Blair Rewards You

You cook a meal of pasta and tuna while Blair watches.

“Carbs are good for exercise.” You get a feeling you’ll be doing a lot of exercise.

You’re in a dressing gown. Blair has brought a large t-shirt that hangs just above her knees. She didn’t bother putting on any underwear. You both know this is just a pause to refuel before the strenuous stuff begins again.

After the meal you cuddle in front of the television, watching repeats of old pop programmes but they’re just background to the two of you exploring each other. Her hands run over your naked chest, descending to where your penis is recovering, teasing it to recover quicker. You can’t hitch up her t-shirt, its length is too far down, so you satisfy yourself squeezing and moulding her wonderful heavy breasts through it. You lean together so your lips and tongues can collide, wrapping around each other, sucking the taste of garlic and tuna from each other’s lips, each other’s teeth, each other’s tongues.

She pivots and straddles you. By now you’re hard again, inspired by every sense, the softness of her breasts, the aroma of her desire, the pleading in her eyes. She runs your shaft over her pussy, and you can feel its need in its dampness and its puffiness. Through her folds. Its head catches her clit. You see her shudder, see the passion blossom in her eyes. She repeats the motion, teasing you, teasing herself. Then a determination fills the blue of her eyes. She adjusts her stance, adjusts the angle of your cock, and she slides down until she’s fully embedded on top of you.

“Oh God,” she moans. “I’ve had thicker dicks. I’ve had longer dicks. But I’ve never had a better dick. Where have you been all my life? How were you single with a dick like this? It’s so deep and so filling.”

Her motion along your cock’s length starts slow but soon picks up speed. She bounces, her thighs driving her body. The sofa creaks and groans with each bounce. Her unsecured breasts bounce beneath the confines of her t-shirt. Not much of a confine. They slap against your chin and along your cheeks. All accompanied by her moans of pleasure, sometimes words, sometime incoherent, sometimes momentarily silenced by a **** hard kiss that sucks the air from your lungs.

The rest of the room is forgotten. The programme on the TV carries on unheeded. The complaints of the sofa are nothing compared to the adoration in her voice. Her orgasm strikes with a pulsing of the muscles of her cunt, and a flooding of juices, that cascade down your pole, wash your groin and your balls and soak into the dressing gown and then the cushion. Her motion momentarily pauses, just long enough for the wave of ecstasy to engulf her, to carry her, to leave her where she started. Then she’s off again, only this time not bouncing, twerking, her thighs slightly higher, her ass driving the motion, her pussy enticing you to cum.

And cum you do. With your own cry of ecstasy, you fill her up. She sinks so all your shaft is inside her. She sits there, accepting your gift. Her sweaty face mirrors your own in joy. It’s almost as if her womb is as ravenous for your cum as her stomach. When she finally pulls off, nothing drips out.

She stands and looks down upon you. “You will be something special.”

“I thought you said I was already?”

She laughs. “No, I’m going to turn you into the perfect lover. You have all the potential; I’ll give you the talent. It’s like the girls. When they turn up for training. I can tell which ones have real potential, who could be playing hockey or football for years, and which ones the school team is their peak. You’re the potential professional, the potential international, I’ve got to hone into their fulfilment.”

She looks around. Notices the TV. Notices the time. “I’ve got to get home,” she declares.

“You don’t have to. You can stay the night.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me. There’s nothing more I’d rather do than spend the night fucking you, but I’ve got to get home. You’ve been a good boy, but I need to get home to my other good boy.”

“Other good boy?” For a moment you’re completely confused. She sees that and laughs.

“You jealous? Think I have another lover? Well, you have a rival for my affection, my dog. He’s used to being left for most of the day, but I can’t leave him alone all night.”

“Don’t worry, as I said before this is my last weekend I can spend like this. From next weekend the inter-school matches are being played Saturday. So this weekend, I’m planning most of it, glued to your cock. I’ll be round first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve got plans for you.”

Her first few steps away are staggered. Then again it takes you until she’s out in the hallway to stand. You follow her as she staggers up the stairs and finds her clothes. She’s half-dressed by the time you reach her. She finishes dressing and then pulls you to her.

“We are going to have so much fun this weekend. I expect at least one of us not to be walking straight by the end of it.”

With a promise like that, it’s hard to let her go.