13
Tate
We stayed messy, sleeping like that for another hour or two—I don’t even know how long, actually, since at some point the clock got knocked off the table.
Eventually, without moving me, Corin grabbed the phone and ordered room service. When it arrived, I hid beneath the sheets while Corin wrapped a towel around his waist, signing the receipt to charge the food to our room. We ate naked, and watched a movie on the pay-per-view. Normally I refused to pay twenty bucks for a movie, but this was a fuck-it kind of scenario.
So we watched, like, sixty bucks worth of movies and ate over a hundred dollars in room service and wine.
At which point the sky outside was dark, but we didn’t care—we had the room ’til noon the following day.
Finally, replete, buzzed from wine, I lay naked on the bed, and glanced at Corin. “I’m crusty. I need a shower.”
He grinned at me. “I could stand to be clean.”
I slid off the bed, an idea forming. Walking away, I paused in the doorway of the bathroom, posing for him, staring back at him over my shoulder. “So join me.”
He hopped off the bed, trotting after me.
“And Corin?” I said, stopping. “Bring your phone.” I waited for him, and then sat down on the closed toilet seat. I took his phone from him, brought up the video camera, and aimed it at him. “My turn,” I said.
He grasped his cock in his fist, and began stroking it. I had his whole body in the shot, recording each movement. He went slow, taking his time making himself hard. And then, once he was erect, he continued to caress his cock in slow, steady strokes. Each jerk of his fist down his length sent shudders through me, until I was trembling with anticipation, eager to watch him come, hungry to see him explode, needing to feel his cum all over me. It was crazy, what I was feeling. New, wild, and dirty, something I’d never have imagined myself feeling. Nor could I fathom doing this with anyone else.
But then…I couldn’t fathom ever being with anyone else again, anyway.
So this was just…something new, for me and Corin.
Eventually, I was so worked up from watching Corin masturbate that my thighs were quivering and my core was aching, and I needed to touch myself. I held the phone in one hand and slipped my fingers between my thighs, touching myself just enough to elicit a moan, and then I reached up and pinched my nipple before returning my fingers to my clit.
“Fuck, Tate. You touch yourself like that, and it’s gonna be over soon,” he growled.
“Yeah? You’re close?” I breathed.
“Shit…yeah. Especially when you play with yourself like that.”
I spread my thighs apart, handing him the phone. “You record now.”
He angled the phone up high so he was recording both of us, his fist sliding on his cock and my fingers flying around my clit. I gasped as I neared the edge, but slowed down to back away, wanting to come at the same time as Corin. Holding back was impossible, though, as I watched his big fist glide down his thick cock, squeezing around the fat pink head and then down to the root, pumping himself slowly. The closer he got, the faster he began to pump. I reached out, snagged a bottle of lotion from the counter, and squirted some onto his cock, and then as he stroked himself his fist made a sticky wet slick noise that somehow turned me on even more, and I had to touch myself, had to finger the hot hard button of my throbbing clit and pinch my nipples, crying out as I fell over the edge, thrusting my hips against my fingers, legs splayed open so he could record every bit of me as I spasmed and whimpered through my orgasm.
I didn’t stop. Even when the orgasm faded, I kept touching myself, because I could tell Corin was close. His legs were shaking, his knees buckling, his hips flexing, grunts escaping him.
In my fantasy, he’d jerked himself to orgasm, and I had just knelt there watching, taking it as he came.
In reality, though, I was incapable of inaction.
As he neared his own climax, I knelt on the tile in front of Corin, staring up at him, at the camera. “Are you gonna come now, baby?” I asked.
“Yeah, honeypot…I’m…fuck. I’m getting close.”
I grabbed his wrist to stop him, taking over. Both hands, sliding up and down his slick length. Gliding, twisting, jerking, pumping. He was groaning nonstop now, hips grinding, fucking my hands.
“Tate…” he snarled.
“Now,” I demanded, staring up at him, gazing at the camera, and then his eyes beyond it. “Come all over me, Corin.”
I sucked in a breath of anticipation as he snarled breathlessly; I slowed my strokes, using both hands to twist down his length from tip to root. He threw his head back, and I knew this was the moment. I shifted closer, pumping him fast, now. He sagged, grunting, thrusting, cursing, and then he came.
A thick stream of white cum spurted out of him and spattered onto my left cheek and across my lips, and then, as I fisted his length as fast as I could, he grunted, another stripe painting my face, spattering over my forehead, over my nose, down my lips and onto my chin. I licked my lips, tasting his cum, and then he spurted yet more onto me, dripping onto my cleavage, over my left breast, and I tilted him to the side a little so his next spurt dripped onto my right breast, coating my nipple. He sagged, and I took his cock into my mouth, sucking around his head, bobbing to fuck and suck the last few drops out of him, continuing to bob on him until he cried out jaggedly, pulling away roughly so he slipped out of my mouth with a pop.
“Jesus, Tate,” he breathed. “Just…Jesus.”
He stared down at me, and then he knelt, handing me the phone. I recorded him as he lifted me back onto the toilet, filming down the length of my body as he buried his face between my thighs, devouring my throbbing clit. He pinched both of my nipples, rolling them, tweaking and flicking just this side of painful, exactly how I liked it, his mouth and tongue doing wild, crazy things to me, bringing me to a screaming orgasm within minutes.
He leaned away, and I filmed him wiping my juices off of his mouth, and then he took the phone from me to record me as I was, slumped down on the toilet seat, legs splayed apart, his cum on my face and tits.
And then, finally, I hit the stop button.
We spent almost thirty minutes in the shower, cleaning each other thoroughly, kissing until our lips were swollen and we were gasping.
We watched one more movie, and then fell asleep wrapped up together.
I woke up to Corin’s raging erection snugged between the globes of my ass and his hands roaming my body.
I twisted around just enough to find his mouth with mine. “Morning, love,” I murmured.
“Good morning, honeypot,” he murmured back. “Also, I love you.”
I loved hearing that.
It made me shudder all over, happiness thrilling through me.
His hands found every sensitive, erogenous spot on my body, plying me into gasping flights of climax, and as I shattered under his hands, I reached back between our bodies, lifted my thigh to bare my pussy for him, and guided him into me as we spooned. His hands clutched my breasts, and I touched myself, and he moved in me, whispering my name over and over and over, mixing in declarations of love, and I returned it all, grinding back against him, crying out his name as I came again and again, shouting my love for him as he poured into me.
Again, and again, and again, into the afternoon, we made love. Standing up, my hands on the windowsill, the curtains closed, driving into me from behind; bent over the bed; sitting up on the bed, tangled up in a Kama Sutra position; in the shower, his hands lifting me, his hips pinning me against the shower stall wall as he drove into me roughly, our bodies slapping noisily, wetly; on our hands and knees on the floor, doggy-style, my tits flopping, his hips clapping against my jiggling ass.
Each time was better than the last.