Reasonably dry, we race to his bed, and in seeming acknowledgment of the fact that he’s winning the race, I pull up at the last second, while he flops bodily onto the mattress. I make a detour to my bag, and pull out my phone.
“You’re going to like this,” I tell him, as I move to his computer and plug the phone into the data port. I download all the recent photos and videos onto his hard drive. They’ll be his to keep and enjoy as long as he wants to enjoy them. I make sure the computer is hooked up to the big screen on the wall, and open the folder. The first few pictures are of Carl, standing impressive and muscular in his full naked glory. Taylor shakes his head.
“Don’t try to make me jealous, I know I’ll never have muscles like that.”
“You don’t have to, sexy man, you look beautiful as you are. There are different ways of being irresistible, you know,” I reassure him.
Then we get into the pictures that Jo took of Carl and I together. Me sucking his cock, Carl eating my pussy, fucking me from behind. And then it shifted into video, wide shots, extreme closeups, me gobbling Carl’s cock noisily, drool dribbling down my chin and his balls, Carl lifting me up and wrapping my legs around his hips, fucking me in his patented standing position. Taylor stares silently, but I see his cock throbbing. I’m aware now that Joanne is a masterful videographer and choreographer. This is more erotic than any of the commercial porn we’ve ever watched. Several shots allow the viewer to see the background, random naked strangers walking by, some momentarily stopping to watch, some pretending to ignore us. I even see the boat out on the water who’s jeering occupant I had shamed afterwards.
“Damn. Damn. Fuck. Holy shit. Fuck. Holy fuck! Look at you girl! You’re so fucking wet! Look, your fucking cunt is dripping onto the ground!”
I’m just about that wet now. It’s a far better video than I expected, and between it and Taylor’s reaction I’m not sure if I can hold back. I grab his cock and he jumps in the excitement. Hearing my own squeals and muffled screams, the moans, Carl’s groans, and Jo’s encouraging words from behind the camera is a completely thrilling experience. I even hear Joe making appreciative comments, which I didn’t notice at the time. The episode comes to its searing climax, the camera pulls in close, within inches of the liquid interface where Carl’s cock disappears into my cunt, we see his balls begin to twitch, then the bottom ridge of his shaft starts to pump, and seconds later my own dripping slime is mixed with his flowing, dribbling white goo. The view and the sound are both cinema-worthy, all it needs is a dramatic score from Howard Shore.
I give Taylor’s dick a hard squeeze and then a tug. Remember, Love, you only get to cum once tonight. Make it a good one for you.”
“Just once?” Taylor looks quizzical.
“Remember Tuesday. You’re going to need a full load. I have plans for you. Tuesday you can cum as often and as much as you can stand. Now fuck me, fuck me, fuck me right now!
I know exactly how I want to be fucked, deep and fast. I lay on my back and spread my legs, and when Taylor leans forward I raise them up and set them over his shoulders. His testicles will slam against my butthole, his pubes will pound mine, and that luscious bulging glans of his will flatten itself against my cervix. His winged shaft will spread my vaginal walls apart, and I will be in another world.
“Slam me, mother fucker! Slam your fuckin’ slut like she’s never been slammed! Own me with your cock! Make me your fucking cock slave! I’m your mother fucking loving siren cockslave!”
Another set of orgasms erupts out of me, three at least. Taylor is merciless. Now he’s grunting and whimpering, it’s not going to be long. Suddenly, and roughly, he pulls out quickly, pushes my legs to the side, and crawls forward, shoving that dripping cock into my face. “Suck it, you fucking slut! Taste my cum and swallow all of it! Suck it hard!”
I open my mouth and wrap my tongue around him as he slides towards my throat. I stop him with my hand half way down. I don’t want him to cum down my throat, I want it in my mouth where I can taste it. I want to roll it on my tongue, to slurp it, to show it to him, to gargle it, to wipe it across my teeth and gums, then to swallow it slowly. It will be a mouthful, I’m sure. I love his prolific volume.
It happens. Just the way I want it. With a loud roar that quickly descends to a helpless moan, Taylor explodes into my mouth. For a quick second I almost regret that his ejaculation is hidden inside my flesh. I love to see gobs of semen spurting out of the tip of a cock, especially when it’s forceful like this is. I wonder how far it would have squirted through the air. Someday I’d like to do an experiment where I can measure the travel distance. I love the sight of an ejaculating penis. I love the sight of a penis, period. I don’t have penis envy, but I’ll happily admit to having a strong case of penis admiration. I don’t need to grow one when I can have delicious access to more than one.
The thought passes quickly. This is where I really want it. I love the taste of Taylor’s cock, of his precum, of his cum, of his sweat. I love it all. Not all men have delicious cum, but Taylor and Carl are without a doubt producers of gourmet semen.
Taylor sinks down on the bed, spent. “I hope that will cover you for a couple of days,” I whisper and nibble into his lower lip. I slip my tongue into his mouth, there’s still a slight residue of ejaculate on it. Taylor has learned to like it. I’ve taught him to like a few things. “And remember. No masturbation, no fapping, no jacking off, and no wet dreams. If you happen to meet a woman and she makes you cum in or on her, that’s different. I’ll understand.”
Taylor gasps out a weak laugh. “As you wish.”
I snuggle into him, and he reaches for the remote light switch on the bedstand. He relaxes into his pillow, and he becomes my pillow. I alternate between resting on his chest and resting on his belly, gently suckling on his slowly hardening cock.
“Don’t get me going too far, I might have trouble obeying orders,” Taylor reminds me.
I relent, nestle back into his chest, and after a few minutes of affectionate, sleepy night talk, the world disappears into pleasant slumber.
Taylor and I sleep as late as we dare for a Monday morning. Even if we were in the mood for a fresh morning fuck, and I know at least I am, there’s just no time. Another quick mutual shower, a minimal breakfast, and Taylor is dressed and out the door. I linger a little longer. It’s Taylor’s house, but I have a key and the run of the place. I eat a little more substantial breakfast, and grab my romper, now clean and stain-free, from the dryer. I pull out Taylor’s clothes and fold them neatly, laying them on his bed, which I’ve also made. “I’m so domestic,” I laugh to myself.
I then quickly throw the romper on, slip into my sandals, and lock the door behind me.
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