It was the strangest thing. She'd never considered herself a girl with particularly high libido, but in the last few weeks she felt . . . almost like a guy. She'd be at work, in traffic, in line at the grocery store and her mind would drift to Jim. Jim, holding back, thinking of her. Jim, putting her groceries away before she could handle a single bag. Jim, waiting for the slightest nod of approval from her, the slightest touch, the slightest smell of her. Jim, with bulging pants and desperate eyes.
Two days ago, he'd confessed he'd gone into her bathroom, found her perfume and stroked himself thinking of her. This from the man who jerked off to porn daily.
She pondered that while she maneuvered the car onto the highway. She'd followed her friend's advice and so far it had worked amazingly well. She was the girl in his mind when he touched himself. She had become his porn.
She made it home alive; her mind had been distracted by him. She'd been on automatic the entire way. When she saw his car in her guest parking spot, she felt a little thrill. She began to smile; she couldn't help it. She couldn't wait to see him. The expression that spread over his face when he saw her was priceless; adoring, happy, excited.
She'd teased him once. "You're like a happy little puppy, aren't you?"
To her surprise, he'd agreed.
He was out the door and walking toward her. He must have been waiting at the window for her car. "Anything to carry in?"
She shook her head. "Just me."
He wrapped his arms around her and buried his nose in her hair. "I get to carry you in?"
She giggled like a teenager. "I'll break your back."
He grabbed her by the hips and pressed his lips into hers. "You couldn't be more perfect."
Her cheeks burned with an embarrassed smile. She started to move past him, but she couldn't help herself. She pressed her lips into his, wettened it, let herself go hot, feeling the heat of their mouths intermingle. When she finally pulled away, she felt that familiar tension, needing release, that internal melting sensation. "Let's--" she breathed, "--let's get inside."
They hurried, ran-walked to the door. He grabbed at her and grabbed at her again, every few feet, letting her go and catching her, a cat playing with a mouse, pressing his erection into her ass, sinking his teeth into her shoulder, kissing the back of her neck until she shivered, nibbling behind her ear.
They were hot and naked in no time. She flung herself onto the bed and pulled him on top of her. He hesitated, looking concerned.
She blinked. "What's wrong?"
He blinked. "Do you want to--are we--are we going to?"
She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifted herself up to his taste his mouth again. "Mmm, I certainly hope so."
He gently unwrapped her arms. "But--but I'm so close. Only a few more days."
Her jaw dropped with shock. She laughed. "Jim . . . are you serious?"
He was turning pale. "I have . . uh . . rules, remember?"
She blinked and grinned. "It's just a game."
He stood and stared down at her. "Don't say that."
She let her mouth hang open further. "Sweetheart, this was all about bringing us closer together, not keeping us apart."
He reached out and laid his hand aside her cheek, traced the shape of her lips with his thumb. "I've never felt closer to you."
She shook her head. "But--but I want . . . you know?"
"I only have three days left. If I blow it now--"
She laughed, her cheeks beet red. "Is that what you're talking about?"
He frowned. "Of course."
She knelt on the side of the bed, wrapped her arms around his neck again and kissed him, hot, deep and sweet. "Oh, Honey . . . you're not going to cum."
He blinked. "Wh-what? But I thought you wanted--"
"Of course I do! I get to cum, remember?"
"But, Ella," his frowned deepened, "there's no way I can do that and not cum."
Ella smiled. Her friend had thought of everything, even this. "Yes you can. Trust me."
He wrapped his arms around her, buried his face into the soft span of skin between her shoulder and neck. "I won't even last a second. I'm telling you."
She moaned, guided his hand down to her belly, pushing it further until it got the hint. He slipped his hard man's hand down over her mound and pressed his fingers between her lips. She wasn't just wet; she was soaking. "Get the condoms, Baby."
He pulled the draw open, ripped open the package and rolled it on to his stiff sock.
She sprawled back onto the bed and stretched, letting her skin go taut over her ribs, letting her tits bob upward, feeling empty and somehow incomplete, her eyes drifting from his collar bone down to his cock. He'd lost a lot of weight. She grinned.
She looked up at him, feeling the smolder of her eyes. "Ride me, Cowboy."
He laughed which made her laugh.
He couldn't wait to shut her up. He fell on top of her, jerked her thighs open, wide open, opened his mouth against her open mouth and bit her chin, sliding himself inside, deep.
She gasped.
Together, they began to rock back and forth in perfect synchronicity, him thrusting, her responding to his thrust. He watched her breasts shudder with each stroke.
He pulled out, his face red and covered with sweat.
She moaned, "No, don't stop."
He shook his head, his eyes down, looking ashamed. "I . . I can't."
"You can't?"
He could barely get the words out. "Too . . . Too close."
She grinned. "Get another condom."
His eyes blinked up. "What?"
"You always say you don't feel as much with them, right?"
He nodded. "Some, yes."
"So put one on."
"I've already got one on."
She laughed. "I know. Put another one on."
His eyes went wide. "Oh . . . right."
He went back to the night stand, ripped open another package and slipped another condom over the first, chuckling. "Doubled bagged for your protection."
She started to reply, but he was on her, in her, and he was thrusting.
She had a brief moment where she wondered what her friend would say. Was this right? Was it okay for him to do this to her? To be on top? Then she didn't care; the pleasure was coursing through her, building and releasing. She felt herself tensing again; he changed his rhythm. She could've cursed him, but then she was lost in the new rhythm again, the new pleasure, the new surging, the new thrusting.
He stretched her like a gymnast, tossing her to the side, thrusting into her, changing the angle, desperate to get that sensation, that feeling of fucking. He got all the motion, some of the heat, but barely any of the tingling friction. He thrust harder, faster, threw her back into position, flung her legs over his shoulders, drove himself into her until she flooded and moaned.
He glanced up at her for a second, but drove himself deeper into her, desperately seeking something, anything, just a little friction. Her fresh wetness had robbed him of even that. He thought about ripping off one condom, but he'd been down that road. He'd cum if he did and he only had three days left to go. It was a matter of pride now. Besides, if he was good, maybe she'd edge him, drain him, let him cum without an orgasm. God, he needed an orgasm.
He chewed on her breasts until she said "ow" then softened is mouth around her nipples, sucking them inside his hot mouth, pulling on them. She was all wet and open, barely anything left to fuck, just a hot wet opening, like fucking a jacuzzi.
He shoved himself deep inside and fucked her that way, hoping her inferno would penetrate the layers of latex sealing his needy cock away. He pulled out and tried grinding his cock down against the ridge of her opening, then tried to get some heat through the latex again, feeling something hard and indistinct deep inside her.
She flooded again and gasped, her hands clutching at his arms.
Finally, after a long futile search, he ran out of breath.
They were covered in sweat and she was glowing, her cheeks pink, her skin slick, her eyes glazed over.
She smiled softly. "Done already?"
He shook his head, aware of the spatter of sweat he sprinkled over her beautiful breasts. "I can't--can't get any feeling."
"None at all?"
He shook his head again, ducked down to lick the salty perspiration off her belly. He wanted to devour her whole, split her open and consume her. "Just . . . a hint. Enough to drive me crazy."
She giggled. "Take'em off."
He blinked, his eyes worried. "What are you going to do?"
She raised her eyebrows.
He pulled the condoms from his swollen cock. She rolled him over, straddled him and let her fingers play with his erection. His face twisted and strained, his body tense. "Please, don't."
She crawled over him, her breasts just touching his chest, her hair tickling his shoulders. "I want to feel you inside me."
He shook his head. "No, I won't be able--"
"Quiet." She held his cock in her hands and lowered herself onto him, inhaling deep as it filled her, moaning. "God, that feels good."
He swung his arms up, mimicking his couch position, hands clutching at the sheet, pulling the fitted corner loose, exposing the bare mattress. "It's too good, Ella. I can't handle it."
She pulled her body and up and slipped him deep inside of herself. "How many strokes do you think before you lose it?"
He shook his head, his body trembling. "I . . . I don't know."
"How many, Jim?"
He thrashed on the bed. "I don't know."
She reached out and grabbed his chin, feeling so full of pleasure and power she almost felt she could cum again. It wouldn't take much. "How many?"
He blinked, his gaze frozen by her penetrating stare. "F-five."
She smiled and thrust herself down on top of him. "One."
She did it again. "Two."
Again. "Three."
He tensed, arched his back. "No! Please--"
She remembered her mentor's advice. She'd had plenty of practice over the last few weeks during their draining sessions. She was getting good at it.
"Tell me something, Baby."
"Wh-what?"
"Um," she grinned, "let's start easy. When's my birthday?"
He blinked. "Wh-what?"
