs off of my shoulders and wrap them around my back like a great big hug, pulling me even deeper inside you. Your moans are an erotic cacophony, an orchestra piece that has reached its zenith and is winding down. But I don’t wait for your orgasm to subside before I place my hands under your thighs and move us into a sitting position so you can ride me on the edge of the lounge chair.
My hands are at your waist, lifting you up the length of my cock and then letting you slam back down repeatedly. You roll your hips under my fingers, and I can already feel your legs shaking. You throw your hands around my neck to anchor yourself, and I move my hands down to fondle your breasts. There is some hollering from the crowd now, nothing obnoxious. However, I realize they are facing the foot of the lounge chair, which means their view is your ass moving up and down on me, your hips rolling and rippling as your pussy swallows me whole.
Someone in the crowd moans. Then someone else. As their moans reach a crescendo, a third spectator gives in and cums as well. Our performance is having the desired effect. And the chorus of satisfaction must be enough to take you over the edge once more, because your body tenses up and you ride me harder, your legs pressing against my sides as you throw your head against my shoulder and wail in ecstasy.
Your lips meet my neck, kissing and sucking softly, and the sensations bring me close. I am not opposed to you making me cum while on top of me, but I think it will excite you more if you are on the bottom, looking up at me as I release inside you. Without warning, I pick you up, rise from my seat, and set you down on your back with enough force to make the chair shake underneath you. I pull your legs apart before you even realize what’s happening, and thrust harder than you’ve ever experienced. My movements are decisive, with purpose. You know what’s about to happen, and you goad me with your wanton words.
“Cum in me. Cum in my pussy. I need it so badly. I want to be so full.”
Anything you say after that is drowned out by a primal, guttural roar. I can’t say your name, though I try. I can barely form rational thought. All at once I let go, my cum pouring into you one thick, ropey spurt after another. I can’t be sure, but I think that feeling my release is what triggers your own. I don’t stop thrusting, even when I’m sure I’m spent. But my movements eventually slow, and you kiss me hungrily.
Then you whisper two breathless words: “Give me.”
I pull out of you, taking a moment to gaze down at your open pussy, my cum pooling inside you and dripping down your thighs. It looks beautifully used, and ready for much more. But my good girl has made a request, and anything my good girl wants she gets. I get off of the lounge chair and stand by your head, helping you into a sitting position so that you can taste both of us on my cock. But before I’ll give it to you I close my fist around it and stroke it just out of reach of your tongue.
“Say please.”
Read Part 4.