Woman Of His Dreams Ch 09

The pain in my cock was beginning to subside, and now my balls were unencumbered as well.

Nicole tossed the ball weights aside, cupped my balls in her hands again, leaned her face about an inch from mine, and looked me right in the eyes. "We did it Pete! Are you ready to start our day together?"

"You bet, Nicole," I smiled and put my lips forward for a kiss.

Our lips met, and our mouths began to melt into a warm kiss, and I could feel Nicole's hand very slowly slide away from my balls, and she took hold of my only half-hard cock, and sort of gently squeezed, and stroked her hand over the head.

Suddenly she pulled her lips from mine, and gave me startled look – then she looked down at her hand, then back into my eyes. She was not happy. The look strongly resembled the look I'd received last night, when I ruined her handjob by accidentally oozing some semen at the movie.

"Pete, what are you doing? Did you blow your load?" She held her hand up, and I could see there were two small drops of very thick goo on her fingers. "I thought . . ." her voice trailed off as she sort of turned her back on me.

My cock, pent up in the Gates of Hell for so long, had restrained all the come in my extremely full balls for the better part of the night and morning, as Nicole had ridden me, blown me, and ridden me some more, to at least four orgasms on her part from my stiff cock alone. Apparently, my release from the Gates of Hell allowed some small drops of come to escape, dripping out the head of my cock when she dragged her long, delicate fingers over my newly free organ.

"Nicole, it's not what you think – it just came out, because my cock was trapped for so long in the steel rings. It's not really a load, anyway."

Suddenly, Nicole reached back with her right hand, wound up quickly, and slapped me in the face.

Neither of us spoke for what seemed like minutes. I was shocked.

"Pete, I thought you liked the steel rings because they made me feel so good," she said, turning to face me again. "You said we could put them on you again. You said . . . oh, forget it, I think you'd better just leave now. I mean, if you can't even hold back your load, after what I did for you. . . ."

I didn't know what to say. I felt like I'd been shot. She was my dream woman, and the last 24 hours had been unbelievable. What was worse, I hadn't blown a load, there had been no spastic contractions, no ball-draining spurts, just accidental, touchless dribbles. My balls still ached from the frustration. My pole had been rubbed raw in the mouth and pussy of this vision of feminine perfection, and all I had to show for it was two blue balls and a broken heart.

She reached up to the handcuffs, unlocked my hands, flipped the key on the floor and said quietly, "You can let yourself out. Your come-stained shorts and T-shirt are still in the living room."

She walked out, went down the hall to her bedroom, and closed the door behind her.

After standing there like a fool for about five minutes, my legs still spread wide, I bent down to pick up the key to the cuffs, and freed one leg, then the other.

I went into the living room, sat down on the couch, and just sat there. I lost track of time, but it was probably about 45 minutes later when Nicole came out of her bedroom. She was wearing a pair of sheer white panties and a short white tank top. She must have showered and dried her hair, because she looked luminous and her beautiful auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders. She was headed for the kitchen when she saw me sitting on the couch, still naked.

She stopped and stood still. She looked me right in the eyes. "What the fuck are you still doing here, Pete? I asked you to leave, Mr. Loadblower."

My cock had never really gone completely soft, and the sight of her standing there, dressed again (we'd been completely naked for so many intense hours), made my cock stand up and twitch. She was right, there were no secrets when I was naked.

She looked at my cock, and then into my eyes again. I got up from the couch, took a couple of steps toward her, and stopped again.

She looked at me and said, "Well, what do you want?" Suddenly, she stepped toward me and slapped me in the face again, even harder this time than before.

I picked her up newlywed style, and carried her down the hall to her bedroom. I set her on the bed, yanked down her panties, pulled her body so her legs were hanging off the end of the bed, and knelt with my face in her pussy.

I grabbed her thighs and lifted them onto my shoulders, and buried my face into her auburn bush. She'd obviously showered, as I'd suspected. I nibbled her clit, and tongue-fucked her pussy. She started to say, "Leave Pete, I want you to. . ." but she stopped trying to talk after about 30 seconds.