Still holding my head in place, he rests his free hand on my shoulder and lets it fall down to my breasts. Easing down his rhythm, he runs his fingers over the curve of my right breast and circles my hard nipple carefully. Then, the moment he pulls his cock out of my mouth, he pinches my nipple between his thumb and index finger; I gasp, my insides clenching as my hand starts moving again, stroking him as fast as I can.
Electricity spreading across my body from the pressure he’s applying on my nipple, I lunge forward, my parted lips resting against his shaft. I lick his cock sideways, running my lips and tongue over his length and going down to his balls; there, I open my mouth and suck one in, rolling it around inside me as I keep on stroking him furiously. Looking up at him, I can’t help but feel victorious delight from seeing him with his eyes closed, head slightly thrown back in ecstasy. He might know how to drive women completely insane, but I’m not a woman anyone should underestimate. After all, I was the reason thousands of men lied to their wives and went to the strip club to spend their hard-earned cash.
Suddenly, Arsen yanks on my hair and forces my head back, my eyes locking on his. He’s breathing hard, the corner of his lips turning upward. “Stand up,” he tells me. Reluctantly, I let go of his cock and go up to my feet.
I don’t even have enough time to think about what’s happening: he’s on me in an instant, his body pressed tightly against mine. He pins me against the wall, one hand cupping my left breast while the other grabs one buttock. I throw my head back, his lips on my neck; he nibbles my skin there gently, going all the way from my neck to my lips. We kiss in abandonment, my anxious hands darting to his collar.
I start unbuttoning his shirt, my trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons on their way down. His hard pectorals brush against my knuckles and, the moment the last button pops out, I run both my hands from his stomach to his chest, feeling every hill and ridge of his muscles. From his perfectly carved abdominals to the ropes of muscles in his arms, everything in him seems designed with only one objective in mind: perfection. See those male models that often don the covers of magazines? Yeah, they don’t hold a candle to Arsen’s body. In fact, perfect is a poor word to describe him.
He doesn’t give me much time to appreciate his body, though; as I pull his shirt down his arms, he grabs me firmly by the hips and makes me turn around. I place my hands on the wall as I face it, suddenly feeling more exposed than I have ever been in my entire life. And I used to be a stripper, for God’s sake! But with Arsen it’s different… He’s perfect in every sense of the word and, somehow, I want him to feel the same way about me too.
I stand still, not moving and barely breathing as I hear him kick off his shoes. I hear the rustle of his pants and I can almost picture him as he strips naked—more than anything I want to look over my shoulder at him, but I manage to control these urges. Then I feel him breathing close to my neck. As his mouth touches my skin I close my eyes by instinct, succumbing to the perfect way his velvety red lips caress the contour of my neck. Carefully grabbing a handful of hair, he brushes it over my shoulder, his kisses hiking up to my ear.
“You’ll moan,” he places one finger over my spine, right below my neck. “You’ll scream,” his finger starts to move down, tracing the valley of my spine until it reaches my lower back. “And then you’ll beg me to fuck you,” he almost growls, brushing his fingertip over the curve between my ass cheeks. I tremble and shiver, my skin prickling as his words blanket my rational mind. Moan, scream and beg—that seems like a perfect menu, if you ask me.
“I’ll moan and scream,” I repeat after him, the sound of my voice coming out quivering and weak. As I start to speak he runs his finger down to between my legs, caressing my wet folds gently. “And then I’ll… beg!” The last word comes out as a gasp, his finger pushing its way past my pussy lips and burying itself deep inside of me.
Slowly, he takes it all the way out, once again running it along the length of my pussy. He only stops when he reaches my clit, first circling it, and then pressing hard on it. It’s stronger than myself: I can’t help but moan.
“That’s a start,” he whispers, running his finger down and sliding it all the way in. Flicking his wrist, he fingers me in a pendulum motion, each time his finger goes in his pace increasing. I’m moaning, and I’m doing it as hard as I can; still, the moment he slides one more finger inside of my pussy I stop moaning. What I do is grit my teeth and scream through them, my eyes shut tight as I succumb to the pleasant warm electricity that fills every single muscle in my body.