Chapter 24: Addicted

“What’s the point of men having nipples,” Hannah said.

“You tell me, you’re the biologist.”

“Microbiologist. That’s different. I do bacteria and viruses, not human anatomy.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I think your knowledge of human anatomy is more than adequate.”

It was Saturday morning and just like every Saturday morning for the past month I had woken up spooned behind a gently slumbering Hannah, my arm draped over her, and my hand filled with one of her lovely soft boobs.

And just like every Saturday morning for the past month, after pleasuring each other for as long as it took for us both to enjoy an early morning orgasm, I was lying on my back with Hannah lying on her side next to me on my left. We had the bedcovers pushed back so they only covered us from just above the waist. Her head was in the crook of my armpit, she had a leg draped over mine and she was playing with the thin, wiry hair on my chest.

She pushed herself up on one arm so that her face was level with mine. “More than adequate? I’ll remind you of that next time I’m in the middle of sucking your penis and you’re begging me to let you come.” She lowered herself again and nestled her head back into place.

The breakfast news was on the telly in the corner of the room, but neither of us was really watching it. They were showing a report of the clean-up operation in North-East England following a huge storm in the North Sea a couple of days earlier.

“Why the sudden obsession with male nipples?” I asked.

“I’m not obsessed ... Just ... What’s the point of them? They serve no purpose.”

“Aren’t they a throwback to all babies starting off female in the womb or something?”

“Yes—that’s why they are there. But, that’s not what I mean.” She moved her hand from the centre of my chest towards my right nipple. “I mean ... Female nipples have a purpose, right? They are for feeding babies. But male ones don’t do that. But it also feels really, really good when a girl’s nipples get played with or sucked.” She ran her fingernail over and around my nipple, teasing it. “Does it feel good for boys too? Are boys’ nipples as sensitive as girls’.” She shifted her position slightly to look up at me. “Do you like that?”

Hell, yes, I liked that. A shiver went up my back.

“I guess so,” she said with a grin. “How about this?”

She shifted again and moved her head down and across so that she could snake out her tongue and flick my left nipple with it.

“Yeah,” I said, breathing heavily, “I like that.”

Again, she shifted her body just enough so that she could move her head and cover my little nubbin with her mouth. At the same time, she moved her hand down my torso, under covers and gripped my cock, which was still sticky from our earlier lovemaking and rapidly hardening despite our earlier lovemaking. She looked up at me, smiling with her eyes as she started to suck. One. Two. Three long, hard sucks had me catching my breath as pleasure I simply wasn’t used to shot through me. It’s not that it was any better than any of the other kind of pleasurable feelings this amazing woman was able to extract from my body, it was just I hadn’t experienced this kind of sensation before. I genuinely don’t recall any other woman sucking on one of my nipples like that.

She lifted her head up and grinned. Her eyes were wide and wild and filled with lust and just a hint of amusement. She raised her eyebrows twice in quick succession.

I shook my head. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

She nodded. “You might have mentioned it before.”

She let go of my cock and pushed herself up into a sitting position. She threw the bedcovers out of the way, and swung her leg up and over my body, straddling me. Then she started to shift her hips, trying to get my cock to catch between the folds of her pussy without any help. But she was unsuccessful, so lifted her hips, reached down between us with a hand, grabbed my dick and lodged it into place between her pussy lips. Then she pushed herself down slowly until I was once again buried deep inside her.

She closed her eyes and moaned softly. “God, I love that feeling when you first push into me.” She breathed slowly. “So fucking full,” she said quietly.

Sitting up straight, she put her hands on my chest and started to gently rock her hips. I placed my hands on her hips, not to guide her but just to touch her.

She opened her eyes, looked down at me and grinned. Then she moved her hands so that she could reach my nipples with her thumbs and began to tease them with her nail the same way she had done earlier.

Now I closed my eyes and groaned. Then I shivered—with my whole body—which caused my cock to move inside her.

“Oh, I like that,” she said. “I’ll have to keep doing this—” She deliberately flicked both nipples with her nail, “—so I can get you to shiver again.”

She lifted herself gently—not all the way so that only my cockhead was inside her, but enough that I could see daylight around my cock between my crotch and hers. Then she lowered herself until I was fully inside her again before repeating the movement. There was a blissful look on her face as she did this. No urgency. No hurry. Just slow, sensual movements.

I slid my hands up her sides, then around to cup her breasts. She returned to rocking back and forth with my dick all the way up inside her while I gently squeezed and caressed her tits. Then she started moving up and down again slowly as I slid my hands back down her sides, past her hips and onto her legs.

This went on for a few minutes—Hannah alternating between raising & lowering herself on my rod, then embedding me deep within her and rocking back and forth or in large circles, while I stoked up her sides, over her boobs and back down again.

Then she fell forward, crushing her tits against my chest, and kissed me hard while she ground her clit against the base of the cock.

She was getting closer—I could tell.

It doesn’t matter how lazy, relaxed or sensual you’re feeling, the kind of slow, languid fucking we were engaged in will always give way to more frenzied, forceful fucking as the moment of sweet release approaches.

Hannah pushed her torso up to about a forty-five degree angle then used her hips to lift her pussy up off my cock as far as she could before slamming back down with force. Again and again, she fucked herself on my cock while I put my hands on her back as far as I could reach and held on for the ride.

Faster and faster she moved her hips as she drove herself towards orgasm. She looked down at me, her eyes wild, and grunted with the effort. Finally, she slammed herself all the way down forcefully and her whole body began to shake as came.

“Ohhhhhhh, Fuck!”

I ran my hands down her back and grabbed her arse, lifting her a little and holding her still so I could begin driving my cock up into her—partly to extend her orgasm and partly in search of my own.

Her body stopped shaking but she shook her head instead. “No. Roll me over. Roll us over and pound me. Pound the fucking shit out of me, Paul.”

She collapsed down onto me again. Crushing her breasts against me and then she leaned to the side to start the roll. I went with her—we rolled towards the centre of the bed so that I was on top of her, then I pushed myself on my arms, resettled my hips and did exactly what Hannah had asked for.

I pounded her. I hammed her. I gave her all I had.

The bed shook as I hammered into her and I grabbed the headboard with one hand to stop it from slamming against the wall. Her tits bounced with each and every thrust—up and down, side to side and in circles. Her body jolted as it absorbed my pounding. And I drove myself on towards my own explosion.

With a final thrust, I unloaded inside her, filling up her already slick pussy with a third load of my cum in less than twelve hours.

Then I collapsed down on top of her, crushing her smaller body beneath me. She wrapped her arms and her legs around me—holding me close.

“God, I love that,” she said. “I love when you fuck me. I love when you come inside me. I love it.”

“Wanna hear something weird?”

I’d rolled off Hannah back into my earlier spot and she was cuddled up by my side again—although this time her head was on the pillow level with mine and only her arm was draped over me, not her leg. She was casually playing with my chest hair again.

“What?”

“I was so bored in a lecture the other day, that I worked out in my head how many times you’d have to fuck me to have pumped enough cum inside me to fill a bottle of mineral water.”

I turned my head to look at her. She was smirking. “You’re right, that is weird.”

“Don’t you want to know how many?”

I shrugged. “A lot, I’m guessing. Although, are we talking one of those big bottles in the supermarket? Or one of the smaller ones in the canteen?”

Her smirked widened. “Both. It’s just maths, really.”

I shook my head. “Okay, tell me.”

“Well, the big bottle is one and a half litres. That’s fifteen hundred millilitres. Now, on average, when a guy comes, he squirts between two and half and five millilitres—I looked it up in the lecture on my phone—that’s how boring the lecture was. You, Paul, always come buckets, so let’s assume you average on the higher end—four to five millilitres. I don’t know for sure, but I reckon it’s an age thing, you know? That you squirt less the older you get, sort of thing. Anyway, I think to fill that big bottle, you’d need to fuck me somewhere between three to four hundred times.”

“Really? That is a lot.”

She nodded. “It is, isn’t it?” She grinned even wider. “But those smaller bottles, they are only five hundred millilitres, so you’d only need to fuck me between a hundred and hundred and fifty times.”

I shook my head. “You really are weird.”

“Yeah, I know. Even in lectures I’m thinking about you fucking me.”

I chuckled. “So, how close do you think we are to filling one of those small bottles?”

She grinned again. “You mean you haven’t been keeping count?”

“Should I have been?”

Now Hannah shook her head.