Valentine’s Day started, like a lot of other days, with a fuck. Let’s be honest, it’s a great way to get the heart pounding, and help you start the day. If an orgasm can’t make you face the day with a smile on your face, I’m not sure if anything can.
It was, as wake-up sex often is, a fairly perfunctory, but highly satisfactory fuck. Having established that I was awake, Master C proceeded to skilfully and efficiently get me in the mood. Lips and tongue on my nipples, fingers on my clit and between my labia quickly got me to the point where I needed Him inside me. “Please Sir, can your slut have your cock inside her now?” I asked, “I would really like Sir to fuck me.”
Fuck me, Master C did. Starting slowly, but firmly, he sank His cock sank me. The pace quickly picked up, the force of His thrusts quickly intensified. I came, my fingers digging into His buttocks. Seconds later, with a final thrust, Master C came too, flooding my cunt with His lovely thick, warm wetness.
And that was that.
Evening found me in the kitchen, preparing a risotto from the remains of the previous evening’s roast chicken. While it was simmering, I decided that I probably had time to give Master C a blow-job, so, stopping only to set a timer on the hob, that’s what I did.
It wasn’t one of my prolonged worshipings of His cock, but it had the desired effect. I started slow but, in much the same way as when Master C fucked me that morning, the urgency took over and my head was bobbing frantically up and down in His lap as His fingers twisted in my hair, His hips thrusting His cock deeper into my mouth, driving the head into my throat as my fingers and lips worked on His shaft.
The was an intense urgency to how I sucked Him. Usually, I luxuriate in giving Master C a blow-job, as much for my own enjoyment of performing the act as for the pleasure it gives Him. Last night, however, much as yesterday morning, something more primal took over. I wanted His cum, I wanted it like a starving person wants food, or a thirsty person wants a drink. I wanted, no, I needed Master C’s cum in my mouth and, I got exactly what I wanted/needed.
That particular need satisfied, I returned to the kitchen to finish the preparation of our meal.
A little later, Master C announced that He wanted dessert, and that His dessert of choice was me. Unsurprisingly, I was only too happy to oblige; I never pass up the opportunity to feel Master C’s tongue on my clit.
Unlike our morning fuck, and the pre-teatime blow-job, there was an almost total absence of urgency. Master C wanted to luxuriate in feasting on me and I was not going to complain (not that I would). His tongue slowly but surely took me closer and closer to the edge of orgasm and then held me there for what seemed like an eternity, Fingers twisting inside my cunt, His tongue applying firm but gentle pressure on my clit, He teased, tormented and tortured me, holding me on the precipice as fire screamed through my nerves demanding release.
I don’t know how Master C does it, but He knows my responses so well. He knows just the right amount of pleasure to push me almost, but not quite over the edge and then keep me there. Sometimes holding me on the very brink, other times, taking me there then drawing back, only to take me there again. Last night was a combination of both.
Time and time again Master C expertly took me right to the edge, holding me over the rim, only to pull me away again. Each time, I was certain this would be the time that He would take mercy, and each time I would know the frustration of being denied again.
I was sobbing for release; begging to be allowed to come, but Master C had His own agenda; He would let me come only when He had had his fill of of my cunt.
When the end finally came, the release of energy and tension was beyond description. Volcanic would be one word for it, albeit an inadequate word. My body shook so hard I’m almost certain the British Seismology Society probably registered, my moan probably deafened the neighbours half way down the street.
My body was still shaking when Master C propped me up against the sofa, parted my legs and slid His cock into me. I was entirely passive as He fucked me from behind, starting with my cunt, then moving to my arse. His strokes were strong and firm and my body responded. Even if I was incapable of conscious movement, my unconscious self knew what to do; the correct synapses fired and I came again.
My cunt throbbed, partially from the intensity of the orgasm His tongue had inflicted on me and partially from the pounding His cock had given it. My arse now felt deliciously stretched and full as he drove into it. The top half of my body lay on the cushions of the sofa as he took me, my nipples being tormented by the nap of the material under them.
Master C came, with a grunt, unloading Himself in my back passage. My body still refused to move. I wasn’t in what you would call an elegant or ladylike position, but elegance or being ladylike has never been my thing. I’d had my cunt thoroughly eaten, and my arse masterfully fucked, I’d had one of the most powerful orgasms I’d ever had, and a few smaller ones, and I was happy beyond the ability of words to express.
Later still, in bed, I snuggled into Him, enjoying the warmth of His firm body beside mine, and drifted contentedly off to sleep.
So, yeah, some people like cards and flowers and chocolates, some people like romantic dinners for two; me, well I really love being fucked and that’s exactly what I got for Valentine’s Day. I wouldn’t want to spend it any other way.