It’s a beautiful summer day, blue skies, big fluffy clouds and a bright sun that doesn’t burn you but covers you in warmth all over. We decide to drive to the little town near us and have a slow, soft day. We go for a stroll, watch a play in the park, me in my sundress with the little flowers, him in his nice linen shirt. We hold hands as we walk through the gardens and he plucks a flower to put in my hair. He walks on the outside of the curb, puts a hand on the small of my back to gently direct me where to go because I have no idea where anything is. At dinner, when they lead us to our table, I smile and go to sit even though I don’t like our table but I don’t like causing problems. He frowns and asks for another table. When our dinner gets there, my steak is overdone. I wave it off, but he sends it back. It comes back perfectly cooked.
And at night, when we get home, he takes off all his clothes and drops to his knees and begs me to fuck him in my sundress. I will, but he needs to be good for me first. He knee-walks over to me and lift up skirt for him to crawl under then drape it over him. He doesn’t waste any time before his mouth is on me, moaning as he licks and sucks and breathes me in. I cum in record time, driven partly by his enthusiastic mouth, partly the sounds he makes from under my skirt, and, partly, mostly, because I’ve been wanting him all day. When I cum he doesn’t stop. He’s not allowed to until I tell him.
“Good boy,” I say, when the black spots fade from my vision. “That was really good. You can come out.”
He crawls back out, and looks up at me with big, hopeful eyes. I run my hand through his hair, scraping at his scalp gently, and his eyes roll back.
He hums as his eyes fall closed and my touch turns rough, taking a fistful of hair and tugging. Hard, but not that hard. He’s good, after all. He makes a sound that is somewhere between a cry and a moan.
“Did you like that?” I ask again.
“Yes,” he breathes, then adds when I tighten my fist again, “thank you.”
I tell him to get out the strap-on, letting him choose which one I will fuck him with. He comes back holding one of his favourites. It’s a bit on the bigger side, but not so big that I’ll insist on spending a lot of time prepping him.
He does most of the work getting it on me, then once again wastes no time getting his mouth on me. As is the rule, he licks all over the toy first, groaning as he laps sloppily at me. When he’s covered every inch, he holds out his tongue wide and lets it rest there, staring up at me again.
“It’s okay. You can put it in your mouth,” I tell him, and he wraps his mouth around the shaft in one second and in the next, he has it swallowed down to the hilt. It took us a while to get here with his gag reflex, but he was determined and a good boy, and managed it beautifully. Something I commend him for because my own is rather abysmal, but I have no interest in improving it. It’s not about his pleasure. When I do go down on him, it’s only ever the strap-on I make him wear.
He’s breathing heavily with his nose pressed to my stomach and I run my hand through his hair again gently, and say, “You can suck.”
And he does. With such enthusiasm and skill, I pity the fact that no person with a real cock has ever gotten his mouth on them.
I let him suck for a while, watching as he dribbles precum onto the hardwood floor. I’ll make him clean it up later.
“Enough,” I say finally. “Get on the bed.”
He practically trips all over himself to get to the bed, hesitating only because I haven’t told him which position I want him in. Such a good boy.
He falls on his back, and dutifully spreads his legs, hands behind his thighs. His cock is red and desperate and leaking all over him. I smile. I smile even wider when I see he already has the bottle of lube out.
I crawl between his legs.
“You got me so nice and wet already, how many fingers do you want?”
I would prefer three, but he groans and says “two.” Fine. I can give him two when he’s been so good. Make sure he feels me when he’s trying to sleep. Feels me even tomorrow when he’s at the gym.
But just because I’m willing to give him two doesn’t means I’m going to make it easy for him. I take my time, pumping my fingers in and out of him, scissoring and curling, until he’s a blabbing mess and begging.
I giggle. “You want it, baby?”
“Please,” he cries, his fingers leaving white prints on his thighs. “Please, please, please.”
I laugh again. “So needy.” I draw nearer, place a kiss on the inside of his thigh, then his stomach, but when I move to place a kiss on his tip, he stiffens.
“Don’t,” he says, desperate, “I’ll cum.”
It’s not his call, but I let it slide. I sit back and line myself up against the hole I spent the last half-hour torturing. I don’t press in, just keep the tip against his hole. He cries and starts bucking. I slap his thigh. “Hey.”
“Do better,” I scold, but then slowly press in until I’m buried to the hilt. When I’m balls-deep inside him, I stare down at him and smile at his blissed-out face. Just need to get a cock in him and he shuts up. “Feel good?”
He swallows. “Don’t cum until you tell me I can.”
“Good boy.” And I start fucking into him.
Honestly, it’s a lot of work fucking someone. I’m getting my workout in for certain. But it’s worth it to hear him groan and moan and beg and plead. And I make sure he thanks me for all the work I’m doing.
“Please can I cum? Please?”
I don’t drag it out too long, even though I love seeing him like this. It was a lovely day, and he’s been good. He deserves this.
The moment I give him permission, he cries and cums all over himself. I keep thrusting until I see little jerks of his body from overstimulation. Then I stop thrusting, staying inside him. I run my fingers through the cum on his stomach and hold it to his lips. Obediently, he opens his mouth, and lets me feed his cum to him. When he’s cleaned up everything and sucked off every last drop of cum, I finally pull out.
He nods. “Yes, thank you.”
“Good boy,” I say again. I’ll say it forever. I slide out of bed and take off the strap. Quickly, I change out of my dress, throwing on one of his old tshirts. “Stay here a minute.”
I get us both a bottle of water, and some snacks and crawl back into bed where he’s waiting for me. I hand him the bottle and food and he rolls his eyes but takes them obediently. When I’m satisfied he’s eaten and drank enough, I take them from his hand and put everything on the side and hold out my arms to him. He crawls in, resting his head on my chest.
I grab my latest book from the nightstand and start reading out loud to him until we’re both falling sleep. He takes the book from my hand and places it on the nightstand.
We turn over, his strong body covering mine. And we fall sleep.
