Chapter 38: Simba

Have you ever received a wake-up blowjob? I hadn’t until that morning when I woke to find Clarissa’s lips wrapped around my shaft. I groaned and reached down to place my hand on the top of her head. She looked up, grinned around my cock, clearly pleased to see I was awake, then went back to her self-appointed task with just a touch more vigour. I groaned again and tipped my head back. After the tongue-lashing I’d given her last night, followed by a pounding that tested her bedsprings to their very limit, I guess this was her way of paying me back.

But payback didn’t seem to include letting me come. She was able to recognise the signs of my impending explosion having done this so many times now, and kept me right at the limit, then backed off and squeezed the base of my cock to stop my release.

It was torture. The most pleasant kind of torture but torture nevertheless. Had I been fully awake and not so agonisingly close to orgasm, I’d have resolved to get her back. Instead all was forgiven when she sat up, shuffled forward and sat down on my dick, taking the whole thing inside her in one smooth motion, and then proceeded to fuck my lights out.

“Good morning, Sweetie,” she said with a grin after I’d busted my nut in the confines of her tight pussy. “That’s my breakfast sorted. Now, what can I get for you? Scrambled eggs, bacon and beans?”

What a way to start the day.

“Come into Westmouth with me today?” she asked as I ate.

“Today? But what about the party?”

“That’s all sorted. All I have to do is turn up looking fabulous, with you looking fabulous on my arm. And to do that, we’re both going to need a new outfit. Well, actually, you need a new outfit—I already have mine, although I wouldn’t mind a new pair of shoes, the pair I’ve bought just don’t seem right. So, will you come with me? As soon as you’ve finished breakfast. If you don’t, I’ll just buy you something anyway. At least if you come, you’ll have a say. Not much of a say, but a say. Of sorts.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll come. I suppose I could get you another birthday present too.”

“You don’t have to do that. You’ve already bought me the earrings.”

“I know I don’t have to, just like you don’t have to buy me a new outfit, but I want to. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I think I should go home and change first, though.”

She nodded her agreement and after a few seconds of looking thoughtful, she added, “Perhaps while we’re there it might be worthwhile packing up some of your clothes to leave here.” I gave her a wide-eyed look and she shrugged. “It’d be easier than having to go home to get changed all the time. Plus, you can stay over on weeknights too.”

I didn’t even bother trying to argue, there was no point.

Just under an hour later, I stepped into my bedroom wearing nothing but a towel around my waist, tucked in on my hip to keep it up. I was still slightly damp having just showered and shaved. Clarissa was busy rooting through my wardrobe to decide which of my clothes needed to be relocated.

“I think I need to buy you more than one outfit today,” she said without looking up. “Most of these tops and jeans are only good for the charity shop. I’ll bet some don’t even fit you anymore.”

I gave a non-committal grunt. I wasn’t keen on the idea of Clarissa spending her money on me, but I knew better than to try and stop her. We’d end up in a minor fight which I had no chance of winning. It was easier to just go along with her, try and keep her enthusiasm for new clothes under some sort of control and then match (or try to) what she spent on me by spending on her. Of course, she already had more clothes than she could ever wear, so I always ended up buying her jewellery, trinkets, or food. Food was always a good one—she never argued about me buying lunch or dinner.

She turned her attention from my clothes to me at my grunt. Her eyes widened briefly then took on a lustful look that made me feel like a gazelle who had wandered too close to the sunbathing lion pride. I had no choice but to wait and see if she could be bothered to pounce or if she’d already had her fill for the day.

“I think,” she said, “we need to get you a big thick bathrobe too.”

“Why?” I asked, confused.

“Because...” She slowly stepped towards me. “If you’re wandering around the house like this, it might get embarrassing when I do this in front of Mom.”

“Do what?” God, I’m stupid. Why did my stupid mouth ask the stupid question before my stupid brain could stop it?

“This...” She leaned forward to kiss me, then deftly untucked the towel and pulled it from around my waist. Then before I knew what was happening, she was on her knees and the erection she’d produced with the kiss was nudging the entrance to her throat. Credit where credit is due, she didn’t gag. She wasn’t able to take me into her throat just yet, but she wasn’t choking on my cock either.

Not that she needed to deep throat me to make my head explode. She did just fine on that score almost every single time she blew me. This surprise attack was no exception. If anything, it took me longer to recover after coating her tonsils with more come than usual.

She rose from her knees gracefully, wiped a stray gob of come from the corner of her mouth with her finger, which she sucked clean in a super sexy way that had the blood rushing back to my cock, then turned and walked back to the sports bag full of my clothes sitting on the bed, her hips swaying as she did.

Damn, she was sexy.

That feral beast that lurks in all of us came to the fore as I growled with lust and raced forward. She shrieked as I tackled her onto the bed, and giggled as I pushed her skirt up, spread her legs and dipped my head down, my tongue leading the way to her panties.

But she pushed at my shoulders and said, “Not now, Simba. There’s no time. You’ll just have to owe me one.”

I looked up, raised my eyebrows and said, “Simba?”

She giggled. “Yeah, Simba. You’re my big strong lion of a man. Just like Simba in the film.”