Quickies

"So are these." His hands went to her breasts, cupping them and thumbing her nipples. She began to ride him, working her hips in easy circles, dancing around on his cock. It was a slow grind and Jason buried his face against her breasts, sucking greedily at her nipples, back and forth. His hands went to her hips, guiding her, pulling her into him as he began to thrust up to meet her. She looked down at his face, seeing the mask of pleasure there, and squeezed his length hard as she came up, making him groan.

She knew he couldn't hold out much longer and didn't think she could possibly get worked up enough again to meet him, but he drove that deliciously curved cock up into her at an incredible angle, edging her appetite from just hungry to ravenous within moments. The feel of him pistoning up to meet her, the chair rocking against the wall with each thrust, made her desperate for him.

"Oh god, baby, please…" She didn't know if he heard her-his eyes were closed, his pelvis working hard, his breath coming just as fast as hers. The distance between wanting it now and wanting it to go on forever seemed both infinite and just one sweet push away at the same time. He used his long legs to press his hips up hard, giving her short, deep thrusts that made her gasp and clutch at him. She hung on tight, their hips grinding together, the wet slap of their bodies filling the room.

He gasped suddenly and grabbed her hips, his eyes opening to meet hers. There was a moment when everything stopped, trembling on that edge, their bodies joined, eyes locked, a sweet pause they both savored before the inevitable came crashing in like a tidal wave. Callie wrapped her arms around his neck as he took her with him one last time, shaking with the fierce intensity of it. Jason growled, biting his lip as he propelled them both upward with such force that she had to hang onto him to keep from falling, her own orgasm milking his, white hot waves filling her belly again and again.

"Now, that's what I call a good session," he murmured against her neck and she felt his smile.

"You never turned off the mic, did you?" She glanced behind them at the table, the microphone light still on, her stories strewn, wrinkled, and slightly stained. The red folder was on the floor.

He grinned. "Nope."

"Well, I think I finally managed to let the story live through me."

He kissed her, soft and lingering. "I think you did better than that."

"So what do you say, Mr. Adams?" She smiled and pressed her forehead to his.

"Do I get the job? Do you wanna be my agent?"

He winked. "As long as you're not expecting some Jerry Maguire mission statement from me."

"Should I tell you that you had me at hello?"

"Ahhh Cal…" His eyes were sad as they met hers, and she knew he was thinking about all the reasons she shouldn't be sitting naked in his lap. "I don't know."

"Don't worry about it." She nuzzled his cheek, the corner of his mouth, her lips soft and warm against the fuzziness of his beard. "You just gotta represent, baby."

"That I can do."

She smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "So I noticed."

Shifting Gears

A quickie isn't a bad thing. A fast-pounding breathless fuck that finishes with his shuddering, jerky growly come quite satisfies me. What I don't like is the pressure for me to have an orgasm during a quickie. It just isn't going to happen. Like most women, my body needs time to rev up-but I was made to fly long distances, once I get going.

So my logic is, why spend the time and effort to start the engine, when I know we're only going to be making a quick jaunt?

There are two things I can count on almost every morning. 1) he inevitably wakes up with an erection in desperate need of attention and 2) it's almost always a few minutes before the alarm goes off, leaving us very little time to play. It doesn't bother me. I love sucking him off, handjobs have recently become one of my favorite things to do, and getting up on top of him has never been a chore for me-watching his face twist and change as I work my pussy around on his cock, squeezing, milking him until he can't stand it and has to shoot up inside of me-what's not to love? There are lots of solutions to ease the ache of that insistent early morning hard-on, all of which are incredibly satisfying… at least, to me.

I know, that sounds strange. He's the one achieving an orgasm, but I'm the one satisfied? The thing is-he loves it when I come. He especially loves making me come.

Which I get, considering how much I love making him come. It's quite reciprocal. So when he gets to come, and I don't… that leaves him wanting more. Me, though, I'm okay with it. By the time the snooze goes off, I've usually gotten him there and my engine hasn't even done much more than begun to purr. It gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling, but I'm not left with an overwhelming need.

It drives him crazy.

"Let me lick you." He's still breathless from his climax, his cock slowly waning.