Page 53 of My Monster, My Choice

His tongue is merciless, flicking my aching clit with vigor, lapping up my slit to catch my essence, punishing me with quick, hard movements to suddenly slow, languid softness that threatens to tip my control by the wayside.

My back arches, my knees splay further apart than I thought possible, and my pussy—wanton slut that she is—seeks his wicked,delightfulmouth.

There’s a throbbing deep inside me, a steady building up of the pleasure I can only find with this man. When he rubs his lips lightly over the top of my clitoris, pulling it gently, rockets explode behind my clenched eyelids. My body shudders, my breathing hitches and a tentacleplungesinside me, pounding me with quick, powerful thrusts. I’m wet and swollen and he’s thrusting, in and out in quick succession, making the beginnings of an orgasm race throughout me.

I whimper at the sensations, drawing my knees up to my chest, watching his head between my legs, feeling that pounding thrusting of his tentacle inside me and my hips are bucking against his face.

Then I’m writhing on his tongue, screaming his name as the climax peaks, thrusting me into the moon, the stars…space.

His resounding groan vibrates my flesh.

When everything slows, my breathing is ragged and deep.

“So fucking delicious,” he snarls, softly lapping at my slickness.

A bit of bluish-purple wetness on my thigh tells me he couldn’t help but come a little bit too.

He’s still hard as a rock as he strokes his thick cock again, lifting himself with one arm, and presses his bulging erection to my opening.

“In a minute,” I gasp.

His heavy ridged brow lifts.

“I really, really want your cock in my mouth.”

“Christina,” he groans. “I don’t have the strength—”

“Please, baby. Just a taste of you.”

He sighs like he’s being put out, then crawls up alongside me on the bed, spreading his tentacles out all around me. One lies across my breasts, one wraps my waist, one cups my sex, as if he can’t bear to see my nakedness at the same time his cock is in my mouth. Like he knows the little control he has will be lost with the visual of me.

I lean up to gaze at the magnificent cock he has. It seems even larger from this angle, bobbing against his hard abdomen. The round head looks as big as my fist, but I know it can’t be that large because it fits perfectly inside me. His shaft is engorged, and the next swollen bulge glistens with arousal, tiny beads of pleasure race under his skin like jutting veins. The third bulge isn’t any less impressive and I know the space between the bulges is ultra-sensitive for him.

So I lick there first, swiping my tongue between the head and first bulge.

He hisses at my touch, and his eyes burn as he looks down at me, making me ache all over again like I didn’t just come all over his face.

I lick the head of his cock like he’s a lollipop, getting the sweet taste of him. I suck at the tip, the small opening at his cock and he groans, his broad shoulders quivering at my touch.

He allows me to suck the head of his cock into my mouth, stroking the base of him as I bob greedily on him, before he reluctantly pulls away. “I cannot wait any longer, Christina,” he growls, his tentacles unraveling from my body. “I have to have my cock deep inside you. I have to fuck you.”

He strokes his cock just once, then presses it against my splayed open legs, where my pussy tries to suck him in.

“Please,” I gasp, rocking my hips toward him, trying to get more into me.

He surges forward with his huge cock, burying the first, then the second and third bulges inside me with one thrust because I’m already wet and loose. “Good?”

“Mmm, yes.” I love the feeling of him entering me, over and over, my pussy squeezing him. He stretches me perfectly and his lubrication slides and mixes wonderfully with my own. It’s like we’re made for each other.

I’m hypersensitive, feeling every single bulge of his cock, the slap of his balls against my bottom and then when the tip of his tentacle slides over my puckered rim, I freeze.

I can feel my eyes widen as I look up into his face—on his, there’s a look of adoration, of lust, of…sin—and I know what I want. “Do it,” I whisper and the tip of his tentacle presses in the barest inch.

I arch my back; the feeling is wondrous. I’m full and stretched in the naughtiest of places, all at once.

“More?”

“Yes,” I grit, unsure of what I’m asking. More penetration? Faster movements? A thicker piece?

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