Off to see the Franz Ferdinand
late show in Brixton tonight so no time to tell you anything about D’s
car breaking down on the M4 and me having to drive to Heston Services
to rescue him. I arrived so late and we were both so tired that our
grand ‘back together after a week’ dinner was at Burger King and then
we booked into the Travelodge.
Still, the one thing you can say
about Travelodge is that its bland anonymity lends itself nicely to
really filthy, pornographic sex. D overcame his tiredness sufficiently
to fuck me from behind with his left knee on the bed and his right foot
planted on my cheek, pressing my face into the bedclothes. I wriggled
furiously as his cock slammed at an angle into my cunt and he whacked
my arse hard with the flat of his hand, hissing “Stop wriggling!” which
of course made me wriggle more.
Finally he clambered off me,
and I lifted my head blearily to look back at him. He stood, a couple
of paces away from the bed, stroking his cock slowly with one hand.
Then he clicked the fingers of his other hand and pointed at the floor.
“Bad dog! You know you’re not allowed on the bed.”
Stretching my
stiff limbs, I climbed down onto the floor, crawling slowly towards
him, craning my neck and stretching my tongue out to flutter against
the tip of his cock. Just as I was about to curl my tongue around the
underside of its head and coax it into my mouth, he stepped back. This
is an old game. I looked up at him and the corners of my mouth twitched
into a smirk. He looked stonily back at me and whispered, “Crawl.”
I
crawled, bobbing my head down to lap slowly along the underside of his
shaft and then press my lips firmly against the head of his cock…
He
took another step back and I crawled towards him again and spat on the
end of his cock, slowly swirling it round and then sucking its head
firmly into my mouth…
He took another step back, his back
against the wall now and I crawled towards him, kneeling up, gripping
his thighs and plunging my mouth onto his cock, rubbing its head
against my bulging cheek…
“Look at me,” he whispered, and I gazed up as he twined my hair around his fingers. “Don’t swallow.”
His
spunk pooled in my mouth, I tipped my head back and opened wide to show
him. He murmured, “Good girl” and slithered down the wall, sitting on
the floor with his back to it as I ground my lips urgently against his,
letting his cum ooze from my tongue to his and feeling the tiredness in
his body as it grew heavy in my arms.
As a very special
reward, we didn’t have to go back to Burger King for breakfast and I
was allowed to finish all of my Costa Coffee Blackcurrant and White
Chocolate Muffin without him even attempting to steal any. I know this
may not sound like much, but it represents a breakthrough in respect
for my personal food space. Plus, he’s bought me a key ring that says I ‘heart’ Heston, so don’t let anyone tell you romance is dead.