Bad to the Bones(71)

BELLAMY

I think I made a tiny little scream when he first heated up my cunt with his mouth.

It had been like a month since Knoxie had put his mouth near my cunt. I can’t blame him—last time he tried, I kicked him in the chest. It was a reflex, I swear! Not that anyone at Bihari had ever tried that stunt. They didn’t do intimate acts like that at Bihari.

It was the fact that it was an intimate thing to do that had caused me to lash out. You have to understand. Knoxie is a world class pearl diver. His tongue muscles have muscles. And having his sculpted, exquisitely handsome face anywhere near my * just set me off like a firecracker. So last time, I kicked him. He flew halfway across the room. He pretended to laugh, but I’m sure he was offended.

I had to maintain my cool now. He began mashing my clit through the cotton of my panties, just chomping away with that maddening layer between us. I spread my thighs like a f*cking Bone Licker, just a wanton, loose slut. The thrills and layers of sexual escapades had been a constant eye-opener for me. I had only ever experienced the fumblings and bumblings of the teen thugs who hung out with Maddy and me. That, or the violent assaults of the Bihari “teachers,” but I can’t even classify that as sex. Sex is warm, thrilling, loving. The Bihari stuff was just a lesson in abuse.

Hitching a finger around the elastic, Knoxie drew my panties down. I felt my * quiver in anticipation of his touch. I even mentally steeled myself as I gripped the edge of the counter. I tried to let a ruler or steel bar digging into my tailbone distract me, but when Knoxie touched the tip of his tongue to my clit I went apeshit.

I shot off the counter like a cartoon character who had sat on a firecracker. I found myself clutching some overhead leather straps as I panted wildly like a mother doing Lamaze. Finding I could trust the straps, I lowered my bare ass to the cold metal table while Knoxie dug in, his face between my thighs worrying my * lips.

It was so exquisite it was difficult to relax into it. What would happen if bliss overwhelmed me? Would the top of my head shoot off? There is such a thing as “feeling too good.” My toes curled inside my cowboy boots as Knoxie flicked his tongue across the crest of my clit. His fingers slithered around my outer * lips from behind as he cradled my ass as though opening up an orange. I jumped, hissed, and gasped, but I kept my ass firmly planted against the metal.

I felt so sorry for Knoxie! How hard men had to work at it, when women could just take a big cock in their mouth and move it back and forth—a lot, I admit—until the man shoots his load. It seems so much harder for men and maybe that’s why they rarely ever do it. Knoxie showed his devotion to me by worshiping at my most feminine shrine. The feel of his solid, muscular shoulders propping up my thighs, the heat of his breath against my labia, and the ultimate crescendo of bliss, his talented tongue whipping my clit into a frenzy.

I exploded in one overwhelming spasm of ecstasy. Maddy had told me about the physiology of feminine orgasms. The vast majority of the clitoris is internal, and there are arms that go around and sort of hug your vaginal canal. That’s why when an orgasm grips your pelvis it’s so explosive. Virtually every organ in there is being massaged into a state of bliss. Doctors didn’t figure this out until 2009 when the first 3-D sonogram of the internal clitoris was made—in France. A doctor who treated genital mutilation worked on it for years without funding.

Knoxie knew it now. He knew he could massage me into being his devoted slave if he just kept this up. That *.

So I dug my fingers into his shoulders as wave after wave of delirious euphoria washed over me. I think I was making loud barking sounds like a seagull or a high-pitched turkey call. Who the hell cares? We were at a biker rally inside an explosives shed, so we probably weren’t about to start reading the Bible.

I swear, it took a full five minutes for him to bring me down. Sometimes I collapsed in a puddle of goo, but this time I was energized. Knoxie stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand. That boyish expression of victory always slayed me. This time I grabbed the lapels of his cut and twirled him around, smashing his butt onto the counter. Boldly I grabbed the fat bulge in his 501s, my nose nearly touching the tip of his.

“You’re not getting away that easy, you f*cker.”

“Oh, yeah?” Knoxie teased. “What’re you going to do to me, woman?”

In a flash I had his fiery hot cock in my fist. “I want you inside me. I want you to penetrate me.”

I could see the surprise in his eyes. We didn’t do that as often as some couples might due to the negative connotations that were planted in my brain. But right now I was crazed with lust. I didn’t dare rip off his cut, but I could sure as hell clamber onto that counter and glue my cunt to his cock. I swiveled my hips around like a crazy doll for a while, smearing my ample juices up and down his shaft. He leaned back on his palms and just enjoyed the scene, his lovely heavy-lidded eyes assessing me.

I couldn’t resist rubbing my hand all over his closely-shorn hair. It stimulated every nerve ending in my arm, stiffening my nipple. I yanked down the elastic neckline to my puffy shirt, enjoying the way his topaz eyes darkened. Men were such suckers for tits, even smallish ones like mine. My eyes locked onto his, wanting to see his reaction when I sank down on his cock, spearing him deep inside me.

His eyes rolled up in his head as it drooped on a weak neck. Now Knoxie was in the deep space bliss that I had just been in. I worked that cock like a porn ho, squeezing it with my inner * muscles as I swung my pelvis forward, then back. I slid my palm under the hem of his T-shirt, fingering only the uninjured nipple. His nostrils flared with pleasure as I worked him in several spots at once. I had never asked him how his pectoral had gotten so chewed up, but he never wore the garnet nipple bead again, and switched to decorating the other one.