Oh, God, this was going to kill me. His fingers continued to stretch and spread while he licked and sucked and kept every sensitive part of me fully occupied. I tugged at the cuffs and tossed my head this way and that, thrown into a vortex of extreme sensation.
But Jasper didn’t care about tipping me over the edge. It was what he wanted, and when the first signs of my impending orgasm became obvious, he stilled everything, sat up on his heels and said, ‘Do you have a question for me?’
The loss of his tongue was almost painfully disappointing.
‘Please, sir,’ I said quickly, ‘may I come?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, smiling. ‘I think you will. But I’m not sure you should.’
‘Please, sir,’ I wailed.
‘Well,’ he said, pretending to consider it deeply. ‘All right.’ He made a dive back below and wound me up to fever pitch again within seconds.
The combined stimulation of his two sets of fingers, the balls, the beads and his tongue threw me into such a tremendous climax that I thought the bed was moving across the floor. I lay back and let i
t take me, feeling as if I was being hurled against the wall, a piece of flotsam picked up and carried along.
‘Oh, that’s nice,’ he said, sitting up, pulling out his fingers and watching me through the last few pulses. ‘That was my Christmas lunch.’ He bent and kissed my slack lips. ‘Do you want yours?’
‘Let me get my breath back,’ I pleaded.
‘Of course.’
He kissed me again, hopped off the bed and went into the ensuite bathroom. When he came out again, he was fully naked. I always relished the sight of his taut, well-defined torso. Not too muscly, a look I’d never much liked, nor at all flabby or scrawny, he was simply the perfect happy medium. I especially liked the thatch of dark hair on his chest that trailed cheekily down to an unavoidable focal point.
Today, this particular focal point was on good form, firm, springy and quite erect. Ready for me.
‘Thought you might like to wet your whistle,’ he said, putting a toothmug of water to my lips. ‘You never know when your throat might dry out.’
I gulped down a few mouthfuls gratefully. The orgasm, in its majesty, had indeed left my throat feeling a bit sticky.
I knew what Jasper was going to try, but I couldn’t really see how it would work. I was in the wrong position here and I couldn’t use my hands, nor get myself any lower down. Undaunted, however, he got himself into a most unusual position – a kind of crouch with his feet between my thighs, and his hands gripping the top of the headboard. It would be pretty difficult to maintain, despite his excellent physical shape, but it did mean he could place the head of his cock right at my lips.
I took a moment to breathe it in – ah, how I had missed it – then parted my lips and let my tongue dart out.
‘Mm, take a taste,’ he invited, although I was already swallowing down that Jasper tang. I curled my tongue around the tip again, nudging back his foreskin. He helped me with that, giving it a sharp tug himself, revealing the delicate, vulnerable head within.
I teased for as long as he could take it, surprised at how he held out before urging himself between my lips with a grunt.
‘Stop playing with it,’ he hissed. ‘Suck it now.’
I wrapped my mouth around him, taking in the top half with ease. As he pushed onwards, I began to feel the familiar ache and the beginnings of my gag reflex, but we had worked on this and I overcame it.
It isn’t easy to give a blow job when your hands are unavailable to assist, but it wasn’t the first time and I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last. I paced myself, establishing a languid rhythm that wouldn’t wear my cheekbones out in half a minute, taking plenty of time to tickle with my tongue tip when the sucking became fatiguing.
Jasper knew that this would extend the experience, and he approved.
‘Did you miss it?’ he murmured, flexing his hips to keep a gentle thrusting motion going. ‘Did you dream of it, while you were away?’
Obviously I couldn’t respond, unless it was by shutting my eyes and redoubling my efforts.
This seemed to be the answer he was looking for.
‘Oh, I see you did. Did you touch yourself, there in your big lonely bed, without my cock to look after you?’
I let an inarticulate sound stand in for yes/no/maybe, knowing he would take whichever answer he wanted.
‘Did you rub your poor untended clit and think of all the things I could be doing to you? Did you imagine them, one by one, while you lay with your legs open and your fingers all over your pussy? Did you … oh, God.’