Tease (Songs of Submission #2)
Author: C.D. Reiss

CHAPTER 1

Jonathan was master of my nudity, my positions, and my orgasms, and though the first screw of the evening should have satisfied any normal woman for the night, minutes after it was done, I wanted him again.

His dick was beautiful: proportional, with a head just the right size and a straight and hard shaft. I’d only seen two other dicks in person, and though I’d seen those two a lot, I wouldn’t pretend I had enough experience to judge if he was as huge as he seemed. But as we talked and he stroked my hair, his penis got hard again, and I couldn’t resist putting it in my mouth. Minutes later, he twisted my hips around, and we became a gorgeous ball of sweat and heat, sixty-nining with me on top. I took the whole length of him while he put his tongue into my pu**y. He grabbed my ass hard, digging his fingers into my skin, and drew his tongue out, then stuck it in again.

“Jonathan,” I’d groaned, kissing the head of his prick, “I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, giving my clit a peck before turning me around again. He guided my body around until I was on top and facing him. He grabbed my ass again, fingers in my crack where it was sensitive, and pushed me down. His penis went flush with my lips, and he pulled me toward him, then away, rubbing my lips against the length of his dick.

I put my face to his, breathing on his cheek, and said, “I want you.”

“You want what?”

“I want you to f**k me.”

He reached into the nightstand drawer and got a condom while I rubbed myself on him. I rolled it on, my hands shaking. When I started guiding him in, he said, “I want to see.”

I moved my hips up so I squatted over him. He looked between my legs and watched as I slid his dick into me. I put my knees back on the bed and moved up and down. He put his hand between my legs to shift my hips. My ass stuck out, and the triangle between my legs pressed against his cock, making my clit rub right against it as I moved.

I shuddered from the heat and friction. I didn’t think I could keep any kind of rhythm, but I did, because I had to. He moved his hand to my breast, but I knew what to do. The way I held my hips was everything, and I’d never forget it. The direct clitoral contact, him inside me, surrounded by his smell and his voice and his touch made me blind to everything outside my pu**y.

As if he sensed how hot I was, he rolled over and got on top. “You’re close.”

I couldn’t answer. If I agreed, he’d probably have gone to do the laundry. “Harder,” I said in a breath.

He pulled my legs up and apart and pounded me. I cried out, clawing at his back. He pummeled himself into me until I was about to come. I tried to tell him, but I didn’t have any words.

Then he slowed down.

“Oh, God no,” I moaned.

“Take it easy,” he breathed in my ear, rocking so gently, so slowly.

“You’re killing me.” I hovered at the edge of climax. Tension and pleasure tugged at each other inside me.

“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last,” he said. But he lasted, at that pace, until the buildup almost pushed pleasure over the edge. I thought, for a second, I’m going to come without telling him, because he won’t let me.

“Please,” I gasped, my resolve gone, “I need to come.”

“No, you don’t.”

“May I? Please?” As much as I wanted to come, I wanted to ask even more. I wanted to beg for it. I wanted him to make me lose myself in him.

He pushed against me, and I groaned. He didn’t answer.

I was supposed to know what to do. “Jonathan, please. Please let me come. I can’t…” He put his nose to mine and looked into my eyes. I felt surrounded by him and safe in his attention. “I’m going to lose it…please. Please do it so I come.”

“Do what?”

“Fuck me hard. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll suck anywhere you want. I’ll be yours. It’s all I have, but please f**k me so I come.”

“Come then.” He pushed into me, slowly but forcefully, and I felt my world tip over as he grunted and heaved with his own fulfillment. My hands went over my head and clutched the headboard. My back arched, and I must have screamed, because I felt his hand on the side of my face, his thumb hooking into my open mouth. He kept moving, churning his hips and gasping, and every push sent a new wave of sensation through my lips, my pu**y, my clit, everything.

Warmth had shot up the curve of my spine. The feelings went on and on with changing breaths and sensations. My voice wasn’t my own, but the expression of a built-up explosive detonating inside me. When he bit me hard, at the base of my neck, another point of gratification had been found. The pain was a counterpoint to everything else, bringing me back to consciousness and reigniting my orgasm. I cried out again, pushing myself into his dick, feeling nothing but wetness and hardness and shocks of pleasure between us. I’d entered a timeless zone, and when I realized he was softening inside me, I slowed down, even as my orgasm took on a life of its own.

“Monica?” asked Debbie’s voice, not Jonathan’s.

“Huh?” I was at work. Early afternoon, Thursday. I had five full tables and a tray of sucked-dry glasses in my hand.

Debbie, my boss, looked at me with concern and a little irritation. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking.”

“About what? You just stopped dead in the middle of the floor.”

“Nothing. I’m sorry.”

“You have Ute Yanix on seven. Please, if you need a sick day, let me know. Otherwise—” She twisted her hand at the wrist to let me know it was time to get moving. I ran to Ute Yanix’s table with a smile and an apology. I took the actress’s order with a temporarily clear head that got muddied by thoughts of Jonathan’s belly hair just three minutes later.

Two weeks ago before I’d met Jonathan, I felt like a normal person. I worked. I sang. I bitched about my manager. I took care of Gabby and drank a little too much. I pleasured myself maybe once a week if I thought of it. I went from place to place, daydreaming about winning a Grammy or ruining my ex-boyfriend’s life forever. I didn’t realize how much time I’d spent plotting Kevin’s demise, but when I stopped, I filled the spaces with Jonathan.

After Jonathan, my brain seemed hard-wired for sex. I walked around in a state of constant arousal. The past year and a half had caught up with me like a train crashing into a wall. After the initial impact, the rest of the train kept moving, pushing into that front car until eighteen months of desire got squashed into two weeks.