He pulled his eyes away, a bit of crimson flushing his cheeks. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? Really?” I pulled the sweaty shirt and sports bra off. The cool air felt good, and my tits got even perkier. “Take a better look.”
He let out a breath that was almost a shudder. “Keira. You’re so…” His thick words caught in his throat. I pulled my running short off, enjoying the way his breathing sped up as I stood before him in nothing but my thong.
“Don’t play with me like this,” he said, voice husky.
“Who says I’m playing?” I let my eyes roam over him, then linger at the hardening bulge straining against his running shorts. With a wicked wink, I peeled off my thong, wet now with fluid more slippery than the sweat on my t-shirt. “Is that a Louisville slugger in your pants, or…” I twirled the panties around on my finger, then tossed them. “Or are you just glad to see me in my birthday suit?”
The look on his face said he was straining to contain his ravenous hunger. He opened his mouth to speak, but I stepped close and kissed him. When I felt his cock pressing against me, he managed to pull his tongue out of my mouth to ask “What’s a ‘Louisville slugger?”
Oh yeah. They don’t play baseball in Ireland. Well, time to educate this bog doggy. “Get your ass in that shower, and I’ll show you…” I tugged his shorts off, while he peeled off his shirt.
Hot, wonderful water poured over our naked bodies. I closed my eyes and imagined we were standing in a gentle summer rain. Then I poured some body wash into my hands and began soaping up an acre or so of hard muscle. The shower was big enough to play racquetball in, and we stepped away from the water while I worked him into a lather, as the expression goes. He slid soapy arms around me and pulled me tight against his engorged Louisville slugger. I was all warmed up on the mound, just waiting to throw him a juicy pitch, but I pulled away, ordering him to remain in the on deck circle. “Just stand back and relax, Wolf Boy.”
“Okay,” he murmured, dropping his arms to his sides. “I’m relaxed.”
I let my hand glide over his cock, but just briefly. “Well, not all of you. But we’ll figure out a way to relieve this last bit of tension.” I gazed down at his beautiful, thick penis, literally throbbing with every beat of his heart. I took it in both hands, very lightly, exploring every glorious inch of its surface, tracing a finger along a thick vein as it pumped blood into the now rock hard love muscle. When I slipped one hand down to cradle his nut sack, he groaned in pleasure, and his hand reached for my sex, despite his promise to relax it. His finger traced along the lips, as my receptive vulva seemed to pull open on its own. A wave of pleasure rolled through me, but I took my cock hand away to take hold of his wrist, while I gave his balls a short squeeze with the other.
“Ah ah ah,” I said. “Wait your turn.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to. It’s my birthday, so I’m in charge.”
He let me pull his hand away from my pussy, and dropped it to his side again. Although as soon as he stopped, I was almost sorry. But I had wanted him so badly, for so long, and I was determined to make this last.
I used my cock hand easy, using only the thumb and index finger to make the “okay” sign, forming a ring that I moved slowly up and down, from the engorged head, down to the root of the shaft, and then back. Not pumping him too hard – not yet. Keeping up my cock-teasing hand job, I move around behind him now. With the hand that had been massaging his balls, I now began to stroke and knead his buttocks. When he groaned again, I whispered another command. “All right, Wolf Boy. Down. Down on all fours, hands and knees. Now.” He complied, and I have to say, in that position it reminded me of his four legged wolf form. From behind him now, I was giving him the old ‘reach around’ job with my right hand, while my left massaged his dangling, soapy nuts “Good boy. Yes. Who’s a good boy? You are, yes, you.” I almost expected him to raise one leg and ‘scratch’ in the air, like the reflex from a dog when you give his flank a vigorous rub.
Then I reached my left hand for the body wash, and just squeezed a big pool of it onto his back. I smoothed it around, slickly coating his back, his tummy, his thighs, and finally, his ass. My right hand wasn’t even pumping him anymore, just maintaining a firm grip on his diamond cutter hard on. I massaged and needed his magnificent glutes, working them all over, but making increasing frequent forays up and down the crack of his ass. Then, before he knew it, my finger found his anus, and slipped in there with intent. As soon as I touched him this way, stroking and pushing the prostate gland, he stiffened for a moment, then relaxed again. He was panting like a sprinter who just ran the quarter mile now. As his moaning turned to heavy gasps, I pulled out the finger, and let go of his dick. “Oh no you don’t. Not yet.”
“Keira. Oh god. I’m about to explode.”
“Don’t you dare.” Now I took
