Rimming

John lay on his back, still gasping for air, the used cock sleeve resting heavily against his thigh, wet and gleaming. Claire stretched out beside him, smiling lazily, her skin flushed and damp with sweat.

But John’s cock, even after everything, was stirring again—twitching, half-hard, aching with a need that hadn’t been satisfied by his useless orgasm earlier.

Claire noticed immediately.

She smirked, brushing a hand over his stomach, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin just above his twitching shaft.

“Aww,” she cooed. “Still horny, baby?”

John whimpered, hips lifting instinctively into her touch.

Claire laughed softly, a sound full of wicked affection.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

John shook his head, wide-eyed, ****.

He tried to lean up, tried to kiss her, to touch her breasts, to initiate something normal, something familiar—but Claire only pushed him back down with a firm hand on his chest.

“Easy,” she whispered. “I have a better idea.”

John blinked, confused but obedient.

Claire moved to kneel between his legs, trailing her fingers lightly down his belly, making him shiver.

Her touch slid lower, to the base of the plug still lodged firmly in his ass.

John gasped as she gripped it gently, twisting it slowly.

“You’ve been so good with this,” she murmured, stroking the plug with slow, sensual motions. “Keeping yourself stretched for me.”

John whimpered again, spreading his legs wider without thinking, **** for her approval.

Claire smiled, kissed his thigh, and very slowly began to work the plug free.

She twisted, pulled, pushed, easing it out inch by inch, making him feel every motion.

John moaned shamelessly, head tossing on the pillow.

Finally, with a wet pop, the plug slid free.

John’s hole clenched and fluttered, suddenly exposed, twitching with the loss of pressure.

He gasped, overwhelmed.

But Claire wasn’t done.

She tossed the plug casually onto the nightstand, then leaned in closer between his spread legs.

John barely had time to whimper before he felt her tongue—hot, soft, devastating—press against his exposed rim.

He cried out, hips jerking, but Claire only chuckled low in her throat and grabbed his thighs firmly, holding him open.

“Shhh,” she whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

And then she licked again.

Slow, deliberate strokes, her tongue flattening against his sensitive opening, lapping at him with unhurried precision.

John sobbed, overwhelmed by the humiliation, the pleasure, the love wrapped around every filthy second.

Claire moved slowly, sensually, her hands stroking his thighs, her tongue working him open in soft, wet circles.

John’s cock twitched helplessly, growing harder by the second.

Claire lifted her head briefly, her face shining with wetness, her smile wicked.

“You taste so sweet down here,” she teased.

Before he could answer, she leaned back in, licking deeper, pushing her tongue inside, fucking him gently with it.

John writhed on the bed, moaning, helpless.

Claire’s hand slid up and wrapped around his cock at the same time, stroking him in slow, lazy pumps.

The combination of sensations — the tongue at his ass, the soft hand at his cock — was too much.

He gasped, moaned, begged incoherently.

Claire only smiled against his skin and kept working him with maddening, loving control.

“You’re going to cum for me like this,” she whispered, sliding her tongue against his rim, her hand squeezing the base of his cock.

John sobbed, the pressure building too fast, his body betraying him.

“You want to cum so bad, don’t you?” Claire murmured, kissing the base of his spine.

John nodded frantically.

Claire smiled wider, kissing higher, stroking faster.

Then—

A knock at the door.

John barely noticed, lost in the flood of sensation.

But Claire did.

She sat up smoothly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and smiled over her shoulder.

“Come in,” she said sweetly.

The door opened.

And there stood Laila, smirking wickedly, holding something in her hands.

A strap-on harness.

Claire laughed softly and sat back on her heels, letting John’s throbbing, neglected cock slap wetly against his belly.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” she said, voice like silk.

John looked up at her with wide, **** eyes, still trembling, still slick from her tongue.

Claire took the strap-on from Laila, turning it over in her hands, admiring it.

The dildo was thick, black, and intimidating, strapped to a harness already adjusted to fit her slim hips.

She turned back to John, her smile soft but merciless.

“Time for something new, baby,” she whispered.

John whimpered, his cock still leaking, his body still shivering from the edge he hadn’t been allowed to fall over.

Claire leaned down, brushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

“You’re going to take me,” she whispered. “And you’re going to love it.”

John nodded frantically, tears of surrender burning his eyes.

Claire smiled wider.

And the last thing he saw before she stood up to buckle the harness around her hips was her eyes—bright, loving, utterly in control.