This is something I wrote purely for myself last summer and kinda uploaded on a whim. I have no actual experience of this kind of sex, but a girl can dream. Also, I have no idea how to handle criticism so you're all obliged to be extra nice to me.
*****
I'm bored.
It's always boring in the studio. Beats, plug-ins, overlays, melodies - it's all a foreign language to me, and I was never very good at those. I mean, I can appreciate the end product: my boyfriend is pretty much a musical genius. But as far as behind the scenes goes - well. It's just not my scene.
I find my mind wandering as midnight approaches. I'm lying on the sofa while he's writing the future of EDM on his laptop. Boredom seems to have magnified my every sense, and I find myself studying his profile with an acute intensity - the strong curve of his jawline; the movement of his long, tanned fingers across the keyboard; the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out, in and out. How the toning of his muscles makes his black T-shirt cling to him just a little with every inspiration. The undiluted concentration in his eyes as he stares at the screen in front of him. The little fluttering of his lips as he mutters something to himself.
It's no good resisting.
I get up and slowly make my way over to him. He doesn't even notice until my hands are sliding down his broad shoulders and twining across his chest.
"Hello beautiful." He twists his head to the side and grins up at me. I don't reply, and envelop his smile in a kiss. He tastes of spearmint, nighttime and ever so vaguely my own cunt from a few hours ago. The combination makes me moan into the warm wetness of his mouth.
He pulls back and laughs. "Not now, Jones. International hits don't write themselves, you know."
I can't help it. I pout. He laughs harder and reaches up to wind a finger through my hair.
"Go to bed, baby girl. Wait for me there. I'll only be an hour or so. Promise."
"Oh, but DAD-dy..." I know what that word does to him. I straddle his lap in one swift movement and kiss him again, one hand running through his dark hair, tangling at the back, pulling slightly. It's a slow, deep, long kiss - the kind where air becomes irrelevant and the only thing that matters is his mouth pressed against yours and his tongue at the back of your throat. I moan into him again and shift my ass ever so slightly - just enough to elicit a growl as I graze his dick through his jeans.
"Isla. I mean it." He breaks away again and looks me sternly in the eye.
I beam. Stern him is my favourite him.
"Mean what, Daddy?" I shuffle backwards so my hand can run across his dick, which is growing ever harder in his jeans.
"Jesus." He lets his head loll back over the chair as I continue to stroke at his burgeoning cock and run my lips across his jawline and down his neck. I kiss the hollow at the base. I find his sweet spot and bite gently, which always makes him moan. One hand finds my ass and squeezes tight while the other knots into my hair as I continue to trace my tongue over his collarbone. God, my spit looks so good glistening on his skin.
"You're being a very bad girl, Isla Jones. You know that?" he whispers into my hair.
"Mmm. I can't help it. I'm sorry, Daddy," I breathe as I bring his T-shirt over his head and shuffle backwards more so I can slide his jeans down. He is so beautiful in just his Calvin Klein boxers. His dick is straining at the fabric, so thick, so hard, so ready for me. The thought of it makes my breath catch in my throat.
"Then you also know I can't let this go unpunished," he says - and in one fluid move I am off his lap and on my knees on the floor while he stands over me. I gasp as he rips my blouse open and buttons scatter all over the studio floor, but there's no time to get mad because his hand is immediately at the back of my head and pushing me down on his dick. I gag at the sudden intrusion; he holds me down fast, right to the hilt, and grinds into my face as I choke over his huge length. My breath comes in a ragged gasp when he finally yanks my head back.
"You still want to do this?" It's not a question. I don't have time to assent before my lips are forced back over his dick. He drives in and out of my wet mouth mercilessly, hitting my gag reflex almost every time as he slides down my throat. I reach up to stroke his balls as spit runs down my chin in wild streams. All I can hear are his guttural moans and my own slurping over his gorgeous fat cock in my mouth.
"Oh God, baby." He pulls at the messy waves of my hair, tilting my head up until my wide eyes meet his, glazed over with ecstasy. "Look at me while you suck my dick, you beautiful bitch."
I moan over his dick, and the vibrations make him tighten his grip in my hair as he guides me over his length. I love looking up at him, so high above me. I know he loves my face when it's wet with my own saliva, my mouth stretched and aching around his dick. The look in his eyes - wild and hungry and dominant - is enough to absolutely flood my pussy.
"Jesus Christ. You're killing me, baby girl." He tilts his head back and sighs as he drives his dick further down into my throat. I run my tongue across his head every time he withdraws, making sure I graze the most sensitive little ridge. I can tell he's close.
And then suddenly I'm pulled off of him completely, my entire head burning by the strength of his fist locked into my hair.
