Do it to me: a pleasure principle outro

Damita Jo

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this shit, I thought as I settled myself atop the mattress and stretched my arm upward to make contact with the object of my destination. Precariously balanced on my tippy toes, I stretched until I made contact, setting my phone on the blade of the ceiling fan. When I glanced over to the television to which I was casting my phone’s screen, I could see just how ridiculous I looked standing in this position.

My husband had no idea what would be awaiting him once he returned home, but I had a whole situation set up.

Since the baby had arrived Ahmad and I had fallen into a bit of a sexual rut. Don’t get me wrong, my husband was definitely still putting it down in the bedroom, but we’d long left the high-risk, high-reward antics of our sex life’s past and had settled into quickies between AJ’s naps or late night, soundless lovemaking so as to not disturb the baby once he’d gone down for the night.

I had no doubt in my mind that he still desired me and only me, but…something still was off. And I didn’t like that feeling, so I needed to do something about it.

So when AJ’s “grandma”, aka Ahmad’s childhood neighbor who had been like a mother figure to him for a great majority of his life, called asking to spend the weekend with the baby I hadn’t hesitated to pack my boy up and let his daddy take him on over there while I put the finishing touches on what I hoped would be a memorable evening.

I didn’t want loving caresses and softly uttered words of sweetness tonight.

I wanted to be fucked within an inch of my life.

So while Ahmad was gone, I’d showered, buffed, polished, and moisturized myself into maximum softness, donned my skimpiest lingerie, and had now set up what I’d hoped would be the piece de resistance.

I’d balked at the ceiling fan in our bedroom when we’d purchased this place, simply because I’d thought it was ugly. Ahmad had promised many times to change it out for something that I’d felt would be more befitting to our decor, but I was glad he’d dragged his feet for once when I’d stumbled upon an idea on social media that I hoped would get me the very thing that I desired. I’d read far too many romance books wherein doing shit like this had brought the spark back to a couple’s staid sex life, so I was willing to give it a shot.

I heard the sound of our back door being opened and I scrambled my ass from standing atop the bed, draping myself across the mattress in what I’d hoped would be an inviting pose. I glanced over to the tv and I was perfectly in frame. I let out a little giggle before blowing myself a kiss and winking up at my camera. I couldn’t front, the idea was genius. Balancing a camera along one of the blades of the ceiling fan provided the perfect aerial view of our massive bed and I was damn near trembling with anticipation just imagining what the two of us would look like on the playback.

“Babe, Mrs. Mortenson said he—gahdamn,” Ahmad said as he crossed the threshold to our bedroom. “Did I forget my own birthday?”

I laughed at his silly ass, sitting up and beckoning him toward me while shaking my head.

He wasted no time getting all up in my space, hauling me into him for a torrid kiss. Wrenching from my mouth, he trailed kisses along my jaw up to my ear and asked, “What did I do to deserve all this?”

I pulled back slightly, cupping his face with both of my hands before answering, “I figured we could try something new today,” and nodded toward the television where my phone was being cast. His eyes widened as he realized we were on the screen in frame and he looked up and around the room, trying to figure out the angle. I laughed when he turned his attention back to me again, eyes still wide as a smirk settled on his lips.

“You tryna make a flick?” he asked.

“Somethin’ like that,” I replied, with a hint of a giggle in my tone.

“Shiiiid, you ain’t said nothin’ but a word,” Ahmad returned, quickly whipping the tee he was wearing over his head and crowding my space once again.

Few words were exchanged as he rid himself of his sweats and boxers too, stalking over to me comfortably naked as he joined me on the bed. He ran a hand along my side as he lowered his mouth to my ear. 

“This new?” he asked, running a finger along the lacy, floral design of the lingerie that encased my titties.

I nodded as he sucked my earlobe into his mouth, biting down slightly, which made me moan.

“Hope it didn’t cost too much,” Ahmad continued.

I frowned. “What do you mean—oh shit!”

Before I could blink, he’d ripped the cute little babydoll-style lingerie in two, baring my body that was now only clad in the matching g-string to him. My nipples pebbled in arousal immediately as he emitted a low growl and lowered his head to take a stiff peak into his mouth. I threw my head back in ecstasy as he went back and forth teasing both breasts with nips and suckles. My nipples were painfully hard as he pinched them between his forefinger and thumb to the point of near pain, then released them. He repeated that cycle a few times and I damn near came just from that stimulation alone. Ahmad lowered his face to mine once again, our tongues tangling when he slid his into my mouth and his hands moved down my body to remove the g string. His mouth quickly followed the same course, pressing lingering kisses along the length of my body until he settled between my legs with a satisfied hum.

I never got over the first contact of Ahmad’s mouth to my pussy. Even when we were having paint by numbers sex he always ate with gusto, commenting on how “fucking delectable” I always tasted.  My legs were shaking and my stomach tightened as he plunged two fingers deep into my pussy as his tongue teased my clit in a flickering motion.

“Mad, please,” I moaned, sensually annoyed at his teasing.

“Patience, love,” he murmured as he raised his head and pressed a soft kiss to my pubic bone. “Don’t you want to see how fucking lovely you’ll look on film once you cum. Let me make that happen for you, baby.”

I groaned in frustration as he went back to lapping at my pussy in teasing strokes, altering his speed and movements each time I felt myself drawing closer to cumming. He was driving me out of my mind and the dick hadn’t even joined the party yet. And like I’d spoken it up, Ahmad removed his mouth from my pussy and quickly thrust his dick into me slowly. 

I was so far gone, I’d forgotten about the camera set up. 

My mind was stayed on Ahmad’s dick as he slowed the tempo of his strokes, lowering his body onto mine so that we were chest to chest, face to face as he asked, “This feel good to you, baby?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” I moaned.

“You look so fucking pretty taking this dick. You love it when I fuck you like this?”

“Yes,” I groaned, feeling tears crest in my eyelids as Ahmad once again picked up the speed of his strokes, pounding into me with abandon.

All conscious thought and ability to form coherent words left me as he drove into me over and over until we were both cumming in a cacophony of sound. He collapsed onto me and I welcomed the heaviness of his body resting upon mine as we both came back to ourselves. It was only when Ahmad moved to lay beside me and the movement caught my eye on the television that I remembered that the camera was still going. Ahmad must’ve realized it at the same time as me as he turned to face me and asked, “Now which one of us is going to get that down?”