Devil In The Waters, Book 5, Chapter 10 (complete)

Once she began moving again, she showed Josh a smile. There was something she enjoyed about haranguing him over his sexual performance. Something fun about giving him a standard for which he had to perform while knowing that he wouldn’t be able to. But hoping he could. And that provoked another thought she didn’t like—but did enjoy. Josh’s size inside her . . . she’d been with Devlin last night, and Devlin was more than twice as long, and so much thicker. Thicker from base to head. The head of his cock was maybe three times the size of Josh’s. When Devlin put it inside her she could feel its shape going deep and deep and deep. Behind her navel. But with Josh inside her now, she could feel the point of his narrow tip probing a fist and a half’s length inside. Poking and poking, but feeling good. Feeling very good indeed. So much different than Devlin. So much smaller, but not bad at all. And with Josh there was so much more emotion. So much more history. A friendliness, a comfort. Being home. Being in her apartment that she shared with him. The apartment they picked out together. Where they’d tried to conceive.

She purred for him, rolling her hips, not giving him too much motion because she knew he couldn’t take it. Running her nails on his chest, feeling that nice familiar Josh-size giving her a little pleasure.

But with her nails running on his chest, he made that vexed face again, fighting an insistent orgasm, and he drew in a sharp intake of air. It wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t going to come—Josh wasn’t going to make it to her finish line. What she needed now was a lot more than Josh was up for. If Josh wasn’t so close they could roll around a little. But Josh so close like this was unretrievable. He was going to come and he was going to feel bad about it, and she was going to make him feel bad about it. But also enjoy making him come. She showed him her serious lawyer face again. Scolded him. “I’m going to go get a hair tie.”

Frustrated, he grunted, “Why?”

“To tie off your balls.”

“That won’t work,” he lamented like it might be a viable option.

She laughed at him, said, “I’m not serious.”

“I know,” he said, groaning, rubbing a fist across his forehead. “Okay, you can go again . . .”

“Why? You’re just going to come.”

“So you’re not going to finish?”

“Why? You’re like two seconds away from coming.”

“I said I’m sorry.”

She sighed, said, “Alright how long do you need?”

“Just sit still and don’t move.”

“Fine,” she said exasperated, enjoying putting pressure on him and keeping it on. Loving him, but not letting him know. She tucked her feet under his thighs, squeezed herself to him, got down and hugged him hooking her forearms behind his shoulders. Now she was near his ear. She said, “You excited about going to Cayman?”

“Yeah,” he said, sullen.

“Are you, or are you not?”

“Of course I am.”

“Just making sure.”

“Of course I want to go,” he sighed, rubbing his hands up her back.

She said, “You don’t have to . . .”

“I told you I want to.”

She smiled where he couldn’t see, face hidden in his collar. “Devlin will go if you can’t or don’t want to.”

“What?”

“Devlin said he’d take me if you don’t want to go—So I don’t have to go alone.”

Voice tight and pained: “Kimmy . . .”

She reared up, got on her elbows, showed her face, showed Josh she was smiling. But Josh’s eyes were wide and excited and scared. His cock throbbed inside her. She waited a beat, let him ponder what she’d said before she cocked her head and added: “Wonder if he’d wear a Speedo?”

Now he got it, and he rolled his eyes. “Don’t,” he said, “you’re teasing me, you’re making it worse.”

She looked up, pondering, “I wonder if he’d fit inside a Speedo.”

“Don’t, Kimmy . . .”

“No, seriously,” she said, like this was something worth speculating—but it was weird for Josh to respond to this. Weird, but it excited her, too, in an unexpected way. “Bet he has to wear shorts. He couldn’t walk around poolside in spandex—”

“Kimmy, do you want to do this or not?” josh was cross.

“I do. Of course I do.”

“So don’t say those things.”

“What?—it’s interesting. You don’t have to go, Josh, it’s not a big deal. I wouldn’t mind if Devlin took me.”

“You’re killing me,” he said, “stop . . .”

She squeezed him tighter, her hooked feet under his thighs clamping against him, making sure he couldn’t move. “Don’t move around—you’re going to come,” she said.

“I’m not . . . I’m trying to move around to get away from your dirty.”

“Can’t take it?”

Seriously, he said, “I want to have sex, Kimmy.”

“I’m the one that wants to have sex, Josh, you’re the one that’s having problems.”

“Then don’t say things like that.”

She licked her lips, eyeing him. “If I split a room with him, I bet he’d flash it to me, you know like accidentally . . .”

“Kimmy, stop . . .”

“Josh, I can fill you throbbing inside me,” she said, laughing.

“Kimmy, I’m serious . . . I’m going to . . .”

She wiggled her hips a little, kissed his nipple, got over him so her face was above his. She kissed his mouth, looked in his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind taking a look if he wanted to show it to me.”

That was the one that really got him. He began to writhe, trying to pull his hips back, and when he did she lifted—when he moved up she slapped her butt down on him, took him deep.

“Kimmy, I’m going to come . . .”

“Then come, come inside me.”

Now she ran her nails up his forearms, grabbed his hands and put her fingers between his. She swiveled her hips and humped up and down on him, both of them looking into each other’s eyes. Josh right now (she knew in her heart) was rolling around those dark and scary words, but for whatever reason that worked for him. It was for sure. His cock was like a steel rod, every vein stood out on it, she could feel their lines, could feel the hard point of his cock one-hundred percent erect. It was amazing to know how he worked. Amazing to know how to control him. “Yeah?” she asked, rolling quicker and quicker, “You going to come?”

His eyes went pained and narrow. “I’m going to come . . .”

“Come for me . . .”

“Kimmy, I’m serious, I’m going to come . . .”

“Come, Josh,I want to feel it,” she said, “I want to feel it, give it to me,” humping faster, hair swaying around his face, and when she could feel it happening, could feel his erection beginning to throb and pulse and flex inside her, she sucked in her stomach, hugged his neck, kissed his mouth deeply, both of them panting and snorting through their nostrils. She rode up and down his meager thrusts, could feel the enormous regret in her husband. Could feel the disappointment. Josh’s disappointment larger then hers. There was a thrill she got from this that was different than orgasming. But very enjoyable.

At last, when the flexing of his cock ceased, both of them panting into their kiss, she finally let him go, smiling and patting his cheek. She raised her hips, let his cock slide out from her, his goopy mess following suit. And there was another bad thought. Josh’s load was deposited so shallow that when he withdrew it slid free. When Devlin had come inside her last night it had been in her deepest pocket. It’d taken all night for it to drain.

She collapsed next to him, breath heaving, satisfied but in a different way. Nipples hard, sweaty and laughing.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly in the aftermath.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “don’t worry, Josh. I was joking. It was supposed to be your night, anyway.”

“Aw, come on, don’t say that,” he said, hiding his eyes behind his forearm.

“No, I’m serious. It was your night.”

“No,” he said, “I wanted to have sex.”

“We had sex.”

“I wanted you to come.”

“It’s okay, Josh. It was good. I mean it.”

“I can go again,” he said, “give me a few minutes.”

“Don’t worry, Josh, it’s late, I don’t want you to feel bad. I was doing that on purpose.”

“Being stern? Why would you do that?”

“You didn’t like it?”

He studied her face, and while he did she reached out and patted the point of her index finger on his lower lip, letting him know she loved him without using words.

He said, “Okay, yes, it worked.”

“So, don’t worry about it, then,” she said.

“I can go again, Kimmy.”

“I’m fine,” she said, sitting up, stretching, but definitely feeling unfulfilled. But she wouldn’t let Josh know that now. Not when it was real, only when he was aroused. “I told you I’m fine, baby,” she said, slapping the inside of his bare thigh, looking at his tightened ball sack jiggle. “I’m just going to hop in the shower, I’m a little messy right now.”

Josh hid his face and said no more, and she padded naked into the bathroom, closed the door behind her. But now there was a stomach ache, lower actually, below her stomach. That desire still there. That need provoked earlier this evening watching Devlin jerk off his huge cock into her panties. God, what a sight. What an awful and lurid thing to have done . . . 

Shower levered on, she ran the sink, got out her toothbrush, brushed her teeth, could feel the buzzing of its electric motor in her grip. And with a mouth foaming with toothpaste, she lowered the toothbrush, down between her legs, pressing that wonderful vibration against her clitoris . . . 

***

Twice now in the aftermath of Kimmy’s dirty talk, all he felt was a resounding shame. But also the dark swirling pleasure of her awful words still whispered in his ears. It was impossible to believe this would arouse him at all. But a magnitude more impossible that Kimmy would help him out by playing along, feeding him dirty talk that hit his weirdest pleasure spot so fucking good she could make him come in less than a minute. And there was that guilt again too. Putting this dirty talk in Kimmy’s head, making her think of Devlin sexually . . . the weirdest thing was the coppery hurt of juxtaposing his innocent wife against the big well-hung sexuality of her boss raced his heart in such a way that he wanted it to hurt more.

In the uncomfortable wake of his sexual failure—his inability to perform for his wife’s pleasure—his mind raced to find a path where he could blame Kimmy. Caught those thoughts and felt guilty for them. Trying to blame her for her dirty talk, how she’d teased him, how she’d made it impossible for him not to come. It wasn’t her fault.

And, hey, snap out of it—it’s not a failure because it’s not over. You could lay on the bed and blame yourself for not satisfying your wife, or you could make a difference . . . 

His hand went down his belly, the V of his fingers scissoring his penis like Kimmy had done, waggling it. It was slick with Kimmy’s insides and his own ejaculation, shiny and shrinking. He wagged it and flopped it, got it flinging wet.

No, it wasn’t over . . . 

Now he was off the bed, moving to the bathroom door. Could hear the shower running, knowing then that he would join her in there, pleasure her, make her happy, make it right. Could hear her brushing her teeth. A familiar sound, but different in a way that had him pausing at the door. Her electric toothbrush would make a stroking sound, the little motor buzzing as it bobbed in her hand, in and out of her mouth. Only right now that electric motor wasn’t clear and bright, it was muffled and constrained. Hidden, it’s vibration absorbed . . . 

In an instant, he knew what she was doing. Or at least fantasized what she was doing. How horny was she? His wife’s over-the-top arousal had his knees weakening. All this talk about Devlin’s cock was making Kimmy go into heat.

That wonderful tightness seized his stomach again. His balls climbed high, hiding in his body, and he cupped a hand over his package. His much smaller package. And he’d put it in Kimmy’s head that he liked her thinking about how large Devlin’s was.

His heart thudded hard again; he wanted to burst in, catch her in the act, but he couldn’t do that. Instead, he rapped lightly on the door three times with a single knuckle. And there: the sound of the motor changed. Not muffled, bright again. She’d been masturbating with it, and, hearing him knock, snatched it out from between her legs, feeling guilty.

She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t wait to hear. Opened the door. Pushed it open, saw his wife with a guilty expression, her toothbrush buzzing, still held in two hands up by her collar. Totally naked, incredibly beautiful.

He looked at the toothbrush, and Kimmy showed an expression of being caught. He bit on his lower lip, bewildered at the sight of her.

Catching your wife masturbating! Masturbating while she was thinking of another man . . .?

He strode to her and she turned to face him. He removed the buzzing toothbrush from her grasp, kissed her mouth, holding her by the neck. In his hand her toothbrush buzzed. It was warm and it was wet. He wouldn’t shame her by smelling it. She knew she was caught. But she wasn’t in trouble. Not at all.

His kisses went from her mouth, down her neck to her collar. He seized her now by the narrow of her waist, lifting, Kimmy knowing what he would do, going up on her toes and letting him guide her to sit on the vanity countertop. Kissed between her breasts, thumbed her nipples, ran his tongue down the thin folds of her sitting abdomen. Down between her legs, feeling her heat, smelling her musk. His tongue wove through her pubic hair, low to where she was sopping wet, her arousal overflowing, his semen streaming from her. He suckled, grabbed all that curled hot sopping membranous flesh, pulled it into his mouth, tongue sweeping through the folds to find the bulging knot of her clitoris. She closed her thighs gently against his ears, scratched her nails through his hair sighing, “Oh Josh, oh Josh . . .”

He worked and worked, tongue doing amazing things—doing amazing things because his tongue loved being there. The best place his tongue could be. Between his wife’s legs. Pushing inside Kimmy Chang’s pussy. Breathed her in, squeezed the outside of her thighs, could feel how his pleasure made her legs tremble. But then her scratching fingernails lowered, grabbing to cup his ears, guiding his face upward. He raised his chin, showed her his glistening face. She was troubled. He kissed her in her fuzzy patch, wanting to know what it was she needed. Whatever she needed, he would do it.

She said, “I need . . .”

“What? Anything . . .”

She said, “I need to get fucked.”

The straightforwardness of gentle Kimmy’s dirtiest words sliced through his guts. “Fucked?”

“I don’t want a mouth. I want a cock, I need you inside me . . .”

He was quick to get to his feet between her open knees, kissing her mouth again, hoping she didn’t mind how much her wet had painted him. Her kisses were hungry, and he could feel a rising hardness between his legs now. All because of how horny she was. It was truly bewildering. There was no doubt about it. She might hate Devlin Stone, but the guy turned her on. Ever since she’d gone to work for him, she was a different woman in bed. Bolder, kinkier, needy . . . 

She gasped next to his mouth, “Can you get hard?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Can you? . . .”

Her hand circled his shaft, and he wasn’t there yet. More than halfway, but it was happening . . . With his penis in her hand, she whispered, “Devlin would get hard for me . . .”

It was like he’d been punched in the stomach. His belly bounced, his heart jumped and seized. It was too much. Too far. That hurt. She wasn’t talking about Devlin’s big dick and about her curiosity . . . That dirty talk was about sex. That was insinuating she would have sex with Devlin. That was way too much.

Anger bubbled up from inside, a veritable witch’s cauldron bubbling, bubbles bursting. He gritted his teeth, but for fuck’s sake, his cock had snapped into an iron pole in two heartbeats, throbbing and steely in his wife’s hand. And as angry as he was, Kimmy made such an excited sound feeling his arousal that pride and lust pushed all that anger down again. Kimmy was manipulating him. Getting from him what she needed by any means necessary. There would be another time to tell her the boundaries, but right now this wasn’t it.

But, out of the blue, his mouth played along with her terrible game. “In Cayman?”

No, not in Cayman. Don’t say that to her. Why would you even ask that?

Kimmy was off the topic now, didn’t care about dirty talk, just wanting him inside her, gripping his hardness and aiming it between her legs. “Fuck me,” she demanded.

He speared into her, pride building again. He wasn’t going to bubble over. Not at all. He wasn’t going to flop this time. And he didn’t. He gripped her by the neck and looked in her eyes, hammered his spear into her, getting her mouth falling open, her eyes going hazy. She gasped and squeaked with his thrusts. He grunted, “Like that?”

“Yes . . . ah, mm, yeah . . .”

“You like it like that?”

“Oh God, ah, oh God . . .”

He gave his wife what she wanted. What she needed. Her pussy was hungry for cock, and he fed it to her. Hard as steel and urgent and throbbing, he fucked his wife good. Fucked her till she was gasping. Pushed away all the torturous thoughts that could get him ejaculating too soon.

What was she thinking about now—Devlin’s cock? Thinking about being in Cayman with him? . . . 

He pushed all that away and was one with his wife. Husband-and-wife, lovers and friends. Kissing her now, feeling her pussy clamping and gripping on him, sopping wet and overflowing, making his balls slick and soggy with her dew. She came. She came from fucking. Not some squirting fountain like last night, like he’d promised this night, but she did come. Suddenly flexing her thighs and scissoring his hips. Shouting, flapping her arms around him and hugging him tight. Getting him to stop. “Stop, stop,” she said, then: “Deep . . .”

He pushed in, gave her everything he had,

“Deeper,” she moaned.

He went up on his toes and pumped his hips inside her—and his trigger was pulled.

Frantic, he grunted, “Are you coming?”

He could feel her chin jabbing up and down, her head nodding into his collar. And that was license. He ejaculated inside her again, not thrusting and getting pleasure, instead giving her what she needed: His hardest erection. His biggest erection. Pushed in as far as it would go while she milked his spurting with her undulating muscle.

They both rode out their orgasms, him on his tiptoes till his calves cramped, Kimmy clutched tight to him. Both of them heaving, their skin sticking. The room had filled with the steam from the hot shower, and when at last the tidal swell began to recede, they both chuckled. She smoothed her hand in circles on his back. She whispered, “That was pretty good.”

“That was pretty good,” he said, reminding himself to be cool enough not to say something dorky like Better than a toothbrush. Leave her alone. Be her man. Be what she needs.

Because she’s offering up what you need, as dirty as your thoughts are, she’s willing to accept you, willing to play along and whisper the awful things you want to hear.

He flexed his fading erection inside her, and she giggled, squeezed him in return giving him a double pump with her pussy muscles.

“God, Kimmy,” he sighed, letting himself slide out at last, putting his heels on the floor.

Her hand dipped down to cover her opening, but he could see the pearly mess he’d deposited leaking onto the vanity. His cock poked out from between his legs, and in the bathroom lights he felt embarrassed thinking about how she’d seen Devlin’s bulge in his pants. He put a hand over his slippery member. Kimmy sighed and heaved breath still, recovering from the orgasm. He got cocky, hand cupped over his manhood, he worked his way between her open knees again, released it to let it rest against her pubic hair and cupped her neck.

“I wouldn’t let you down,” he said, and kissed her.

She moaned, kissed him in return, rested her arms now up on his shoulders. “Come in the shower with me,” she said.