I like wearing a cock for the immediacy of it. I love being able to grab her when we get home and pull her against me, take her hand and hold it between my legs so she knows. I strap it on while she’s fixing her hair. It’s a secret. Just for me while we’re out at dinner. Sometimes it’s a cock small enough I barely notice it, but I like it when it’s absurdly thick and long. I love the way it grinds into my thigh. I stroke it a little while we sit at the table waiting for the check. I’m looking at her and rubbing my cock through my jeans getting off on the fact that she doesn’t know.
I have to adjust myself when I get behind the wheel. I lean over to kiss her and wince as the leather straps bite into me. I want to get her home. I want to push her towards the couch. I want to slide my hands up under her shirt and knead the muscles in her low back. Grab her hair and pull. Move and bend her onto my lap. When I’m wearing a cock, I see her bent over. I imagine my hands on my belt, working fast to unzip my jeans and hold my cock between her thighs. I feel ready. Coiled.
We go home and leave the lights off. There’s a streetlight that shines through the window along with a nearly full moon to see well enough to make drinks. She makes mine for me. I sit down and balance my drink on the arm of the couch. Careful, steady. I drag my hands across my jeans. I spread my knees wider and bring my fingers to the bulge against my inner thigh. I trace the outlines and pull on my cock. I move slowly, careful not to send my glass crashing to the floor, and pull her hand to my belt. “You’ve got to be careful,” I whisper, “Slow.”
She slides closer to me, tracing her fingers against my belly as she undoes my belt and jeans. Her hand reaches in and strokes my cock. Slowly, she edges my jeans down further until she has my cock fully free. I work at her shirt, pulling it off, and feel the lace of her bra under my fingers. She’s rubbing my cock. I can feel the pressure against my clit. My shirt sticks against my sweating back as the heat builds. I’m always like this. A furnace inside me.
I want it to stay slow like this. “Take these off,” I tell her and tug at her jeans. She steps out of them and I nod and touch her panties, pulling them lower. “These,” I say and she moves them the rest of the way down. “I want you on my cock,” I say, “slow.” She eyes the glass balanced next to me and moves carefully onto my lap. I rest my hands on her ass and watch as she pushes my cock inside her. So nice, so steady and slow, I can feel the pressure as I enter her. There’s a heaviness between us. We can hear the ice brush against the glass as she slides up and down.
I pull the straps of her bra so they hang down and peel the lace off her tits, pulling her against me. Sucking on her skin, teasing her nipple with my tongue and the sharp edges of my teeth, I breathe deeply. I am finally relaxed after feeling jacked up all day wanting her. Wanting everything. My fingers in her pussy. Her clit on my tongue. Her tongue in my mouth. My hands in her hair. Her wetness on my thigh. My body against and on top of her.
She rides me slowly and moans when I squeeze her tits as I suck. I need her to come sooner than she wants. I need her to feel cheated. Want more. I want this all night. I grab her hand and push it between her legs. I can feel her circling, her finger on her clit just above my cock. She pushes me deep inside her and pulls up slow. I want to feel her come and squeeze my cock inside her. Now. I want to feel it now and grunt with her skin in my mouth to persuade her. She can feel the desperation in my grip. I will make her come when I want.
She comes with a jerk and I feel the couch shift back against the wall. Quickly, I reach out to grab my drink before it falls. It slips a little out of my hand and half the booze spills in a sticky mess on the floor. “At least I caught the glass,” I said. “You need more,” she says and takes my glass back over to the bar. I’m staring at her ass and her strong thighs. Already feeling myself burn again. Needing to fuck. Stay balanced. “Come back to me,” I say with a whine in my voice. She will take her time. She’ll let me strain against my impatience. By the time she gets to me, I’ll be angry and swift. Just the way she likes.