The Present 7

This wasn’t like her, leaving her journal lying around, one, and open to such a hot passage, two. I mean, did she just want me to stand here in the middle of the room and jack off, or was this some sort of a test? Maybe she wants to see if I’ll respect her privacy. Well, she did leave it open…

As I looked over the leather bound manual, the words jumped off the page. They recounted in detail your version of the last time we’d had sex, our first time together for some months, and I couldn’t help unzipping while I read. Your use of language, your dirty words and thoughts, your appraisal of my cock battering you, our animal sounds and abandon, all of it had me in its grip, though my grip was certainly playing its part at the moment.

I felt a little guilty standing there, jacking off to your journal. I mean, I wasn’t supposed to be reading this thing, but that was probably the reason why just the sight of it had always made my nipples hard. I knew you were a nasty slave to sex, but I never knew just what your opinions were, especially of me. Knowledge may be power, but keeping the knowledge to yourself when your egomaniacal lovers want it is another power altogether. A monstrous aphrodisiac, too…

I couldn’t figure out where you’d gone, though. I’d just shown up, and you’d taken off almost immediately, stating that you’d return in just a few. I thought I’d just stand here and enjoy my shot at the holy tome. Taking this chance that you might walk in on me reading just made me harder as I stroked, the other hand alternately turning pages and squeezing my swollen sack.

I heard a noise. I turned away from the book, every bit of me expecting to see you standing there, angry, your face a mask of betrayal and admonishment. However, it was only the cat, and I was happy that I hadn’t been busted. Though my cock and mind were enjoying your account, I thought I’d better go ahead and look for you before I got into too much trouble. There are other ways (and opportunities) to bust my nut when you’re around, at any rate, and I really didn’t want to ruin things by getting caught with my cum all over your journal.

I heard it again. It sounded like a growl, but it could have been any number of things. Stepping out of the bedroom, I walked toward the bathroom, intending to take the stairs. The door was open a crack, though, and that sound was inside. Not a growl this time… a moan.

Through the tiny crack in the door, I spied you there. You were sitting on the side of the tub, and your legs were flexing. There were small beads of sweat on your forehead, and you were busy. Your robe was open, and one hand pinched your ripe, reddened nipples hard while the other pumped your shaved pussy with a thick, pastel dildo. Your eyes were closed, and your mouth was open.

I just stood there. Wow! The connection between your open journal and hasty exit had become clear. Talk about a fantasy come true! I have always loved watching you masturbate, but it’s a different (and much hotter) turn on to find you jacking off without doing it for me, to be just doing it for you. I like being incidental sometimes, to watch you having pleasure for yourself, to watch your joy and the pure hedonism of a good wank. God knows I have a little practical knowledge there.

As I watched, you slowed your fucking and reached into a robe pocket. A small silver vibrator came out, too small for much other than your clit, or so I thought. You lubed it up with your lips and tongue, sucking it like a mini-me, and, little bullet humming, you pressed it onto your clit. The grunts and growls returned then, and the dildo was getting a workout along with you; I thought fleetingly that I hoped you wouldn’t wear yourself out for me, but I guess you gotta do what you gotta do, right?

Your beautiful lips parted as you threw your head backward, and I lost sight of the dildo on every deep thrust. You were fucking yourself like a champ, and I wasn’t about to get in the way of this orgasm. Your breath came in choked, snarled gasps, and your head started to turn from side to side, a symbol for ‘no,’ but far from it.

My cock had been out for some time, at this point. There was no way I could resist this kind of awesome, impromptu show, and I just let me pants fall to the floor as I smeared the leaking semen all over my head and shaft, rubbing my balls with great fervor and trying to keep time with the thrusting of my hips and stroking of my hand.

Then, you blew my fucking mind.

You stopped, and you removed the robe, turning and showing the door crack your solid, sexy back and the round globes of your ass. You put one knee on the side of the tub, bent over, and, producing a bottle of oil, squeezed a generous amount into the crack of your delicious ass, letting the oil run down your backside and drip onto the tub, the floor, and coat your legs. That was cool enough, I thought, and I felt myself getting rather impatient, as I had been trying to finish with you. Such sweet agony…

The vibrator found its starring role, though, and you began to rub it up and down along your slit and the crack of your well-lubed ass. Suddenly, it was gone, and I could see your mouth, turned a little to the side, open in nothing other than a circle of ecstasy as it slid into your anus and purred like a comforted housecat. You weren’t finished, though.

The dildo was next, finding its way back home. When your tightened pussy felt that pressure from both tools, one crazily humming its sexy tone, the other sliding on your juices and the oil, you cried out and arched your back. The cat analogy comes back to mind as I recall now, and you began to fuck, once again.

I have always been amazing at what women are able to do during sex. Sometimes, though, I find something truly amazing as I go about my day, and that scene will live in my memory forever. Your arched back, your two toys, your forehead on the ceramic tub, your eyes squeezed shut, your mouth hanging open, gasping for breath, my dick and balls almost too stunned too finish… but not quite.

Your were crying out while you fucked yourself, lost in a world without me but containing at least two other cocks. I began to grunt, too, as I was going to blow the poor door off its hinges, and then a cry broke from you, louder than the rest, urgent, insistent, and impossible to ignore: “Spill it on me, Baby!”

I slammed my shoulder into the door, looked down at your open-mouthed, twisted smile, and released all over your back just as you started to quake. Your back and ass arched and bucked as my full scrotum emptied itself all over your gorgeous, flexing body. We were both crying and moaning, and, just when it seemed like we were finished, you dropped your toys into the tub, flipped around, and nearly swallowed my cock.

I gasped, and you pressed your face to my belly, slurping and gagging on the depth and thickness of the tool inside you for at least half a minute, licking me completely clean on the way past your lips to fresh air. You were still quaking (and you weren’t alone), but you had a gorgeous smile on your angelic face.

“So, did you like the story, Baby?”

“You bet I did. Thanks for giving me another one, too, Lover.”