Rosie Labrun is a lot of things: a college student on the cusp of graduation; an intern for the Portland Pirates, a romance novel connoisseur; and the most recent addition to her resume...the girlfriend of a professional athlete.
She won't let it d...
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"I'm gonna get a condom." Erik announces, biting his lip as his eyes scour every inch of my naked body. This being shortly after having received my second orgasm of the night; and foreshadowing the activities that I suspect will be taking place when I receive my third.
He turns onto his side, opening the top drawer of his nightstand and pulling out a box of condoms, our box of condoms. A jumbo pack that we've been satanically using up since they were purchased, a mere two weeks ago. There were thirty-six in there to begin with and I think we're down to the last few.
One might wonder, why are you using condoms when you're already pregnant? I've wondered the same thing, but haven't had the lady balls to ask him about it. Maybe he assumes that I have some deadly STD that's only being kept away by a thin layer of latex. Maybe he's unsure if I'm okay without using condoms and doesn't want to pressure me.
Or maybe he has the sixth grader's knowledge of the female anatomy, and thinks if he bares his Johnson inside me - sans glove, that we'll have a pending pregnancy to deal with as soon as this one's done.
"Mhm. I can't wait to be inside you." He muses, turning back to give me a nice, long kiss that leaves the space in-between my legs, aching for more. How many orgasms can a person physically have in one session? Well, I can tell you from past experiences that it's more than two. Or three. Or four.
The sound of aluminum foil ripping brings me back to the present moment and away from thinking about that time, a few weeks into our relationship, when he came back from a road trip and we made passionate love...for about two days straight. Don't judge me, okay? It was Thanksgiving and there was nothing to do. Yeah, let's go with that.
"Do you think we should use lube?" He asks, his eyebrows raising with amusement when he reaches over and puts his hand in-between my legs. It's a question we both know the answer to, but he likes to probe. And I do mean with both his questions and by putting his fingers in my vagina.
I look at him, not being able to conjure up a comeback when my brain is filled with I want you inside me hormones. A playful smile breaks across his face, his lips tugging with amusement before returning to my own. If someone asked me, I would say that his mouth belongs on mine.
"Want me to put it on you?" I ask him, finally being able to come up with something reminiscent of a witty response. To be clear, I would have no issue with it if he wanted me to - now that I've done it a couple times. But the main reason I ask it, is because I can tell by his face that he's about five minutes away from coming and me touching his dick would just propel that into hyper speed.
He gives me a look, creasing his eyebrows together like he might just come from the thought alone. "I'd rather be inside you." He answers, responding to my witty comeback with one filled with passion and lust. His voice is low and deep and so husky that it drains all humor from the situation; replacing it with an intense desire that even a robot could feel.
