Embracing Ellie: Chapter 25

Hemi told her what to do and wasn’t uncaring or unkind. Everything she did, he liked.

It felt wonderful to give him pleasure—to use her tongue and mouth on the part of his body with the most pleasure receptors. Maybe a man like Hemi enjoyed sex even more than other men because of the increased square footage of his sex organ. It made sense: more size meant more surface area laden with nerve endings that would race the slick, sensual attention she delivered straight to his brainstem. She liked the idea of her mouth lighting up his mental dashboard with all the bright lights at once—no warnings of failure, only warnings of imminent sexual release.

He guided her to do different things—things Danny had never instructed. He liked it when she straddled his thighs and stuck her ass up in the air, her breasts squashed against his meaty thighs. She held his thick cock in her hand and angled it sideways. He told her to look into his eyes and trace the point of her tongue along the slit of his cockhead, to tease the bulbous shape in the shallow concave from where his ejaculate would launch. He liked that a lot. His cock flexed and throbbed in her hand when she did it. She tasted his semen as it seeped from the excitement she provoked.

Hemi liked it when she mouthed the underside of his cock—liked it even more when she kept eye contact. She liked the eye contact too. She loved his beautiful navy eyes watching her, loved the small signs of lust she could ignite. His breathing grew deeper, heavier. His mighty chest rose and fell with greater magnitude, like a sea under storm threat. When she kissed the underside of his cockhead, she could sometimes make his eyes almost close, the corner of his mouth twitching into a fleeting smirk.

The whole while, he cupped her cheek and played with her hair.

The thickness of his cock made it harder to suck than Danny’s. She could fit Hemi’s head and an inch of his shaft into her mouth, but all she could manage was to bob her head a little. When she sucked the head and looked into his eyes, he drew in a deep breath that expanded his muscular chest and pulsed more warm semen into her mouth. He tasted the same as Danny.

He wasn’t uncircumcised, but he had a film of skin that bunched by the inflated collar of his cockhead. If she pulled up, she could get it to roll almost to cover his urethra. It would lift his balls high, and she liked to watch them fall when she pulled down. She liked to make them move. Hemi liked it when she gripped his massive base and pushed the skin down so his cockhead bulged—swollen and vulnerable, the skin all the way retracted. He liked it a lot when she sucked the head that way.

Hemi guided her hand with his own, showing her how he liked her to stroke his thick shaft in time with her head bobbing on what she could fit in her mouth.

“Fuck, that’s good, Ellie,” he said. “I think you know what you’re doing.”

She smiled and rubbed his cockhead on her lower lip, looking into his eyes again. “You’re supposed to make me do it, not compliment me.”

“I don’t like bossing you,” he said in a low, hoarse whisper. “Get Danny to be the bad guy. I’m your good guy.”

“Are you?”

“You tell me.”

“You are pretty good.” She flicked her tongue at his urethra the way he liked. “You’ve been very good to me.”

She grew bold on her own, not needing his instruction after all. Loving the act of sucking his big cock so much, her natural enthusiasm took over, letting her perform without fear of mistakes or showing inexperience. She met his eyes, hiding her face behind his cock and jerking the end. She kissed his cock’s belly, then lower—kissed his sack, then mouthed his balls. His jaw dropped. His cock grew slicker in her grip, already wet with saliva and his own secretion, but wetter now as his sensitive balls went into her mouth one at a time. His cock flexed again, and more clear lubrication flowed from his tip into her grip.

The sexual excitement she felt grew wilder; her own lubrication began, and she could feel the room’s cool air on her wet labia with her ass thrust up.

Now she had a repertoire of moves she knew he liked—moves that worked well to bring him closer to the edge. She went through them all, over and again. His cock was as rigid as it could be, swollen to its maximum proportion. To do that to a man like Hemi gave her great confidence.

And when she had him where she wanted him—with that massive slab of muscle heaving up and down—she scooted to her knees and hovered over his massive cock, sticking with one maneuver: her hand stroking his shaft in time with her mouth bobbing and sucking on his beefy end. His stomach pulled in, and his breaths came in locomotive chuffs. His cock spewed precome onto her tongue. Their connection was slick and wet and slippery, and she loved the shape of his cockhead in her mouth.

When it became obvious she’d delivered him to the brink, she scrambled to think of how his ejaculation should be accomplished. In her mouth seemed far too intimate, but then what? Use her hand? All that work, only to be remembered by Hemi as a woman who’d given him a hand release? No. That wouldn’t do.

So she did what drove her: she bounced to her knees and straddled his hips. His big slab of meat was rock hard and throbbing, shining bright with wetness, pointing up to her chin. She squashed it downward by arching her back. Her labia suckled the pronounced ridge that ran up his cock’s belly. She humped her sex on him. He was hard and slippery, and she was soft and just as wet. It felt amazing—far better than she’d even anticipated. It felt so good for her that she worried it couldn’t be better for Hemi.

And yet it appeared to be. He thrust his hips upward, and she rose on the swell of his masculine power. Her toes grabbed the bedding, and she humped his cock faster, scooting her hips forward so her labia slid up and down only on the section of his mighty cock where the shaft met the head.

Oh god, and it looked so good from her point of view.

His cock looked as if it were so plump it would pop. The head was inflated like a fat purple balloon. The skin slid up and down with her wet humping, and Hemi began to make sounds like he would orgasm—growls and huffs, the sounds huge sexual beasts might make.

Her own orgasm swelled unexpectedly. It was pure physical pleasure, but it came like a rifle shot—cold and triumphant. Like a sexual accomplishment. Like her own sexuality had been awarded a much-due recognition. And what better celebration than seeing Hemi pop the cork on his mighty champagne bottle?

And pop it he did.

“Fuck, Ellie,” he roared and tightened his belly, lifting her a little higher from the bed. She reached down and squeezed and stroked his fat cockhead, her thumb slipping on the slit underside, three fingers on the smooth plain of its top—flicking, flicking, flicking—the whole while her body weight pushed her pussy down onto his cock, shuffling wetness backward and forward.

The first pulse of his load squirted up his belly, and his expanded rib cage blocked it from going further. The next pearlescent blast arced over his barrel chest and landed in the pillows. The next two went farther, splattering the headboard. Hemi made sex-powered sounds of release she would never forget. Her thumb flicked faster and faster, and she clamped her thighs on his hips. He bucked and squirmed, and more of his huge load pumped onto his belly. His ejaculation had been massive. He’d come more than she’d ever seen Danny produce—and now she’d left him shaking and laughing, his face and chest reddened despite his deep tan. He looked fucking gorgeous.

She still squeezed his hips with her own shaking thighs, humping and riding out a long, slow-revving orgasm that blotted out Hemi’s sounds with a cottony silence. At last, she exhaled and fell forward, putting her hands on his chest to stop herself from flattening onto him and making a semen sandwich.

They both panted and huffed, catching their breath, both of them emerging from a wild tunnel of sexual release and profound orgasm. They broke into breathy chuckles in unison.

Hemi groaned, rubbing his hands on her sides. “And you said you didn’t know what you were doing. Fuck me, Ellie.” He panted again, gulping to catch his breath.

A warm feeling of intimacy washed over her, and though it was wrong, she indulged for a moment, looking into Hemi’s eyes and sucking her lower lip into her mouth. They both smiled.

Then Hemi took her sides again and lifted her right up off him, holding her over him as if she were a child.

It made her feel small and light and delicate. A strange feeling rose in her chest, sending happy sparkles through her vision. She hadn’t expected it to feel like that—but the wild swell in her heart made her wonder if Hemi’s extra-large size had attracted her for this reason, even if she’d never contextualized it.

She hoped he wouldn’t lower her for a kiss—because as nice as that might be, imagining it happen showed her how inappropriate it would be. But he didn’t. Instead, he moved her to the side, keeping her clear of the orgasmic mess that had painted his torso. He set her on the bed, and she pulled clean sheets up to cover herself. He chuckled to himself and heaved off the bed. She watched that massive dong—now deflating—hanging between his thighs, stiff and slinging a long string of semen. “You wait here,” he said, then trod out of the bedroom, still laughing to himself. She watched his naked ass as he left.

She curled up under the sheet. Hemi turned on the shower in the bathroom.

Now that it was over—now that her breath had returned and her heart rate had subsided—a certain measure of guilt slithered through her chest. She’d made another man come. She’d seen the come blast out of another man’s penis. She’d conjured it—done it by humping his cock with her sex and flicking her thumb on his penis. And boy, had she fought the urge to slip his cock inside her when she was coming. It would have been so easy. And she’d wanted it too.

Then why feel guilty?

She’d shown huge restraint.

In fact, as far as this sort of swinging behavior was concerned, she’d been quite responsible. Honorable, maybe even.

Hemi returned after a short time, a towel in one hand. She supposed he’d only rinsed off in the shower—he’d borne the full brunt of his bazooka’s payload. She was tired and drained. Enervated. The thought of even washing her hands felt like an impossible task.

Hemi looked incredible in the dim light. The towel was bright next to his tanned skin. His penis sagged now between his legs. Seeing a man like Hemi—huge and powerful—returning to her bed brought a feeling of safety, of comfort. She smiled.

“Here you are,” he said, getting onto the bed and passing her the towel. She wiped her hands and between her legs while he slid under the covers.

When she was dry, she dropped the towel off the bed. Hemi closed himself behind her, putting a thick arm around her thin middle. Spooning. Quiet. She said, “I wish Danny would get here soon.”

Hemi said, “I’m sure he’ll be here soon, Ellie.” His voice was quiet and draggy. Within a minute, she was sure he was asleep. Her own eyes grew heavy with a wonderful weight.

***

Sometime later—though she wasn’t sure how long—she woke to the room dark as night, lit only by a pale moon. She snapped her eyes open with a start—as if something were wrong. A chill ran through her, the kind she’d get if someone had left a window open on a cold night. She gathered the sheets around herself, and they came with ease. Hemi’s warm arm was gone. She shifted in the bedding and found no resistance. She turned over. Hemi wasn’t there. A light was on in the kitchen, and she saw a figure at the end of the bed.

But it wasn’t Hemi.

This man was smaller, thinner. Familiar. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew who it was. It was Daniel.

“Danny?”

He said, “I can’t believe you did this.”

The blood drained from her cheeks, and she gasped in horror.