Chapter 15

I must have dozed off, because I woke and the room looked strange and I couldn’t remember where I was. It took a moment for it to come back to me, then I looked down and saw Amy still under my arm, eyes open, looking up at me.

“I must have dropped off for awhile. Sorry,” I said.

“That’s all right. It gave me a chance to recover. And think.”

“What were you thinking about?” I asked, without being the least bit interested, more from politeness.

“I was thinking about sex, in particular how I respond to sex. I like it, it’s fun, it makes me happy and gives me a rush. I sometimes like the control I feel, and other times I like being controlled. And I like cumming, too. I especially like that, but I don’t always get as many as I like. Still, sex is fun.”

She got herself up on an elbow so she could see me better.

“And here’s the part I was trying to figure out, Sam. I sometimes like when guys order me around, but I don’t always find myself falling into that submissive role where I was earlier. And I couldn’t believe how many times I came when I was in that role. I had no control over it, and even when I had just had an orgasm, it was like there was another one right behind it and it almost overwhelmed me, like it was too much sensation, but I had no control to stop it.

“I really liked it, and I was afraid of it at the same time.”

“Is there a question buried in there, Amy?”

“Nooo ... I don’t think so. I was just trying to verbalize what I was feeling in the hopes of understanding what just happened.”

“Are you in pain, Amy? Are you sore? Traumatized? Afraid? Any of those things?”

“No, I actually feel good. Exhausted, but very nicely so. Just trying to understand what happened to me.”

“I think perhaps you’re a bit over-analytical. Perhaps if it felt good and didn’t hurt you, you should just go with the flow.”

“Maybe. It was just ... really powerful. I’m not sure I’ve had my fill yet, tired as I am.”

“You can’t be any more tired than I am. Let’s rest for a while, then see what happens.”

She agreed, so we lay there. After a short while she started talking about sex again. It was like she couldn’t let it go. But now it was tales about other ... experiences. Other guys who’d fucked her and what they did and how it made her feel. After the third or fourth story I was in some admiration of American ingenuity and creativity. I wouldn’t have thought of some of those positions or places to have sex.

Then she got into recounting some of her husband’s encounters, some of which were presumably archived in recordings. He sounded like quite the operator, very suave, and able to maneuver a variety of women back to his hotel room. I had to admit some grudging admiration for his skill.

After awhile I noticed that the stories had had an effect on my dick, which was decidedly less limp than when I awoke. She was focused on her storytelling, perhaps it got her engine running, I don’t know.

“Amy,” I said, “I’m enjoying these stories, but I’m wondering if you could pause every couple of paragraphs and suck my dick. Can you multitask?”

She moved lower on the bed and continued her current story. When she reached a natural pause in the story, she sucked my semi-hard dick into her mouth and ran her tongue around it, bobbing up and down a couple of times. Then she pulled off and continued her story while stroking my cock with her hand.

By the time she’d gotten through with a couple more stories, I was definitely hard. I now understood why she didn’t have a job. There wouldn’t be enough time left in the day for fucking. This was more than an avocation for her, a pastime; this was a mission. I wondered if she kept a fuck log.

I reached backward with my right hand and fumbled around on the side table until I felt the condom. I grabbed it and passed it to her, interrupting her story.

“Put this on, Amy, then get on me. Continue your story, please. They’re kinda hot and I think you get off on them, too, am I right?”

She looked a little guilty, but she nodded, and rolled the condom on. She swung a leg over me and lowered herself onto my dick.

She picked up her story while she slowly rode my dick. She was talking about a guy she’d picked up in a bar once, a minor league baseball player on his way home from a game who’d stopped in for a beer.

“So we’re naked on the bed, and he’s telling me how I’m so tight he didn’t believe I’d ever be able to take a dick thicker than his, and he wasn’t that large. I told him he didn’t understand how women’s vaginas work, and he got a bit defensive and told me he’d had more than his share, and he knew just how they worked.”

She added a little circular motion to her fucking, and I could see her eyes start to flutter and hear her voice starting to get a little ragged, so she was getting close, but she was a real trouper, and finished her story.

“Anyway, long story short, I bet him that if I could prove that I could take something twice as thick as his dick, I could do whatever I wanted to him. I made him swear it, and told him I’d throw him out if he welshed on the bet, so it got serious fast. Then I went and got his equipment bag and he had one of those aluminum baseball bats in it. I rolled a condom onto the big end and squirted a bunch of lube on it, then I lay down and worked it about eight inches into my pussy.

“And he’s sitting on the bed, cross-legged and bug-eyed, and can’t believe what he’s seeing. I got off, too, fucking myself with the bat.”

“Damn, I’m sorry not to have seen that. So what’d you do to him, after you won the bet?”

“Oh, I lubed up his ass and fucked him with a vibrator. When he realized what I was going to do, he practically cried, begging me not to, but it only took about a minute and a half of pumping that into his ass before he came all over the bed.”

The end of the story came out haltingly, and she choked occasionally on a word. Now her eyes were closed and her mouth open, and she was making little sounds in her throat.

“You look like you’re getting close, Amy. Are you going to cum?”

She said tightly that she was really close, almost there.

“Maybe I can help. See if this works.” I’d let her ride me up to now, doing most of the work, but now I started pounding her pussy with my dick. She threw her head back and gasped, “Yes, yes!”

I was curious to see how focused her brain was to staying aware of me, so in a half-whisper, barely audible, I said, “Cum for me, Amy.”

It took a couple of seconds while she processed the sounds, determined that, yes, they were words, and specifically that it was a trigger phrase. Then she shouted, “Oh, my GOD, YESSS! Oh, fuck, yes, don’t stop!”

She brought her hands up to her tits and pulled them, pinched them, squeezed the nipples hard. I was a little afraid for her, but she seemed to be okay. She was still grinding and shouting, but it wasn’t specific words any more, just grunts and other sounds.

She wound down to nothing and fell slowly forward. I caught her and lowered her to my chest, my dick still in her cunt. She made not a sound, just breathed with a raspy noise like her throat was raw.

I was still moving around, trying to slide my dick in and out, but the angle was bad and I was afraid it would slip out, so all I could do was lie there.

And after a while, like a little alarm clock had gone off in her mind, she raised her head from my chest and looked at me. “Sorry, I may have nodded off for a moment. That was nice.”