HouseMate

In the long run, Carl won. He told me to make the running and then let me, even though he must have been feeling frustrated. I'd had the benefit of a climax earlier in the bathroom. Carl had been carrying around an erection for two days now. Well, I don't mean it was erect all that time, but he'd been wanting to use it on me for that long. I was surprised at his self-control.

Finally I had to give up and take the bull by the horns so to speak, and that was a pretty impressive horn I was grabbing. He'd had his fingers all over me so it was my time to return the favour. I stroked him and teased him, rubbing the head around the way he rolled my nipples. That would show him.

I hadn't forgotten the tongue work in the bathroom, either, and I was quite willing to show him what a woman's tongue could do to him. (And her teeth. He looked worried that I might actually bite him at one stage.)

The problem with all this is that, while it was fun, it also increased my libido. I started hot and just kept getting hotter. It reached a point where I just swung up on him and dropped down, straddling him and letting him have his victory as his erection just stabbed me to the heart.

From that point on things were pretty regulation, except for one little point. Carl would slide into me and I'd push to meet him, speed varying occasionally. (That means that sometimes he'd be pounding me like a jackhammer while I squealed and wriggled and prayed for mercy, while other times he just be sliding in and out, slowly and smoothly, a one piston motor just keeping things ticking along.)

That one little point I mentioned? It was the cause of the wild variations in pace that were driving me demented. I think I mentioned that the man appeared to have stamina. Did he ever? He just kept going and going. If he'd wanted to the whole thing would have been over in a matter of minutes, or even sooner. I was ready to explode and thought I was going to climax during that first entry.

Carl, the bastard, had other ideas. He would pound me into submission, a helpless seething mass of nerves, ready to explode at the next hard drive, and that hard drive wouldn't come. He'd switch to sweet and gentle loving, Prince Charming greeting Sleeping Beauty, just gently rocking me, calming all my overwrought nerves and bringing me slowly down to a rest.

Then he'd change positions and the pounding would start all over again. I started on top of him, in full control, and then I was under him while he filled me with a great fat sausage, then I was on all fours while he mushed through to Alaska. I will say this. He didn't make me dangle from the curtain rods while we screwed like bats. I can't think how he missed that. Possibly a lack of imagination.

But, oh god, he drove me wild. The only bright spots were that he was suffering, too, and it had to end eventually.

When I did climax I didn't know if it was deliberately inflicted on me by Carl or if he had just miscalculated. Not that I cared, mind you. My face was buried in a pillow while I screamed my head off, convulsing under him as he let loose with his seed.

When I was compos mentis again Carl insisted on joining me for a shower. I wasn't really in a state to resist. I was in even less of a state to resist when he knelt in the shower and started with the damned tongue again. I was already so high that he had me climaxing again in nothing flat.

He finally returned me to his bedroom, feeling I'd been run over by a bus. I pointed out I should go back to my own bedroom but Carl said he couldn't make love to me if I wasn't right here in bed with him. That sounded reasonable so I shut up and climbed into bed, with Carl snuggled up behind me.

Not much else I can say, except it proved to be a very interesting night. That stamina, you know.