Dinner Date (Part 2)

I felt myself shaking, outside of my own control entirely, as Micheal sucked on my clit. His stubble scratched my thighs. I was quaking inside and outside. I felt tight and hot from my head to my toes.  


I heard him and felt him grunt against me and realized that my hands were in his hair and I was pulling it hard.  


I had been thoughtlessly crushing his mouth against me where I was the wettest, seeking as much friction as possible. I loosened my fists a little and he didn’t seem to notice one way or the other. He was eating me out with a deep focus. His stubble was scratching me raw and his mouth was prying me open and I couldn’t help squirming under him. 


I had never been so wet in my entire life.   


It seemed endless but the second he stopped I felt totally lost and shaken in a way I had never felt before. The loss of sensation was almost unbearable. I felt the urge to jam his face back in my pussy, but I couldn’t move.  


I felt hot and cold at once. I could feel myself throbbing inside in a way I never had before. As if I was desperately empty and it had become a physical ache.  


I looked up at Michael and he looked down at me. His lips were glistening and little swollen. He looked down at me through slack eyelids. He was taking stock of where my breasts had fallen out of my bralette and tanktop. My one nipple was entirely exposed. 


As if hypnotized, he reached for my naked breast. He held it in his hands, cupping it. I felt how rough his palm was. Then he took my nipple between two of his large fingers and started to roll it. It sent soft little shocks through me and I felt myself clench deep inside.   


I felt my legs spread and my instant reaction was to close them. 


Michael stopped me with a rough hand between my over-sensitized thighs, already scraped raw from his stubble. I gasped.   


Then he put one of his fingers where his tongue had been. 


He pressed against my clit lightly, barely even touching it. I needed more touch and more pressure so much that I wanted to scream. 


Before I could ask he gave it to me. His one hand played with my nipple and his other played with my clit, applying pressure in a rhythm that had me grinding my pelvis against him. 


Then suddenly he slid a finger inside me and it was exactly what I wanted and needed. Instead of aching and empty inside I suddenly felt full. It was incredible.   


He slid in and out of me slowly at first, but I was so wet he could easily build up speed. 


When I was riding his single finger with abandon he added another. 


His fingers were big. I felt pleasantly full, maybe a little bit stretched, but in a very delicious way. 


There was no denying what was happening. 


He kissed me as he curled his fingers inside me and I moaned openly into his mouth. 


His lips and tongue tasted like me. 


I felt so dizzy. 


As my mouth opened around my moans he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth.  


I felt entirely at his mercy. I clung to Michael and shook, helpless as he played with my body however he wanted. 


Then, as he pumped his fingers in and out of me and I ruthlessly rode them, he stuck out his thumb to play with my clit. 


I screamed and dug my nails into his back. 


And then I came.  


I don’t know how long it lasted. Maybe it was hours. Maybe it was minutes. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. 


Sure, I had gotten myself off regularly, but this was nothing like that. I lost track of my body, I lost track of time. I felt nothing except incredible pleasure. 


Somewhere in my orgasmic haze I realized he still had his fingers inside me and was still going. He hadn’t let up on my clit and…had he added a third finger inside me?     


Before I could worry about it further I felt a renewed spark. The pleasure was starting to curl deep inside me and I wondered if I was about to have another orgasm. 


Before Michael, I had only had sex once, and I hadn’t come at all.  


Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hysterically wondered if I would ever stop cumming, or if he would just keep me trapped in his bed playing with my pussy for an eternity. How many orgasms could I even really have before I lost my mind? Were we about to find out?  


“Holy shit.” He said. I don’t know how much I said of that out loud. Judging by the stunned expression on his face before he jammed three fingers back inside me as if he would die if no part of him was inside of me, I’m guessing probably all of it.  


My next orgasm was softer and warmer, and I felt it curl through me in waves from my head to my toes. 


Whether that single orgasm lasted eons or I experienced several more, I cannot really tell you. 


At some point, I tried to pull off my shirt and bralette, but I couldn’t get it quite right because I had literally been finger fucked stupid. 


Michael helped me. How generous of him.  


At some point, his jeans had come off, and he was lying next to me in his underwear.  His arms were wrapped around me. He was kissing me. His large hands were skimming my body and taking extra time to caress my breasts and my ass. 


I could feel how hard he was against me. 


He was not physically pressuring me, maneuvering me, or making demands of me. 


But the hard press of his cock against me was a reminder of what I could have if I wanted it. And I did want it, but did I want it right now? 


His fingers had stretched me, and I could feel myself gaping inside, ready for what came next. 


I did want it. I wanted to feel full again. 


I could already see this becoming a problem. 


I don’t know how many times I had already come. I still wasn’t done.   


“Are you ok?” He asked. He had a hand in my hair. He was petting me. Trying to soothe me. 


But I didn’t want to be soothed. 


I reached over and touched his dick through his underwear. It felt thick in my hand. His eyes crossed. I thought about how keyed up Michael must have been. 


“You can…” I started. Now that I wasn’t lost in an orgasmic haze I felt too shy to finish. I couldn’t even look him in the eyes. I looked at the bed between us instead. 


“I can what?” He asked. He took my face in his hand, seeking eye contact. I maybe got as far as his chest, which was covered in hair that was just starting to grey. I reached out and touched it because I wanted to. 


He hummed and so did I.  


“You know…” I said. I really hoped he did. I was only 20. He was 36. I had never really asked a partner for anything in bed before. My one sexual experience prior to Michael was mostly just confusing. 


“Fuck you?” He asked, and hearing it said like that struck me with shock and embarrassment and want.   


“You’re blushing.” He said, and it sounded like his voice had been dragged over gravel. He picked me up and put me on his lap. My legs fell on either side of him and I felt his hard cock pressing against me through his underwear. The texture of his chest hair against my nipples made them harden to sensitive little points. Every time we breathed they would brush against him and faint little sparks would shoot through me.     


“Grind against me.” He directed. I wasn’t sure what he meant at first, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. I rocked against him, the fabric of his underwear dragging against me. I couldn’t tell if I was wetting his underwear or his cock had started to drip with the pressure.  


I felt so empty inside and I wondered how long he would want me to tease us. I could feel myself clenching on nothing again and again inside, and I was ready for far more than teasing.  


I don’t know how long it was before Michael was too.  


“Take it out.” He said.  


I was more than happy to. 


I lifted my hips and peeled his underwear down his thighs. His cock sprung out. It was dripping and thick. He wrapped one large hand around it and pointed it straight up.  


He didn’t have to tell me what to do next.