It’s the third night in a row.
My left wrist is tied to the bed frame. “Please don’t tie my other one. I promise I won’t move it,” I plead. And I don’t.
His tongue shoves between my labia. Stubbly, now. No different than his beard. Almost violent licking and sucking.
“Taste yourself.” He rubs his face on mine.
His collarbone is pronounced in his position and in this light. His shoulder looks stronger, more powerful.
His movements are purposeful. Not calculated, not yet. But he knows what he wants.
The first orgasm spreads over me, all over my entire body.
My legs are trembling as he bends down to relentlessly assault my nipples. Only, I tacitly agree to the onslaught. His massive cock unceasing in its goal.
There’s the second one.
He’s shoving himself in my face now. I lick and suck and writhe. Once more he moves back down to fuck me.
The third is a surprise.
Back up to straddle my chest, to drill into my open mouth, to stretch my aching jaw to the limit.
He grabs my hand, placing it on his cock. Very soon after, my chest and neck are covered. “For the third night in a row, that’s a lot.” I clean up using his pajama pants.
My wrist is freed from the rope. I loose the other one from the invisible bond I’d placed on it.
This night, there’s not much after-talking. Just the comfort of knowing we’re getting it right, once more again.
