Page 72 of Gamma

I grin. “Good answer.”

Both hands, then, one atop the other, gently gliding down, and up, and down, upper fist twisting at the top, lower hand occasionally descending to cradle his balls, cupping and massaging before returning upward. He rests his head against the wall, injured arm tucked against his chest, good hand resting on my shoulder. A groan escapes him as I roll my mouth over his cock and take him as far as I can. Back away, bob a few times shallowly, tongue swirling around his tip, and then I move my lips down his thick, veiny length again, tongue flat against him. To my throat, and then I open for him and take more.

“Ohhhh shit, Corinna. Your mouth. Fuck, your mouth feels so good.”

“Mmm-hmmm?” I encourage, hands pumping at his base until he grunts and flexes his hips.

Not yet.

I slow my ministrations. Stick my tongue out and move my mouth around his head, slowly. Another groan escapes him. I cup his taut balls with one hand and play with them, and with my other hand I caress his cock, my grip gentle and my motions exaggeratedly slow.

His knees dip, a weak groan breaking out of him. “Fuck…fuck,” he moans. “Corinna, I’m so close.”

I love it. I love hearing him weak and shaky and desperate. I love looking up at his handsome, strong face and seeing him, normally so stoic and in control, looking shocked and wild and fierce with desperate need.

More. More.

It’s time. I want his orgasm. I want his cum. I want him to scream my name as he explodes.

I twist one hand around his throbbing cock in a slow rhythm. I put my fingers under my lip and spit onto them, coating my fingers with my saliva. His eyes are closed, jaw clenched. He doesn’t know what’s coming for him.

I press those fingers along his taint to his asshole—he clenches, hisses, eyes flying open. I smile up at him, still slowly, lazily caressing his hard length with my other hand. And then I open my mouth, telegraphing my intentions. He groans as he fills my mouth, inch by inch. I stroke him faster, now, touch loose and light but quickening, even as I suck around his tip unhurriedly. At first, I simply press my fingers against him, along his taint and against his rear entrance. But then, as my fist around his cock speeds and my mouth swallows more and more of him, I press my fingers harder against the knot.

“Oh god, Corinna…” he growls. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

I look at him, my mouth still wrapped around him; I smile. It’s more with my eyes than anything else, but he understands it.

He doesn’t resist or protest. Instead, he relaxes, groaning. Trusting.

It’s not much, just a touch. A press. But as I feel him rising to the edge, I add more pressure. He groans again, and I slide my middle finger against the knot—my mouth moves slowly on him, sliding around his cock, my fist pumping up to my chin and down to his root. His balls rest on my palm as my finger presses more firmly, now. He growls, his hand burying in my hair. I suddenly take him deep, swallowing around him. At this unexpected move, he hisses—and this is when I push my finger into him—just to the first knuckle.

He gasps, and the gasp turns into a groan. I pump harder, faster, and suck around him, then. He can’t help but drive his hips, and I accept his thrusts between my lips rather than bobbing on him, letting him fuck my mouth. Open my throat and adjust the angle so he can fuck my throat, too, and I curl that finger to press against him, curling it toward myself.

Now, his groans are ragged and helpless. He can’t even manage my name. His knees shake, and his thrusting goes ragged.

I take over, and he’s still trying to thrust but he’s too far gone, too close to the edge, and can only manage an occasional lift onto his toes. I feel him reach the end.

His groans and grunts are rapid, rough.

“Ohhhh….fuck…my love…” he whimpers.

I stroke him with my fist, suck around him, pulse my finger in and out.

He lifts onto his toes, pushing his cock into my mouth, against my throat…

And he comes.

I taste the initial flood on my tongue, swallowing even as I pull him away from my mouth, still jerking him as hard and fast as I can, finger still pulsing to milk his prostate. His eyes are open, watching us.

He spurts as I let his tip fall out of my mouth, and his hot sticky seed bathes my cheek and lips and chin, and then he spurts again, onto my throat. I take him back into my mouth and deep throat him, and then as I back away, he fills my mouth with another spurt of cum. I swallow, and then pull him from my mouth and lay him against my lips, mouth open, stroking him. He groans, his voice tight, shattered. Up on his toes, still, sinking to his heels and sagging backward against the wall even as he hunches forward, curling over himself as I continue to milk every last drop of cum out of him.

Dribbles of his milky-white, tangy, salty cum leak onto my tongue.

Finally, he releases his taut, held-breath tension with a gasp, and I let him go, pulling my finger from him. He slowly slides to his butt on the tile, my body shielding him from the spray of the shower.

“My god,” he gasps. His eyes fix on me. “Corinna. My god.” A laugh. “My goddess.”

I’m pleased with myself. “Nowwe get clean.”