Addiction

Addiction

Sometimes I wonder if he realizes how much I like to drink him in with my eyes. I don't know what it is exactly, but there's something about him that's sexier than any other man I've met. His pheromones are like drugs; just physically being around him and smelling his nice, clean, boy smell is the most intoxicating thing in the world. It's as though Ecstasy was derived from the heady pleasure that I experience around him. It lights a hunger in me that I've never experienced before. Desire I've known, but this is something different. My body needs him.

And that need intensifies. He's walking in front of me; at first he was next to me and I could see the silhouette of his massive cock bulging out in the jeans he wears that I love. Then I slowed my gait a little bit so I could look at his legs and butt and watch the muscles in his strong arms tense and relax with every hand motion. There's a quiet power in him that's evident in every move. It's not flashy, which is good as I hate flashy, but it's equally obvious. There's a sureness and confidence with the way he moves that draws my attention. He has the same energy when he touches me and it drives me wild. I know I'm in good hands and he knows how good they are.

He catches me lagging behind and slows down so I can catch up. I pretend to complain and say, "Hey, I was checking out your butt and you ruined it."

He turns and looks around the parking lot to see if anyone else is nearby. It was crowded when we got here so we had to park way in a weird corner, but we stayed too long and now it's largely abandoned. He reaches out a hand and grabs my breast. Whenever he touches me, my body lights up like a Christmas tree. He notices it. Of course he does; he notices everything. It's as though desire and lust are his native language with how fluent he is in understanding what my body craves. I wonder if he knows how much restraint it takes me not to grab him and push my skirt up against his jeans and beg him to fuck me right then and there every time I'm around him.

"You have goosebumps," he teases. "Are you cold?" We both know I am, but that's not why I have them.

"You'll have to warm me up and see if they're still there," is what I say. What I mean is, it feels like there's an entire world hidden under a layer of ice in my skin and when you touch me, it feels like that ice melts and that world of pleasure explodes in every nerve and my body. Please touch me.

But he likes to make me suffer. I wonder if he'd like it as much if he knew that every second he's not inside of me is already torture. He'd probably like it more. So he pulls his hand away and says, "We'll get you warmed up under the blankets back at my place."

In a hurry to get back to his place, I sped up my gait and approach his car door. I turn my head over my shoulder and whine, "Do we HAVE to wait until we get back to your place?"

Suddenly, I feel his presence at my back. The weight of his energy, the warmth of his breath, and his sexy, sexy smell all hit me at once. "No," he growls in a whisper in my ear. A strong hand grabs me around my waist and pulls me to him. The sensation of his body against mine is almost more than I can bear. I let out an mm and start to relax against him, when his grip changes and then he's moving me from by the passenger side to the backseat.

I'm surprised and thrilled. He never does anything like this; sometimes I stop and admire how arousing it is that he can act perfectly like calm then once the elevator doors close, he whips me up into a horny frenzy then he can go back to totally calm. But I love being driven mad with desire, especially when the satisfaction of that desire is as good as it is with him. I bite my lip to stop from grinning as I feel his hands moving at my waist.

He has me half in the car; he sort of tossed me in so that my legs are on the ground while I'm bent over with my hands on the seat in front of me. My heart is pounding, exhilarated. I can practically see the sparks from the fire he ignites on my skin as he runs his hands under my shirt, then pushes all of his weight against me with his hand gripping and kneading my left breast. His face is buried in the back of my neck, just staying there. He doesn't even have to do anything; simply feeling his skin and breath on me is more foreplay than I ever need. I love having the full weight of him against me because each part of me lights up under his touch and in those moments, I feel free and at peace. Part of me wants this moment to last forever, but I know the best part is what comes next.

His hand lets go of its grip and quickly travels to my skirt. His hands roam over my ass, feeling it underneath the fabric. He yanks up the hem of it, hiking it over my hips. One hand strikes me with a spank. I jerk a little at the surprise of the sensation and moan softly. He knows I love it when he's rough with me but doesn't do it nearly as often as I'd like. Part of me wants to beg him for more spanks, but the rest of me knows that won't do any good. He knows that he completely controls me because of my desire. This is his game and if I want to play, it's by his rules. There will be enough begging later once he starts fucking me.

I reach a hand behind me to stroke his thick cock through his jeans. He grabs it, then the other wrist, and pins my arms over my head. Feeling his strength sends chills of pleasure through my body. To say "pins" isn't entirely accurate because I'm not fighting this at all. I love feeling him dominate me. My desire for him is so strong that I have the urge to be totally consumed by him. When he's inside me, it's not enough; I want him fucking me so hard and deep he splits me in half. I want his hands on me with such pressure there's no difference between his flesh and mine, all I can feel is him. There's none of my left, only this, only this moment, this lust. Sex with him is destruction of the ego in physical form. This is my religion, my nirvana. Bless me father for I have sinned. Anoint me, Get me down on my knees and have me take communion. Consecrate his body.

I have sinned. "Did I say you could touch me?" that commanding tone says in my ear. His voice, like everything else about him, drives me wild.

"No, Sir," I reply. It's torture not touching him. It's as though I have restless hand syndrome; my fingers itch to explore every inch of his body. It's his game, his rules, but it takes fighting every instinct I have to obey them. I'm frenzied, frothing at the mouth, begging to be let off my leash.

"If you're not going to obey your master, I can take you home right now."

"NO!" I cry out, with a ferocity that surprises even me. The need for him is the only thing in the world right now. I feel like I'm going to die if he's not inside me soon.

He takes a hand off me, but I can still feel the warmth of his touch on my bare skin as it hovers over me. Time stretches into an eternity in those few seconds as I wait for him to do whatever he's going to do next. Suddenly, a hand gathers up my hair in a tight fist and I'm being yanked back, Teeth sink into my neck. Tingles explode from the top of my head to the base of the spine and I wonder if this is how the legend of sexy vampires came about. He can bite me, scratch me, drain my blood, consume me, tear me apart, as long as he doesn't stop touching me I don't care what he does. I don't care. The addiction is too strong, the desire too great. I just need need need. Please. Give it to me.

He reads my mind, as he always does. The night magic is his area of his expertise; this is his domain and I'm merely an extra in this world of passion. When the light catches his eyes, a pale amber emanates from them. I picture thousands of years of the secrets of sex frozen in time in that amber, a whole library of knowledge he traveled the world and through time to discover. It's hard not to turn him into some sort of mythological creature when the only word that fits to describe how amazing he feels is "unreal". It's not from this earth.

He starts to take off his jeans. I barely hear the zipper over the sound of my heart beating excitedly in my ears. This isn't a striptease; it's an animal disrobing out of necessity. There's an urgency in the way he yanks them down just enough to expose that perfect cock and nothing else. His hands steady my hips and he starts to press against me. My only complaint about this position is I can't see him. I love watching his massive cock as it's about to enter me; it's so thick when I look at it, my brain thinks that it can't possibly fit. But of course it always does, and that initial stretch is the best feeling in the world. I feel complete.

He finally slides into me. Slowly, always slowly. By the time we start, I'm always so worked up I want him to jam it in me and pound me into oblivion. But he's about restraint. His huge, thick, perfect cock glides over each ridge and nerve ending, filling me, until he reaches that spot deep inside of me that we've come to think of as his. When he hits it, it's as though there's a thin barrier inside of me barely containing an unending wave of ecstasy. Every time he thrusts, he hits that barrier until it crumbles and my body is wracked with spasms of the most intense orgasms I've ever had in my life. The pleasure is so inhumanly good that sometimes my body cries out on his out strokes because I can't stand not having him completely inside of me.

I'm filled with relief. I've been needing him so badly I can't function because all I can think about is this. His thick cock thrusts into me, each movement hitting his spot inside of me. My body twitches every time he hits it, like each time it's a small taste of an orgasm. "Fuck, you have the best dick I've ever felt," I let out in a low moan. And I mean it. When I think of trying to fuck other men, I lose interest even in fantasy because I know no one else will give me goosebumps like he does, they won't fuck me as good as he does, it'll just be disappointing in comparison. Everything about it is perfect. It's like his size and shape was custom made for me, he lasts hours, and he's the most intuitive lover I've ever had. He knows what I want even when I don't. He's ruined me for other men.

He stops in me and gathers my hair in his fist and yanks me back toward him with it. "Say that again."

"You have the best dick I've ever felt."

"Tell me how much you love my cock." It kills me when he stops, even for a second.

"I fucking love your cock. It tastes amazing, it feels amazing, and I need it. Now. Please don't stop."

He pulls my hair a little harder for a moment, then lets go and starts fucking me harder and faster. I can't help but cry out in pleasure. He has to cover my mouth with his hand. I've forgotten that we're in a parking lot, not alone. I forget everything when he's naked.

He gets me close to cumming quickly. Sometimes I think he could in that first thrust alone. I want to reach around and play with his balls while he's pounding into me, but I need both hands to support my weight otherwise I'd collapse under the pleasure of how unbelievable he feels.

He can hear my breathing change. He delivers a few more thrusts then abruptly stops and pulls out. I turn around, and he's standing up, zipping up his jeans. He says, "Alright, time to get going."

I don't mean to but a frustrated sigh escapes from my mouth. I try to be obedient but it's difficult when I'm aching for him this much. "Yes, Sir." I start to fix my clothing as well.

He looks at me with a mischievous grin. "Oh, did you want to cum?"

I bite my lip and nod.

He pushes me down onto my back on the seat. A thrill runs up and down my spine. This time is more hurried. He quickly unzips again and yanks my skirt up in seemingly one motion, then he's back inside me. I start to wrap my legs around him. I'm close. I start to move my arms around him and he pins them over my head. I wanted every inch of him as deep in me as possible and his whole body overpowering me but him pinning me is just as sexy and it does me in.

As soon as he does that, I feel it coming and beg, "Please don't stop. I'm right there."

He's such a good master. This time he doesn't tease me. He keeps delivering those perfect thrusts that glide the head of his magic cock over his spot deep inside me, the spot that gives me pleasure like I've never felt before. The orgasms he gives me are so intense I can tell when they're coming because my face and hands start to go numb. He leaves me paralyzed with pleasure.

As my body begins to be wracked with spasms of ecstasy. I feel him start to twitch inside of me. Feeling him cum immediately brings the pleasure from a 10 to a 20; it's as though my body feels his orgasm and mine at the same time. I love feeling him slowly drip out of me over the rest of the day; each time is a little reminder of our last fuck.

I prefer it when he stays in me and I can feel every twitch and have him grow soft in me, but this isn't the time or the place. He pulls out then pulls me up, forcing my face to his cock wordlessly. I love cleaning him up after.

"Thank me for letting you cum," he orders.

"Thank you, Sir. I needed that, badly."

"We'll discuss how you can make it up to me while you lick me on the ride home," he says. I grin excitedly, eager for round two.