She is so fuckable like this, with her just-kissed lips and her lust glaze and the way her chest rises and falls and her throat is bare and asking for my teeth to …
He was painfully hard. He had to stop thinking these thoughts. There was no way he could stop thinking these thoughts.
Indeed, he was still struggling with his resolve when Julia lifted his shirt off him. He raised his arms, helping her, absent-mindedly obedient to her will.
‘Oh, you’re lovely, such a lovely thing,’ she said, then she was rubbing her head between his pectoral muscles and then, oh, what was this? She flicked her tongue swiftly and skilfully over one of his nipples and he nearly bent double with the pang of pure lust she aroused in him.
He moaned and put his hands in her hair, throwing his own head back against the sofa top. It was useless now, he was defeated. Until his cock found relief, he would not be able to stop her.
She spent a long time lavishing his nipples with her attention and kisses and licks and nips and sucks. He twisted and squirmed underneath her, moving one hand to his crotch in a sly attempt to get him
self off before anything more inflammatory happened.
But she thwarted his plan, grasping at his wrist and playfully biting the nipple she had been feasting on.
‘No, no,’ she rebuked. ‘Not yet. I want you to come in my mouth.’
He cried out at that, fatally unmanned. Why had the Lord made this such a delirious pleasure if it was sinful? How could this ever be fair? Man couldn’t win against such odds.
Julia unbuckled his belt and made swift work of releasing his cock from its restraints. He couldn’t look, but he could feel her breath wafting its gentle warmth around his shaft. Her hands parted his thighs a little more, then he felt her bury her face between them, licking and kissing at the soft inner flesh, the top of her head bumping exquisitely against his heavy balls so that they were caressed by her hair.
He covered his face with his hands, as if this might absolve him in some way from any responsibility, and let her do what she wanted.
He let her whisper sweet breaths over his sac and up his shaft, then paint his cock with the teasing tip of her tongue. He let her investigate his foreskin, pulling it back with eager fingers so she could bathe his uncovered end, wrapping her lips around it and subjecting it to a thorough tongue bath.
By the time she came to take him, inch by inch, into her mouth, he was so close to orgasm he despaired of lasting longer than a minute or so. He wanted it to last longer, to luxuriate in his sin now that it was inevitable, to gather all that pleasure inside him and store it for the long, lonely nights.
She cupped his balls and lowered her lips still further, sucking at him with a force he was surprised she possessed, being such a wisp of a thing herself.
She drew sensation from the crown of his head, the tips of his toes, all the extremities of his body, and made it rush pell-mell to his velvet-sheathed cock. He felt like the national grid, lit up, alive with electricity. The power surged through him, leaving him weak and tremulous, then he cried out as he filled Julia’s mouth. Oh, if he could capture this feeling, remember it in its exquisite entirety, he would have riches forever.
She looked up at him, her spark of triumph catching him like a barb. Unease possessed him; a sense that she now had a hold over him he might find difficult to escape. And yet … She was attractive, and she liked him and …
Evie’s face transferred itself to his consciousness and he let his head fall back again, groaning. Julia swallowed loudly and released his cock, inch by inch, with teasing slowness.
‘Such a privilege,’ she said in a low purr. ‘The first taste.’ She kissed his now-flaccid prick, then sat back on her heels. ‘Oh good Lord. You look as if you might burst into tears. Do cheer up.’
‘I’ve crossed the line,’ he said, to himself. ‘I’ve crossed it. I’m damned.’
‘I’m damned. What a lot of nonsense, Adam. Good God. Men have blowjobs every day – some of them are clergymen. Why ever do you think it would damn them?’
Adam tried to think. He didn’t even know any more. Where had his sexual mores come from? Did he have sexual mores? Had all these Saxonhurst sex fiends been right all along?
‘Julia,’ he said, looking at the ceiling, trying to focus on a lightshade. He repeated her name, singing it this time, Beatles-style.
‘Oh dear,’ she said, less robustly. She came to sit beside him, rubbing his hand with sympathetic gentleness. ‘This must be rather epoch-making for you. I don’t mean to be a bitch.’
‘You aren’t,’ he said, turning his eyes to her. ‘You give me attention I don’t deserve. I wish I knew why.’
‘I’ve told you why,’ she said patiently. ‘Because I like you. I fancy you. I want to take you to bed. In fact, I want to keep you there. Wouldn’t you rather be in my bed than that cold old church?’
He shut his eyes and nodded.
‘Come on, then. I’ve got so much I want to show you.’
Julia’s bed was clean and white, in a clean, white room that smelled of lilies. She led him to its foot by her hand and then stood in front of him, smiling warmly.
‘I want you to undress me, Adam,’ she said. ‘Will you do that for me?’