Boy Toy Chronicles
Page 5
I stand between her legs and gently rub her shoulders. “Do you want me to go, Babsy?”
She covers her face and shakes her head. “No.”
“You want to cuddle? I kind of miss your cuddles,” I tell her.
She laughs through her tears.
Fuck. I was really starting to feel for her.
“Maybe…” she drops her gaze and shakes her head again.
I tilt her chin up with my finger. “Maybe what? Don't ever be afraid to ask for what you want.”
After a few sniffles, she says, “Maybe you could…um…just…uh…touch me?” She looks so sad, so weary, but behind that—I’m pretty sure I see a little excitement.
And that makes me excited. “I thought you'd never ask,” I say, kissing her again.
Gently, I remove her clothes, kissing, licking, sucking every inch of her exposed skin. I pay special attention to her breasts, feeling her writhe beneath me. Goosebumps break out all over her, and I feel a sense of pride knowing that I'm the one giving it to her—making her feel this.
If dibs weren't against the rules, Babsy would definitely be mine.
I curl my fingers on the sides of her panties and drop to my knees between her legs. “I want to see all of you.”
She sits up on her elbows and looks down her pale stick-thin body and locks eyes with me. I wish she'd eat more—take better care of herself. After a quick nod, she lays back down. I pull the panties slowly past her hips, her thighs, and her calves, my tongue trailing where the silk fabric had just touched.
I pull them past her ankles and throw them over my shoulder. Then I look up at her—her naked body now fully exposed to me. Her chest trembles, and I know she's crying.
I stand up and lean over her body, using my outstretched arm to hold my weight. “Just relax, Babsy. I promise to take care of you.”
She inhales deeply, nodding as she does. Her hands reach up, finding my hair—her fingers lacing between the strands.
I kiss her lips, her cheek, jaw, neck, down to her collarbone. I spend extra time on each of her breasts, then down her stomach. By the time I get to her waist, I'm on my knees again, her bare goods only an inch in front of me. I take in the scent of her, knowing full well it's better than the smell of the fucking candles she has burning. Then I gently run a finger between her folds. She gasps loudly, her hips arching of the bed. I hold them down with my forearms. “You okay?”
“Mm hmm,” she says, yanking on my hair and shutting her eyes tight.
I can go slow; make her wet with my fingers. Or I can go for gold and give her everything she wants at once. Fuck it, I think. I slip two fingers inside her the same time my mouth finds her clit, sucking hard.
Her fingers curl tighter.
Her hips arch higher.
Her voice gets louder. “Jesus fucking shit cock sucking whore in a wicker basket!”
CHAPTER FOUR
Mrs. Fletcher has a filthy fucking mouth. It's awesome.
We didn't have sex. There was no time. By her fifth orgasm—all from oral—the hour was up. She didn't seem to mind and truthfully, neither did I. I left her naked in bed with a huge grin on her face.
I know it sounds weird considering what we do as a means of income, but for me, leaving a woman satisfied is equivalent to closing a sale. It means you've done a good job, and, even though most of the time it's enjoyable for both parties involved—there’s still a feeling of accomplishment to make a woman feel good. Emotionally, physically, it doesn't really matter.
Allie called a few times while I was 'in session' so I call her back on the drive home.
“Hey. I tried calling…” she says quietly, but the background noise wherever she is drowns out her voice.
“I can't hear you. You're going to have to speak up.”
“Sorry. In the cafeteria. I have my earphones in—trying to be discreet while I watch Tim flirt with some random girl.”
“Why the hell do you do that to yourself?”
“Because I'm a masochist and I love the pain?”
“No you don't, Allie,” I say through a sigh. “Do you really want that jackhole back?”
“I don't want him back, Ty. I just want to be sure before I do anything stupid.”
“Like leaving him?”
She stays quiet.
“All I'm saying is that—”
“Shut up! He's coming. Just pretend like you're not there.”
I pull the car over—because apparently I can't concentrate on eavesdropping and driving at the same time.
“Hey babylicious,” I hear a male voice croon.
Babylicious? I snort with laughter.
Allie clears her throat; most likely her way of telling me to shut up. “Hey. Who was that you were talking to?”
“Her?” he says through a scoff. “She's nobody, baby. Just some girl trying to get my number.”
Dick.
I hate him already.
“I've been trying to call you,” she says. And if it were anyone else listening in, they wouldn't have heard the insecure sadness in her voice.
“No, Al,” I plead, shaking my head. “Don't do it.”
“Oh yeah?” Tim asks. I hear the scraping of a chair as he most likely sits down next to her. “Sorry. I lost my phone.”
Yeah. I definitely hate this guy.
Tim adds, “My boys have seen you around, though. They've been telling me that you've changed.”
She covers her face and shakes her head. “No.”
“You want to cuddle? I kind of miss your cuddles,” I tell her.
She laughs through her tears.
Fuck. I was really starting to feel for her.
“Maybe…” she drops her gaze and shakes her head again.
I tilt her chin up with my finger. “Maybe what? Don't ever be afraid to ask for what you want.”
After a few sniffles, she says, “Maybe you could…um…just…uh…touch me?” She looks so sad, so weary, but behind that—I’m pretty sure I see a little excitement.
And that makes me excited. “I thought you'd never ask,” I say, kissing her again.
Gently, I remove her clothes, kissing, licking, sucking every inch of her exposed skin. I pay special attention to her breasts, feeling her writhe beneath me. Goosebumps break out all over her, and I feel a sense of pride knowing that I'm the one giving it to her—making her feel this.
If dibs weren't against the rules, Babsy would definitely be mine.
I curl my fingers on the sides of her panties and drop to my knees between her legs. “I want to see all of you.”
She sits up on her elbows and looks down her pale stick-thin body and locks eyes with me. I wish she'd eat more—take better care of herself. After a quick nod, she lays back down. I pull the panties slowly past her hips, her thighs, and her calves, my tongue trailing where the silk fabric had just touched.
I pull them past her ankles and throw them over my shoulder. Then I look up at her—her naked body now fully exposed to me. Her chest trembles, and I know she's crying.
I stand up and lean over her body, using my outstretched arm to hold my weight. “Just relax, Babsy. I promise to take care of you.”
She inhales deeply, nodding as she does. Her hands reach up, finding my hair—her fingers lacing between the strands.
I kiss her lips, her cheek, jaw, neck, down to her collarbone. I spend extra time on each of her breasts, then down her stomach. By the time I get to her waist, I'm on my knees again, her bare goods only an inch in front of me. I take in the scent of her, knowing full well it's better than the smell of the fucking candles she has burning. Then I gently run a finger between her folds. She gasps loudly, her hips arching of the bed. I hold them down with my forearms. “You okay?”
“Mm hmm,” she says, yanking on my hair and shutting her eyes tight.
I can go slow; make her wet with my fingers. Or I can go for gold and give her everything she wants at once. Fuck it, I think. I slip two fingers inside her the same time my mouth finds her clit, sucking hard.
Her fingers curl tighter.
Her hips arch higher.
Her voice gets louder. “Jesus fucking shit cock sucking whore in a wicker basket!”
CHAPTER FOUR
Mrs. Fletcher has a filthy fucking mouth. It's awesome.
We didn't have sex. There was no time. By her fifth orgasm—all from oral—the hour was up. She didn't seem to mind and truthfully, neither did I. I left her naked in bed with a huge grin on her face.
I know it sounds weird considering what we do as a means of income, but for me, leaving a woman satisfied is equivalent to closing a sale. It means you've done a good job, and, even though most of the time it's enjoyable for both parties involved—there’s still a feeling of accomplishment to make a woman feel good. Emotionally, physically, it doesn't really matter.
Allie called a few times while I was 'in session' so I call her back on the drive home.
“Hey. I tried calling…” she says quietly, but the background noise wherever she is drowns out her voice.
“I can't hear you. You're going to have to speak up.”
“Sorry. In the cafeteria. I have my earphones in—trying to be discreet while I watch Tim flirt with some random girl.”
“Why the hell do you do that to yourself?”
“Because I'm a masochist and I love the pain?”
“No you don't, Allie,” I say through a sigh. “Do you really want that jackhole back?”
“I don't want him back, Ty. I just want to be sure before I do anything stupid.”
“Like leaving him?”
She stays quiet.
“All I'm saying is that—”
“Shut up! He's coming. Just pretend like you're not there.”
I pull the car over—because apparently I can't concentrate on eavesdropping and driving at the same time.
“Hey babylicious,” I hear a male voice croon.
Babylicious? I snort with laughter.
Allie clears her throat; most likely her way of telling me to shut up. “Hey. Who was that you were talking to?”
“Her?” he says through a scoff. “She's nobody, baby. Just some girl trying to get my number.”
Dick.
I hate him already.
“I've been trying to call you,” she says. And if it were anyone else listening in, they wouldn't have heard the insecure sadness in her voice.
“No, Al,” I plead, shaking my head. “Don't do it.”
“Oh yeah?” Tim asks. I hear the scraping of a chair as he most likely sits down next to her. “Sorry. I lost my phone.”
Yeah. I definitely hate this guy.
Tim adds, “My boys have seen you around, though. They've been telling me that you've changed.”
