Stuck on You (Masturbation Monday #248)

I'd initially planned this story for the Wicked Wednesday "Laughter" prompt, but I didn't finish it in time. So now it's an early Masturbation Monday post, which coincidentally also works with the prompt.

I got this idea from a conversation during Smummit 2—the smut summit of the Sisters in Smut, of which I'm now a proud member. A discussion with Jayne Renault and a few others about "stuck" porn inspired this erotic silliness.

For anyone thinking this story is completely unrealistic, let me just say that I once accidentally locked myself in a closet. If it could happen to anyone, it could definitely happen to me. Just sayin'.

Oh, and the Jackhuahua mentioned in the story was inspired by a Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix named Cocoa owned by the lovely couple that hosted me during Smummit 2.

Yes, I know it's a little long. This one required a little more set-up. I'll happily take the spanking.

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Hope you enjoy,

Ria ;)

Website: http://www.riarestrepo.com

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Stuck on You

By Ria Restrepo

Copyright ©2019. All rights reserved.

It all started with a very naughty plan to get the attention the smokin' hot guy next door—which then took an unexpected turn.

Since he moved in, I'd been lusting after him. We'd see each other in passing, coming and going from our homes. Apart from some smiles, waves, and lame attempts at flirting on my part, we hadn't exchanged more than a few words.

But almost every night, I sat out on my patio, listening to him playing his guitar and singing in a panty-drenching voice. There was a tall, wooden privacy fence separating our small backyards, so he didn't know about my eavesdropping—at least, I didn't think so.

If I'm honest, there were times when he sang a sultry song that I got so aroused I couldn't resist slipping my hand down inside my shorts and rubbing my horny cunt. I drew blood more than once biting my lip as I came, trying to stay completely silent.

So, in my sometimes proactive fashion, I decided to go after what I wanted. I needed to make him see me as a sexy seductive siren instead of the quiet, geeky neighbor girl. My crazy plan involved spending way too much money on frilly, lacy lingerie I rarely wore.

Home with my assortment of bras and panties, I removed the tags and dumped them all in the bathroom sink. After thoroughly wetting them, I squeezed out the excess water until they were only mildly damp. Then I carried them to the backyard and draped them on the fence so they provocatively hung over his side.

As I was placing the last bra, a wild gust of wind blew through, caught the rather large cups, and carried it well into his yard.

"Shit!"

I climbed onto a planter and looked over the fence. The delicate blue confection was laying as bold as could be in the middle of his lawn—completely out of my reach.

Okay, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe it was a fortuitous event after all. He'd find it, see the other lingerie strewn on the fence, then kindly return the bra. Of course, I'd be endearingly embarrassed and invite him in for coffee to show my gratitude—again, and again, and oh god yes, again.

While I was lost in my illicit fantasy, getting wetter by the second, I failed to notice his dog emerge from the house. A streak of beige charging for my bra finally broke through my erotic reverie. The Jackhuahua named Clemente circled the foreign object invading his turf, thoroughly sniffing it.

I slapped the side of the fence. "Shoo! Leave that alone."

The dog looked up a me and cocked his head.

"That's right. Now go back inside like a good boy."

Apparently, he had other ideas. He snatched up my bra and shook his head like a shark in a feeding frenzy, snarling at the inanimate beast he was determined to destroy.

"No! Bad dog! Stop that!"

Fuck! That was a hundred dollars worth of Chantilly lace and torturous underwire guaranteed to provide just the right amount of lift and support, molding my cleavage to perfection! By the time the dog got done with it, my hunky neighbor wouldn't recognize the remains.

Thinking fast, I ran through my side gate, praying his gate was unlocked. It was, so I trespassed without a second thought. His car hadn't been in his driveway when I came home and I hoped he stayed away long enough for me to retrieve the bra.

When I got into his yard, Clemente led me on a merry chase, obviously thinking this was the best game ever. Just as I was about to swoop down and grab him, he darted into the house through the doggy door.

"Son of a bitch!" Literally!

I tried the back door, but of course it was locked. Kneeling down, the doormat thankfully saving my bare knees, I pushed open the flap and looked inside. Clemente stood a few feet inside the kitchen looking back at me.

Adopting a sugary sweet voice, I said, "Good doggy. Come here and give me the pretty bra, and I'll give you something yummy instead."

He tilted his head again, but stayed right where he was, my bra clamped tightly between his teeth.

With a sigh, I blindly reached a hand inside, but couldn't feel anything but cold tile. My arm still through the doggy door, I turned slightly and pushed my head in to see where the dog was. He took a step back, but I lunged forward as far as I could and snagged the end of my bra.

Briefly triumphant, I pulled, hoping Clemente would release it. I should have known better. He leaned back, planting his little feet, and jerked his head from side to side. Apparently, he thought I'd started a new game of tug-of-war.

At first, I just held on, but then I heard the delicate fabric begin to give way, so I let go. Clemente fell back on his rump, but then was quickly on his feet again, prancing around, celebrating his victory.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I heard the sound of a car pulling up and a car door slam. Cursing under my breath, I tried backing out of the hole, but I was stuck. My one arm was partially jammed through the doggy door, so I slid forward until my other hand was also resting on the floor inside.

Again, I tried going back out, but no matter how I twisted and turned, I couldn't get through. Between my shoulders and breasts, I couldn't find the right angle that would free me from the tight opening. For the first time in my life, I wished for smaller tits.

Hearing his master, Clemente ran for the front door, his prize still clenched between his teeth.

"Hey, Clem, whatcha got there?"

On my hands and knees, half in and out of the doggy door, I squeezed my eyes shut and awaited the inevitable.

I heard a low whistle, then, "Where'd you get this, buddy?"

The rapid clicking of dog nails on the floor grew closer, followed by the louder thud of human footsteps. There was a moment of complete silence, then a rich peal of masculine laughter erupted.

As humiliating as the situation was, the sound of his amusement had a surprising effect on me. A delicious warmth unfurled low in my belly and lit me up from the inside out.

When I looked up, I saw he was slightly bent over, his hands braced on his thighs. He met my gaze, his glittering blue eyes and wide grin making his already handsome face positively devastating. The alluring heat racing through my veins burned a little hotter.

"Oh, man." He straightened and ran a hand over his face. "Aren't cat-burglars supposed to work at night?"

I sighed, then explained what had happened—leaving out the part about my planned seduction.

"Okay, let's see about getting you out of there." He walked up to me and held out his hands. "Give me your hands."

"I don't think that's going to work," I said even as I placed my hands in his, enjoying the warm, rough feel of them much more than I probably should have in that moment.

He tried pulling me through, but it just wouldn't work.

I let go and put my hands back on the floor. "My hips are too wide."

"Your hips are perfect. The opening is too narrow."

That distinction filled me with delight and poured gasoline on my smoldering desire.

"I'll go around back and try to get you out that way." As he turned and walked out of the kitchen, he added, "Stay there."

"Seriously?" I called after him. Where the hell was I going?

I heard him chuckling as he walked out the front door and couldn't help smiling despite my awkward predicament. Clemente followed after him, disappearing from sight.

A few moments passed, then I heard him groan. "Fuck."

"What's wrong?"

He cleared his throat. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

That's when I realized the picture I must have made. I knew my short skirt had risen up my backside since it felt awfully drafty back there. My simple cotton thong hardly covered anything, so he was surely getting an eyeful of my round ass.

"I'm going to have to get a little familiar here. Is that alright?"

I almost said, Yes, please, but caught myself at the last second. "It's okay. Do whatever you have to."

I felt him get down behind me and lean over to reach inside the doggy door to guide my torso out of the hole. His hand brushed my already taut nipple, sending enticing shivers streaking across my flesh. He hesitated for a second and I wondered if he noticed.

The warmth of his body covering mine, the feel of his jeans along my bare legs, and the slight weight of his chest on my back spiked my arousal even higher. My heart pounded in my chest and my breathing quickened. I was in such a vulnerable position, completely at his mercy. It should have made me nervous and uncomfortable. Instead, raw excitement surged throughout my body, flooding my sex with liquid desire.

He grabbed my shoulder, turning me slightly, and pulled back. In the process, my hip brushed against his groin, causing him to suck in a breath and freeze.

Was he turned on by this strange situation too?

That thought made me even hotter and I had to know for sure—so I did it again, slowly and more deliberately.

Oh yes, there was definitely something long and firm prodding my ass check.

His grip on me tightened and something thudded against the door—his head probably. "Stay still."

"I'm just trying to help."

Biting my lip, I blatantly ground my ass into his groin.

A rumbling sound reverberated through the door. "If you keep that up, I'm going to do what I've fantasized since I moved in."

Now that sounded promising.

"If it's anything like what I've been fantasizing about you, then please, go ahead."

"Fuck it!" The hand on my shoulder slid down to cup my breast. "You have amazing tits."

I moaned as he fondled my breast, then gasped when he took my nipple between his fingers and lightly squeezed. The whole time, I steadily rocked my hips, stroking his hard-on through his jeans.

He groaned again, then used his free hand to push my skirt up to my waist. His fingers traced the line of my thong over my asshole down to my drenched pussy. When he slid his fingers between my cunt lips, he moaned. "You're so fucking wet."

I couldn't take it anymore. I needed him inside me. "Please, fuck me!"

"No, not yet. Not like this."

His fingers left me and I whimpered. But then I heard the familiar rasp of a zipper and held my breath in anticipation.

He slid my thong aside, and then I felt the thick, hot length of his cock nestled between my ass cheeks. I pressed myself back into him as he rocked his hips, fucking himself against my ass.

Taking pity on me, he slipped his fingers back between my slick folds. All the air left my lungs when he found my clit and started circling it—gently at first, then harder and faster as his thrusts sped up.

Waves of pleasure rippled throughout my body, quickly building until an intense orgasm overtook me. Still shaking from the aftershocks, I heard him grunt several times, then felt the warm wetness of his come shooting all over my backside.

We stayed like that for several moments, then he shifted away and kissed the center of my back. "Okay, now let's really get you out of there."

It took some maneuvering a contortionist would have been proud of, but finally I was out of the doggy door and standing in front of him.

He brushed a lock of hair out of my face. "There you go. All unstuck."

"Not exactly."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

I grinned at him. "I'm still stuck on you."

Only for You (Wicked Wednesday #364)

This story evolved over the last week or so. It was initially inspired by last week's irresistible Masturbation Monday prompt, but I had trouble getting my muse to cooperate. Then I saw this week's Wicked Wednesday "Ritual" prompt and the story went in a slightly different direction.

It may also be a bit of a response to a rather critical comment someone made about a teaser I used for my story "Elevator Confidential," which was just released in Chemical [se]X 2: Just One More. The person called it "bossy and vulgar." I really can't argue with the vulgar part, but then I get off on vulgar.

However, as is the nature of teasers, the line was taken out of context and seen in the worst possible light. There is a big difference between dominance and being bossy. One is hot; one is not. One inspires submission; the other makes you want to slap the person silly. Anyway, I hope this story addresses that a little.

Please click on the badge below the story to read all the other posts!

Hope you enjoy,

Ria ;)

Website: http://www.riarestrepo.com

Twitter: @RiaRestrepo

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/RiaRestrepoAuthorPage

Warning: Really vulgar language, domination/submission, dirty talk, name calling, and come-play.

Only for You

By Ria Restrepo

Copyright ©2019. All rights reserved.

"What are you doing?"

Putting down the lip gloss I was using, I looked at him in the dresser mirror. "Getting ready for the barbecue."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

His tone immediately alerted me to his mood—that firmer, more dominant voice that called to the eager submissive slut in me. But only for him.

As the ever-smoldering desire flared to life low in my abdomen, I turned to face him. He stood there in a T-shirt and faded jeans, leaning back against the doorjamb, his arms folded over his chest, and mischief glimmering in his eyes.

I knew exactly what he was referring to, but couldn't quite believe it. "I thought you meant when we were around strangers."

He shrugged a shoulder. "I said the next time we were in public. This is it."

This was my punishment for teasing him with naughty pictures while he was at work. Not that wearing his come was ever a hardship. I actually reveled in it—being a filthy little come whore. Only for him.

"Are you sure?" I licked my lips. "Just about everyone you know will be there."

His distracting mouth slowly curved into a wicked grin. "Are you refusing?"

The challenge was clear. If I refused, he'd surely invent something even more fiendish as retribution for making him hard during an important meeting. Although I was curious what the worse option would be, I rarely yielded when he threw down the gauntlet. And he knew it too.

Meeting his gaze, I said what we both knew I'd say. "No, sir."

Adopting a sterner demeanor, he straightened and crooked his finger at me. "Come here."

In any other context, an imperious command like that would have set my teeth on edge. But in that moment, it sent a wildfire of need racing through my blood. Only for him.

As I walked towards him, I pealed off the respectable floral-print dress I'd planned to wear and tossed it onto the bed.

His heated gaze roved over my body, taking in the white lace bra and thong clinging to my curves, then focused on my barely covered tits. "Lose the fucking bra."

From anyone else, that rude order would have earned a sharp retort. Coming from him, though, it made me grin, because I knew how much he loved my tits. So I happily complied. Only for him.

Standing in front of him, I reached back, unfastened my bra, and flung it onto the floor.

He couldn't miss my already taut nipples and I relished the ardent appreciation flaring in his blue eyes.

For a moment, I savored the electric tension arching in the air between, my excitement mounting by the second.

Then I did what I longed to do the moment he asked me if I'd forgotten my punishment. I knelt at his feet, willingly submitting to the only man who'd ever really made my submissive slut soul sing. The only man I'd ever truly loved. After so long, I'd finally surrendered my body and my heart. Only for him.

I ran my hands up his legs, enjoying the feel of his firm thighs beneath the soft denim. When I got to his groin, I felt his obvious erection through the material and traced his length with my fingers.

Biting my lip, I looked up to see him staring down at me.

"No more teasing, naughty girl."

Since I was just as eager, I unfastened his fly and freed him from the tight confines of his jeans. His dick was thick and hard—and perfect, because it was his. I honestly loved worshiping his cock.

I'd made a ritual of giving him pleasure. Not because he demanded it. Because I craved the feel of his hot length gliding past my lips and filling my mouth. Because I savored the slightly salty taste of him on my tongue. Because every time I took him so deep his pubic hair tickled my nose, the musky scent of him was intoxicating. And because I cherished the sounds of enjoyment he made and the dirty appreciative comments he bestowed on me.

Moments like this were transformative. He gave me the freedom to shed the oppressive good-girl façade I'd worn my entire life. I became the wanton fuck slut I'd always fantasized about being. Only for him.

I licked up his shaft from base to tip, pausing to tease the sensitive spot beneath the head before taking him in my mouth. Delighting in his low groan, I moved down his length until he nudged the back of my throat. My lips dragged along his warm skin and my tongue massaged the underside when I traveled back up.

As I established a slow, steady sucking rhythm, he slid his fingers into my hair and fisted it just the way I loved. His grip was tight enough to make me moan in pleasure around his cock. My cunt had been getting progressively wetter, but this display of his control made my inner muscles tighten deliciously and a fresh wave of cunt cream flood my sex.

Releasing his cock from my mouth, I wrapped my hand around his slick shaft and began stroking him as I nuzzled my face against the warm weight of his balls. I adored them as much as I did the rest of him.

Looking up at him, I gave one a kiss before taking it in my mouth and softly sucking it.

His eyes were heavy-lidded and he was breathing hard. "I'm going to come all over your big slut tits."

Murmuring my assent, I longed to press my thighs together to ease some of the aching need in my cunt, but I knew he wouldn't want that. He'd want me good and horny all night long until he decided to give me some relief. I'd learned that prolonging my pleasure made me come all the harder. Only for him.

"Fuck!" He took over stroking his cock and I reluctantly relinquished my prize.

Sitting back on my heels, I tilted my head back, giving him the perfect target for his release. I heard the wet slapping of him jerking his cock hard and fast. Then he grunted and I felt a warm rope of thick come fall across my upper chest.

Several more grunts and shots followed until I was covered in his spunk. I reveled in every wet, sticky line crisscrossing my flesh. It wasn't demeaning or humiliating. It was liberating. I was the perfect little come whore. Only for him.

When I looked down at myself, I almost came from just the sight of his pearly seed glistening on my skin. I was about to smear it all over my tits, rub it into my nipples, like I so often did, but he stopped me.

"No, leave it like that."

I looked at him questioningly. He normally loved watching me play with his come, so I was confused by this sudden change. But I obeyed, because I figured he must have something specific in mind.

He smirked as he tucked himself back in his jeans. "You can stand. But, otherwise, stay just as you are."

Again, I did as I was told, curious about where this was going.

Then he disappeared into the closet and returned with a sky-blue sundress I knew very well.

"Wear this. No bra." He handed it to me. "No hiding my come under clothing."

I took it and glanced down at the low-cut dress with thin spaghetti straps. "But everyone will notice. Someone is bound to say something. How am I supposed to explain it?"

Looking up, I saw his wide grin. "I can't wait to hear what you come up with."

The evil man was putting me in an awkward position. Just like I'd done to him. So I couldn't exactly be annoyed about him giving me some of my own medicine. I'd take my punishment and brazen it out. Only for him.

Much later that evening, we lay in bed, both gloriously exhausted after a vigorous fuck that culminated a long evening of taunting and teasing. He was curled around me from behind, his sated cock nestled between my ass cheeks. His dried come still coated my chest and was now a slick mess between my thighs—which I thoroughly enjoyed.

"Do you think they bought that line about it being streaky sunscreen?"

I felt his lips curve into a smile against my shoulder as his body vibrated with mirth. "I doubt it. But it was a clever excuse."

"Surprisingly, I wasn't embarrassed at all."

"No?"

"It was rather thrilling—all those people seeing your come marking me, whether they realized it or not. And imagining they did made it all the hotter. That they knew I was your filthy little come slut."

His arm tightened around my chest and he kissed my neck. "Yes, all mine."

Humming with pleasure, I snuggled my ass against his groin.

He yawned. "I'm actually amazed you went through with it."

Before drifting off into a satisfied sleep, I said, "Only for you."

The Red Balloon (Friday Flash #52)

Earlier in the week, I had another story in mind, but I had some trouble getting myself to focus. When F. Leonora Solomon posted the Friday Flash prompt, I wasn't sure what if anything I could do with it. But then I had this far-out-there idea and my muse decided to cooperate. Go figure.

Please click on the badge below the story to read all the other Friday Flash posts.

Hope you enjoy,

Ria ;)

Website: http://www.riarestrepo.com

Twitter: @RiaRestrepo

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/RiaRestrepoAuthorPage

The Red Balloon

By Ria Restrepo

Copyright ©2019. All rights reserved.

Once upon a time, there was a red balloon like so many others, yet different. A spark of passion swelled inside her and she longed to be free. The bright blue sky beckoned her, but try as she might, she couldn't break loose. She was hopelessly knotted to the rest.

The others of her kind didn't seem to mind their inhibited fate. Sometimes, one or a group would go off to places unknown, but always remained tethered. Maybe that was the best she could expect—to travel the world in a tightly controlled fashion. She knew the mundane existence would slowly drain her vitality until she shriveled and died.

Then, one day, something miraculous happened. A wild and warm wind blew through with a liberating force, tearing away her oppressive bonds. It was terrifying at first, being carried away on a slipstream into the firmament.

But the zephyr whispered reassuringly and she quickly relaxed, relishing her sudden freedom. All her impossible dreams were finally coming true. Sailing through the air, she rose higher and higher. Joyous and free, she gave herself to him completely, surrendering to his every delightful whim.

The wind rewarded her submission affectionately. He caressed her with light drafts, creating sensations she'd never imagined. He surrounded her, stroking her, gently building her pleasure until she shuddered in ecstasy, lost in the nirvana only he aroused.

Savoring the afterglow, she slowly realized the wind was gradually taking her lower. She was confused and somewhat disappointed when he carefully set her down in a summer field. Was he abandoning her?

Before she was overcome with agonizing grief, he swirled around her, guiding her in a seductive dance. Blades of cool green grass tickled and teased her delicate flesh, stimulating her desire all over again. Relief and rapture swiftly overtook her. He only wanted to give her a new experience to cherish.

And so she became devoted to the wind, the friend that freed her, the lover that filled her with unbridle bliss. They were two of a kind—different in many ways, but alike in all the ways that mattered. Irresistibly drawn to each other despite all the odds.

It wasn't all sunshine and clear skies, though. Occasionally he led her into a storm cloud or two. The thunder and lightening were frightening initially, but he kept her safely out of reach, showing her the magnificence of the volatile spectacle. She quite enjoyed the rain that often accompanied these tempests. There was something cathartic and sensual about the deluge washing over her.

Drifting along in the night sky, below a sea of stars, also filled her with awe. Thanks to her rescuer, there was a whole new world for her to explore. When she inevitably lost some of her buoyancy, he filled her up and gave her new life.

Thus, the wind and the red balloon continued on, forever joined in love and passion—seekers wandering the earth, reveling in blue skies, the darkest nights, and everything in between.

Sapphire Rose (Masturbation Monday)

I can't really say where this story came from, but it started with the name of the protagonist, which then became the title. It can't be much of a surprise that I'd write another story about a musician sooner or later. The tone of this one is a little different—more in the vein of "The Forbidden Dance."

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Hope you enjoy,

Ria ;)

Website: http://www.riarestrepo.com

Twitter: @RiaRestrepo

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/RiaRestrepoAuthorPage

Sapphire Rose

By Ria Restrepo

Copyright ©2019. All rights reserved.

Lounging in the open window, the wild summer wind teasing her silk robe, she looked down at the alleyway below. The humid breeze was a welcome relief from the oppressive heat that hardly ebbed even after the sun went down.

Suddenly, the banging of a metal door broke through her lethargic haze. Someone burst from the back of the nightclub across the way. She didn't need the silhouette of a guitar slung over his back to recognize him. It was the wandering troubadour who sang in the club whenever he was in town.

Since she first saw him, she hadn't missed a performance, including that very night. She'd hung around for a while, hoping she might entice him into spending the night with her. Unfortunately, she didn't get the chance.

Right after his set, he went to the private room below the club to play cards with men she knew well to avoid. She watched as he frantically looked both ways down the alley as if the devil was on his tail. Apparently, things hadn't gone his way.

Not thinking twice about it, she softly called down, "Up here."

He looked up, then quickly scaled the fire escape to her window.

She moved aside so he could come in.

Once in her apartment, they stood out of sight, on either side of the window, and watched as two henchmen emerged from the same door. They looked around, then split up—each one going down the alley in different directions.

He let out a deep breath. "Thank you."

Her apartment was dark, but the moonlight streaming in highlighted his strong, handsome features and cast his sandy brown hair in an ethereal cerulean hue. "My pleasure."

Looking at her for the first time, he took in her semi-dressed state. "What's your name?"

"Sapphire Rose."

"Really?"

She flipped open her robe enough to show off the blue rose tattoo on her hip above her black lace panties. "What do you think?"

He cleared his throat. "I should probably go."

"No need to rush off." She went to her bed, sat on the edge, then patted the space beside her. "Stay awhile."

"But I can't pay you. That's why they're after me."

"Did I ask you for money?"

"No, but…aren't you, ah…"

Her lips curved into a sultry smile. "Tell you what, why don't you sing me a song. Then you can have whatever you want."

He considered that for a moment. "Anything?"

"Sure." It wasn't like she hadn't heard and done it all before.

Pulling his guitar off his back, he nodded. "Okay."

Leaning back on her elbows, she watched as he got situated on the bench of her dressing table.

After making sure the instrument was tuned to his satisfaction, he started playing a sweetly poignant melody she hadn't heard before. His eyes closed, with a voice like warm honey, he sang a song about wandering through the desert and meeting a gypsy princess, who ultimately broke his heart.

She wondered what he saw in his mind's eye as he sang—or who.

With the final note ringing in the air for a moment, he finally opened his eyes.

"Is it true?" she asked.

"What?"

"The song."

He shrugged. "It's just a song."

Somehow, she doubted that.

Her robe had been gaping open, barely concealing her large breasts. She noticed his gaze lingering there and smiled. With one hand, she pulled the end of the sash so it came undone, then brushed the silk aside, completely revealing herself to his hungry eyes.

"So, what will it be?" she asked.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. "I want to watch you get yourself off."

The request took her by surprise. Not that she hadn't pleasured herself in front of men before, but only until they were fully aroused. Then tending to their needs took priority. They rarely cared if she got satisfaction from it—just that she made pretty noises while they took what the needed. But he actually wanted to see her come for him.

She trailed a finger down her chest and captured a nipple between her fingers. "You want to see me play with my pussy?"

"Cunt." He got up and laid his guitar on the stool. "I like the word cunt. It's fucking hot."

"Mmmm, yes, it is." She squeezed her nipple, twisting it a little, and sucked in a breath as tantalizing sensations streaked throughout her body. "Just watch me get my horny little cunt off? That's all you want?"

Moving towards the end of the bed, he rubbed himself through his jeans. "And I want to come all over your tits."

The sound of that turned her on more than she would have thought. Usually, she didn't care one way or the other if a man came on her. Undoubtedly, it was the idea of his come, specially, marking her skin that made her cunt clench with rampant desire.

Abandoning her nipple, she lay back, lifted her hips, and slid off her panties so they fell onto the floor at her feet. Propping herself back up on an elbow, she clearly saw his erection straining against the denim. He was still tugging on it through the worn material.

Licking her lips, she hitched her foot up onto the edge of the bed and spread herself wide open so he could see her shaved sex. She could feel her wetness sliding between her cunt lips and knew they must be glistening with her juices.

As he watched, she delved her fingers between her drenched slit and found her clit. His gaze was locked on her cunt as she circled the swollen nub again and again. The pleasure of her own touch was intensified by performing just for him, knowing she was making him hard. But she craved more. She needed to see him.

"Please, I need to see your cock." She panted as the waves of bliss grew stronger. "Please stroke it for me."

She'd never had to ask before. Men didn't hesitate to whip out their cocks for her—whether she really wanted them to or not. It was surprisingly thrilling having to beg him and made her arousal crest even higher.

Thankfully, he eagerly opened his fly and freed his cock. She moaned at the sight of him. He was impressively hard, the head wet with pre-come. As he fisted his shaft in a firm grip, she pushed two fingers into her tight sheath. In time with his hand moving up and down his cock in long strokes, she finger-fucked herself, using her thumb to tease her clit.

Sooner than she would have liked, she felt her orgasm fast approaching. She wanted to prolong it, watch him jerking his cock for longer, but she couldn't resist letting the pleasure overwhelm her. Falling back onto the bed, she cried out as the ecstasy ripped through her, coming harder than she ever had before.

Her body was still shuddering from the aftershocks when she hazily felt him climb onto the bed. She opened her eyes in time to see him furiously working his cock over her tits. His body tensed and he grunted as he shot a thick load of spunk into her abundant flesh. Several more milky ropes of come followed until her tits were thoroughly coated.

Completely spent, he collapsed beside her on the bed.

For long minutes, the room was only filled with the sound of their heavy breathing.

When hers had evened out, she looked down at her messy tits. She couldn't resist running her fingers through the creamy streaks, rubbing it into her nipples and down onto her belly.

He groaned. "Fuck that's hot."

"Yeah, I love the feel of your come on my skin." She traced a slick finger over her tattoo.

"Why do you call yourself Sapphire?"

Normally, she didn't like talking about herself, but looking into his crystal blue eyes, she found herself answering. "I was born in September, so it's my birthstone. And I always loved the color."

"What's your real name?"

She smiled. "Play me another song and I'll tell you."