Un. Fucking. Believable.
His lips are soft and delicious, his breath warm and pleasantly scented with sangria. He runs his tongue over the seam of my lips, teasing and stroking, and I feel like I might explode from the pleasure of it.
How have I lived without this?
My lips part, and his tongue ventures into my mouth, warm and slick and oh-so-clever. My heartbeat spikes further, and the world around us disappears. All I can feel, all I can focus on, is him. My skin burns, my core aches with emptiness, and my belly feels like someone is hunting the dule of doves in it with fireworks.
The wait was so worth it. I can’t imagine a better first kiss.
Breathing hard, he pulls me closer to his warm, hard-muscled body. His erection juts into my belly, and my nipples press into his chest. I kiss him back almost violently, my head spinning from the pleasure overload. My mouth feels like it’s on the verge of coming as our tongues dance and our microbiomes merge.
It’s done. There’s no going back, and I don’t want to. His germs are inside me, just as mine are in him, and I don’t mind it one bit.
No matter what happens going forward, we’ll always carry a part of each other within ourselves.
After an hour of bliss, he tears his lips away and frames my cheek with his big, warm palm. “Still okay?” he asks, his voice rough with need.
I touch my tingling lips. “More than okay.” I drag in a breath and call upon my newfound courage. “Let’s lose these stupid clothes.”
His eyes flare with heat. Without another word, he strips with military precision.
Wow. Is His Royal Hardness winking at me?
If so, it truly is the eye of the tiger.
Meanwhile, all I manage is to get my shoes and socks off.
“Let me help,” he says raggedly and peels all my layers off me. Raking his gaze over me, he takes a deep breath and his voice roughens further. “I’ll say it again: fucking gorgeous.”
Blushing, I run my hand down his pecs and washboard abs the way I did in VR.
By Houdini’s estrogen, the way this felt then is but a pale approximation of the real thing.
My hand lands on the real Royal Hardness, and my breath hitches. I have bad news for Holly and Bella: VR sucks compared to reality. His cock feels like a steel rod encased in silk, except warm and alive and all things panty-drenching.
Grunting approvingly at my ministrations, Tigger cups my breast.
Double wow.
He kneads it.
Triple wow.
He gently squeezes my nipple.
I’m running out of wows.
A wave of pleasure shoots down to my core, and I don’t bother comparing this reality to VR anymore.
“Let’s get on the bed,” I say, pulling him in the direction I want by His Royal Hardness.
Like a tiger who’s been waiting to pounce on a delicious gazelle, Tigger blurs into motion. One second, I’m standing and holding his cock, and the next, I’m spread out on the bed, with him over me in a plank position.
Did he just manhandle me, or perform a magic trick worthy of my future show?
Before I can catch my breath, he kisses me ever more passionately, as though there’s something tasty in my throat.
I melt into my mattress, my hands gripping at the sheets.
Freeing my lips, he kisses my neck. My skin tingles with the overabundance of sensations, the heat inside me growing by the second as his lips move to my shoulders, then over my clavicle and down to my right nipple.
By Houdini’s erogenous zones, is it supposed to feel this good? I’m in heaven, yet there’s a gnawing emptiness in my core, a need for something—and I’m pretty sure I can feel that something pressing against my thigh.
Tigger moves his attention farther down my breast, and for a second, my nipple is sad to be free.
So much for my support of the Free the Nipple movement.
He nibbles his way down my ribcage, a sensation part tickly, part delicious. When he passes my belly button, I forget about the nipple. I’ve seen enough porn to know his destination, and I can’t believe it’s about to happen to me.
And then it does.
He gently kisses my sex, his lips pliant with just a hint of tongue.
“Delicious,” he murmurs against my folds.
Before I can reply, he places a kiss directly on my clit, and my words fail me. All I can manage is an incoherent moan, every muscle in my body tensing with the growing tension.
He slides his genius tongue over my clit. Once, twice, thrice, on and on with excruciatingly pleasurable relentlessness.
The tension intensifies, a powerful orgasm building inside me as his licking picks up pace, his teeth scraping gently over my folds. It feels as if he’s devouring my sex, consuming every inch of it. Dazedly, I wonder if he’s even breathing.
If not, the training I’ve given him is paying surprising dividends.
Panting, I coil my hand in his hair. I’m about to come. Should I pull him away? Would it be rude to come all over his mouth? Or selfish? I haven’t had the chance to please him in any way. This isn’t training, so it should be—
Too late.
With a gasping cry, I come—and nearly scalp him in the process.
He doesn’t seem to mind. It’s the opposite, in fact. Looking up with an expression of purely male satisfaction, he murmurs, “That’s good, myodik.” Then he gives my over-sensitized clit a light peck and kisses each of my inner thighs.
“Okay,” I say when I catch my breath. “Now I do the same to you.”
He glances at his huge erection, then back at me. “You sure?”
Biting my lip, I nod.
His eyes burn hotter. “Fine, but use a condom. I don’t want you worrying about the cum.”
To my surprise, I’m not worried about it in the least. I don’t want to ruin the moment by getting into a debate, though. Besides, I can use one of my cherry-flavored condoms—pop my blowjob cherry to the taste of cherry.
Languidly, I crawl across the bed to get the condom from the nightstand. Not only do my muscles feel like overcooked noodles after that orgasm, but this moment is a lot like a magic trick after the initial setup. When the spectator is on the hook like this, a little delay will make the payoff that much more powerful.
Yup. Tigger’s eyes are glued hungrily to my curves as I return with the condom.
My evil plan is working. Continuing to move sensuously, I turn the process of rolling the condom onto him into another teasing delay.
His flaring nostrils are my reward.
Next time, maybe I’ll do this with my mouth. I’ve seen that trick in porn.
When the condom is on, I examine His Royal Hardness with some trepidation. It seems like this emperor looks even more intimidating in his new clothes.
I’m going for it anyway.
Wrapping my fingers around the shaft, I say, “Lie back, close your eyes, and think of Ruskovia.”
His eyes are slitted as they meet mine. “Oh, no, myodik. I’m going to watch.”
A fresh wave of heat streaks down my spine. I guess my showmanship skills are about to be put to the test.
Given the feline nature of this cock’s owner, channeling a sexy kitten is my best bet. Maintaining eye contact, I give His Royal Hardness a languorous lick from base to head.
Yum. This is like licking a cherry Jolly Rancher… made for Godzilla.
Volcanic fire rages in Tigger’s eyes.
Is it normal to feel this desirable during a blowjob? This powerful?
I give His Royal Hardness another vertical lick, and he twitches in response, a truly jolly rancher indeed.
Time for the big guns.
Once again, I wish it were “The Eye of the Tiger” playing on a loop instead of “The Final Countdown.” What I’m about to do is something in the league of Rocky.
Rounding my back like the cat yoga pose, I then arch it for cow pose before sliding the head of His Royal Hardness into my mouth.
Wow. It feels humongous this way. If I get TMJ, I’ll know why.
Ignoring the urge to gag, I slide it deeper.
Tigger’s eyes widen, encouraging me to go down a smidge more. I come back up, then down again, over and over, relishing it when he starts to grunt in pleasure.
The more I do this, the more the walls of my vagina become jealous of my mouth. When I can’t fight the temptation any longer, I pull away and blurt, “I want you inside me.”
“Fuck, yes.” The sentence sounds like a tiger’s territorial challenge.
Wow. Easy there… tiger. My heart is already making cartwheels in my chest as is.
Taking in a calming breath, I scoot forward and straddle him.
He grabs my ass with his powerful hands and helps me descend as I guide His Royal Hardness into my opening.
By Houdini’s silky heat.
Nothing—not Prince Regent, nor any other object I’ve had the pleasure of having inside me—has ever felt like this.
The stretching sensation hovers on the edge between pleasure and pain, but as I slide down further, then up again, that ratio shifts firmly into blissful territory, which makes me ride him with greater enthusiasm.
My heart feels like it’s about to explode again, and blistering heat boils under my skin as an orgasm to rule them all coils inside me. With each stroke, ever-louder moans escape my lips.
Tigger’s breathing grows heavier, and he squeezes my bottom hard enough to leave a handprint. “Fuck, you feel good.”
That low growl pushes me over the edge, and I come with something resembling a Tarzan yell. Everything inside me simultaneously clenches and releases, bliss streaking through my nerve endings as I collapse on top of him.
As I come down to Earth, I wonder distantly if Tarzan ever had to deal with a tiger. I know Mowgli did. And Pi in The Life of Pi.
“Such a good myodik,” Tigger says raggedly.
If the idea was to encourage me to keep riding him, it works like a charm. Pushing up to a sitting position, I slide up and down his length until another orgasm builds inside me and my leg muscles begin to burn.
As if sensing my discomfort, Tigger performs another version of his manhandling trick. One moment, I’m on top; the next, I’m pinned underneath him—and to make it more impressive, I could swear His Royal Hardness never left my sex.
Maybe we should start a whole new branch of magic together—sex magic. Or a new category of porn.
Thinking of magic reminds me of the oldest trick in history—cups and balls—so I reach over and cup his balls.
He grunts approvingly and thrusts deeper into me.
My brain is on the verge of short-circuiting.
He nibbles on my neck, driving me further into madness as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.
Moans are wrenched from my lips.
He goes faster still.
My moans turn into screams.
His balls feel tight and full in my palm. He’s getting closer, which is good. My tsunami of an orgasm is about to make landfall.
Almost there.
It is the final countdown.
As the wave of pleasure crashes over me, my toes curl, and I only have enough rationality left to gently squeeze his balls.
With a hybrid between a roar and groan, he surges deeper into me, grinding against me as his climax hits, and another orgasmic wave sizzles through my oversensitive nerve endings.
In the afterglow, I feel like I’m sinking into the mattress, every bone in my body liquified from bliss.
With a tender peck on my lips, Tigger pulls out of me and takes off the condom, then ties it into a knot and puts it into his pant pocket. “I’ll take this with me, so the cat doesn’t get it.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice slightly hoarse.
I might’ve done another Tarzan impersonation at the end there without realizing it.
A washed-out smile curves my lips. I feel too much like a squeezed lemon to carry on any more conversation. It’s a marvel I remember how to breathe.
Returning to the bed, Tigger arranges my noodle-like body into a spoon position and hugs me from behind.
“That was some serious hand touching,” he whispers.
Yawning, I nod.
His words make the reality of what happened crystalize.
I did it. I finally had sex—and it was more amazing than anything I’d imagined. Not an easy feat, as my expectations were sky high.
I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned into Octomom after this, never shutting up about the benefits of orgasms. Sex might be even better than magic—and no one will believe me if I tell them that.
As sleep begins to claim me, I can’t help but feel hopeful. Maybe whatever this is between us could work. Despite his being above my station and being my client, and despite the big lie I told him.
After all, the biggest obstacle was always my inability to do what we just did.
He hugs me tighter, and I yawn again.
Yeah. Maybe this could work.
With a blissed-out grin, I drift off.