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A Clever Mouth

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She waited until the after show crowd in the hallway turned to stragglers. Still, she waited some more, expecting to hear a suggestive yelp or moan from behind his closed dressing room door. But there was only faint rock music.

She smiled. Of course it was. He was just as volatile. Were he sound, he’d be a violin bow dragged across the strings of an electric guitar. She giggled. He told her she wasn’t good at poetry. She should concentrate on flesh. It was her art. She wasn’t sure whether it was just a line to get her to fuck.

If only he knew she didn’t need convincing.

She walked across the hallway and held up the wall beside the door. The base vibrated against her back, and it felt like a promise of things to come. Just as she turned to face his door, the music changed.

It was a smoky instrumental. Less violent. More a caress.

She hesitated, then knocked.

“About damn time!” he yelled. The door opened, and a beautiful young man walked out, flushed and skittish. When she stepped in, the ceiling of the dressing room was hidden by clouds of pungent smoke.

He looked at himself in the mirror, dabbing his mouth with a wet wipe. His lips were crimson with friction.

“I was wondering when you’d finally cross the hallway,” he said, taking a swig of water and gargling it. He looked around for something to spit in, found nothing, then spit on the carpeted floor.

He shrugged. “This carpet’s seen far worse,” he said. He put his feet up on the vanity counter. They were deliciously bare. She stared at the floor, enthralled by the spreading stain. The dark blue carpet absorbed the cloudy water slowly.

He sat beside her, putting his feet on her lap. “Where are you?”

She touched him absently, caressing the smooth arches of his feet. In true form, he let himself be touched. His toes curled with pleasure. He watched her with frank curiosity as color rose to her cheeks. Her breath was already short with excitement. He was intrigued, and aroused again. Although he mostly dealt with hookers and easy women - he preferred them, as they gloried in liberality - she was a rare treat.

The good girl. Oh, how he loved a good, good girl. They were simple, and sweet as a spoonful of sugar.

He put his hand on her waist and pressed his lips to her ear.

“What are you thinking?” He ordinarily didn’t care, but her mind was still brilliantly innocent. Naive. Savage.

“Did you just suck off that man?”

He sat back. He crossed his legs loosely and laughed, his arms spread over the back of the sofa.

She wondered whether the smoke was affecting her. His shirt was open to his chest, and his pants were zipped, but unfastened. His brown hair stuck up in messy spikes, and his stubble darkened the shadows underneath his high cheekbones. He bit his lower lip and lay back, looking at her through long eyelashes.

He was a living, breathing embodiment of lust. She looked at herself in the large mirror, turning her face slowly side to side.

“I’d prefer your eyes on me,” he said, walking behind her.

“You had all eyes on you the whole night,” she said. “For weeks now. Is it odd?”

“Odd?”

“Playing someone so similar to yourself?”

“Am I similar? I like to think my game is far more subtle. On the page Don’s a bombastic twat.”

Their eyes met in the mirror. Her eyebrow rose.

“You saucy bitch. I should put my foot to your ass.”

She turned and slowly raised her skirt past her hips. She wasn’t wearing panties. “Or… you could make good on your promise.”

He nudged his hips between her legs and looked down at her. 

“Did you do as I asked?”

She smiled, and offered her hands to him. He brought them near his nose and breathed deep. Her fingers gave off the enticing odor of freshly fucked pussy.

“How many times?”

She opened her legs wider, daring to pull his hips to hers. The pink- pinstriped wool darkened with her wetness.

“I don’t know. I felt on the whole time. Just knowing you knew I was watching, and what I was doing-“

He put his hand over her mouth.

“It’s not enough,” he said. He shook his head. “Turn around.”

She obeyed. He leaned into her until she bent over the counter, near enough the mirror to make it cloud with her quickening breaths.

His hand moved up the inside of her thigh, squeezed, moved between her legs and cupped her.

“You ever been to a triple x theater?” His fingers pressed into her slick seam.

“No.”

“I suppose not. They’re a thing of a past, because of the internet. A real shame, too,” he said, snickering. His cock hardened against her ass. Her eyes drank up his reflection.

“Did you suck that man off?” she asked again.

He gave her an indolent smile, then licked the shell of her ear. “They were dirty places. Sticky. Suggestively scented,” he said. He started to rub circles on her already aching clit. “I might already be nursing a semi while I pay the bored ticket person. They know what I’m in there to do.”

“What?”

“Jack off. Rub it to an 10 foot pussy stretching deliciously around a surging cock,” he said. “You just can’t get that at home,” he said, stretching her opening with two fingers. She sighed and licked her lips.

“The best part, though, is knowing there are others, just as horny as you, all around you,” he rubbed himself against her. She reached back to squeeze him through his pants. He groaned in her ear.

“And even though a wank alongside a sympathetic stranger is exciting, it's best when once in a blue moon, a woman comes in, hair over her face, coat wrapped tight around her, already trembling.”

She stopped moving. He might still have the taste of another man’s come in his mouth, but it was him mentioning another woman that put her off her game. How strange. He noticed, and clicked his tongue. He unzipped and guided her hand to his cock. He was dry. Clean. The man had not put his mouth on him. It appeased her, and she relaxed.

He rubbed himself against her slick lips. “Although I love a good slag, it's a rare treat when it's a a regular woman. Someone’s wife. Careworn. Lusty. Belly streaked with stretch marks, empty and aching-“

He pulled off her blouse, and pulled her bra to her waist. Her eyes questioned. He bent over her and bit the taut skin of her neck.

“She came not to watch the flick, but to watch me, too handsome for that place, stroking my cock in that nasty little theater-“

She cried out as he slid into her, but not all the way. Only the swollen crown of his cock stretched her.

“As the people on the screen do the most disgusting things, she sits across from me, where everyone can see, and spreads her legs. Other men look, but her eyes are on me. She’s wet for me-“

She tried to buck back into him, but he slapped her ass and shook his head. Still, he rubbed her clit. Her pussy contracted around the head of his cock.

“Even though there’s a ten-foot pussy right behind her, sloppy and pink and stuffed with cock, her pussy looks better, because it’s aching for my cock - for a cock of a man she doesn’t know but it doesn't matter because she knows she wants me, and she’s willing to show herself to every man in that theater to let me know how much-“

He slid deeper into her, and she groaned. She was on fire. The truth was, she was so excited and scared about touching herself in public that she was not able to come. Not because she couldn’t, but because she feared she wouldn’t be able to do it silently.

He grabbed her elbows and fucked her, not hard, but deep.

“You thought it, didn’t you?” he said as he watched her in the mirror. “You wanted it to be you. You wanted it to be real," referring to the simulated sex on stage.

“yes,” she said.

“You wanted to spread your legs, and show everyone how wet I make you?”

She nodded. His strokes quickened.

“You wanted them to smell you and want you but know they can’t have it, because it’s all for me.”

“all for you-” she panted, rolling her hips. She was close.

“Then show me,” he said, and pulled out of her suddenly. She was confused. He stepped back, hands behind his back, his cock bobbing in the v of his unzipped pants.

“Huh?” she said. She could still feel the void he left inside her slowly closing.

“I want to know what you really want from me,” he said.

She pulled off her skirt and kicked it aside. He lay on the sofa, shirt open wide, bespoke pants wrinkled at his hips. He looked like a gift.

“Why’d you stop?” she said.

“Because I don’t want to guide your fantasies,” he said simply, and lowered his pants. He didn’t take them off, though. “I told you mine. I want to know yours.”

“Oh,” she said. This was the man who told her she was too slow for poetry.

“Come, pet,” he said softly. “I don’t have all night.”

She walked to him. Should she talk dirty? Maybe straddle him? Stroke him off? She thought of all the women he fucked. How could anything she did be different, or better?

He didn’t lose his patience. He waited, delighting in her expressions as she mulled it through. Good girls were delicious. The hesitation was the best part of the pleasure, something he could really savor, since he knew she would give in. He was irresistible. Without another word, she fell to her knees and pulled his legs off the sofa. She looked at him, then at his cock, still half-hard despite the wait. She stroked him with a fancy flick of the wrist, looking in his eyes and licking her lips, then took him into her mouth.

He moaned.

She bobbed her head hard, concentrating on opening her throat and moaning just right-

He held her head still. “No no no. Not this.”

She looked at him, hurt. Of course. She wasn’t experienced enough to give good head. Her expression betrayed her thoughts, and he gave her a warm smile.

“I’m not saying it doesn’t feel divine. Your mouth is delicious. But I don’t want you to do what you think I want you to do. I want you to do what you want. Do you understand me?” He caressed her blushing cheek with his thumb.

Still, she looked perplexed.

He sighed and bent to whisper in her ear. “I want you to devour me. Take me, knowing I’ll be into anything your imagination can conjure up, and more. Aren’t I fuckable?” he said with an earnestness that made something deep inside her wake. He lay back again and ran his finger down his tight belly. “Hmm?”

“Take off your clothes. All of it,” she said. He obeyed immediately. He looked childishly joyful. She loved his slim body. He wasn’t rippling with muscles, but still, he was tight. He kicked his expensive pants aside, and his butt flexed. It was a lovely bum, tight but not so tight the flesh wouldn’t dimple if she clawed it with passion-

“Lie on your stomach. Please,” she said quickly, still a bit insecure. She didn’t want to sound like she was barking orders. He did it quick, and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“I’m intrigued,” he said.

She knelt beside him and put her finger to his lips. “Shh. Don’t be cute.”

He bit her finger playfully, but remained silent. She caressed him, from the nape of his neck and down, tracing down the valley of his spine to his ass and back. Her eyes were soft, enjoying the sensation as much as him. Her lips followed her fingers, and she kissed where the rough fringe of his hair ended, licking discreetly until she reached the sweet little dimples right above his ass. She sighed, kissed each dimple, then rubbed her lips on the silky skin of his ass. He arched and sighed. It was glorious. He wasn’t making comments about how gay this was. Or asking her where it was going. That was new.

She caressed, squeezed at his tight flesh, then bit softly. Her mouth watered, and her hand dipped between his thighs and cupped his balls. Now, his breath hitched. She pulled one of his legs down, and he was half-kneeling on the floor, with her behind him. She waited for him to tense up, tell her this was some fruity shit, but instead, he offered his mouth to be kissed.

And she took it, but she didn’t kiss. She just licked, and his soft pink lips parted. She paused, then slid her tongue in his mouth. Again, not kissing, but tasting. The velvet friction of his lips and tongue against hers made her throb. He looked into her eyes and opened his mouth wider. His eyes weren’t full of mirth, or disgust, but a desire that made her flash heat.

As her hand moved between his thighs, gently tugging and caressing only his balls, she began to slide her tongue in and out of his mouth. She was aroused and her saliva wet the sides of his mouth and slicked his chin, but his eyelids drooped with lust, and his breaths were quick and hot in her mouth.

Still, she wasn’t kissing. His lips twitched around her tongue, then he sucked. She wrapped her hand around his cock and stroked, once, from base to tip, to gather up his precum in her palm.

She wanted him to be wet, and he was. Very wet.

And it was good. She jacked him off slowly, savoring the pulsing flesh in her hands and knowing soon she would finish him off inside her, but first, she wondered what else she craved. She felt like a child in a toy store. She sank her teeth softly into the back of his neck and rubbed herself against his hip. She was so horny her swollen lips sucked at his flesh. As she stroked, she humped harder. Instead of giggling, he moved with her and moaned. In this position his mouth was just out of reach, but it was still shining with her saliva, which he did not wipe off.

She stopped stroking. “Sit,” she said. His cock was really hard now, and little veins pulsed on his shaft. She stared hungrily at his sex, and not at his face, but still he smiled. She squeezed around the base, but she didn’t suck. She was curious. Her fist moved up until his foreskin engulfed the head of his cock, then she tugged at it, very softly.

He gasped.

Still she didn’t look up. She kept the skin taut over the crown of his cock and rubbed him quick and firm, her thumb pressed against the underside, right under the ridge.

He cursed.

Only then did her fist move down again, and she cooed when she saw the cloudy but abundant wetness slicking the tip of his cock. Her mouth was so near him he could feel her heat, but she didn’t taste.

“Give me just a little more. Show me you want me to suck it,” she said, and her fist pulsed at the base of his cock. Her eyes were almost closed with lust now. His hands were fists at his side. She wrapped her fingers around the base of his balls and caressed. Her breasts pressed against his thighs, their softness maddening.

A clear bead of precum began to form before her eyes. She purred and licked her lips. She ghosted her lips along his shaft, and finally looked at him.

He whimpered. That was it. The look he wanted to see, because it was unashamed. His hips bucked, and he hissed. Now she clicked her tongue.

“Not yet, honey.”

He closed his eyes, but he hissed harder as her mouth enveloped his balls. She wasn’t artful. It was sloppy, hot, and wet.  It wasn’t his cock, but that hungry, rooting mouth slurping at him was going to make him come harder than he had in months. And he wanted to. Fuck it, he would. Even if it pissed her off-

She stopped and sighed as his cock twitched hard in vain, dripping come. He was poised right at the edge, but he had not stumbled off.

“Fuck!” he said, and threw his head back and smiled. She wasn’t as thick as he thought. It was a beautiful realization.

She waited for him to stop twitching, then licked off the come, taking him into her mouth with a relish that made his toes curl. Again, she sucked him sloppily, groaning as she licked at his shaft, her fist still grasping firmly around the base of him. He stared at her, enthralled, lips parted and panting.

She was filthy. Not even a $10,000 whore had done the things she did - not all together, and not without being asked.

She stopped only to smear her saliva on the pulsing head of his cock.

“It’s pink as your lips,” she said, looking up at him. He couldn’t really form words. “So yummy,” she said, and rubbed her bottom lip against his oversensitive frenulum. He shivered violently. She giggled.

“I haven’t kissed your lips, but I can kiss you here,” she said. She made her tongue into a sharp little point and pressed it into his peel slit and moaned.

He grunted.

“You want me to kiss you, here?” she said, watching as a fresh bead of precum formed where her tongue had been.

He nodded.

“I’m a good girl, so it’s gonna be a straight kiss. No tongue,” she said. She licked her lips, formed them into a tight O and pressed them against the head of his cock. She moaned as she leaned into him - it felt soft as a cunt and twice as hot. She stroked him as she made out with his aching cock, her saliva-slick lips sliding on him, sucking, caressing. Her cheeks were mottled red, fuckably flushed, and her nipples were hot little pebbles rubbing against his thighs. He wondered how wet she was, whether she was dripping, and how swollen her clit was-

“I think I want to french kiss. What do you think?” she said. He whimpered. She used her tongue liberally now, and it flashed pink and wet on him as she slurped and moaned out her lust.

He wanted to paint her swollen lips. He saw it, clearly, pulsing and covering her fevered cheeks with come. He got goose pimples at the thought of release, but then he saw her disappointed face, since she wasn’t done with him.

Suddenly, she stopped again. He opened his eyes, and she was getting to her feet. To his absolute delight, she wasn’t just wet. Her thighs were messy with it, and it dripped from her nether lips in a crystal clear rivulet that made him bare his teeth, since now he could smell her.

“I saw that,” she said, and sat beside him. “Eat it.” It wasn’t a suggestion. He slid to the floor and pushed her legs up toward her chest. He took a deep breath and buried the whole bottom of his face in her. Her cuntlips were fat with her greedy lust, and they sucked at him as much as he sucked at her. His tongue rooted in her hot, slick flesh and he found her clit, then he sucked that, groaning harder than her. He was wet to his neck, and this was before the orgasm. How much more could she give after her first, or her second, or her third…?

Her hands were in his hair, pressing his face deeper into her. He flicked his tongue on her clit delicately, then slid it inside her. When he felt her deep body heat, sweat sheened his body. He remembered his cock.

“I don’t want teasing. Suck,” she said through gritted teeth. She spread wide and pressed her heels to his shoulder blades. He lick-sucked her swollen bud, starting slow to gauge her sensitivity, but she was beyond that. She ground into him, eyes closed, moaning. He could taste her orgasm, so he went all the way in, sucking hard and grunting into her flesh.

“You suck so good,” she said, rolling her hips into his face. “It’s what you’re good for. He knew it too.”

He paused to look at her. She gave him the most wanton grin. “Don’t stop.”

Just like that, she bewitched him. She saw.

“Come up here,” she said, patting the sofa. He sat beside her, and she moved him until he lay on the sofa with his head on the arm. She straddled him and caressed his sticky face.

“I think I like you best like this, when you’re quiet. You’re not trying so desperately to be clever.” Her thighs squeezed around his hips. He tugged at her nipples. She looked at him for signs of irritation or insecurity, but he was completely in the moment. His brown eyes were open, and full of possibilities. “Your silence is eloquent," she said, nuzzling his nose.

He darted forward to kiss her. She moved back. Now, his brow wrinkled.

“Is it that important?” she asked. It wasn’t a flippant question - she was curious. The fact is, he wanted to kiss her now. More than anything. He felt he might burst at the sensation of it. She was not who he thought she was, a rushed caricature of womanhood. She was a whole being, hot and panting in his arms, and he wanted to know more. Yet she preferred him silent. So, for now, kisses would have to do.

He nodded, caressing her hips. She was slick and throbbing against his cock. With a slow lift and twist of her hip, he slid inside her. He curled into her, and tried to kiss her again. She let her muscles push him out, then she lowered herself onto him again. His lip trembled.

“You want me to kiss you while I ride?” she asked. She wrapped her arm around his waist, pressing her breasts into his chest.

He nodded.

She traced his lips, still musky with her, then kissed him softly, close-mouthed. And he whimpered. A soft, sweet sound that came from the depths of him, since he shivered as he did it in a way that he hadn’t when he entered her.

It was the most beautiful thing ever.

“Aww, pet,” she said, and kissed him more deeply as she moved over him. It felt more like kissing with extras instead of fucking. They’d entered a strange little alternate reality where he wasn’t him and she wasn’t her. Although he was inside her, he arched and seemed to open up for her and it was delicious. She was surrounded by deepest warmth, and pleasure pulsed brighter and brighter in his gaze.

She closed her eyes and her lips were open and panting over his as she bounced on him, her belly still pressed against his, her breasts sliding on their shared sweat over his chest. It was … so good. He was tucked into her hollows like a shadow, completely hers. She knew it was evanescent, but it was everything. He was hers, and she could take what she wanted from him.

His mouth. His breath. His gaze. His body, taut and trembling - his cock. It was hers. For these moments, no one else existed. She could see it, and it filled her as good as his cock. Just her. Just them. Just now…

She bit into his freckled shoulder as she came, and he seemed to come alive beneath her, suddenly taking control. He moved to sitting, fisted his hands in her hair and fucked into her, his brows furrowed in agony as he watched her come, and come again on him, and for him. Her blind joy tripled his pleasure and now he came, a deep, rolling pleasure that made his eyes water, while she still sighed and bucked over him.

“By all the gods created by man,” he said finally, into her breasts. She chuckled and squeezed around his cock, which was still inside her.

“What?” she said, and stood. He lay back and shook his head slowly. She picked up her skirt, then looked at her bottom half. She was shellacked with saliva, come, and sweat. She dropped it and grabbed a wad of tissue. She sat on his chair, put her leg on the counter and dried herself, smiling a private smile. It looked like a Mary Cassatt painting that the artist never dared to share.

‘Woman cleaning herself after sex’

She was not self-conscious in the least. Her languid movements made him twitch again, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t want to disturb her Eventually, she threw the sodden tissues on the floor, and looked at him. He let her look, stretching his long, lean body for her delectation.

“You’re different,” she said. She put her leg down and picked up her skirt again. “Still.”

“I only get this docile after a good fuck,” he said, winking at her.

“Then it must not happen often, as you’re usually irritatingly energetic,” she said, trying not to smile.

He was taken aback, in a good way. “You’ve got a clever mouth all of a sudden,” he said, finally rising to dress. He stood by her and wiped himself off as well. She watched him, but she did not wax philosophical. She already wanted more.

“I’ve had it forever. You just didn’t give a damn before,” she said, her eyes lingering on the damp hair between his legs.

He looked down at her. “Touché,” he said, and laughed. He knew then they would be friends, and that’s more than he could say for most women, including his wife.

She rolled her eyes, then laughed with him.