It began seated on the couch watching something I cared about far less than the sight of Him shirtless next to me. He held me close to Him, and I was allowing myself to sink into the feeling of being in His arms, my head in the crook of His neck, and into the whiskey we were drinking. I loved these simple moments with Him. Warmth washed all over me when I would see His grin, the one that was both mischievous and content, tug at the corners of His mouth but mostly His eyes before He'd close them and kiss me.
I haven't stopped marveling yet at the way His kiss affects me, turning that corkscrew in me always almost instantly until my desire for Him is a dull shooting pain that will soon swell to drown out any conscious thought. I know my response hadn't escaped Him; I could see that, too, in the corner of His eye as He raised the glass to His lips again and put it down, this time, without handing it to me. He turned to kiss me again, and as I parted my lips for Him, He shared the sip He had taken, passing the sweet burning whiskey into my mouth.
"A bit different drinking it that way, isn't it?" He said with knowing eyes.
I began to nod a yes but He was already pulling me back to Him again. And there again was the sweet pain. My head swam with it, with the whiskey, with the feeling of His fingers on the back of my neck, His thumb moving from my jaw to my ear and then behind it.
And before I even registered the other moves He must have made or the change of the scent in the air, I was pushed suddenly and forcefully down to His now bare cock.
I let out a small squeak and quickly took it into my mouth. From that angle I could easily and quickly take His entire formidable length, and I did so with the abandon I knew He wanted from the abruptness of His action. He had decided He wanted to use me, and I was His to use.
"Good girl, let me feel that tight little throat," His praise a further intoxicant to my ears.
He held my hair out of the way gently but occasionally would press my nose all the way down as I lowered myself, holding me against Him until my body began to struggle a bit. I imagined His amused face above me as I whimpered onto His cock. "That's right, all the way. Such a nice little deep throat slut."
He eased His pressure and let me come up for air. As I gasped He suddenly stood up and turned to face me with His cock in His hand. I positioned myself on the edge of the couch and took Him again as quickly and deeply as I could, working Him alternately with long deep strokes into my throat and targeted sucking of the head. My mind was already going blank. I could feel the wetness pooling between my legs as I was continuously engulfed by the scent and taste of Him and the testing of my throat's limits.
I waited for Him to take my hands away as He so frequently does from where they lay on His hips, but He didn't this time. Instead, as I began the angled gliding stroke I knew He liked best that sent Him slamming to the back of my throat, one of His hands shot back to my hair and gripped it tight enough to release a muffled scream onto His cock, and He began to fuck my face rough and fast. If I thought I felt captured when He would grip my wrists tightly in His hands, now I felt completely used. My mouth was a hole He wanted for His pleasure, and He was going to fuck that hole as hard as He wanted.