You May Fuck Him: You Give us Permission to Fuck

Dive into my audio version of this post here:

The last time he visited us, you had to work on the Friday.

Early that morning, in bed, my head on your chest, your balls in one hand, dick in the other.

“You may fuck him, and he knows it.”

I squeezed your dick, a grin I couldn’t lose on my face.

“Better go,” you said.

So Much Rain: Collecting Him

A revitalising shower and some coffee later, I got into my car and drove to the airport to collect him. Glorious feelings of anticipation giving me butterflies and playing with my heartbeat.

The rain was beating a tattoo on the roof of my car, surrounding me in grey noise. The motorway slick and mirrored, spray around the other cars making it appear we were all floating, the speed we were driving at becoming an unreality, flipping me into the surreal. I drove in a dream, not letting myself think past the moment of seeing him again.

Waiting at the arrival gate, the first passengers from his flight began to trickle through, the noise-levels and emotional tension around me spiking. A little girl running to her arriving dad, her echoing scream piercing my head. All around, people welcoming friends and family.

My feelings of surreal unbelonging compounded, I felt completely out of place, conspicuous, over-emotional.

And suddenly small, shy.

I moved from the centre of the room to a wall, pressed my back against it. Watching each new arrival come through the gate, looking for his tall form. Fear building in me, thrumming through me.

And then, he was there, his bag grasped in his hand beside him, and my heart jumped. He moved with the other arrivals, his eyes raking over the crowd until he found me, a quick double-take fastened his eyes on mine. He held me with his eyes, stalked through the crowd until he was standing in front of me.

Without a word, he pulled me to into a one-armed embrace, held me still, one ear pressed to his chest. His hand slipped into my hair, cupped my head to him, covering my other ear. I could hear his heart, a steady slow rhythm. Felt the vibration through his chest when he cleared his throat, but he didn’t say anything, he just held me.

His scent in my nostrils, his strength holding me against him and his heart in my ear, my body normalising, panic receding, tension draining. I straightened and he let me go, took a half-step backwards, looking down at me.

“Better?”

I nodded, grateful. I couldn’t help smiling at his perceptiveness. He grinned at me.

“You driving, or am I?”

I passed him the keys and led him out into the rain to find the car.

Confidence; rising heat

Neither of us is much of a talker, we were silent on the motorway home, just comfortable in each other’s company. He turned a smile on me now and then.

His confidence in his driving was making me feel stupidly hot. It’s that confidence thing, it destroys me every single time. It’s a quality you both share, you and him. I just sat there watching him. He was casual in his handling of my car, his eyes flicking glances in mirrors, driving faster than I’d normally dare in this weather.

“You’re staring.”

I blushed, he caught it and grinned at me, squeezed my leg just above my knee, left his hand there a long moment, the warmth of it radiating through the material of my skirt. I stared at his denim clad thighs, his hand on my knee, and I thought about you this morning. “You may fuck him, and he knows it.”

I squirmed in my seat, his hand still on my leg, the look he shot me then was smouldering hot. My clit pulsed with the realisation; you had deliberately made a foregone conclusion with your explicit permission to each of us.

We prepared and ate lunch together, quiet in each other’s company, the sexual tension a palpable thing between us.

Afterwards, he stretched out his long form on the sofa.

Be Still, or Else!

“Come here,” he held out his arm.

I lay down beside him, my head on his chest just as we had been in bed this morning. He took my hand, placed it on his chest and wrapped his own hand around it, his other arm drew me closer, hand resting on my hip, and I wrapped a leg around his. I was getting all hot and horny again, squirmed a little, my hand slipping out of his grip, wanting to find his dick. He grabbed my errant hand, placed it back on his chest and held it fast.

“Be still.”

A command that spoke straight to my clit. I became as still as a mouse, listened to his heart again, his breathing causing my body to move so slightly against him. I became aware of all of our points of contact, especially his hand on my hip.

And then he fell asleep! Unbelievable! And with me all horny pressed to his side and commanded to stillness! I lay there, time stretching out around me.

Such a predicament, my horny heat and him being asleep! As time passed, I was getting wetter and wetter, my lack of patience, never my strong point, warring with my desire to be a good girl, to be still as he’d commanded.

It didn’t help at all when he got a boner, I watched it happening, that first promising twitch, the growing length of him through the material of his jeans. My breath hitching in my excitement, I wanted to feel it growing, tried to slip my hand out from under his, so slowly, so gently.

“Be still.”

His wakefulness, and the guilty feeling of being caught surprised me into a jiggle of motion.

“If you can’t keep still, I’m gonna spank your ass.”

I giggled, couldn’t help it. A nervous giggle that shook my body.

He sat up, pulling me with him and without any ado, he had me bent over his knee, ass in the air. I struggled the whole time, just so I could feel his superior strength, and because I knew he wanted me to. He spanked my ass, it was playful, and I was giggling again, writhing under his hands and trying to get away. He would not let me go, he kept pulling me back and spanking me.

After a particularly lusty attempt on my part to crawl away from him, he grabbed my skirt and flipped it up over my back, yanked my knickers down to my knees. One arm holding me fast against his thighs, the fingers of his other hand began skating over my pussy and my giggling caught in my throat, became a moan.

He kept me pressed over his knee, his fingers slip-sliding around my pussy, teasing over my clit, his spanking mission clean forgotten. Those gentle probing fingers became the focus of my world, no longer struggling, I shifted my hips up a little to give him better access.

He slipped his thumb inside me, explored my cunt with it, fucking me gently, taking away the empty feeling I get when I’m desperate. His fingers held against my clit, not moving at all, and it felt so good.

Caught in the Act

“Get up, little bird.”

I struggled to get off him, stood and blinked at him, I could feel how my pupils had dilated. He reached around my waist, undid the button of my skirt and it slipped down my legs. He took hold of my knickers and pulled them the rest of the way down too. Then he sat back and patted his knee.

I stepped out of the puddle of my clothes and straddled him. He pulled my t-shirt off over my head, undid my bra and pulled it slowly off me, the straps brushing lightly over my arms. I shivered.

He stroked his fingers under my tits, lifting them both, gripping one lightly in each hand, he raised me up onto my knees. I reached out my arms to hold the sofa either side of his head, leaned my body towards him.

He took one nipple into his mouth and began a sumptuously decadent tease, licking, sucking, his tongue circling, lapping at me. Getting me hornier and wetter, I closed my eyes, just feeling what he was doing to that nipple and how it connected straight to the core of me, my cunt so wet now.

Your key in the lock at the front door startled me. I opened my eyes, locked eyes with him, his mouth fastened to my tit, he did not stop his gorgeous tease.

And that’s how you find us, me desperate and naked, straddling him, my cunt fairly dripping onto his fully clothed body on the sofa. You grin, throw us a casual greeting.

“Hey,” my greeting a breath of a sigh.

He lets my nipple slip from his mouth, greets you too.

“Don’t mind me,” you go to the kitchen and begin unpacking shopping.

He turns his attention back to my tits I watch his mouth close over my other nipple and his torturous, delicious tease starts again, his eyes slipping shut. I glance over at you; you catch it and grin at me. But I’m too many levels of horn deep to answer your smile.

“Mmh.”

I close my eyes again. His tongue works dizzying magic on my nipple in his mouth.

He lets my tit go and stands, lifting me with him, turns and control-drops me onto the sofa, I lie back, watching him.

Fucking!

There’s a clatter from the kitchen, you start chopping something.

He pulls his t-shirt over his head, undoes his belt, pops his jeans open, undoes the fly and pulls them off, pulls off his boxers too. His rock-solid cock looks so damned invitingly lickable.

I sit up, reaching for him, he gets onto the sofa between my legs, and pushes me back down.

“Be a doll for me, I want to fuck you.”

I glance over at you, catch you grinning at your chopping board, you know exactly how that made me feel.

Kneeling, he positions himself with his knees under my thighs, stroking his cock over my slit, teasing me with it before he slides in.

He takes my legs, props them up over his shoulders, and wraps his arms tightly around my thighs, holding them fast to his chest.

He starts a slow, deep fuck. Because of the way he has positioned us his cock is giving my g-spot some hefty attention. He’s looking down at what he’s doing, slides all the way out and re-enters me.

He says that again, “you feel so good.”

With a thumb, he starts a slow tease of my clit, and I already know it’s not going to take me long. He changes tack, fucks into me hard and fast, that pleasure-pressure on my g-spot becoming almost unbearable. I moan.

He looks into my eyes, slows to a stop. He lets my legs go and helps me rearrange them around his torso, then he moves so his head is between my thighs, and I feel his mouth closing around my clit, sucking it in. He slips a finger inside me. I reach down, take his head in my hands, run my fingers over it, enjoying the shape of his skull, the feel of his beard.

I glance at you, you’re at the stove, ignoring the acts happening on the sofa.

I’m so close and I want to have him in me when I come. I writhe, trying to push his head away.

“Be still,” he says it around my clit, and it tips me.

Moaning, I come hard around his finger, his mouth sucking at my clit, his tongue lapping, lapping, my legs trying to close, but his head won’t let them. He plays my clit with his tongue through the last throws, it’s so fucking intense and I cannot get away. I glance at you, you’re smiling, stirring something with quick light movements that match my moans.

“My turn.”

Sitting up again, he moves back to his previous position and he owns my swollen, still pulsing cunt. He punishes it with his thrusting, until he comes hard too, grunting with the release, my breath matching his from the intensity of his fucking.

When he’s done, I look over at you again; you’re staring at us. I know that look, and how hard you are is obvious. Loosening your belt and freeing your dick, you cross the room staring your intention at me. You’re fucking is going to be ferocious and I know it. My heart jumps and I positively thrill, opening my legs wide to you; inviting you to violate my cunt.