Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Releasing my cock with a wet smacking sound, she said breathlessly, “Fuck my mouth. Hard. Make me choke on your dick.”
I obliged readily, using my grip on her hair to hold her in place as I drove into her mouth. She did choke, and gag, and drool, sputtering and coughing but never making any attempt to stop me. So, I stopped myself. I had to, or I would have come down her throat right then.
“Get up,” I ordered, still holding her hair in my fist as she rose to her feet. “Bend over the back of that chair.”
She wobbled quickly toward to the armchair I’d been sitting in and leaned over it, a quiet, “oh god,” whimpering from her throat. I tore the box of condoms practically in half and got a wrapper open faster than I’d ever managed in my life.
I wanted to plow into her, deep, and fuck her until the furniture collapsed, but the fact of my anatomy was that most people weren’t ready for me to go that hard right out of the gate.
“We’re going to play a game,” I told her, rolling the condom down my shaft. “You wanted to come, right?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “So badly. Please.”
“You’ll get to. When I’m in you so deep, you’ll think you can’t stand it.” I hoped I had the self-control to follow my own rules. “And you’re going to get there by counting to ten.”
“Ten?” she repeated.
“Ten. Here. Let me show you.” I took her hand and brought it to her vulva. “You’re going to edge right now. Once. You’re going to get close, and then you’ll stop. And then I’ll give you a little—” I bumped my cock against her opening. “As a reward for being a good girl.”
She laughed. “You want me to do it ten times?”
“Not ten times. I said we were counting to ten.” It would be so many more than ten. “You’ll figure it out as we go. Now, begin.”
The effort it took not to thrust forward the moment I felt the heat of her against the latex was harder than the last mile of any marathon I’d ever run, but I managed to control myself as she worked her fingers over her clit. I studied her body for telltale signs of impending orgasm. They were different for everyone. One of hers was a series of short, sharp, ascending cries; they cut off abruptly as she jerked her hand away from her body.
“Wait,” she gasped. “Wait. If you do it now, I’ll come.”
I held still. I didn’t want to ruin the game.
After a few deep breaths, she nodded and gave me a shaky “okay.”
I pushed in, just a little. Not even the entire head. She clenched on me and every instinct urged me to drive in deep. But that wasn’t part of the game. “Now, do it again.” I paused, smiling to myself. “Twice.”
“What?” There was a sense of dawning horror in her question as she realized what I meant by counting to ten.
For every number, she would edge that many times.
“You wanted to know why I wouldn’t let you come? You’ll see why at the end of our game.” I slowly withdrew the miniscule penetration I’d allowed and pushed back, only as much as before. I kept up that short, careful stroke as she brought herself to another edge and frantically motioned for me to stop moving.
“What happens if I come accidentally?” she gasped.
“Then I guess I have to punish you.” I considered the possibilities available to me. “Maybe I make you come for every number, instead of edging. Which do you think would be worse?”
She huffed a laugh and went back to work. After the second denied orgasm, I pushed a little deeper. She moved her hips as if seeking to impale herself on my length, and I held her steady, admonishing, “Be patient. Follow the rules.”
And I forced her to keep to the pattern, all the while desperately clinging to my own flimsy control. By the time she reached five, she was sweating. At eight, she was actually crying. And despite asking her several times if she needed to stop, she refused.
“I’m not going to let you have the satisfaction,” she sobbed halfway through her set of nine.
At ten, I began counting them aloud. That infuriated her. Perspiration beaded on her skin, and on mine. It wasn’t the temperature, but the strain of denying myself. It was a miracle tears weren’t rolling down my face too. Every time I had to lengthen my thrusts, I thought it would be the time I abandoned the game, that I would bury myself in her and explode, but her stubborn insistence on finishing what we’d started spurred on my competitive nature. I wanted the victory. I wanted her begging, defeated. I wanted to win.