The Running Man was the movie choice for the night. I had barely walked in the door before he had a plate of food in front of me and the movie on TV. I sat down at the desk and happily ate my brown sugar BBQ chicken and Asian style rice. Our dinner chat was the usual banter... who he talked to today, the stupid things he saw on Facebook, and what he's learned on the internet. I talked briefly about work, who's quitting, who called off, and the joke of the day. I got up to fill my water bottle and take my plate to the sink, when it dawned on me that I should take his plate too. He always takes my plate for me when I'm last to finish eating. So I head back into the living room, just in time to see him scoop the last bite of rice into his mouth. I reach my hand out to take his plate, and he jerks back from me, giving me a look that says "Get the fuck away."
"What? You always take my plate. You cooked, so I'll take your plate."
He made a whining kind of noise that conveyed his disinterest, while simultaneously making a shooing motion with his free hand. He stood up and brushed past me, on his way to the kitchen. "You're gonna lick my plate!"
I follow him out to the kitchen, laughing. Oh, I'm gonna lick something... "I'm not gonna lick your plate."
"Well, you won't now," he says, placing the plate under a running stream of water. I can feel myself smiling as our eyes make contact, and I giggle again.
Oh God, he's great. I've never met a man like him. He cooks, cleans, and can take care of himself. My body tingled slightly. Any kind of proximity with him always leaves me a little horny, but I could tell tonight was going to be a night of action. I was in the mood to give him a blowjob.
But I had plans to make a cake tonight for my friend's graduation party tomorrow, so I couldn't spend all night having fun. I have to have the cake ready by around 9 am, and it's already about 1:30 am.
I give him a hug.
"I can't hug you back, I have rice on my hands," he says, holding his hands out at a distance by his sides.
I laugh again. "Okay, wash your hands," I say as I let go and turn back towards the living room.
I flop down on the couch and settle in to a few hours of comfort and happiness. I feel so at ease when I'm around him. All of my troubles melt away and things seem so simple and perfect.
He enters the living room and sits on the couch next to me. I instantly lean in for another hug, from the side this time, resting the side of my head on his shoulder. He leans his head down to rest on mine and we sit like that for about two seconds. It seems like a full moment to me.
He gathers his things on the small coffee table in front of us. His glass ashtray, cigarette, lighter, weed, and bowl are neatly arranged. He indulges in half an after dinner cigarette and packs his bowl. Once he leans back on the couch again, I settle in, laying my head in his lap. Above me, he takes a hit from his bowl, and I can smell the weed burn.
Once again, I smile. I'm comfortable, and there's honestly nowhere else I'd rather be.
On the TV, Arnold Schwarzenegger was running through an airport after his hostage betrayed him.
I reached up and brushed a lock of hair from my eyes.
"Oh, is that a sign?" he said in a sarcastically scathing tone. He grabs a fistful of my hair and gently tugs on it.
The roots of my hair light up a bright white color in my mind, tingling with electricity. The pleasant shock travels away from my scalp to my fingers and toes, lingering in my crotch. A deep moan wrestles it's way out of my chest as I feel my ass rise into the air, begging to be touched, smacked, penetrated... begging for attention of any sort.
"You think if you just throw your hair in my way I'll have no choice but to play with it?" He says, grabbing another handful and running his fingers through it.
This time, his touch makes me gasp, and I slowly press my hips forward. I can feel my eyebrows coming together and turning up as my mouth opens, ready to take his hard, powerful penis... my face of submission. A higher pitched, lighter moan escapes my throat as he continues to play with my hair, his motions becoming less aggressive and more relaxed. As I calm down, I gather my thoughts enough to explain.
"I wasn't trying to say anything, I just couldn't see, my hair was in my face."
I wonder if he can hear the smile and satisfaction in my voice.
"Uh huh, sure," he says jokingly, his fingers running through my hair, scratching my head, and tickling my neck.
I relax on his lap. This is my heaven.
As I'm watching Arnold run around in his tight bodysuit, I'm distracted by the thought of his penis being mere inches from my face. I can feel myself getting worked up. There's a heat radiating from my vagina and my tits tingle. The desire to have him inside me is a primal one, and I hunger for it. I start kissing and tickling his belly. Every couple of seconds, his muscles jump. Each time they do, I can feel my uterus jump for joy, egging me on, daring me to make the next move and unbutton his pants.
I make myself relax and just gently trace nonsensical shapes on his belly with my fingertips.
He interrupts me, shifting himself so that he can reach a hand down his pants and readjust.
"I hate these underwear," he says, hand still in his pants. "They're droopy. There's no support."
Once he's finished and settles his arm by his side again, I continue my mission, gently tickling his belly. My face is resting on his hip, and I give it my best effort to direct my breath towards his crotch. As I tickle his belly, I make a point to be interrupted by the presence of his pants, and after a few annoying run ins with his waistline, I make my move.
"I need more space," I say, propping myself up on my elbows. I undo his button and zipper and pull the two flaps of denim down away from his belly. Now I have access to all of his belly, and a little lower, too. I can see the outline of his cock underneath his blue Christian Anderson's. And there, just inches from my lips, is the tip, poking out from under the white waistband.
"See? I'm hanging out," he says, complaining about his underwear like it's a bad thing.
I smile.
I rest my head back on his hip, and continue tickling him. I take full advantage of the extra exposed skin. I make my eyes focus back on the TV, but my mind just isn't on the movie.
I just want a taste. Just a little taste.
I kiss his belly, then move my lips lower down his abdomen and kiss again. I can feel his rock hard muscles tense beneath my lips, and I involuntarily inhale. Desire rocks my body, sending me spiraling down a hole that makes my skin prickle uncontrollably.
I breathe heavily for a second, body stiff, trying to regain my composure. When I have control of my body again, I move my face closer to his penis and lick the little bit of head that is poking out at me.
To my disappointment, he doesn't react like he usually does.
I back off a little... maybe he isn't in the mood? He doesn't seem to be turned on by me right now... what am I doing wrong? Usually if my breath and kisses don't get him hard, my tongue does.
Mind reeling with questions, I settle back into my tickling position and resume gently tracing nonsense on his skin. My eyes return to the TV, but it's just not interesting enough.
I feel his muscles jump under my touch and it feels like an invisible hand grabs my uterus and yanks me closer to him. I inhale sharply and press myself against him. As I slowly relax and exhale, I kiss him around the waistline of his Andrew Christians, and this time I see him react. That simple involuntary bodily reaction was all I needed.
I kiss the tip, then hook my finger under the waistband and pull down, kissing along the shaft now. I gently drag my lips back to the top and wrap around the head.
Above me, I hear him moan.
Yes.
I move my tongue around, getting him nice and wet so that I can easily slide him deeper into my mouth, down my throat.
He gasps, then moans, then tightens his grip on my hair and thrusts his pelvis, sinking his cock into my throat. In return, I moan as my body reacts. My back arches, ass rising into the air again, eyes rolling back, breathing heavily.
This is the only place I want to be.
But this could be better. I've only just begun, and I'm still using my free hand, the one I'm not laying on, to hold his underwear back. This just won't do.
I prop myself up and hook a finger in each side of his underwear and begin to pull down.
