2 comments/ 21542 views/ 2 favorites This Is For Me By: aoife70 There are others. For both of us. But this bed we share only together and always. I wake in the middle of the night. The sound of his breathing, the soft snoring like a sated animal, is like home to me. I hear the rain, a soft patter against the windowpane, and I am at home. I open my eyes. See the light of the one street lamp pooling into our room. Just enough to see his form beneath the sheets. The strong legs I know, the veined forearms covered in hair that lays like soft dark wheat. The slight paunch at his middle that he is self-conscious of, but that I see as an endearment, so human and poignantly so. This is the one thing I wish he could understand—how much I love his humanity. Those other women I think of, though I never share my thoughts with him. I lie in the dark and wonder, do they know this man as I do. I know they do not. And part of me feels a little sorry for them. They have him only briefly, a few hours to know his love, his warmth. But they don't see him when he wakes, when the sun streams in through our window, and the coming day is stretched taut across his face, and he turns to me in bed to gather strength. When he reaches out his hand to take my hand. The desire in that touch. I share it with him. I'll get up and make us coffee and eggs, and he knows when he sits at the table that I'll lay my hand on his head, that I'll let it wander to the back of his neck—that vulnerability there—and while I let my hand linger there as he takes that first sip, he knows that I love him. And that is all, and enough. The men I think of less. For me, they are a foil. I am with them to feel more of what he is. I let them touch me to remember what his touch is. I let them fuck me to remember his cock. To feel my longing for it more. The rain patters softly on the window sill. I stretch and feel the body that belongs to me and also to him but not to the others. I burrow under the sheets, feel my way between those thighs that I know as well as my own, but differently. I know he is aware of me there, but he is not quite awake. And he trusts me. His cock is not soft because even asleep he is aware of me, of my movement. I take it in my hands, that cock I know better than any. It grows harder with my touch. I take his balls, each one, like something precious in my mouth. I let my tongue slide up the length of his cock, I kiss the tip lightly before I take it in my mouth. I take my time because he will let me: he will not fully wake. I feel his cock harden. I feel it pulse against the insides of my cheeks. I feel him close to coming, and I stop. I hold his cock in my mouth, carefully: I don't want him to come yet. I will have my way a little longer...in the darkness, with him softly breathing sleep, and the rain to keep me company. With my mouth around his cock, I reach between my thighs that have grown slippery from my desire. I touch my clit, swollen and wet. I want to take my time, but my need is keen, my clit is ready to burst. I can't help that I come quickly, quietly moaning on his cock that starts to harden again against the insides of my cheeks. I move my dripping fingers to caress his thighs, feel the bristly hair there, the soft skin underneath that he would not think of as manly. I rub my desire into his skin and then let my hands wander to grip the cheeks of his ass, and oh yes, the soft flesh there. I spread those cheeks, lightly, looking toward the face that I cannot quite see. Only the outline of its features, the eyes closed and vulnerable, the mouth parted and breathing what I know as life. The trust and the acceptance is there too. And that is mine. The woman he loves, the woman who loves him, who is holding his cock in her mouth and having her way. I slide my finger into his ass. He stirs and moans a little in his sleep, and spreads his legs a little more, as I hold my finger there. I don't want him to wake completely; this is for me. I am inside him. And I am between his legs, and his hard cock is pulsing—again—inside my mouth. I suck it gently, and slowly, and listen to his breath quicken. I know he is close. I fuck his ass gently with my finger, and I fuck his cock with my mouth, faster. I know he won't wake completely, that he'll let me have this. He knows this is for me. I watch the "letting go" spread across the shadow of his face; I love that face. I hear him barely whisper, baby, I'm coming. I'm coming, baby. He always tells me—though I already know. He tells me so that I can watch that face, the warmth and openness there, and the passion play across it like breaking storm clouds. I love that face. And he comes, shuddering, with his eyes still closed. I feel his ass clench around my finger and I watch his face and I swallow his come as it fills my mouth. So thirsty for it, I drink his desire dry. He grows still, and I hold his cock a little longer and gently in my mouth, listening to the rain, before I let it go and kiss it lightly on the tip. One last drop for me. My finger slips out of his ass and my hand wanders back to his thigh. His hand wanders to find it and then moves to rest on my head. I listen to the rain with my eyes closed and wait for the breathing that tells me he has drifted back to sleep completely and content. No need to ask for more. There will always be more. Always another night for me to fall asleep curled between his legs, with his hand resting on my hair, with my cheek resting against his damp thigh, and the taste of his hunger for me in my mouth, and the sound of the rain dripping on the window sill. This Is For Science, Tilly. Here's the great part; when I push the IV needle through the pale skin inside her elbow, my cock is already deep up her ass. She's just begun to catch her breath from my single impaling thrust, when the needle's prick comes without warning. This is the part I love-- I feel her ass contract tightly from the pain, but she's well-disciplined now, and doesn't even flinch. Her name is Dr. Linsmuir, but I call her Tilly when we conduct our experiments. She's the new resident; I've only ever had one before who was this cooperative, but he was a boy, and I prefer girls. He was a keen student, and very dedicated to science, but Tilly may be more dedicated still. I feel her asshole quiver and relax as the mild cocktail of ketamine and valium surges up through her carotid artery and penetrates her blood-brain barrier. She's facing me, her legs high in the stirrups. Her dark eye-lids go half-mast as I thrust in and out of her ass, lubed up by the slick run-off from from her cunt. An animal moan, and all her golden mulatto skin rises in goose bumps; her vulva, which I've yet to touch, opens out red and shiny from her thick black bush. From a stand next to me, I take the breathing apparatus and place it over her nose. It is attached to a tube of nitrous oxide, which will mix with the air she breaths through her nose in the proportion I specify on the instrument panel. "Comfortable, Tilly?" I ask. "Yes, Dr. Reynolds." I pull my dick out of her ass and wipe it off with a hot towel. In place of my it, I shove an 8" stainless steel dildo completely in, and at the same time, alter the composition of gas/oxygen from 0 to 15%. The val/ket cocktail keeps Tilly from lurching around and pulling out the IV or breathing too fast and hyperventilating; pure sexual stimulation makes her pupils dilate. Her thighs begin a low-frequency quiver. The dildo starts to slide out of her ass, but I push it back in and secure it with a single strip of medical tape. Lower the gas ratio to 5%, I walk up to the head of the examining table, and with a finger on her chin I turn her head to the side. She opens her mouth, parts her large red lips, and just her tongue the slightest bit between her teeth. Grabbing her soft, kinky hair by the scruff with my right hand, I pry open her jaw with my left thumb and thrust my cock past her teeth, fucking her mouth at my liberty. On one of the instruments to which she is attached, there is a number displaying the oxygen concentration in her blood. I push a button a few times, and raise the nitrous feed to 60%, while I start forcing the head of cock past her tonsils and inter her warm throat. I fuck her throat while she slowly lets out the last breath she took and moans, sending extraordinary waves of pleasure through my parasympathetic nervous system. Her jaw starts to tighten—oxygen deprivation is just beginning to set in—and her adrenaline is beginning to fend off the dissociative drugs coursing into her soft right arm. I lower the nitrous, and watch the oxygen saturation in her blood rise to normal levels. There she is, dildo in her ass, arms and legs strapped naked against the examining table's cold synthetic leather. I dial down the nitrous to zero, let her bloodstream clear, walk around the table to take a close look at her cunt; it's pulsing, purple-orange, her clit contracting and drawing up into a shiny pink bullet. Her juices ooze out of her hole, soak the thick hair running down between her large round asscheeks; they soak the medical tape holding the massive steel dildo in her ass. I pull off the tape, and the dildo slowly slides out, leaving her gaping asshole to flinch against the shock of cold air (we keep it surgery temperature in the lab). After making some notes on a chart, I walk back around to Tilly's face, and I shove my cock in her mouth again while turning up the nitrous to 100% for 25 seconds. I do this twice more, giving her break periods of 10 seconds. A third time, I reach down and gently brush Tilly's clitoris. Tilly moans loudly, making my cock buzz from tip to prostate. She cums ferociously but neither bucks nor thrashes; her body remains relaxed while all sensation is channeled and focused into her clitoral body. I force my cock into her throat and feel her generous lips tighten around its base. Her oxygen saturation level go from green to yellow, and just as it's getting to red, I pulling out of her throat and spray hot cum into her mouth, her lips wrapping it behind the head. I go soft, and Tilly's jaw goes slack, eyes faraway. As my cum dribbles out of her mouth and down her chin, I remember to turn off the nitrous feed before she loses consciousness. At this point, I grab a couple of swabs, and take the samples of secretions and blood. I will analyze these later with the assistance of Doctor Linsmuir. I am an endocrinologist researching various kinds of sexual hormones, of which the human body releases an enormous variety whose function is still largely unknown. While institutional funding is hard to secure because of the nature of the experiments, I have managed to find a number of interested private and corporate patrons. Good help, however, is harder to find, and I am very pleased with Dr. Mathilda Linsmuir. "Thank you for your cooperation, Tilly. That was superb." "Ahma..guhwu..sho," she mumbles, her mind still in an orbit of transcendent pleasure. At this point, I figure she deserves a little extra credit for her performance. I shall have quite a sample to analyze from this experiment. I dial the nitrous up to 15%, get on my kness between her glorious legs, and lap furiously at her swollen clit, giving her orgasm after orgasm. Here, in our private, soundproof laboratory, Tilly can wail and yowl with pleasure while I eat her pussy fast and sloppy-like, pushing the dildo once again into her ass. Her cunt tastes spicy and strong, and her continued spurting coats my face. Yes, she was an excellent candidate. Perhaps I will ask to keep her on when her residency is through; hmm-- perhaps I should solicit her for an experimental design. In the meantime, I draw the IV out of her, and lead her naked and stumbling down the hall to the breakroom, where I lay her face-down on the couch and fuck her ass hard until we both come again. I leave her on that couch, gently rolling back and forth and hugging herself, smiling distractedly while her ass oozes my cum over the vinyl upholstery, but the next morning, she's in the lab, sharp-eyed and professional, ready to do some biomolecular analysis. Definitely a keeper.