BC Ch. 04: Orla's Research

Orla gasped, and cried out, and pulled my head hard to her. Finally she noticed me, or her Fluffer. She slit her eyes to watch me eat her, strained her neck and yanked her lips wide as if to witness every wriggle of the famous Fluffer-tongue on her clit. A moan appeared to hum right from her bones, while her bones unhooked and left her legs flopped limp and wide. I slid a finger - one of Fluffer's cock-sized, dildo-fingers— into her, and her hole pulsed, as if sucking at it. Meanwhile I sucked her clit and motor-mouthed my tongue and she blustered a chain of "yes-yes-yes!" before shrieking so shrilly, seagulls took flight.

She puffed herself into a throaty cackle and pushed me away. She clamped her hands between her legs and then her legs over her hands. I sat back and watched her slink off her frothy climax. She rolled side to side on the rock laughing so hard she could hardly inhale.

"Oh my," she cooed, her hair all over her face like a cavegirl. "That was a—"

I grabbed her dress, pulled it off over her head and left her blinking and naked. I took her feet and spread her legs again.

Her eyes locked to my cock like it was gun, but her dilated pupils still sucked at it like hungry little mouths. I poised my tip at her entrance until she rocked at it, then I slid in to the hilt.

She grunted. Then glared at my shoulders, pecs and abs. No sneaky flutter-peeks now. She took in every detail because it was hers to take. She planted her feet flat to my chest and squeezed my arms, dug her nails into my pumping ass. She tested every hard inch of her larger-than-life fucktoy, studied its glistening piston impaling her.

"Show me..." she panted. "Show me your c-cum..." And as the porno words left her lips, she curled into me, wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips and squeaked into the hollow under my jaw. Her hole fluttered. Clamped. And she howled.

I rammed on, wobbling her ragged, guttural curses as she quaked in my arms. I bound her tight to me, as if to force her through my skin, break the barrier between us, and find the union I'd shared with Fleur. But this was a different place. This universe had reduced itself to a deep and simple shove for her pleasure. Each thrust huffing another of her hot expletives into my ear.

Then a familiar, irrepressible pulse welled up behind my balls. I locked solid. Rumbled.

"Yes! Do it, do it!" Orla unfurled from me and, still shuddering, tipped her hips off my cock.

Just in time. She clutched my dripping balls and squeezed them like a hidden switch, and I roared and exploded. I erupted a single blast of cum all the way up to her tits, splattering her belly and mound. Quick jets followed, pumping over her vulva, splashing her clitoris, coating it in slippery heat. Orla gawped and trembled and jerked as I rubbed her super-lubed nub with my equally slippery cock.

I stirred my bulb at her bits, while she dreamily skated her fingers around in my cum, sliding spirals down to her almost liquid clit. Every few breaths she whimpered and shook, then slowly calmed.

I left her to her messy play and went to the sea to wash. The water slopped around my hot body and cooled me right to my soul. I had cum, a lot, but hadn't orgasmed. I thought of Fleur, how we'd connected inside long before we fucked. I thought of Mme Jolie, how she'd regarded me, and herself even, as a thing.

I figured I shouldn't blame Orla for objectifying me. Christ, men had objectified women since the first tits were daubed on the wall of a cave. And I objectified myself, constantly posing for her. And I ogled her body, but when had I ever told her how I felt? Or asked her how she felt?

I decided, then. I would go back to her. Kiss her. Cuddle a little. And talk.

When I returned Orla was snoring.

And she'd wiped herself clean with my t-shirt.