"I did not have sexual relations with that woman."
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The first time Don Whittaker heard those infamous words was on January 26th, 1998, when then president Bill Clinton went on national television to deliver his verbal rejection of the notion that a...
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For the better half of that shower, I really did start to think that Carson and I were perhaps just going to only shower, especially given how long it took him before making his way up here...
But once we stepped outside of the shower, I very quickly realized, and even sooner learnt just how wrong I was.
He had started with touching me in a way I had been craving since the first time we tried it last weekend. With that tongue of his against my entrance, pushing slightly past it. But all that did was set my need ablaze, and with each stroke he gave my almost painfully hard dick, I found every last bit of my resolve just burn away.
Once that very same mouth and hand brought me past my orgasm however, I knew I was willing to beg for it tonight. To beg for him.
The way his voice sounded when he asked me if I wanted more, damn near almost made me cum again. At this point, I couldn't form words. I could barely even hear anything over the sound of my own heartbeat as it rang through my ears.
"With my fingers?" He had asked me with that voice, forcing immediate shivers through me. "O-Or something... something more?"
As I looked at him through this clearing mirror, my light eyes finding his rich green ones, the only word that conjured itself to my lips amidst this otherwise mush brain of mine, was "more," and the way Carson looked at me when I said that damn near made me forget my own name, let alone where the hell we were.
"O-Okay," He spoke unevenly, nodding against the back of my right shoulder. "L-Let me... let me stretch you out a little first."
And that just about sealed the deal. I officially had no control over any bit of my reaction to him. There wasn't a damn thing I would say no to now, especially not once I felt his finger slip inside me, curling against my tight, sensitive walls.
One of my hands was forced back to my mouth, while the other tried to hold myself steady against the counter. Carson worked my entrance with his left, while his right hand slipped from my waist back down to my cock. Every time he touched me, I thought there was no way in hell he could make me feel better than this... but then he added another digit, and not even my hand could mask the gritty moans that pushed past the wall of fingers.
I felt those fingers oh his start to separate once inside me, stretching the walls themselves out more, and Carson's kisses on my neck and shoulder got far more rougher than how they had started. "You're so fucking tight," He growled against the sensitive skin, almost flatlining this heart of mine.
And after a few more moments of working me with just those two digits, bringing upon myself that filling feeling, he added a third. The pace he kept as he stroked me was much slower than the first time I came tonight. He seemed to be... indulging in this. The way he looked at me when I caught his gaze again... It was like he was savoring every last bit of what he was doing to me. The sheer pleasure I felt from him and him alone.
