Page 50 of Dirty Rotten Love

He whimpers and gives a little jerk of his hips. He has such a praise kink, I really should exploit it. But right now it’s enough to know that he is enjoying this as much as I am.

“Put your hand around the base of my cock. Stroke me. Use your hands where you can’t reach with your mouth. You’ll learn to take me deeper next time.”

He obeys me swiftly. My eyes roll back. Oh fuck. This is heavenly. It feels so, so good. It’s going to be a challenge to last. But I enjoy a challenge. And Rory’s education is important.

“Use your other hand on my balls. Gently. Ah… just like that. You make me feel so good.”

Reality spins. My lungs are heaving. Muscles are quivering.

“Now twist your head as you bob up and down my cock.”

A wordless cry pours out of me as Rory diligently follows my directions. Colors are flashing behind my eyelids. I feel as if I am floating. Sensations are swirling. Rory’s tongue and lips. Suction, friction, and the twist. His hand around my base, milking, pumping. His other hand gently cupping and rolling.

“You’re a natural,” I gasp.

Rory moans, adding vibration to the symphony of sensations coursing through my body, and I explode. My orgasm races through me, burning and freeing, and Rory gulps and drinks all of me down.

Aftershocks jolt through me. I shudder and wheeze as I look down at him. He releases my cock with a wet plop, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and smirks up at me, looking very pleased with himself.

He has every right to be. That was incredible.

He flows to his feet and I have a very brief moment to envy his young knees, then his lips are pressing against mine and I’m tasting myself mixed with the taste of him, and we are stumbling towards the bed, kissing frantically.

I’m still trembling from an orgasm, but lust, desire, and arousal are flooding me. Consuming me. My thoughts are carried far away. Time stutters and swirls. Rory is in my arms, and that is all I know. It’s the only thing I need to know.

Hands caressing, fingers touching, tongues colliding. Soft sounds of shared pleasure filling the cabin.

After eternity, awareness drifts back. I’m lying on my side, chest to chest with Rory. We are still kissing hungrily. His leg is flung over my hip. I’m fingering him slowly and sensually. Dripping with lube and opening him up to take my cock, but greatly enjoying this too. It’s not a prelude. It’s a course all of its own, and Rory is the banquet.

Rory groans deeply. His hips rock. His hard cock slides against my belly, leaving a trail of precum. He is close, very close. It’s time for the next course.

I bunch my muscles and roll us. Rory’s startled gasp is extremely satisfying. He stares down at me, wide-eyed. Then he grins.

“Ride me,” I grunt.

“Aye, grand idea,” he says.

He leans to the side and grabs a condom from the packet. He makes efficient work of rolling it over me. Then he lifts up on his knees, holds my cock steady, and seats himself like a king.

My vision whites out. The pleasure is too profound. I’m only human, I’m not sure I can cope with this level of euphoria.

Rory starts to ride, and I cry out. My eyes fly open, and I am transfixed by the sight before me.

Rory above me. Moving gracefully. His head tilted back. Cheeks flushed pink. Jaw loose, lips parted. Pretty, breathless moans spilling out of him. His full cock bouncing and dribbling precum. His gently defined naked chest, like a carving of marble, a beautiful thing that should be in an art gallery, not my cabin.

It’s all a beautiful image, but best of all is the expression on his face. He looks so happy. Completely blissed out. From riding my cock.

Knowledge settles over me. An understanding that Rory’s joy is more gratifying than the feeling of his tight ass around my cock. I value his pleasure more than my own. Much more.

My heart crashes against my ribcage. My stomach flips all the way over.

Fuck. It’s more than pleasure. Far more. I know this feeling, or at least an echo of it. This is love. I already knew I was in love with Rory, but this is something more. More intense. More absolute.

I thought what I felt for Daniel was love. I believed Daniel was the one. My special person.

I see now that I was wrong, so very wrong. My feelings for the man I made my husband, were a pale imitation of this. It is as if I mistook a lightbulb for the sun, and now I’m seeing the dawn for the first time.

There is simply no comparison.