He placed the cannister on the bedside table and took me by the shoulders. Spinning me around, he helped me undress, sliding the zipper slowly and carefully toward its final destination. I felt cool air on my back and the erotic sensation of my clothes hanging open.
Damien reached around, sliding my arms free, handing me the fabric so I could step out of it. I tried to be as careful and loving with my clothes as he was, draping them over the arm of the chair instead of tossing them to the floor.
I still wore my shoes, and when I made a move to kick them off, he stopped me.
“Keep them on,” he said, his voice rough.
“Yes sir,” I teased.
He grinned, and I could see he was on the verge of explaining that we weren’t in the office, but he held his tongue. I stepped close, reaching for his fly. Taking hold of his belt buckle, I eased the hook out of the eye. He watched me work with interest, not yet abandoning the thin veneer of civilization that he was clinging to.
I had his belt off and went to work on his fly, being careful to avoid damaging the growing tent in his trousers. The zipper came apart piece by piece, revealing Damien’s solid cock. I helped him take his pants down, guiding them over his hips and thighs before relinquishing control.
He barely had the presence of mind to cast the pants onto the chair. I was finally getting through. Reaching for his boxers, I pushed those down as well, forcing him to remove them. His thing hung at half mast, pushing out against the wall of his body but not yet engorged. I knew how to remedy that. Since he’d given me such an appetizing alternative, I reached for the whipped cream.
He grinned, liking my initiative. His hand came over mine, and he removed the can. Setting it back where it was, he kissed me. So, he wanted to take things slowly. That was acceptable. But we were both almost naked – he was in his birthday suit, and I was wearing only underwear and heels.
He tilted my head, kissing from my lips to my ear before sucking the lobe between his teeth. Back to the snail’s pace, he teased me unrelentingly. I groaned, scraping my fingernails down his back. I wanted him right then, not twenty minutes later when he finally got around to consummating the date.
He sensed my urgency and chuckled. I felt the deep rumbling in his chest and the warm slip of air between his lips. Nibbling with a little more purpose, he tilted my head back so he could reach my neck. Dropping kisses down the arch of it to my collarbone, he finally began revving up.
I reached for his cock again, and this time he let me hold it. Wrapping my palm around the base, I stroked outward, encouraging him to work harder. My ploy was successful; he grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me down onto the bed.
Slipping his hands beneath my panties, he pulled them off and tossed them on the pile of clothing. Parting my legs, he knelt beside the bed, reaching for the whipped cream. I came up on my elbows, disappointed that I wasn’t able to play with him first.
He spared a wicked grin before shaking the can. Emptying a mound of cream onto my privates, he rubbed my thighs in anticipation. I lay back down. This was crazy. I felt embarrassed but also a little naughty. Damien didn’t waste any time. I felt his tongue ease up my slit, circling the outer folds.
I reached for the blankets, digging my hands into the covers. He licked roughly, plunging through every barrier I had. He found the pleasure center, the tiny nub that held a thousand sensory cells. I couldn’t tell if there was any cream left. My crotch was warm with the pressure of his tongue and the glaze of sugar.
He gripped my hips, helping himself to my erogenous zone. I fought to retain composure, tilting my head back and forth. It was too much. He was driving me toward the edge, building the tension within me until it boiled over.
I screamed, feeling my body release its juices. I couldn’t imagine what the flavor was like, but Damien seemed content. If anything, my orgasm made him push harder. I put my hands over his, slowing him down to a crawl.
Climbing off the bed, I wobbled slightly on the heels I still hadn’t taken off. Pausing for a moment to remove my bra, I stood before him, slick from his attention, naked and ready for more.
He rose to his feet, kissing my lips with a tongue warm from my internal landscape. I tasted the whipped cream and beneath that, my own femininity. It was an attractive scent on him. I reached for the can, pushing him away.
“My turn,” I said.
He lay down obediently. I was the one in charge for the time being, and it was his pleasure I was after. I shook the can and painted his tent pole in white. Settling above his legs, I prepared for a feast.
I licked gently at first, cleaning the tip, grazing it before settling down to business. I fit the whole thing into my mouth, sliding down until it brushed the back of my throat. The whipped cream melted under the pressure, squeezing itself in and around his tool. I wasn’t prepared for the sugary mess, and I nearly gagged.
Swallowing heavily, I cleared the path. He moaned, stroking my hair with his free hand. After dispensing with the diversion, I rose up before plunging back down again and again, developing a rhythm. As I worked, he grew stiffer and stiffer, his dick swelling up to reach my tonsils. I loved the way it felt going down and the massive intrusion as I worked it back up.
I felt my engine beginning to hum again, the mere act of pleasuring him a turn-on. I lowered my breasts to his thighs, scraping the nipples along his flesh as I sucked him off. He tossed his head, growing weaker and weaker in his attempts to stave off the orgasm.
Finally, he’d had enough, pulling me away and rolling over on top of me. We were done with the foreplay, done with the toys. I could see that he had transformed from the cautious and controlled individual of a few minutes ago to the animal I knew and lusted after.
He dove into my pussy with no delay, sealing my body up with his own. The effect was lightning quick and stole my breath. I reached up to grasp him by the biceps, digging my fingernails in.
He descended swiftly until our pelvic bones met, until he was buried to the hilt. I spread my legs wide to accommodate him, welcoming him down into my core. He didn’t pause. The action was born of necessity. Diving in and out, he pushed us both toward heaven. Before I even knew it was happening, I was flying.
He took me out of my body and placed me on a cloud, where all I could see was pure satisfaction for miles around. Blood thundered through me from head to toe, starting at my crotch and radiating outward. Damien arrived a moment later, planting his flag deep.
I looked up through slitted eyes to see his face contort. If it wasn’t for the supreme pressure on my abdomen I would have laughed. But he had me between a rock and a hard place, and it felt wonderful.
He relaxed after a moment, bowing his head. I wrapped my legs around his waist, gathering him to my chest. We stayed like that for a few minutes, hot and sweaty, breathing in each other’s exhales.