Dance in the Rain

"Ohhhh... Honey. Ah, Irena, that feels so good!"

I grinned around Bobby's penis. I knew I was good at blow jobs. It had taken a while to learn how to deep throat, but it was something I'd worked hard on to please my ex-fiancé. But I was not thinking about him now, I told myself firmly. This was for Bobby.

"Oh, slow down honey, I want to enjoy this a while!" Bobby said urgently.

I stopped moving, stopped swallowing, stopped playing with his balls. Bobby deserved for this to last. When I felt him relax, I started moving again. His penis felt so good in my mouth. This was much better than the French toast I'd ordered.

"Irena... Irena, oh honey. I'm so close..."

I regretted not asking him first if he wanted me to swallow or if he wanted to cum on me. It was too late to ask now. I'd have to be sure to check before the next blow job.

But, knowing Bobby, he'd probably ask what I wanted. What did I want? I imagined his cum spurting down my throat. I might not even taste it that way. I could pull back and let him come in my mouth? But what if he didn't taste good? I didn't want to make an unconscious expression of disgust and turn him off.

I imagined pulling out all the way and letting him cum on my face, or my breasts. That thought sent a pulse of heat through my groin. That's what I wanted. But would Bobby think it was too degrading? Would he think I was weak and pitiful if I enjoyed that?

"I'm coming," Bobby gasped.

I had a second to choose. Bobby pulled away from me, taking his dick out of my mouth. But wasn't I going to be the one who chose? Feeling a strange combination of relief at not having to decide and disappointment that Bobby had chosen for me, I let his penis pop out of my mouth.

I closed my eyes, anticipating the warm spurt of hot semen on my face. My pussy clenched in aroused anticipation. But it didn't come. I opened my eyes to see that Bobby had caught his cum in his hand, to protect me from the spurt.

"I wanted that on my face." I said, then froze. Had I really just said that out loud? I flinched, expecting irritation or anger at my unintended rebuke.

Bobby took my chin in his clean hand and knelt down in front of me. He looked me in the eyes, calm as ever.

"If you want me to cum on your face, then I will. Next time."

I shivered at the promise.

"Thank you." I said.

Bobby kissed me, a firm passionate kiss.

"Thank you, Irena. You are a wonderful cocksucker."

I smiled, feeling proud. Bobby stood and reached down to help me to my feet. Then he washed the cum off his hand and cleaned what remained off his penis.

"What are we having for breakfast?" He asked.

"French toast."

"Mmmm... I can't wait to taste that on your lips."

When Bobby left to go train, I took a shower. One of the best things about hotels, I thought as I washed, was that the hot water never ran out. I had brought a razor from home, and I considered shaving my pussy hair. I wondered what Bobby would prefer.

He'd want me to do what I want, wouldn't he? I wondered what I preferred.

I felt at the short hairs on my pelvis. I thought they felt nice. A little prickly which made the feeling of rubbing my hand over myself more intense. I thought of Bobby and his passion for my pussy the night before. I wanted to keep my hair like this, I decided. This was Bobby's pussy, not my ex's bald preference. I would find a way to keep it just this length, I was sure there were razors that could do it.

The whole room was hot and humid by the time I got out of the shower. I laid on the bed naked and enjoyed drying slowly. I couldn't stop thinking about how Bobby's tongue had felt on my clit, in my vagina.

I pushed two fingers into the top of my slit, seeking out my clitoris. I rubbed back and forth over it, urgently. I arched my back and grabbed a nipple, pinching it.

I didn't have to be quiet or still, I reminded myself. I was a free woman now, and if I wanted to writhe and moan as I masturbated, I could. I imagined Bobby's head between my legs as I massaged around my clit in little circles.

"Bobby, please!" I cried as I came. And a little spurt of liquid shot out. That had never happened when I masturbated before. What had Bobby done to me, to my body, that this had started happening to me?

I remembered how excited it had made him, when that bit of liquid had come out of me. Well, if it made him that happy, it couldn't be a bad thing, right?

I washed my hands then picked up my phone and googled "squirting". A bunch of articles on female ejaculation appeared. How had I never known this was a thing before? I scrolled over to the pictures.

Oh wow. Those women had a lot more come out of them than I had. Now I wondered if Bobby was disappointed that there was so little, when just ten minutes ago I'd been worried about there being so much. I sighed and closed my phone.

I had to stop obsessing over what Bobby wanted, I told myself firmly.

I put on a pair of shorts and a tank top, no bra or panties, and got out my sketch book. I didn't have a canvas, so I hadn't brought my acrylics. Instead, I pulled out my watercolors. It wouldn't be the same as the vision I'd had in my head, but it was all I could do right now.

I had to get a job so that I could buy art supplies, and my own apartment, and a car, and... But not today.

I put a towel over the bed and set up my art supplies. I put a plastic cup of water between my crossed legs to keep it from spilling and set to painting my 'Bobby' landscape.

By the time I had it mostly finished, my legs and back ached. Sitting in the same position for so long was painful. I carefully picked up my water cup and rinsed it out in the bathroom sink.

I went over to the window and looked out. It was raining again, lightly. Pale gray clouds hung low in the sky. The parking lot was shiny, slick, and wet and dark. Contrasting, the grass was bright green, made brighter by the rain. I am a princess in a castle, surrounded by a black moat, I mused.

The door rattled and I turned towards the noise. Bobby walked in and grinned at me.

"Hey, honey."

I skipped over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing myself into his rain damp jacket. "Hi!"

Bobby held me, then swung me around him. I laughed and he put me down.

"Did you have fun?" Bobby asked me.

"Mhm. I took a nice shower, then I painted."

"Can I see?"

I gestured to the bed where my sketch book was open, my new painting drying.

"I don't know if it's done yet." I said.

Bobby took off his jacket, then walked over and sat down so he could see my work right side up. He studied it quietly. I watched the expression on his face, trying to guess if he liked it or not.

"It's incredible," Bobby said, finally. "You're really talented."

I glowed at his praise. "Thank you. I wanted to do it with acrylics, but I don't have a canvas. I'll have to do that later. The acrylics would give the texture and boldness that would really suit you. The watercolors are too timid." I shrugged.

Bobby smiled at me. "I can't wait to see it in acrylic."

I didn't know when that would happen. I wasn't likely to be able to afford a canvas anytime soon. I changed the subject.

"So, what does your coach want you to do today?" I asked Bobby, remembering that he'd promised to stay in today.

"I usually watch my opponent's fights the day before a fight."

"That sounds interesting. I'd like to learn more about MMA."

Bobby smiled, "awesome, talking through the fights may help me see something new."

Bobby grabbed a tablet and connected it with a long wire to the hotel TV. Then he logged into a file share site and opened up a video.

"The guy in the black shorts is who I'm fighting tomorrow. His name is Gregor 'Talon' Nicholson."

"Talon?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's a fighter nick name. He's a grappler and he's supposed to have incredible grip strength. We'll see." Bobby smirked. "I am great at getting out of holds."

"Do you have a nickname?" I asked.

"Not really, not yet. I'd like to be 'Fish,' though."

"Fish?"

"Yeah, because I'm slippery. You can't hold me, you can't hit me, I'm slippery!" Bobby laughed.

"So, why not just call yourself that then?"

"Well, I could... But I want to prove it against this so-called 'Talon' before introducing it. I mean, it'd be really embarrassing if I called myself 'fish' and was submitted in my first pro-fight."

"Is that likely?"

Bobby shook his head, "nah, I don't think so... But, best not to be too cocky."

We watched several hours of 'Talon' Nicholson grappling in the ring, with a little punching thrown in. Bobby narrated the techniques to me as we watched, but honestly not much stuck. It was like learning a new language.

Mostly, I was left with the impression that it was all a lot more complicated than I'd thought fighting was. I mean, hit the other guy, and try not to let him hit you, right? No, apparently not.

~~~~~

Later in the evening, Bobby and I took an Uber to his weigh-in. There were a lot of people there, and a lot of fighters. I looked around and saw the 'Talon.' He didn't look well.

"The 'Talon' looks sick." I commented.

"He cut a lot of weight," Tad said as he joined us. "He'll be fine tomorrow."

Bobby was called up to weigh-in and I watched him stride over.

"Bobby doesn't look sick like that." I said to Tad.

"Bobby doesn't cut as much weight. Also, he seems to have an easier time of it than most." Tad shrugged.

After the weigh in, the three of us, Bobby, Tad, and I went to eat.

"Man, I'm starving!" Bobby commented as he sucked down a bottle of water.

"You were really close on that weigh in," Tad commented.

"But I made it," Bobby grinned. "Now, feed me coach."

By the time we got back to the hotel it was really late and I was ready to sleep. I snuggled in with Bobby and he held me on his shoulder, our legs intertwined. I could feel his penis harden on my thigh.

The soft erection stirred me to action. Sex was the only thing I was bringing to this relationship, as far as I could tell, so I was determined to at least do that right. But also, Tad had said sex would make Bobby weak. But then Bobby had said that wasn't true.

I decided to let Bobby choose.

"Do you want me to ride you while you relax?" I asked.

Bobby's cock twitched at the suggestion.

"Mmm, that sounds good, honey." He said sleepily.

Feeling useful made my pussy wet as I anticipated having sex with Bobby. I reached up a hand and lightly massaged Bobby's cock and balls until he was fully erect and a bit of pre-cum squeezed out the head of his penis. I rubbed it around the tip for a little extra lubrication, not that it was needed with as aroused as I was.

I straddled Bobby under the blankets and eased his cock into me. It felt so good to have his warmth pressed against me, inside me. I rubbed my clit against Bobby's pelvis as I used my hips to thrust. I laid against Bobby's chest so that he could stay warm under the covers as I humped him. My small breasts rubbed into his firm chest.

"Oh honey," Bobby groaned.

He ran his hands down to my ass and helped me pump, pushing me rhythmically against himself. He strength added wonderful pressure to each thrust. I thought that maybe I should be squeezing his cock with my vagina to help him cum, but I selfishly wanted to cum too. And it felt so good, grinding my pelvis into his. I hoped he didn't mind.

I kissed the base of his neck. It was warm and soft. I licked it, savoring the salty taste of him. I could feel the pressure building in my clit. I tilted my head up, and Bobby tilted his down so I could kiss him. He opened his lips and I licked between them. He pushed his tongue into mouth, and I opened wider.

There, there I tensed as the orgasm swept through me, from my clit to my now uncontrollably pulsing vagina, to my hardened nipples, to my mouth.

"Ooooohhh." I moaned into Bobby's kiss.

Bobby thrust his hips up and pushed into me, filling me deeper. My vagina tingled around his cock as he thrust, in and out, harder, and faster than before. Sensitive from my orgasm, the feeling was amazing. Why had I never felt this amazing feeling before?

Oh, I remembered, it was because I always made sure my ex came first. Why had I been doing it wrong all that time?

"Bobby, oh! This is amazing." I managed to gasp as he pounded me from below.

Bobby sucked my ear into his mouth, and the added sensation sent me over the edge. Another orgasm?

This time, Bobby tensed too, and I felt his cock jerk inside my sensitive vagina. Wetness, both his and mine, pooled out of our union. I collapsed against him, and he held me close.

~~~~~

I woke up the next morning with Bobby's cock still inside me, still laying on top of him. He was soft, but his penis didn't retract like my ex's used to, so he'd stayed in me. The feeling of his soft penis inside me was odd, but also really nice.

I wanted to have sex again. I didn't want to wake Bobby, though. He had a big day, and I had no idea how much sleep he needed. I resolved to just stay still and not risk waking him.

The urge to grind my clit into him, to pinch my nipple, to kiss him into wakeful action was intense. But I resisted. My pussy got wetter, and wetter and my clit actually started to pulse, just from the intensity of my arousal. But I stayed still.

When Bobby's penis started to harden in me, I thought for a second that he had woken up. But his breathing didn't change. It was just his dick reacting to my increased wetness. I wondered if he was dreaming of sex.

I decided that I could, at least, squeeze his dick with my vaginal muscles. I began milking him, inside me, careful not to move the rest of my body. He got harder, and harder, until he was fully erect. I squeezed desperately.

My clit pulsed, needing to be pressed, to be ground, to cum. But I knew that would definitely wake Bobby up. It was exquisite torture to have him hard in me, but not be able to move.

I was so focused on my need that I didn't realize it when Bobby's breathing shifted.

"Are you horny, honey?" Bobby whispered softly.

Startled, I jerked. The movement set my clit on fire with need.

"Yes," I admitted guiltily.

"I'd really love to pound you from behind, holding on to your glorious hair while I fuck you." Bobby said groggily, his eyes closed.

"Ok," I agreed, feeling a surge of wetness in my vagina.

Bobby opened his eyes and looked at me, "are you just agreeing because you think it will make me happy?"

"Bobby," I frowned, "I need you to fuck me right now and stop talking."

I was shocked by my boldness. I had never spoken like that before. Had never even admitted out loud before that I enjoyed sex. Maybe I hadn't enjoyed it before, though. Maybe it was Bobby who made me need it, from him.

Bobby smiled at me, "alright, honey."

He rolled me over onto the bed next to him. Then, he stretched and sat up. I got on my stomach and pulled up my knees, ready to be fucked hard.

Bobby knelt behind me and guided his cock into my vagina from behind me. Then he leaned over my back and pulled my hair up. He gathered all the strands and twisted them around his hand. Bobby pulled until my head was dragged back, and then he started pounding.

With every thrust, his balls slapped against my clit. It was hard and fast, and I wanted it to never end. And it wasn't just my clit that was enjoying this, pleasure was building inside my vagina too.

"Ah, that feels so good!" I cried.

I was shocked by how long Bobby managed to maintain the furious pace of his thrusting. It was long enough for me to cum, which I did. And he didn't stop. The amazing feeling just continued to grow after I orgasmed, but I didn't cum a second time before Bobby stopped thrusting and pushed his dick into me, filling me with his semen.

Then, he let go of my hair and rolled off me. I collapsed into the bed.

"Man, that's a great way to wake up, honey." Bobby said.

"Yes..." I agreed.

We laid quietly for a while before Bobby broke the silence.

"I'm going to be spending all day drinking water and being boring, and you won't be allowed backstage anyway. So, it'll probably be better for you to come to the arena with your parents, later."

"Ok," I agreed. I would rather be with him, but maybe he wanted to be alone before his fight?

We showered and had breakfast. Bobby ate all his own food. I missed him tasting my lips. How can you miss something you only had for two days? After we finished Bobby took me on his bike to my parents' house. He pulled into the driveway and parked.

We were walking up the driveway when tires screeched behind us. I turned and the whole world froze. My ex jumped out of his Lexus and stormed towards us. Bobby stepped forward and in front of me.

"Irena, you bitch!" My ex screamed, "Get in the fucking car, we're going home!"

"Irena's not going anywhere with you." Bobby said, calmly.

With his leather bike jacket on, you couldn't tell how muscular Bobby was. But anyone who paid attention could see his cauliflower ears and many times broken nose and thick neck. My ex didn't pay attention. And even if he had noticed the signs of a fighter, my ex probably thought he could take Bobby.

My ex walked up to Bobby and poked him in the chest with one index finger. "Who the fuck do you think you are? My fiancée goes where I say she goes."

In an instant, the whole scene played out in my mind. Bobby would beat up my ex. He'd be arrested. He would miss his fight. His career would be ruined. I couldn't let that happen.

I slipped in between the two men.

"Please, don't hurt him, Bobby. He's not worth it."

"What the fuck, Irena?" My ex howled with indignation. "Are you cheating on me, bitch?"

"I'm not your fiancée anymore. I left the ring and a note." I said while I kept my hands on Bobby's arms. He would have to physically move me to beat up my ex, and I was hoping he cared too much about me to do that.

"Yeah, a week and a half ago, and you're already riding bitch on some punk ass gangbanger's bike?"

"You should not speak to Irena like that," Bobby growled.

The door to the house slammed, but I didn't turn to look.

"You're not welcome here." My dad said. "The police are on the way. You better not be here when they arrive."

My ex deflated as the numbers against him grew. He wasn't hyped enough to start a fight with two men. Instead, he looked at me.

"Irena, babe. I can't live without you. Please come home?"

"We are over. Please never try to see me again." I said. I don't think I could have said those words three days ago. I would have been moved by his plea, worried about him, convinced it was my fault and I should try better. But Bobby had shown me how a real man acted when he cared. I could never go back.

Sirens sounded, faint but growing louder.

My ex started walking back to his car, then turned around and made one last comment, "I burned all your paintings, bitch. You always cared about your fucking art more than me. I hope it hurts."

Then, he got in his car and accelerated away, tires screeching.

"I think you should come with me to the arena, honey." Bobby said.

"I agree," My dad said. "And I'm sorry Irena, but I think your mother and I should stay home with the kids instead of leaving them with a babysitter, just in case."

"I'm so sorry," I said, feeling responsible for my ex-fiancé's behavior.

"It's not your fault," both men said at the same time.

Bobby hugged me close, "I'm glad you spoke up for yourself. But I really wish I could have hit him." He added, his body tense.

We got to the arena two hours later, after filing a report about the incident with the police. Bobby and my dad had asked to start the process to get a restraining order. I didn't think my ex would care, but they insisted it was a good idea.