48
Designed Intent
Chapter 11
Late Wednesday Night
Bobby prowled around his apartment. He couldn't stop thinking of her. They had talked for nearly an hour. Their talk drifted to the bedroom and all the potential that room holds. He wanted her. He wanted her bad, right now. God, he hated when he got like this. He felt like he was fourteen and horny as hell.
Go to the gym and work it off, he told himself. Yeah, go to the gym. Oh, wait, that girl might be there. That girl who wanted him to . . . he almost did, but had not. She was always there and she always smiled and gave him that look. He knew he could have her anytime he wanted. No, he did not need to be tempted tonight. He wanted Gleason. Oh, oh, oh – if she was here. . . Bobby got another beer and sat in the dark and thought of her.
In his mind's eye saw her beauty, felt her skin, smelled her hair. He watched her heart pulse under the skin at that place on her neck; he put his mouth on it and felt it throb against his tongue. He inhaled her musk, that subtle scent she gets when she is wet for him.
Bobby shifted in his chair; he was getting hard. He set his left leg over the arm of his chair and leaned back, making more room.
He closed his eyes and saw her lying beside him. Her long, lean body curved sensuously – her right arm bent at the elbow, hand tucked under her pillow; her left arm lay across her flat, soft stomach, her left leg lay easily across her right. He saw her hair spray across her pillow and around her shoulders in a red mist.
Bobby's hand moved to his erection and he adjusted himself; he rubbed slowly, lightly.
His eyes traveled her length, from her blue, blue eyes down her long neck to her small, round, just-enough breasts. He put his mouth on one and felt her nipple harden against his tongue, his lips; his teeth pulled it. He heard her moan softly, deeply in her throat, the way she does when it is good, especially good.
Bobby's hand undid his button and lowered his zipper. He slipped his hand inside his boxers and took hold of himself. Ah, god, good. Slowly his hand moved along his length, slowly, softly. The way he liked.
He saw himself lay beside her, he pulled her close, felt her warmth. Her breath was hot against his neck. And fast. His hand moved to her face and his mouth took hers. His tongue flicked against her lips and she opened slightly. His tongue slid inside and her whole body responded. She moved closer against him. Her tongue met his.
Bobby shifted up, pushed down his jeans and pulled himself free. Ah, there, better. His hand cupped his thickness and slowly slid up and down, his thumb barely pressing his girth into his fingers. His breath came faster.
His finger moved against her mouth and her tongue licked the end, then the length. He gasped and pushed through her lips. She licked and sucked his finger as she had licked and sucked his cock. He wanted to fuck her mouth with his finger. He wanted to fuck her mouth with his cock.
Bobby's right hand reached for his beer and he took a long swig. He set down the bottle and his left hand tightened around himself slightly, his mouth opened. A nearly silent moan escaped.
She moved against him, there, down there. Her left leg crossed his right hip and she pressed her nest against him. He heard her whisper, "Touch me." His hand moved down her back to her hip and he rolled her easily onto her back. His hand slid to her flat stomach, his fingers played in her red bush. She opened to him; he inhaled her musk. He bent and kissed her, his tongue diving into her mouth. At the same moment, he slid his middle finger up into her wetness. She gasped and rose to meet his hand. She was hot and swollen. So wet.
Bobby's fingers closed around his girth and pulled just a bit as he rubbed up and down, stretching himself a little. His thumb lingered at his tip, rubbing the head, flicking his tiny slit, coaxing a drop of cum. He milked the head and felt a wet drop. He smeared it over the tip. Ah, ah, good.
His open mouth moved to her breast, covering the whole end – nipple and everything around it. He sucked hard, wanting to devour her. She groaned and moved under his hand and mouth. His finger slid all the way up and he flicked it back and forth. So tight, hot. His tongue flicked her nipple in time with his finger. So tight, hard. Her breath came faster. He slowly, slowly withdrew his finger. His thumb rubbed her clit.
Bobby's thumb milked his tip again. He squeezed, wanting – needing – more cum. He wanted to go fast now and he needed to be wet. He took the last third of his length, pulling and pressing between his thumb and fingers, pushing his cum to the end. He had to stroke a bit, and then squeeze. Come on. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. Come on. He jerked slightly, a wee bit squirted onto his fingers, ah, ah, good, good! He smeared his cum up and down his penis; he was huge, he knew it. It felt good, so good.
He pushed his thumb inside her. He pulled it out, flicked her clit, and pushed it in, slowly, so slowly. She pushed against his hand. He watched her. Her eyes closed tight, her mouth open. He saw her tongue move as though licking him. God, what a sight! He had to be inside her mouth. "Honey, eat me," he whispered. Her eyes opened and she sat up as he lay down. She knelt between his open legs and took in his whole length. Uh, unh!
Bobby's hand quickened on himself, oh, god! His hand slid up and down. He held tight. His thumb pressed himself into his fingers as he rubbed. Oh, god! He reversed his hand and grasped himself fully, fingers over the top and around, his thumb rubbing underneath. Oh, god, yeah, like that, yeah. Ungh!
He watched her suck him. Her mouth was as hot and wet as her pussy. Oh, god! She dragged her tongue up and down his underside. Her sweet tongue was soft and tender in his mouth, but soft and rough and tender and hard against his cock. She sucked the end. He pushed up into her mouth, careful not to gag her. She took in more, and more. Oh, god, god! She moaned around his length and he shuddered, lifting his back from the bed. Ungh, ungh! Oh, oh, god. His hands went into her hair and he held her head. He pumped up and pulled down, fucking her mouth. Ungh, ungh, ungh!
Bobby squeezed hard as his rubbed faster and faster. He rubbed the end and smeared more cum. Oh, oh, he was close. His hips moved in the chair. His legs opened wider.
She hummed again, and again, vibrating her lips and tongue around him. He was close. He wanted to come in her mouth. He had never done that, come in her mouth. He wanted to. God, he wanted to this time. Do it, fuck her mouth. Do it! Ungh, ungh, he was going to come. Oh, oh, ungh!
Bobby grunted short sounds as his hand slid faster, tighter. He was going to come. Now, now!
He pushed her head down and slammed up into her mouth, down into her throat. She sucked hard and he shot into her hot wetness. He bucked up and growled out loud – ungh, ungh, oh, gaaawwdd!
Bobby growled aloud and bent forward, his right hand flew to cup his tip as his hot cum jetted out in short spurts. His body jerked in time with his penis. Oh, god! He drew ragged breaths. His right fist was full of drippy cream. Jesus. He sat for a long moment, catching his breath. Oh, god that was good. So good.
Bobby rubbed himself with his right hand. Slippery, sticky. He cupped his sack and wiped his hand over it. Then he moved his left leg and stood up, reaching for his jeans and boxers. He pulled them up and wiped the rest of his smear on the pant leg.
The apartment was dark, except for the light over the sink. He held up his jeans and walked down the hall, stopping in the bathroom to pee and turn on the shower. In the bedroom, he stepped out of his pants and tossed them into the basket on the closet floor. He toed out of his socks and pulled off his undershirt, throwing it all into the basket. He walked naked around the corner back into the bathroom
The water felt so good. Palms flat on the back wall, he leaned and the water beat on him. After a few luxurious moments, Bobby pushed himself upright and took the bar of soap. He started with his hair and worked down; face, neck, arms, pits, chest, stomach – there, there.
It felt good, his hand cleaning himself. Gleason had done this for him, when they would shower together, she always wanted to and she always played a bit. God, what that woman could do to make him feel like a man. Bobby slowed his hand, remembering. The soap made his hand slippery, smooth on his flaccid length. He gripped, slid and pulled. Ahhh, yeah.
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