All credit goes to assholecashtons
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Total sensory deprivation.
Well, almost, at least.
A thick, black cloth tied around your eyes. Wrists twined together, legs spread wide. Sounds are muffled but your mouth is free, lips swollen and parted. Every single nerve ending you've got in your body is electrified, every single hair standing on end.
The air in the room is thick, so incredibly, impossibly thick; your breath is leaving you in harsh pants. The faint buzzing between your legs has never seemed so loud and it's not helping the heaving of your chest or the drum of your heart.
You're squirming, desperately trying and failing to clench your thighs together. Frantic, you're trying to chase the slow unravel that you can feel just teetering on the edge, orgasm denied as the toy stops buzzing. A string of color curses leave your lips in a breathless, frenzied mumble and beyond the haze, you can vaguely hear the door to the bedroom open.
It's the loud squeak of the door that breaks through the haze of your denied euphoria and your head swings to the side, trying to find the person behind all this. With your cheek smooshed against the bed, your eyes flutter underneath the blindfold. And when there's the press of thick fingers against your cheek, they direct your head upwards and slip the fabric over your head.
Above you stands Michael. He's dressed in his standard black denim, chest bare. His eyes were dark; green the same shade as fir trees blanketed in moonlight. They spoke of his intelligence, his passion and all the different qualities not revealed by his dorky, guitar god persona. Right now though, they just looked...predatory, like a lion stalking it's prey.
The tips of his fingers press against your cheekbones, thumb against your jaw. He's tilting your head up and then back, forcing your eyes to finally settle on his face. Michael's grin displays his amusement, "Mmm...you're probably going insane." His moves, climbing onto the bed and moving to place a leg on either side of your torso. He hovers over you, hand leaving your jaw to drag his calloused fingertips down; down the column of your throat, tracing the curves of your collarbones, down between valley of your breasts, slowly down the soft skin of your stomach, down, down, down.
You whine at the feather-light touch over the wet fabric of your panties; there's almost no pressure, but the weight of his thick fingers are there. You can feel them. Michael's thumb moves from your jaw, swiping over the fullness of your swollen bottom lip before he encourages it past the part of your lips, "You need to cum, baby girl? Don't ya?" The pad of his thumb presses down, a silent encouragement for you to get to work. You tilt your head up, teeth skimming over the skin before you close your lips around it.
His other hand still loiters just above your clothed mound, and despite being tied down, you can't help to last ditch effort in the thrust of your hips. You're whining around his thumb, eyes wide when, oh, finally, his hand makes contact.
"Someone's very wet for me." Michael purrs, fingers plucking at the lace band of your panties before they slip underneath. His grin is still very much in place as he watches your back arch in time with the slide of his fingers. The curl to your toes is verging on painful with the weight of his hand cupping the entirety of you, calloused fingers gliding down until the tips press just at your entrance. "My sweet, sweet girl. You're so ready to be fucked."
You're whimpering around his thumb when Michael's fingers, at long last, hook into you. His thick digits slide right in, suctioned forward by the tightness of your walls and the slick that soaks them. "Shh, shh...you'll get to cum." His words echoed by a harsh press against your swollen walls, thumb reaching up to circle around your swollen clit. Michael's fingers curl, buried into you to the last knuckle.
Oh, oh, oh. There's the ball forming, oh God, please. Your stomach clenches, walls fluttering around Michael's fingers that scissor inside you. "Please, please, plea-no!" Your voice cracks around the pad of his thumb, hitting a higher octave when Michael snatches his fingers from inside you.
Michael looks down at you with an eyebrow raised, "What was that?" His voice takes on it's authoritative edge, hitting a new low. "No talking. You know the rules."
You're shaking, feeling that orgasm slip away because of your stupid mouth. You have to work to swallow, throat dry and a massive lump formed. The muscles in your calves flex, then lock. Michael chuckles, "Guess you won't get to cum after all." One harsh slap to your clit and your eyes widen, so desperate.
Michael sits up and leans over to the nightstand, rifling around in the drawer. He's smirking when he pulls out a tiny little bullet. Your chest hitches with your breath as his slips it beneath your panties, deliberately laying it over your clit. A little wire trails out from under the band; you can't help squirming around in anticipation.
He huffs out a laugh, "Remember," and with a jump, the vibration start. They rattle through you and every single part of your body locks. The denial of your orgasm has gone on too long, desperate pleasure mixing with a dull throb. "You could have cum if you didn't break the rules." He hums, eyes wide and thumb weighing down the little bullet directly on your clit. You can't even find it in you to shriek in disappointment when the vibrations stop but the weight stays right where it is. "Now we're gonna see how long you last before I sink into that sweet, little pussy of yours."
He's expelling heat over every single part of you and it's driving you insane. "Think you can keep quiet for me this time?" He husks, wet thumb sliding from between your lips to trail a damn path down your exposed skin. His thumb pauses for a second on the hollow of your throat, hesitating for a split second before Michael makes up his mind and continues to drag it down to your bare thigh.
Michael grins, "'M gonna untie your legs. That sound good to you, baby?" He trails the tips of his fingers down your thighs with obvious care, waiting for your head to bob in agreement. His nails work to pluck at the expertly tied knots around your ankles until they're free, moving to massage the slightly irritated skin until you're humming in contentment. He takes the time to unzip his pants, depositing them and his briefs in a heap on the floor.
He's back to hovering over you and Michael sinks down, your legs already parted to accommodate him. Michael's fingers are fiddling with the lace edge of your panties when. You're watching as his lips tilt into a smirk, body jerking when the vibrations of the bullet rock through you without any warning. You have to bite your lip, but the whines that leave your throat are still audible.
His hands are nudging your panties down your thighs. The removal of the fabric knocks the vibrating bullet out of place, your head tossing to the side to bite at the pillow beneath you in disappointment. Michael grins, one hand reaching down to coil around the meat of your thigh and tossing it over his shoulder.
His grin falls though, when he finally gets a good look at you. You're wet and glistening underneath him and he can't help but groaning a quick, "Fucking hell." under his breath before he dives right in. Michael's face is buried between your thighs, tongue flat and licking thick swipes up and down your slit. He can't help himself, moaning into the slick of you and each vibration sending sparks into your oversensitive clit.
The upward thrust of your hips is uncontrollable, unintentional. But it sends your clit knocking against Michael's nose and mumbled nonsensical babbles to fall from your lips. Michael takes it in stride, sliding his warm, moist mouth up to suction his swollen lips around your engorged clit.
You're tugging on the ropes that bind your wrists; all you want to do is slide your hands into his head of hair beneath you and tug at the ropes. You're going insane.
Michael lets your clit slide from between his lips, "Wanna hear you, baby. Tell me how bad you want to cum." He speaks against you, head tipped to the side and lips pressed to the soft skin on the inside of your thigh. His teeth nip there, sucking the delicate skin there until it's a mottled bruise.
Your head bobs, throat working to swallow, "Please Mike, please." He's fast, diving back in and shaking his head side to side to really get close to you. "Fuck!" He's back to sucking on your clit, teeth dragging over it and tongue flicking over the sparking nerves until you're practically shaking underneath his ministrations. You're seconds from screaming, seconds from tumbling over that edge,–ah, ah, ah–no!
If you weren't shaking before, you are now; arms yanking at the bindings and desperate for a release and every nerve on fire.
"You want me to fuck you, sweet girl?" He asks, sitting up and back on his legs, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip to collect any liquid left there as his fingers reach down and spread you open. You're simultaneously boneless and tense, head rocking in some semblance of a nod. Michael's pierced eyebrow quirks up at you, "Tell me."
His green eyes aren't focused on your slack-jawed expression, focused instead on the way your walls spread open with the dip of his finger. Michael groans, pulling his finger out to add another. The thick digits sink into down to the last knuckle, thumb easily sliding up to apply pressure to your clit. "Yes, yes..." His free hand curls around your ankle, forcing you to bend your leg at the knee, foot planted on the bed. "Mike, please...baby please."
"Yeah, that's it." He growls, fingers speeding up and pistoning in and out of you. Your eyelids fall shut and clench, the wet sounds his fingers produce with their movement just heightens everything. "My good girl needs to cum." Your walls are fluttering around his fingers, impossibly tight around the digits, almost like they're trying to suction them deeper into you. The pads of his calloused finger pound against that swollen spot deep inside, thumb skimming over your mess of a clit. "You'll get to come." His chuckle is dark, liking the way you whimper when his fingers slip from you. He folds himself over, lips slanting against yours and tongue licking its way into your mouth. "As soon as I'm buried in that tight little pussy."
Your chest is heaving, stars slipping away from the back of your eyelids. You don't even notice the bindings fall from your wrists until Michael's hands around your backside are pulling you into his lab. His cock is hard, red and flushed and leaking at the tip when he gets his hand around it, nudging it downward so that the swollen tip runs through your soaked folds. "Mike, please. Need to cum." You babble at the slightest contact, "Need you to make me cum s' bad." Your words are slurred.
The sound of your slurred, pleading speech has Michael's eyebrows furrowing together, lips pinched into a frown as the crowned head of his cock hooked just at the entrance to your pussy. "Are you ready? Do you think you can take me? He asks softly, watching for your consent, for your go ahead.
There's already the burn of the oncoming stretch, his grip around your thighs tightening in apprehension while he waits for you to gain your bearings. You swallow and meet his gaze head on, giving him a mumbled but verbal affirmative paired with a shakey but reassuring smile.
With the go ahead given, Michael drags you up on his thighs again, up and up and up, until your lower back is flush to the skin of his thighs, your legs draped on either side of his hips. The movement causes him to, oh God, finally sink into you.
Michael's hands slide up your thighs, fingers curling tightly around your hips. Your spine arches, naked chest heaving into the air. His hips buck up into you, pressure hard and pace fast. Every single ridge and bump and vein of his cock is pronounced, grinding against your walls and dragging against every nerve.
Oh, oh, oh, he's actually going to let you cum this time. And the moan that leaves your throat is loud, calloused thumb of his right hand sliding onto your clit.
The ball in your stomach is forming, stomach muscles clenching, walls violently fluttering with his ever push and pull, every drag and grind. Michael can feel every motion, his hips sliding to a stop and a sly grin pulling at his lips as you squirm and twitch underneath him. "Mike, please, make me cum!"
His hands reach for you, curling around your shoulders to pull you up. Quickly, he presses his lips to yours, teeth tugging your bottom lip between his and sucking the thin flesh into his mouth. One hand wraps around your neck, thumb pressing to the hollow of your throat and fingers tilting your jaw up so he can slick his tongue into your mouth. "I got you, baby, I got you."
He's still fully seated inside you, cock twitching at the feeling of your warm, wet walls around him. "Want to feel you cum while you ride me." A hand slips to your chest, fingers finding a peaked nipple and rolling it between the tips. "Think you can do that for me, baby girl?"
Your jaw is slack as he tugs at your nipple but you still manage to nod. You whine when he slips from inside you, quickly scrambling over him when he lays back onto the bed. You're settling on his hips, holding yourself just above his hard cock as he reaches for it, slapping the tip against your soaked folds. Your patience is gone, desperation clawing at your insides that you just sink down onto him. Your lips part open in a breathless gasp, a little 'O' that has Michael swearing underneath you at the sight.
One tattooed hand slithers up your naked torso, fingers heading up to grope and knead at your breast, letting the sensitive nipple harden under the grind of his palm. Michael's hips buck up, not even giving you time to adjust. He's letting you know that he wants you to move.
And you're riding him like it's all you were born to do, chasing after the explosive orgasm that's been denied to you all night. Michael's long and thick, his girth stretching your walls with a delicious burn and stretch.
The flick of your hips is fast, and it's actually got Michael's groaning under you. His fingernails bite into the skin of your ass, his own hips thrusting upwards to let his cock spear into you. You have to lean forward, have to brace your hands on his soft shoulders when he growls at you, one hand leaving your ass to curl around your jaw. "My perfect, dirty, girl." His thumb presses against the purse of your lips, index finger against the bone in your cheek. "You're so good at riding me."
Thighs burning, you're taking him in deep and long pulls; rolling your hips let's the mushroomed tip of him nudge that swollen spot inside of you, thickness of his cock tugging at your walls with every slight movement.
Your knees are weak, muscles spasming when Michael's hand curls around the back of your neck, his fingers weaving through your hair. Abruptly, he sits up, his other arm coming to wrap around your waist and pull him flush to him. The hand he's got in your hair doesn't even need to tug for your head to tilt back–the new depth had a whispered scream falling from between your lips.
"So good at taking my cock, yeah?" It's growled against the skin of shoulder just before Michael's teeth biting down on it, tongue following to sweep over the indents.
His thrusts are shallow, but he's still buried to the hilt inside of you, so each thrust is deeper than the last. Michael's name is a mantra that falls continuously from your lips. You're so sensitive, yearning for the orgasm that's been denied all night, that the rocking motions of your hips are faltering; they're desperate and hurried and only serve to frustrate you as that elusive orgasm seems determined to slip away for the last time.
You're panting, chest heaving. Michael pulls his head up to mesh your lips with his, his tongue sliding against your bottom lip. Everything in you clenches when Michael starts increasing the force of his thrusts. Your body seizes when the newfound force sends you rocking, and you can't help but cry out as the head of his cock spears that spot, just right.
"Mmm..." Michael mumbles against your lips, one hand dropping to slither between your bodies. You're dripping when his fingers find your pussy, tips easily picking up anything you're leaking so his calloused fingers can work your swollen clit. "Been such a good girl all night."
All you can hear is the slap of skin, Michael's balls strung tight when his hips stutter and even his thrusts start to grow desperate. He sponges hot, open mouthed kissed down your jaw that send you reeling, each rock of his fingers jolting your insides. "Cum for me, princess. You deserve it."
Oh god.
Oh god.
Oh god!
When your mouth opens to scream, Michael's there to swallow the sound with a moan of approval, his hips still working despite the way your walls flutter then clench down on him. He swears into your lips, fingers still nudging at your clit to ride the orgasm out.
And you do, until you're boneless and slumped over, jaw slacked and cheek smooshed to his shoulder as he chases his own release. You're still seeing stars, bolts of lightning shooting down your spine and feeling in your toes gone. It's a few seconds later when he grunts, hips stilling as Michael spills inside of you.
Neither of you move for a couple beats until Michael's hand smooths over the tangled chaos of your hair. You swallow when his hand cups the back of your head so that he can turn it towards his own, his chapped and swollen lips brushing delicately over yours. There's not one ounce of force behind the action; it's caring and reassuring.
"You okay, princess?" Michael's voice is still low when he whispers in your ear, moving to press his lips against your temple. He continues this pattern, pressing little pecks all over the skin of your face. "Wasn't too rough, was I?"
You can't help the small upward pull of your lips, your eyes easily finding his. "No, I'm okay." You assure him, even if your body still feels a lot like jelly in the moment. He's a different kind of warm beneath you, kind of like sitting near a fire on a cold night, kind of like being wrapped in your favorite blanket. "Definitely okay."
