Without speaking, she dropped to her knees before him. He leaned back against the door, both hands pressed flat against it. She looked up at him and his eyes burned through her, feverish in his need. Then she turned her attention to the bulge straining his pants.
Raising one finger, she traced the length of it through the cloth. It was so strong and warm, it leapt under her touch, a creature with a mind all its own.
She could feel its shape. There was the shaft, straight and true. It stretched upward toward his belly, narrowing just a bit before her fingers reached the flare at the end. The head was broad and rounded. It had seemed too big as it pressed into her body earlier and it seemed even bigger now. How had she managed to take it into her womb? And how would she manage to take it into her mouth?
She remembered performing this same act on her aging husband with a shudder of disgust, but this was different. As much as she wanted to tell herself that she didn't want to touch him, that he was forcing her to do this, she couldn't. She wondered, with every fiber of her being, what he tasted like. She could smell him, musky and masculine, and she wanted more. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
She reached for the fastening of his pants, slowly pulling them open. He wasn't wearing anything beneath; with a start she realized he probably didn't own anything else. Even his pants were the same ones she had cut off him, then stitched back together while he lay ill. She pulled the pants down a bit and all thoughts of his clothing disappeared. There it was, his cock. It stood proud and large, waiting for her touch. He grunted, catching her attention.
"Keep moving," he said softly. She nodded.
She peeled back his trousers and pulled them down his legs a bit. Now she could see all of him. His long, hard cock. His balls, hanging just below in their sack. Already they pulled up, tight and tense.
Despite the limitations of her experience, she knew he wasn't going to last that long once she touched him. What would he taste like, coming in her mouth?
Once again she traced his length with her hand, but this time there was no fabric between them. He was soft, and oh-so-warm to the touch. She followed the vein along the underside, first trailing one finger up it and then reaching out with the tip of her tongue. She traveled up the shaft slowly, exploring every bump and wrinkle with her tongue. Then she reached the top. There was a little dip in the skin there, a spot where the ridge of his cock-head came together. She tickled it with her tongue and he gasped.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, and touched her tongue to that spot again. He gazed back at her, eyes bright as deep blue coals; he dropped his head back against the door and moaned.
"Take it into you mouth," he whispered, as in pain. "Take it into your mouth and suck it. I need you to touch me there."
She did as she was told, opening her mouth and slowly sucking the head of his cock. He tasted hot and salty. Sweet. She could feel a rush of moisture building between her thighs—oh, she wanted him. One of his hands came up to grasp the back of her head firmly, pushing her down onto his length.
He wanted more from her.
She sucked him in further, careful to keep her teeth from grazing against him. She wasn't able to get him in all the way, and when he hit the back of her throat, she choked. Instantly his hand stopped pushing.
"You don't have to take more of me than you can handle," he whispered painfully. "Just take what you can…" His words broke as he moaned in pleasure.
She nodded, bobbing up and down on him as she did so. He gasped, and she realized just how much power this new position gave her.
He was hers now.
Moving slowly, she pulled up on the c**k with one hand, mimicking the sucking motions of her mouth.
Then she pushed back down. She repeated the movement, going more quickly this time. His hand clenched in her hair, and she did it again. Soon she was in a rhythm that seemed to be working for both of them. She could feel him growing harder in her mouth. More moisture leaked from him as well.
Without thinking, she wrapped both arms around his hips and grasped the cheeks of his butt firmly in her fingers. She needed some leverage if she was going to do this right.
Her head moved back and forth, quicker and quicker. Each stroke brought him just a little closer to exploding. She could feel it in the way his muscles tensed, taste it in the seed he was already starting to leak into her mouth. His hand clenched her hair more tightly, the slight pain spurring her on.
Her mouth was starting to ache and her neck was growing tired. It should have been terribly uncomfortable for her to keep her pace, but it was as if she were no longer in charge of her own body.
There was an ache building between her legs and in her br**sts. She wanted his hands on them, to feel his rough fingers play with her ni**les.
She wanted that hard c**k inside her.
He gasped, all but whimpering with need. His hips started thrusting against her head, moving her faster and faster toward the explosion of his seed. He muttered something low under his breath, then both his hands were on her head, pulling her face into his c**k with such force it should have been painful. All she could think about was how much she wanted him to thrust against her in another place. If he was too spent from this to f**k her afterward, she was going to die.
His c**k was knocking at the back of her throat with each thrust now. She tried to time herself with it, and suddenly she was swallowing it, pulling him deep within her throat. He gasped and pulled her head more tightly against him. She swallowed again, feeling her throat muscles tighten around him. She couldn't breath. Acting on instinct, she swallowed again and this time kept swallowing, massaging him with her muscles even as she started seeing spots from lack of oxygen. He gave a startled cry, and then he exploded into her. She could feel the hot spurts of come slither down her throat and felt light-headed. His fingers clutched her head so hard it hurt, and then he was slowly pulling out of her mouth.
She felt sore, almost raw. And so empty…
He slowly sank to the floor and pulled her close to his body. He was kissing her eyes, her nose, her mouth. He murmured soft words and rubbed the back of her head as she collapsed against his chest, gasping for air.
"I'm so sorry," he said, "So sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, Beth. Oh, Bethie, I'm so sorry…"
It took her a moment to realize what he was saying.
"You didn't hurt me," she whispered, voice sounding raw even to her. "I startled myself there, but you didn't hurt me."
"You must be exhausted," he whispered, still cradling her. She nodded her head, realizing he was right.