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My 3rd story.
How does the dynamic between the characters feel? Does the sex move at the right pace? I'd love to improve with feedback.
Thank you for reading!
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"One thing I love about your dick," she let me know in all earnestness, "is just how wet it is."
"What?" I was a bit confused. This was not Tuesday morning before-work talk.
"I'm not sure why, it's just sooo nice. Sometimes I'm a little bit dry at the start, but you seem to produce a lot of pre-cum, so it covers for me. It's very generous."
I gave her a shy smile and a little thank you while I continued to assemble breakfast. Men in general don't get a lot of compliments, and I was pretty bad at receiving them.
But she had a funny way with compliments, always very strange ones-
'you have big beautiful eyes, like a cow' was a favorite,
or 'those quads are making me wet' after I get back from the gym. But, I suppose that's what love is: someone appreciates things about you that you would never think to love in yourself. Like a wet dick.
I served her eggs, toast, and coffee while she did her makeup and we had the rest of our morning chat.
"My big strong man made me breakfast once again," she said as she laughed. "You've got a way with eggs."
I was putting on a shirt, embarrassed I'd forgotten one after the gym, but I still enjoyed the attention.
"There you go again with the weird compliments!"
I sat down to dig in as well. "I mean, thank you, I guess. You're just funny is all."
"Mmmm... you know I just want you to feel appreciated for all you do," she said quietly with a finger on my chest. "And I do appreciate you. A Lot.
Big Strong, Wet Man."
She laughed at my expression.
I walked her out and then prepared for my own workday, as best I could. The truth is I was a little turned on by her random comment, and I got flustered looking for my watch, distracted as I was.
I liked to think I was a spontaneous and take-charge man, the kind who could give her ass a squeeze around the kitchen and have her begging to be mounted with a few growls, but the truth is, she was often the initiator. She let me know she wanted it, and only then it would occur to me to take charge and perform. Half the time we had sex, she would wake in the middle of the night, ravenous, and not let me sleep until she rode out an orgasm.
And in the middle of the night, she was definitely less careful about condoms. Birth control gave her odd reactions, so we relied on rubbers every time. But she got a thrill from starting out with no condom, and then putting one on to be safe. But in the middle of the night, sometimes, she wanted me to hold on for just one more minute, just one, just for her to finish...
Wet. She liked a Wet Dick.
~~~
"Delicious, sweetie!" she said, scraping up some noodles and vegetables I'd prepared before she got home from work.
I shrugged. "It's nothing! Took fifteen minutes."
"But you made me breakfast, you packed my lunch, and then you made dinner. You're a star."
I beamed a little. I did like to perform.
She started picking up the plates. "Why don't you go relax and pick a movie or something while I start washing up, since you did all that today."
Fine by me, but it was going to be hard making it through a whole movie with this woman running through my mind.
Lounging on the couch, laptop on my stomach, I peaked over the edge at her. She was the cutest thing I'd ever seen: smiling, scrubbing away, soap all over. Her brown hair swung gently as she turned this way and that, cut in a bob falling around the middle of her neck. Still in her work clothes, her blouse tucked into men's slacks, it somehow worked perfectly to capture her thin waist and wide, wide hips. She caught me looking at her and gave a nod.