Gillovny Ficlet
(NSFW)
The sun bathing his skin and her soft lips around his hard member feel like heaven. There’s nothing like a comfortable lounger on the poolside and losing yourself in the woman of your life’s mouth. The way she opens her eyes and her look pierces through his tinted glasses to reach his gaze when she almost lands at his base drives him crazy. That and the yummy sound escaping her throat and echoing on every fiber of his cock. Somehow, he has always considered this act as one of the biggest proofs of his love. It has been misinterpreted by some in the past, but never with her. He thinks there’s something sacred in a blowjob. He completely abandons himself to her and he allows her to take control, to overpower him. She could hurt him right now. She could severely injure him if she wanted to. She could also release him from this sweet torture any time she wants. She knows where to lick, how hard to suck, when to take him deep and how much time to spend on this spot, at the back of his tip, before he loses it. The most precious part of his body is all hers. He has confided his dick with her lips and his balls to her hand. How this could not be taken as a proof of love?
Oddly, it’s not her tongue swirling on his tip nor her middle finger pressing harder and harder against his ass hole that send him on the edge right now. After all, orgasms could be mostly cerebral, he thinks, because the friction of her hard nipple against his thigh and the sight of her hips raising and lowering as she rubs her sex against his shin eclipses everything else. He can even feel her wetness through the hairs of his leg and wishes he was flexible enough to reach her ass. He wishes he was mentally strong enough to make her stop and turn things around. But his body feels so heavy and weak at the same time. He belongs to her right now, she’s the one who decides when this will be over and how it’ll end.
He hopes it’ll never end.
“I’m done. Can I go now?” she asks with her fingers tightly wrapped around his base and her lips softly caressing the pulsing vein of his cock on every syllable.
He barely heard, his mind is dizzy and his ears are buzzing. He must have misunderstood. Where would she go, and why would she go now anyway? She likes to torture him sometimes, but not like that. Not while still holding him and not when she’s soaking wet on his leg. Now that she’s stopped her exquisite motions, he feels his strengths coming back. Maybe he’s strong enough to lift her and put her on her knees. Hopefully, he’ll be strong enough to stand on his feet behind her.
“Can I go, mister Duchovny?” She uses the sexiest voice she can as he was trying to raise. It still doesn’t make sense, he thinks.
Or maybe it does. She always has to go, it’s crazy. Why would this amazing blowjob be different from their relationship itself? One day she’s here and they’re happy, and the second after she’s on the other side of the world and he’s unable to do anything besides missing her for days. “Yes, go, leave me again! You’re so good at it!” he wants to scream, but his voice remains trapped in his throat and it seems like she’s gone already. He can’t feel her mouth anymore. Her beautiful blue eyes have vanished, such as the sensation of her blond curl brushing the inside of his thighs. What he does feel is the dark hole in his heart, aching and silently screaming for her to come back. In vain.
“Mister Duchov…” A scream of disgust follows his last name and the sight of the back of the cleaning lady rushing towards the house and throwing her apron inside the pool is the first thing he sees as he opens his eyes, finally out of his reverie. After a few seconds of incomprehension, he realizes that his hand inside his tented board shorts is probably the reason of the lady’s anger and disgust. He’ll have a hard time explaining that later…
He puts his glasses on the side of the chair and stands up to jump inside the pool in a gracious diving. He needs to cool both his body and mind after what just happened. Hopefully, after tonight, this kind of dreams won’t end in nightmares of loneliness and abandon anymore. Hopefully, tonight, after her car has crossed his portal for the first time in three months and she has seen the red carpet leading to his door where he’ll be standing in an over-expensive suit, after she walked towards him pretending to not understand what’s happening, after he kneels before her, takes her hand in his, and asks her the same question he had asked her twenty years ago, hopefully she will not go anywhere. Never.
Just Holding Hands 