Page 60 of Poetry On Ice

“Side pocket. Black bag.”

I rummage around and find no fewer than three brands of lube. I have a question knocking around somewhere about that, but I’m having some trouble dragging it up to the surface. I select the brand I like best and toss the rest back into his bag before closing the distance between us.

24

Robbie McGuire

Ant looks like someoneelse. Someone different. Someone I don’t know but want to know badly. His eyes are black, pupils completely blown out, brows drawn down low. There’s a looseness to his joints and an easy smile as he moves toward me that isn’t usually there.

“Open up, Princess,” he says, placing a hand on each of my knees and spreading them roughly.

The crudeness of the action takes me by surprise and does something strange to my mind. I’m already on fire, a hot mass of exposed nerve endings. I’ve been like this for hours. Since we first got to the restaurant, and Ant let me put my foot between his. I could tell that he felt it too, the spark, the heat between us when we touched. I could practically see the cogs of his mind spinning. He thought he should stop me. Part of him wanted to, but he couldn’t make himself do it. And that turned me on about as much as anything ever has. The kiss madeit worse, and having his cock rammed down my throat escalated my arousal to well beyond crisis point.

I’m as hot and bothered as I’ve ever been, but now I’ve gone runny too. Syrupy and liquid, as a thin stream of precum dribbles out of me. His voice spills over me, changing as it does. Going from something that exists outside of me to something that rattles each individual strand of my DNA.

He lubes his fingers as I watch. He pours a ton of clear liquid all over three fingers—pointer, middle, and ring. Then he hooks his free hand under my left knee and bends it back until it’s almost at my ear.

He looks between my legs and smiles. “Aw, look at that little pussy. So pink and pretty. So tight. I’m going to have to stretch it out real nice just to get my head in, aren’t I?”

“Mm,” I gurgle, spluttering and nodding and trying to open my legs wider.

I’m leaning back, shoulders, head, and neck pressed against the wall, while the rest of me is curled into a pretzel. My cock is stretched out on my belly, so hard it hurts, twitching and bobbing in the air every time Decker so much as breathes near it.

“Please,” I moan, raising my hips, hoping he’ll notice and take pity on me.

He doesn’t. Or he does.

He strokes me, but he doesn’t touch my dick. He strokes my hole. He uses all three lubed fingers. He’s a little rough, but not very. Just rough enough to confuse my senses. He rubs my ring in a slow, torturous circle, firm and sustained. When I’m about to give in and start begging in earnest, he dips a single finger in. Just the tip. Just the first knuckle. Just enough to tease me and activate every nerve in that part of my body. When the rest of me has ceased to exist, he eases his finger in deeper. I’m folded in half, curled in on myself, so I have no choice but to look down and watch what he’s doing to me. His finger is at my entrance one minute, and then it disappears, neatly burrowed away, hidden from view by my balls. The feel of it starts to take me over. The intrusion is welcome, but it’s an intrusion nonetheless.

Just the tip turns to more. A lot more.

He fingers a few times like that. Long, perfunctory strokes meant to prepare me for use more than anything else. He pulls out and adds a second finger. I feel it intensely. The quick shock as my body adjusts. The swift give that makes me feel like I’m out of my body. I groan as I watch my ass being plundered.

This time it’s different. The expression on his face is different. He’s focused, studying my face, looking forwhat? I don’t know. He moves his fingers inside me again, shallower than before, pressing upward. And like that, I know. I know exactly what he’s looking for, and let’s just say he finds it. He finds it and then some. The sensation is nuclear. Absent one second and then there. Everywhere. Nerve endings light up and I kick my legs without meaning to, trying to straighten them, to lessen the pressure, or to increase it, I’m not sure which.

I can’t move though. His grip on my leg is like a vise, pinning me down securely. In fact, just before I moved, I noticed the muscle in his jaw tense. He braced before he hit my gland, so maybe he was expecting my reaction.

“Uh-uh,” he warns, “I’m not going to go so easy on you this time, Princess. Last time I was gentle because your pussy was brand new. This time, I’m going to give it to you until you can’t walk straight. Till you can’t think of anything else for days. Maybe weeks.”

He’s sure as hell not going to hear any complaints from me about that. Quite the opposite, in fact. I scoot my ass so it’s hanging off the table a little and I’ve bought some more space to lie back on. I let my right leg fall onto my chest and close my eyes. I don’t just accept my fate. I surrender to it. I welcome it.

He fingers me deep, then shallow. Stretching me and scintillating me. Massaging my prostate with a lightpressure that slowly increases. Long, leisurely strokes become shorter. He grits his teeth, forearm flexing, as he taps a clear, urgent message into the fiber of my being.

The message is simple: something inside me needs to get out. Badly. More than badly, sanity-and-life-depends-on-it badly.

“Need to come,” I wheeze.

He shakes his head. His lips twist up, and a slow smile spreads up his face, casting light where there’s usually darkness. His eyes are so soft and indulgent that I can’t remember them any other way. “You’re not even close, Babygirl."

“I am,” I insist, urgency contorting the timbre of my voice and cranking it up by an octave or two. “I am close! Touch my dick…do it. Touch it, and I’ll come all over myself, I swear.”

I try to reach for myself in desperation, but my bent knees and calves block my way.

“Don’t even think about coming yet.” He slaps my hand away and leans in and kisses me sweetly on the lips. “I’ve barely even gotten started.”

My mouth opens, tongue peeking out, chasing his as he moves out of reach. I squirm and groan loudly, clamping my fingers around the edge of the table in a desperate effort to stave off my release.

He leans in again, and this time, he kisses my neck. He does it softly, with lots of lips and tongue and just the right amount of suction. He alternates between kissing my neck and torturing my nipples with a series of quick, wicked flicks of his tongue. It feels so good I almost can’t take it.

---