Page 45 of Ship of Fools

“Fucking bossy brat,” I groan out, as I start fucking him the way I like it. Shoving my dick in and out in strong fast movements making my heartbeat race along my aching limbs, as I get up on my knees and try to hold on to his thighs, and rain sharp slaps over his legs in the process.

I don’t last long, my orgasm almost disappointing me in its sharp bursts of pleasure, as I pull out and fall back to rest on my haunches, like a worn-out limp mess. I feel about as dominant as a kitten, with my worn-out cock, and the stamina of an eighty-year-old to boot.

I pant, trying to catch my breath. He whines, his legs falling limp on the bed beside me.

“Need to come.” He moans, as I just sit there like a fool.

My beautiful, wonderful, amazing Luca. His face red and wet, his eyes closed, his hands now hanging on to his knees in a futile attempt to raise them back up.

“Hold my head down, and get off in my mouth.” I hiss out, with exhaustion washing over me like a warm blanket.

I need it. I need the taste of him. I need to feel like myself again, and I sigh with sudden relief as his fingers thread through my hair, and the familiar push into my mouth starts, his hands heavy on my head, as he forces me down onto him.

I breathe. Salivate. Gag. Try to cough, yet he won’t let me. His hands push me further down as my throat constricts, and that beautiful sense of panic starts to set in. I can’t breathe, yet air is forcing itself in and out of my nose with noisy breaths. I can’t move as he wraps his legs around my back, locking me further in place. I soar into that state of mind, where I really don’t care, where there is just him and me and delicious bliss. Where I’m just me, and he has all the power in the world. Where everything is black and white and simple.

“Take it. Take all of my cock. Then I need you to swallow it all down. I’m gonna make you lick my cock absolutely clean, don’t wanna see a single drop of that come wasted, is that clear?”

I would answer if I could, but I can’t. I just breathe, my lungs filling and emptying as the static in my brain starts to build. He’s going to make me come, again. Hard and fast. I shuffle a little and manage to wrap my hand around my dick, and give it a few clumsy strokes as I retch again.

He pulls out and gives me a second, rolling himself up into a sitting position, before grabbing a fistful of my hair, forcing my face up, so he can see me.

“Gonna fuck your face so fucking hard. Crazy hard. You gonna be good?”

I cough, because my body does.

He slaps me so hard that I see stars.

“Open.”

I shouldn’t like it, but I do. I love how the pain keeps me sharp, the rush of the violence, the way he is so in control, yet so turned on. I love that his face is flaming, marks from my fingers still visible on his cheeks. I love that he’s wrecked, so close, yet so completely gone in his head.

I love that he gives me exactly what I need, so I look up at him, bite my lips together and wait.

Another delicious slap across my skin as I stroke my dick faster and faster, chasing what I know will put me right over the edge.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he hisses as he raises his hand again, and I scrunch my mouth up as hard as I can, as another blow makes me soar with my nerve endings screaming, and my dick releases a gush of liquid over my fingers.

I pant, trying to compose myself enough, and his fingers stroke my skin, and force my jaw open, just wide enough for him to push his dick through, my lips stinging as he slowly works his way deeper inside.

I come before he even starts to move, crazy sounds trying to escape from my mouth, as I convulse in the aftershocks. My breaths becoming weird groans as my eyes water, and my throat gets coated with come.

I know he’s coming. I know this, because I know him so well. I know the way his body shivers in the middle of an orgasm, and I know how he relaxes his hold on me, and sinks back onto the bed, trying to drag me along, so he can cuddle with me.

“Fucking hell,” he whispers softly. “Are you good?”

“Super.” Someone, who I think is me, whispers back.

“You do realise we are both going to go out looking like shit tomorrow.”

“You are going to wear Speedos with brush marks all down your legs.” I cough out. “I will just be sporting a really weird suntan on my cheeks.”

He laughs softly and drags me up further, so I can kiss his skin.

So, he can kiss mine right back.

“Clear your head, okay?”

“Yeah.”

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