0 comments/ 13848 views/ 0 favorites Spill By: Azhyre I imagine playing with you, since you aren't here to play with me. My eyes close and I can almost feel your hand splayed over my collarbone, pushing me against the sheets. I feel your breath quicken slightly at the sight of me, how small I seem compared to your hand, which reaches nearly to my shoulders. You push, ever so gently, experimenting, feeling the give of my bones beneath my skin. From there my heart is close, it thumps against your palm, quickening. I know what you love about me, what keeps you coming back – the vulnerability of me, the way I tremble at your touch and love it, the change that comes over me when you lower a blindfold over my eyes. It seems like I would take anything once you blindfold me – a change so blatant as to be totally mystical. As the soft fabric brushes my cheek, my limbs lengthen and relax, and my lips soften, not imperceptibly as the stories would have it, but obviously, in an outpouring of my submissive nature. They part slightly, waiting, and you can tell that under the blindfold my eyes flicker slightly. My whole body shifts a little bit in anticipation, my hips writhing slightly against the sheets, my feet stretching to limber me. I breathe, inhaling your scent above me, imagining what might come next, with anticipation and acceptance. Nothing else brings this languor over me so quickly – I am pliable and willing, utterly obedient. Even imagining right now, I can't quite put myself there. It's as though my deepest submission is reserved only for you. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, trying to be there anyway. I can feel you staring at my lips, well aware of how they just changed. Your free hand creeps up so you can thumb my lower lip where it protrudes, and I'm so pliant I don't even try to suck it into my mouth. The feel of your rough skin over me sends a thrill through my body, but my desire isn't demanding – it begs and pleads like me. I can tell you are just playing in the purest sense of the word- giving in to your whimsy on the willing toy you have before you. You explore me like you'd never seen me before, which, I suppose, in a way, you haven't. Your fingers grasp my earlobe gently, stroking its cool, soft surface, sending a tingle of electricity over my skin. You splay your fingers over my face, mirroring the hand on my collarbone, and my brain slows down. I am beyond relaxed. Your hand on my collarbone strokes down, to touch my breasts. You lick your thumb and coat my nipples, the chill on the wet making them harden. You play with them in your palms, rubbing gently. I moan softly, making no protest as your grip squeezes one of them. Your thumb returns to my mouth, stroking gently and then pushing in, your fingers on my cheek encouraging me to suck. I do as you bid, because I can't do anything else, and stroke your thumb with my tongue. The taste makes me crave, but I don't ask you for anything in this ritual. I know you're hard; I know the sight of me lying naked and prone has done this to you. I want to preserve the sanctity of this moment, so I don't say anything. I feel you climb off the bed, and I lie, waiting, my eyes flickering as I try to predict what is coming next. At first I thought you had left the room, but I realize you were just still, watching me. Your gaze burns on the creamy velvet skin of my leashed neck and throat, and I tremble. I hear your hands working, I know what you're doing, and my body responds. I know you ache to spill yourself over my throat, that object of so much of your fascination. And I know that after that, you want to sleep. But I don't care; I only accept it, desirously. I want you to spill on me, to do only what you like. I hear your hands quickening, and I feel you, warm and creamy over my neck and throat, moving to drip the last few drops over my lips and brow. I murmur and sigh, and feel you lie beside me, and I sleep, pleased and delighted in your satiation. Spilled Ink I feel your eyes glued to my ass as I bend over the counter, I glance up to see your distracted conversation with a customer. I seal my lips to contain my smile, this secret we have has ignited a fire in me that I try desperately to contain for the eight hours we're under scrutiny. Since our indiscretion last weekend, every shift has been filled with lustful stolen glances and careful restraint. We parted on an agreement to not let it happen again, the complications could go on forever. In other words, my panties are soaked and my pussy throbs for hours during the day. You're far more committed to our resolution than I, and with each passing day my subtle attempts get more ruthless as my desire rises. I stretch my legs, bending deeper to lengthen my back and give you the maximum view of the ass I want you to pound. I'm a classy lady, but now I just want to be your whore. Having to be on proper behavior on the outside is intensifying the dirty thoughts inside my head; I zombie through my shift today imagining your dick, coated in my juices, pulling out of my tight hole and sliding into my mouth so I can suck off my taste and coat my tongue in it. I loved the feeling of your erection pressing against my lips and my mouth is watering to choke on it again. I'm deep in thought, reminiscing about the taste of your shaft, how I long to run my tongue back and forth across that taut underside of your head, caressing the ridge. I love your response when I licked slowly, my lips tight to your shaft, running my tongue at a painfully careful pace from my lips up, pressing the head into my throat with my flat of my tongue. I long to hear you groan and strain to hold back from fucking my face; we both enjoy my slow torture. I wonder what other movement bring you close to the edge, I know that with the tip lodged firmly in my throat with my lips alternately squeezing your base and rubbing my tongue as far down your balls as it will go garnered positive results last time. I've lost myself in thought. I feel you behind me, mumbling something about sales. I hear your voice, but not your words. I smell you, a soft woodsy type scent that is only apparent when I'm close. That smell was in my hair after you left my bed. I don't want to turn, I feel you standing at my side, our attraction strong enough that I sense how close you're standing. I'm still stretched over the counter, but now it's more of a lazy drape, my body wanting to melt into you and not be behind this stupid counter. The store is quiet, the mid-morning lull has left us alone in the front. You've stopped making small talk, I'm listening to your breathing and debating if I can handle turning my head to meet your eyes. You lean against the counter next to me, I'm looking at your chest, and I drag my eyes to your face. My peacocking abandoned, I am at your mercy. The power in your stare holds me, the blood rushing through me makes me a little light headed. Your expression clearly indicates you're seeing right through my cardigan, your lust is winning, even by just a tiny bit. I want to kiss you for days, I want to drop to my knees and deep throat you while looking up at your face through watery eyes, I want to straddle you and hold on while you pound me from beneath. A coworker calls to you, and suddenly a wall is where our connection just was, and my moment of bliss is over. ............ A week passes full of similar events, with you getting more and more distant. I spend my nights with my hands between my legs, trying to satiate my lust. My left wrist is sore from straining around my hip to finger my asshole while rubbing my clit. I broke down and purchased a butt plug, a pathetic piece of clear plastic to represent what I wish were your fingers. Its fullness presses into the walls of my rectum, providing a delicious sensation when I probe my pussy with my fingers. After a late night of alternating pumping the toy in and out of my ass and plunging into my wet twat, I groggily ready myself for another day of drudgery. Fixing my hair, I glance at the ass toy sitting on my vanity. I stare at myself in the mirror, daring myself to follow through with my thought. My pussy tightens with excitement and I grab the plug, pull up my skirt, and my thong to the side. Already running late, I stick the toy in my mouth and lube it with saliva before placing it against my puckered hole. Sighing as it sinks in, I turn around and use the edge of the bathroom counter to send the thickest piece past my outer ring, securing the thing inside me for the next few hours (or until I lost my nerve). Stiffly, I pull the narrow band of mesh thong over the top to hold the base tightly to my cheeks, and slide my pencil skirt over the naughty secret. Surprisingly, the day is flying by, the constant reminder of my most erogenous place making for incredible focus necessary to complete the most basic tasks. Lunch rolls around and I escape to the quiet break room. I turn the corner and sink into the wall next to the fridge, enjoying the sensation my breath brings to my anus. I hear the door open, the lights are still off in here, I'm in the shadow cast by the hallway lights and I'm hoping whoever is disturbing my moment of bliss will continue to the back offices. You step into the kitchen and reach for the light switch, but freeze when you see me. I see your silhouette glance toward the offices, then you're crossing the small space in a stride and your arms are around me. Your hungry embrace knocks the breath out of me, I hear my own heartbeat as your lips press to my throat to moisten my skin with your tongue. Voices get louder from the back, I hold my breath. You almost growl, a carnal frustration. "Stay." The command is low and hard. Like I can move at all. The thin piece of fabric between my legs is soaked through, my asshole is clenching down on the base of my little secret, and I'm trying to make sense of what just happened. I hear you explaining food poisoning to someone, I hear my name, I hear a "go home" and suddenly you are back, grabbing my purse and motioning for me to hurry out the door. The parking lot is sparse, my car is passed up and you herd me to your sedan. Pausing to open the passenger door for me, I smile at your frenzied politeness while you swear under your breath the whole time. You make a few turns and we are at a park, you turn to me looking pained. "Look. This shouldn't be happening, but it is." I stare blankly while you rub your forehead, cussing me out in a whisper. I reach out and tentatively touch your hand and you explode from your seat on top of me, pinning me against the door, pulling me toward you. My hands roam your back, clutching desperately while your fingers knead my body. Cat-calling comes to my awareness, glancing out the window I see a group of teenagers leering at us "fucking seriously" you exclaim and I am left disheveled in the seat while you turn the key again. I'm guessing you're heading to your apartment, I can't stop staring at you, your jaw set. Your hand goes to my bare thigh, squeezing rather tightly, enough to bring a moan from me. You glance over, shocked out of your intensity to resume your pained expression. "You're so fucking sexy I can't stand it. You're physically hurting me, do you know that? God I've had blue balls for weeks. I don't care anymore. I want you, are you happy? God I want you." Pulling up to a building, I follow you to the stairs and you push me ahead of you. Content, I lift my skirt a bit higher to let you peek under as you follow me up the incline. You suck in your breath when you glimpse the prize. Fumbling with the lock, I take advantage of your distraction and press my body to you. You drop the keys and turn to take me against you, gripping my ass cheeks through the fabric and pulling me up just to let me slide down again, across your swollen dick. Hastily, you grab the keys and figure it out to throw the door open, grabbing my hand and dragging me inside. Your bedroom door is open and I see your semi-made bed, but you pull me to you and plunge your tongue into my mouth and unleash your frustration on me. Your fingers dig into my ass, I'm sure leaving a print. You find the base of the butt plug, exploring it, pulling it out as far as my panties allow and slipping your hand further underneath to dip into my soaking hole. I throw my head back and gasp when you probe my entrance, "you teasing slut" you utter and you pull your hand away and slap my bare ass. Now that you have me alone, your excitement has boiled down to a savoring enjoyment. You sit on the couch, throwing an arm over the back. "Strip." I'm taken off guard by this authoritative tone, but it makes my pussy tingle and I obey. I right my bunched skirt and smooth it over my hips before facing you. Your dark chocolate eyes see me naked already, recalling your suppressed memories from the single time you saw my body nearly a month ago. Your eyebrow and the tent in your pants are raised, studying me standing here dressed conservatively with an obscene toy spreading my asshole open underneath. I take a step closer, letting my hair down from the classy bun it's enclosed in, slipping out of my simple flats. Your eyes are glued to mine until I begin unbuttoning my white cardigan, the irony of the pure color not lost on me. Not expecting such a response today, my plain white bra underneath is nothing special, but my erect nipples showing through make you draw in your breath. Dropping the sweater to the floor I bring my hands to my breasts, squeezing them together and pinching my nipples, I'm watching your face. Your focus on my tits makes me linger on them, emphasizing each movement while I slip the straps of my bra off and let you drink in the view of my naked cleavage that I've been tempting you with. The flimsy fabric joins my shoes and my nipples are standing out so hard and proud my breath on them causes ripples through my body. I glide my hands down my waist, hugging the curve of my hips to the top of my gray pencil skirt, dipping my hands below the seam where I know you want your hands to be. Turning, I grasp the zipper and bend forward as it works its way down, revealing the white see-through thong riding atop my ass cheeks, the fabric straining over my curvy behind. I feel the zipper reach its limit, just above the bulging hilt of the butt plug that has become a lightning rod of pleasure. Hooking my thumbs in the skirt I nudge it over and let it slide to my ankles. Glancing behind me, I see your hand on your crotch, taking in the view. I'm bent at a perfect right angle, my knees straight, just like I was over the counter the other day. I fold forward, resting my hands on my ankles, stroking up my shins and further up to my thighs. I reach my ass and tug the thong down, just halfway. Just below the plug. Pulling my cheeks apart I display the entrance, letting you see where the clear plastic penetrates my back hole. I push out, the plug juts out a bit further. I squeeze my asshole tight, working the toy with my sphincter. It's been a few hours since I put it in and most of the lube is gone, except for a few drops from my dripping pussy. I'm so focused on providing you with the best view I didn't notice you come up behind me. Your still-clothed hips touch my displayed ass, and you run your hands up my thighs. One leaves momentarily to return to my ass, your fingers now wet with spit are eased between my body and the intruder. The warm and wet feeling is relieving and worsening at the same time. You twist the toy, working the new wetness inside me, pulling out slightly you see the pink flesh stretching around the foreign object. My groan pulls a grunt from your lips. I smile and relax while you fuck my asshole with the toy, your grunts of appreciation encourage me to bend all the way to the floor, resting my hands next to my feet so you can fully view my asshole stretching and accepting the plastic. I feel the bulbous bottom break free, my anus stretching tight and revealing how far I love being opened. The rest of the toy slides out and you place your thumbs on either side of my hole and press me open. I feel the air tease my insides, the vacant space an odd feeling after having a pressing spear up my backside for the past few hours. I squeeze my muscles to shrink the hole, you knead my ass, watching me struggle to close the orifice you're admiring. Spinning me around you catch my mouth with yours. Your kisses are unlike any I've experienced, so gentle but with a power behind them. With your hands in my hair you guide me to your bed. I'm happy to take the submissive role; I pull away and coyly look up at you with innocent eyes. Grabbing my hair, you pull me down to my knees. I sink down gratefully and receive my prize. Something about slobbering on your cock with your preppy slacks around your ankles makes me more enthusiastic. Your light stroking on the back of my head and face is equally as encouraging and I choke, gagging on the head and drooling a little down onto my right tit. At this you groan and thrust hard, spraying down my esophagus the pent up testosterone you've been saving for me. To be continued... Spilled Milk I woke up first the morning after we made love for the first time. I wanted to stay in bed and just look at her, but I knew I needed some time to absorb what had happened between us. She was fifteen years older than me. Forty-two. She lived across the street from me, and I lusted after her for years. From the moment she and her husband moved in, with her short sundresses that showed off those perfect, tanned legs... Over forty or not, she blew away most of the girls my age without contest. Then she and the hubby got a divorce, and she was living alone. So I offered my services around the house. Mowing the lawn, fixing leaks, whatever she needed done, I was right there ready to please. A little extra money never hurt, and it gave me a chance to see her up close and personal. Although I never really expected to get as personal as we did. She came into the dining room, where I sat at the table with a glass of milk. She trailed her hand along my bare shoulders and I looked up at her as she passed. Her hair was up, still messy from sleep. She wore a loose white robe, the halves open just enough that I could see she wasn't wearing anything underneath it. We exchanged good-mornings and she went into the kitchen. I found myself staring at her legs as she passed. She brought back a glass of milk and sat in the chair cater-corner from mine. She crossed her legs, the edges of the robe falling off her thigh, and slipped one hand into her robe. She cupped her breast and shrugged her shoulder, pulling it free. She brushed her thumb over the pink nipple and I remembered sucking, biting, licking it the night before. I also remembered what she had said while I was working on her tit: "That's a good baby. Suck momma's nipple." She dipped her index finger into the milk and brought it to her lightly-tanned skin. She circled her nipple, painting the skin with the milk. When she pulled her finger away, one bead of white hung like a pearl on her erect nipple. I looked up at her face, her lips parted with anticipation. She was breathing hard, her throat and chest flushed as she waited to see what I would do. I pushed my chair back and dropped to my knees, crawling to her. I parted her legs and sat between them, leaning in to kiss the inside curve of her breast. Her fingers ran through my hair, as I kissed my way closer to the milk. I moved my hands up and down her thighs, and finally closed my mouth around her nipple. I swept it with my tongue, tasting the milk, and gave it a good suck. She whimpered quietly above me and then whispered encouragement. I pulled my head back, and she applied another coat of milk to herself with the tip of her middle finger, then sucked the excess from the digit. I immediately bowed my head again and sucked her clean. My cock was tenting my boxer shorts, and I pulled it through the fly to take some of the pressure off. She picked up the milk glass and held it against the upper swell of her breast. She tilted it slightly, and a wave of white washed down toward my mouth. I licked her breast as best I could, some of the milk dripping down to her thigh. I laved her tit, sucked it as if it was the source of the milk, and brushed her thigh with my hands to gather the milk that I didn't catch the first time. I brought my milky fingers up to her mouth and she sucked them clean. I wrapped my other hand around my cock, stroking it to full erection as I watched her pink tongue swirl around my fingers. My cock twitched, jealous, I suppose, and I stood up and pulled her to her feet. Even though she was older, she had a look of trust and... I don't know, I guess submission in her eyes. I kissed her hard and she moaned, moving her hand to my cock. For a moment, we both stroked it, our fingers threaded together, and I finally, reluctantly, stepped back. I turned her around and pushed her down onto the table. She gripped the edge of the table with both hands, looked at me over her shoulder, and I pushed her robe up and out of the way. I ran my hand over the curve of her ass with one hand, pushing my boxers down and off with the other. I moved closer and felt the warm embrace of her pussy lips against my shaft. I spread her lips with my fingers and guided myself into her. I closed my eyes as I felt her closing around me. It was still unique and new, the feel of her pussy, and I looked forward to getting to know how she felt in every room of the house, at all times of the day. I wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her with my hand, brushing her clit with my fingers. She drew in a sharp breath and said my name, pushing her ass against my hips. I grabbed the collar of her robe and pulled it down but not off, pinning her arms in bands of silk, and picked up her glass of milk. I poured it onto her shoulders and bent down, licking it off with long strokes of my tongue. Finally, when I felt my orgasm coming, I pulled out and gasped what I wanted her to do. She turned around and dropped to her knees, wrapping her hand around my cock. A few quick strokes, her thumb running back and forth across the head of my cock, and I came. I arched my back and closed my eyes, and when I looked again, ropy strings of come decorated her lips and cheeks. She licked her lips and looked up at me, and I pushed my hand through her hair. She smiled up at me, and I picked up the glass of milk. There were only a few drops left, so I drank it and held the milk in my mouth. She kissed her way up my body, pausing to nip at my chest with her teeth, and then she kissed me. We passed the milk back and forth until it was gone, her body molded to mine, my cock captured tight and warm between our bodies. I kissed her closed eyes and sighed, my hands cupping her ass. She pulled away from me, her hand sliding down to mine, and she stepped back. I let her guide me out of the kitchen and we returned to the bathroom where we washed away the remnants of the milk from earlier. When we got out, she brought the milk from the kitchen and nursed me again. I'll never forget kneeling beside her bed, her hands in my hair as I sucked milk from her tit. I had no idea why it aroused me so much, but eventually all she had to do was offer me a glass of milk and my cock twitched in my jeans. It became our thing, our kink, the special little thing we did whenever we could get away with it. It's been a few years now, and we've both moved on to new lovers. But when I bow my head to my wife's breast, when I roll my tongue along her pebbled nipples, I can't help but wish that they were seeping with fresh, warm milk.