She stood then, looking amazingly sexy in her professional top but naked from the waist down.
Her thighs were shiny with her natural lubricant and I liked that she seemed to be a little shaky on her feet.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. It was a good kiss, a long, lingering kiss full of desire. I let my hand run down her back, the feeling of the material, of her bra, of the hem of her suit jacket, and then the lightly dimpled warmth of her skin, tracing her
gluteal cleft
, the crack of her ass, enjoying the warmth and softness of her.
"You know," she said, breaking the kiss but holding me in place with her fingers entwined in my hair, "that pretty mouth of yours really isn't enough."
She ran her hands down my back until they got to the tight waistband of the pullups and she started pushing them down.
I caught her hands and said, "Laura, that would be awfully messy."
Her smile, when she looked up at me, was bright, and she giggled a little.
"After last night," she said, her hand pushing down on the waistband, "do you really think a little mess is going to bother me?"
I grinned, dug my fingers into her hair, holding her head immobile, holding her eyes with mine.
"You're a bit crazy, you know that, don't you?" I asked.
There was that happy smile again. "You, my dear," she said, "are not the first person to tell me that."
"But maybe I'll be the last?" I asked, surprised at hearing the words from my mouth.
She smiled as the pullups hit the floor with an audible
plop
.
"Maybe you will be at that," she said, her hands cupping my ass, finding where it was messy and deliberately smearing it.
Something within me surrendered at her touch and I dropped to my knees. I could smell the mess on her hands as she entwined her fingers in my hair again and pulled me to her. She was smiling down at me when I looked up and then she reached down and spread her nether lips, leaving a brown smear where her fingers touched.
I didn't hesitate. I buried my face between those plump lips, her nectar salty and oily and delicious.
Her fingers twisted, not actually hurting, but pulling and holding. Her hips were thrusting and her hands pulling. I knew, on some level, that she was using me like a sex toy and on that same level, deep down, that level where nothing matters but spreading my DNA, I liked it.
When she came it felt like I was being waterboarded. I couldn't breathe but she held me to her, fingers twisting as I coughed and retched and suddenly tasted the bitter taste of urine.
I coughed again, spraying piss and cum all over her belly, feeling the warm stream of her urine on my face and chest. This time when I retched my body gave up and I threw up, gagging and puking as her hands in my hair pulled me away enough to allow me to breathe.
"Good sex is often messy," she said, and the smile on her face was almost angelic, "but never dirty."
When I got my breathing under control I stood, not bothering to even wipe my mouth, and kissed her.
"You ARE crazy," I said.
"And yet you love me," she said.
And it hit me that she was right. This was more than sex. I wasn't sure if I'd call it "love," but it was definitely something.
"Come on," she said, taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom. I don't know that she deliberately stepped in the mess on the floor, but she didn't try to avoid it either and left wet footprints.
In the bedroom, she turned and smiled up at me.
"Oh, crap," I said, "we're going to ruin your suit."
She laughed at that, an oddly merry sound, out of place but somehow, right.
"It'll clean or it won't but I have a couple of dozen just like it," she said.
When I reached for the button to take it off of her she slapped my hand.
"No, baby," she said and there was that feral grin that I would come to love and, on some level, fear, "my tits aren't going to be involved this morning."
"Oh?" I said, not at my wittiest.
"This morning I want one of those prostate exams," she said, moving to the bedside table and pulling out that tube of lubricant and roll of tape.
"Ummmmmmm," I said, gathering my wits about me as the saying goes, "you have no prostate."
There was that feral grin now, fully on display.
"Prove it," she said, giggling and moving up onto the bed, doubling a pillow, and laying across it, the pillow under her hips and her ass up on display.
And suddenly I was hard again.
"You ARE crazy," I said for the third time that morning.
She didn't say anything, just wiggled her ass.
So I did as she wanted.
I remembered. The drugs were powerful but didn't interfere with my memory of how she had done it. So I pulled off a length of the tape, spread her cheeks, stuck the tape deep in that crease, and pulled that cheek out of the way, sticking the tape to her hip. When I did the other side she was completely exposed and I just stopped to look.
Laura is sexy as hell, don't get me wrong, but she doesn't have an attractive asshole. I've seen some women in my life who do, but she ain't one. She was darkly stained far enough down that it showed even before the tape. Hemorrhoids peeked out. I bent and kissed it.
She hummed a soft "mmmmmm" sound.
