The Deal 4/5 (19)

“I want you to suck it,” Gerald pleaded with Anna as she slid her soft, warm fist up and down the length of his rigid cock.

She rolled her eyes at him, replying, “Of course you do. But that wasn’t the deal.” Her red-nailed right hand ceased its slow, steady pumping and rested momentarily against his balls and pubic hair, fingers tightening around the base of his shaft.

“The deal was that you keep your mouth shut, don’t fidget, don’t grab, and don’t try to turn this into anything more than it is, or I stop.” She released her grip and pulled her hand away, holding it just a few inches from his purplish-red erection. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” he whimpered, like a badly behaved child in a toy store who has been warned to straighten up or go home empty handed.

Anna smiled, but the expression was somehow more stern than warm. “Good,” she said curtly. “Now shut up and let me milk the cum from your balls.”

Gerald couldn’t help but loose a breathless moan as she once again took his turgid member into her palm and wrapped her long, thin fingers around its growing circumference. Anna was so incredibly hot, and the feeling of fucking her smooth, tightly clenched fist was positively mind-blowing.

As she resumed her rhythmic stroking of his engorged manhood, he bit down on his lower lip and looked her over. Her legs were long and lean, like those of a cheerleader or a professional dancer, the short denim skirt riding high up her honey-hued thighs, the neatly pedicured nails of her bare toes painted bright crimson to match her fingernails.

The white football jersey she wore was loose and baggy, yet was not large enough to conceal the size and heft of her all-natural 38D tits. The top had a V-neck, which hung low enough as she leaned forward to massage his hard-on that it gave him a nice view of the deep, tantalizing cleavage created by the lacy, silk bra beneath.

Despite her apparently clinical – even resentful – attitude toward giving him a handjob, Anna’s nipples were hard enough to poke insistently at the fabric of shirt and brassiere alike, as if trying to tear their way through to freedom.

Her right hand nearing the apex of another delightful slide up his pulsing meat, Anna reached over with her left and took a gentle hold of his heavy ball sac. Pulsing, electric pleasure racing up every nerve in his sensitive rod and scrotum, Gerald gazed at her lovely face,

the full mane of auburn hair cascading down over her shoulders, her fiery green eyes looking down at his exposed crotch and admiring her work as she went skillfully about it, her lush, pink lips pursed with the determination of a an artist or craftsman wholly engrossed in their craft.

“You know,” she said, almost reluctantly, “you actually do have a pretty nice cock.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “Do you want…”

A sharp glare from those blazing emerald eyes abruptly shut him up. As much as he wanted to plunge his dick into her beautiful mouth and undoubtedly equally lovely twat, he couldn’t bear the thought of her getting him this worked up and then leaving him with an agonized,

unrelieved woody. There was too much time left in the game, and he had no desire to have to excuse himself to the bathroom and finish his aching pecker off on his own.

Anna held her warning stare for another second before glancing up at the clock on the wall. The corners of her lips turned down with a hint of worry. “I think we’d better hurry this along,” she said, her fist gripping his pole tighter and increasing the tempo of its vertical pumping motion.

The fingers of her left hand squeezed insistently at his bulging testicles, stoking the liquid contents within to prepare them for expulsion. “Just be a good boy,” she purred, her voice now sweet and seductive, “and let me have all the nice, sticky cum you’ve got in there.”

The faster, more urgent strokes and abrupt softening of her tone immediately brought Gerald to the brink of orgasm.

Blinding, volcanic pressure built up just below the broad, fat head of his cock, the fingers of Anna’s left hand dancing nimbly over the electrified flesh of his gonads, her right wrist a flickering blur as her clutching hand pulled every drop of semen from his sac and coaxed it up the length of his shaft.

He wanted to grab her and pull her head down into his lap, forcing his dick down her throat so she could swallow the heavy load she’d caused him to generate, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he dug his white-knuckled fingers into the plush cushions of the sofa, gripping for dear life as the muscles in his legs locked and he felt sweet release coming fast.

“That’s a good boy,” Anna hummed, a wicked smile now crossing her pretty lips. “Cum for me, like you’ve always, always wanted to!” She squeezed his dick and balls even tighter, her hand furiously jerking at the blood-hot prick.

“OH FUCK!” Gerald shouted, thrusting his hips up off the couch as the tip of his cock exploded in Anna’s milking grip. The first rope of pearly seed shot out, flying into the air, arcing and spattering onto the finished oak coffee table.

Anna couldn’t help but gasp at the intensity and trajectory of the initial jet. Nor could she avoid being grateful that it hadn’t landed in the plate of still-warm nachos she’d made earlier.

Gerald was literally fucking her fist now, thrusting forward to meet her strokes as he fired off four more salvos of ivory nut milk from the muzzle of his cannon. The room was spinning, his vision narrowed to a tunnel framed in ethereal white.

Earthquake after explosive earthquake rocked his body from within, white-hot pleasure emanating in molten waves from the epicenter at the head of his manhood.

Impressed by the ferocity with which he came in her hand, Anna kept right on pulling and tugging at his climaxing tool and kneading his depleted plums until he collapsed on the cushions and abruptly reached out to push her hands away.

Wholly satisfied with herself, she watched with a smug smile as Gerald lay there and endured a full minute and a half of jolting aftershocks.

When he’d concluded his post-release tremors, she reverted back to her stern, parental tone. “Now can we watch the football game without you eye-raping me all day?”

Gerald grunted his compliance.

“Good,” she said. “Hurry up and get yourself cleaned up.” As he picked himself up off the sofa and staggered into the downstairs bathroom, jeans still down around his thighs, Anna hurriedly cleaned the gooey ejaculate off the carpet and coffee table with a handful of the NFL-licensed napkins she’d bought for their weekly Sunday gatherings.

No sooner had Gerald returned from the bathroom than the front door opened, Mike walking in with a case of beer in his hand. “Hey, guys!” he said. ‘Did I miss anything?”

“No, baby,” Anna replied, rising from the couch and moving to give her husband of five wonderful years a warm, loving kiss on the lips. “We paused the game so we could wait for you.”

Mike grinned at his beautiful young bride. “You didn’t have to do that. You’re too good to me.” Kissing her again, he turned and headed off toward the kitchen. “Who wants a beer?” he asked as he disappeared into the other room.

“Better bring three, babe,” Anna said, moving back to her normal place on the reclining chair beside the couch. “By this point, we all probably need to replenish our fluids.” She flashed a mischievous smile at her brother-in-law, who seemed suddenly wracked with guilt over what they’d done behind his brother’s back.

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