Tell Me What Really Happened...

As I spoke, did I mention the sex was great? She rolled inside as she came. She gripped a secret grip down there, clenching each time I was on the mark. A little lie detector, right around my cock.

"And when you got back to me, full of his cum, if I'd known, I would have fucked you hard, made you squirt again and again. Pushed all his weak cum out and filled you with mine."

"Oh god, oh god." She came, and she squirted. I went slowly because when she squirts it removes a lot of her slipperiness and I always knew to let that build back up.

"I would have pushed it all out with my big fat dick" I whispered, moving slowly to tease her.

"He didn't cum in me."

"He didn't cum in you?"

"No, I did go for ice like you said and he met me, he fingered me a little and went down on me for a second in the hall and then we went back to our rooms before we got caught."

"And you didn't go down on him?"

Silence again. Some gentle moans to distract me.

"Tell me everything. Show me how you sucked him. Open your mouth."

She opened her mouth a little, licked her lips. She opened her mouth into a small round 'oh' and I could feel my orgasm gathering.

"So hot, so hot... show me how you sucked him. With your soft lips and little clever tongue. Show me." I brushed her hair back from her face and shimmied my hips so I was as deep in her as this angle would allow. She caught my hand and brought it to her mouth. I sensed what she wanted and pointed two fingers.

"Show me how you sucked him."

Her mouth darted forward off the pillow to catch my fingers, sucking them down like a half-remembered cock in a hotel vending room. Her soft pouty lips trailed down the shaft, her tongue worked the underside. I slide my fingers in and out of her. She came, and I began to thrust harder. I came almost instantly.

She turned her head to one side to get my fingers out of her mouth, and wrapped her legs tight around me. "He wasn't as big as you, but he had precum everywhere. It smelled so good." She pulled me in as I pulsed and shuddered, she managed to get one more orgasm for herself with a whiny little shift of her hips. I couldn't move, couldn't thrust one more time -- every nerve ending was on fire. I collapsed against her, letting her feel my weight for a few moments before I shifted to keep from crushing the breath out of her. The bed was soaked under us, and I barely kicked off my pants before I rolled over and fell into a deep sleep.

I woke once or twice, her spooned to my back, her dress still pushed up past her hips.

We didn't speak there in the dark, or in the soft morning light of our hangovers. She gave me one sleepy smile. "I barely remember last night -- but god I'm sore this morning. No more for you, mister. Not today, maybe not for a week."

We did not speak of Phil again for a long time.