Her pigtails make such wonderful reigns.
She digs her hands into my thighs as I pull her throat down the whole of me. No matter how hard or fast—she never gags. She takes it in stride, egging me on when I ease up and laughing if I tire of it before she does.
But try as I might, no matter how those blue eyes looked up at me as I fucked her face, I can't remove every hint of a smile.
I pushed forward to move her off and she teased the head of my cock with that divine mouth. That tongue flicked, pushed, and rang over the first two inches of me before she inhaled and started the process again. When I pulled back she didn't stop until her nose pressed into my groin. I had learned, trained myself, to slide her back and forth like a sled on greased rails. To use her hair to force her head forward and back in rapid succession, pushing her midway down my cock before dragging her back.
God, she makes the most wonderful noises. Little moans as she goes down, growls as she goes back up.
Fingers dig into my thighs impatiently. When she moves them to my balls I take my cock out of her mouth and give her a light slap before forcing her mouth back on me. I forget myself and shove her all the way down. But it's not punishment, not to her. And her eyes show it, a little victory for her because she assumes that I'll bow out early. No such luck. I still myself, hold my breath deep in my diaphragm, and continue to sling her head back and forth across the length of me. I beg for patience and strength as the voracity in her groan increases. All I want to do is feed her now, so I close my eyes and ask for solace.
Hands wrap around the back of me, fingers pressing into my flesh and I can't take it anymore. I release my grip, find the back of her head and start pushing her down as I thrust myself up. A dozen thrusts and I'm at my end. The world is foggy and far away as she pulls her head back, my hands falling to keep her pinned.
The first two spurts fall into her mouth, the third, and assuredly largest, hits her square in the face. Kinky bitch. It's what she wanted all along.
And now I'm too tired to fight her, so she has her way with my cock. Her mouth massaging and licking me down to the tip and then back up again. She wants to keep me hard, and at this point in the marathon I wouldn't mind going soft. The bed seems like heaven, but too far away, and I just want to collapse into it. But pride keeps me going. Egotism. Contest. Superiority. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let her think she can go back to girls after me.
"Women can go longer." She gives a big puckered kiss to the tip of me before rising and sliding across the room.
It takes a moment for me force my eyes open. I wish I hadn't immediately. She's in a white cotton tank, extra skinny, and a short plaid skirt. Earlier in the evening she also had on red bikinis and a pair of glasses before I flung them aside. Just the sight of her made my cock twitch and that little movement caused it to ache.
"You can't do what we just did with a woman." I try my best to flash a confident smile and hope it lands.
"What, get a woman to cum on my face? Maybe you can't," she winks "but I can--anytime I want."
"I don't have to be as good at giving head. I fucked you until your legs went weak and you fell over."
"And?" She picks up a glass of water and starts walking back towards me with it offered, but I wave it away and she presents an amused grin. She sips the water with the smirk planted firmly on her face.
"And I think that's pretty fucking impressive. It's not something every man can do."
"Oh, but that's the rub." She shoots back the rest of the water and places the empty cup on the desk as she moves back to me, spreads her legs and straddles my lap. "The bet was that you couldn't last longer or make me cum more than a woman not other men." She flicks the head of my cock playfully as her other hand strokes my cheek and she pretends she's sympathetic. "You held out for a good long time. Nothing to be ashamed about. But it's time to call it." Her flick turns into a makeshift hand job, a hard grind to remind me how tight that pussy is.
I have her pinned on the ground and impaled before she can react, my legs holding hers open as she attempts to squeeze them shut. It takes some fighting, but eventually I get her wrists down to the carpet.
Unlike her mouth, that pussy is fertile ground to manipulate, to make her feel what I want. When I shove my cock in, all at once, she whines and her face collapses into a scrunched mess. By the time I'm seven inches deep she's shaking - growling - begging for me without a word. Don't get me wrong she still fights, her wrists pushing up against me, her legs trying to pull in. The lack of control, even this little amount, makes her feel weak and soft.
And that's how I'm going to win.
*****
She comes back upstairs in a robe, fresh from a show. It lasted forty minutes, so he must have been a fan. She always charges in 20-minute blocks for some reason I've never understood, something about easier to sell and the service she uses. And while I'd normally know this business inside and out, there isn't a doubt in my mind that I don't love her. Not in some way, not even a little. I just want to stare at her cleavage, see if I can get her nipple rings through the top today.
Heather grabs my cock, strokes it twice and spreads her legs while she mounts me. "That just got me warmed up."
I pray for salvation and dig my hands into her ass to spur her on.
*****
"Why do you think you haven't married yet?" She must be in a great deal of pain to be stalling like this. So I turn over on my side to savor the moment.
"Why do you think you're already divorced?"
"Are you even capable of being serious?"
"I am with people who are capable of understanding the words I use without a dictionary."
"I can't believe you'd call me stupid with my fingernails just inches away from your dick."
"In my defense: I thought you were so stupid that you wouldn't catch it."
Her laughter fills the room and it is light and easy. There isn't a doubt in my mind that she is by far the easiest woman to get along with. The most honest and direct woman I'd met in a long time. It was hard admitting that, so I laughed instead. And we did it together, like a couple, shaking from the exhaustion until she recovered enough to tell me to put up or admit I lost.
******
I grab the sides of her breasts and squeeze until she groans from the pleasure and the pain. Then I milk, from the bottom to the top, and start it over again. It's a simple technique off chi, focusing the energy to a central point but avoiding all contact with it.
When you use your hands on a woman's thighs it's called a tantric massage. When you do it to her lower back it's called being a good lover. But when you do it to her tits it's called the best foreplay she'll ever have.
The most surefire way to tell you've achieved the wanted effect is that, for the first few minutes, she just lies there enjoys it. After that, when she starts begging or fighting or trying to please you? Well, she's just goading you. That's when you have to be strong, when you have to keep focusing, learning how she's building up a resistance and what changes you can make so she doesn't get a chance to block even a little of it out.
My-Real-Life-Barbie-Doll-Plus-Twenty doesn't play like most girls, though. After a few minutes of torture she shoves her head into my balls and begins to suck and lick. The amount of pain and frustration she can cause me with this action alone is too much. As my left testicle sinks into her mouth, rolled around and prodded with her tongue, I give in, move my hands up to the ring piercing each nipple and pull.
Her mouth falls off me.
I spend the next eight minutes (god help me if I did anything but watch the clock, count and imagine myself anywhere but there) tugging the rings, slapping her breasts and tweaking her nipples; one after the other, harder each pass. Her breath and words float over the weak parts of me. I forget myself, look to her body and I am undone.
When I pull her torso to the end of the bed she leans up, spits between her breasts and goads me. With aid of piercing rings like little slave collars, I push them together, nudge her forehead down with my thigh, and push my cock into the moist but inadequate valley.
*****
"Because women are better than men." She laughs as she picks up the beer glass, her eyes shining pools of mischief and folly.
It's one of the few times I saw her fully clothed. She dressed down in a way that said, "I could dress up if you were worth it, but you never will be." A little make-up dabbed here and there in a semi-professional way. Like I was just another client or this was an interview. I finish my own beer—was it the second or third? - and lean forward with the most smug smile on my face.
"At sex?"
"At sex. At relationships. In the short term, in the long term."
"You think women make better partners than men in relationships?"
"You stupid man." She puts her glass down and squares her shoulders, leaning in to mirror my posture. "The funny thing is I think this all works very easily for you. You tell people that you're that good and they take you at face value. All you have to do is keep it up long enough that they start justifying the lie, anyway. And yeah, I think women are better in relationships than men. If you fuck a woman's brain out she doesn't wonder how you learned to do it so well. When you're giving her the best oral sex of her life she doesn't wonder if a jock named Steve taught her how to do it in the back of her head.
