Alex Becker, ‘Make It Right’
Alright, yes, this story is probably my favorite of the goofy stuff. It’s sharp, compact, wildly filthy, and fun. It touches on a lot of stuff you’ll read in my essays.
This one didn’t need a ton of work. Anyways, here you go.
‘Make It Right’
“You didn’t…steep…the grounds…long enough,” Della grunted, her dress hiked up, stockings pulled down to her ankles, bent over the table. “We’ll…do this…Alex…until…you get it…right!” She shouted at the end, and I felt her pussy contract on my cock.
“Yes, Della,” I said, trying to stay focused on my mistake. Her slender form bucked against me with surprising force—she was stronger than I gave her credit for. I looked down at her ass, toned and tight, bouncing against me, taking my full length with ease.
We were fucking like animals on a perfectly set table, two small medium sized coffee cups situated on saucers with a small container of simple syrup situated between them, all sitting atop an immaculate white table cloth. The slender, fluted vase had fallen off and shattered at the start—we were far too vigorous in our passion for that to survive. Her white satin gloved hands gripped the edge of the table while she moved her ass up and down on me, my hands behind my back.
Della slammed against me, grunting and panting, throwing me off balance. I grabbed her hips to stay steady, and she turned around, looking me dead in the eye, a death glare piercing through her dampening black hair. “Who said you could touch me? Bad boys don’t get to touch me!” She slapped one of my hands away, and continued to bounce away on my member. “When you finally make my coffee, exactly how I want it, I’ll let you touch me, Alex,” she said, “but until that time, you’re mine.”
This had been going on for a month. Della owned her own coffee shop, one that I visited regularly, ordering the same thing each time.
One day, she leaned over the counter and whispered to me, “You know, you order that so much, I’ll bet you could make it yourself.”
I grinned at that, and blushed a little. “Oh, I don’t know.”
A look of lustful, hungry, inspiration flashed across her pale face, narrowing her green eyes. “How about this: if you can make it yourself, and do it how I do, I’ll let you fuck me?”
Not exactly what I expected, but I rolled with it. “And if I can’t?”
Several failed attempts showed me exactly what happened if I couldn’t—she got to fuck me. Della would slap me across the face, pour it all over me, and then take off my pants. Her mouth would prepare me, and I’d be physically disciplined if I tried to touch her—she crushed my balls the first time, when I rested a hand on her head, which then made me cum in her mouth, which led to her bending me over the table, lubing me up, and fucking me in the ass until I came again. “Come back in two days,” she said, leaving me breathless and spent, “and don’t cum until I tell you to.”
We’d fucked in every position, on the table, on the floor—one time she took me to her shop in the middle of the night and sat on my face in the front window—and each time I hadn’t gotten it right.
I thought I was close this time, and I knew I was getting close. That familiar pressure was building up, like it always did. My balls ached—from the pain she inflicted, from the need to cum, from the sheer need to show her that I did it right.
Her movements got more frantic and picked up in speed, and her breath started catching in her throat. “Stay right there, stay right there, stay right there, stayrightthere, stayrightthere ahhhhhhhhhh—“ her pussy contracted again on my cock, her bouncing switching to long, deep strokes, rising almost completely off my cock, and then all the way back down, almost sitting on my shaft. “My fucking fuck, your cock is something else, Alex,” she said. “I just wish you hadn’t done it right this time.”
“What?” I asked, and then it took me, my cock tensing from the pressure, building, and then my skin tingled with release. I couldn’t see it, but it was a big one, the white from my seed dribbling out of her pussy, mixing with the white stuff she was creaming on me the whole time. She sat down on me as I let out another huge nut, my sensitive member twitching in the most pleasurable agony possible.
Both of us finally spent, she pushed me away, my softening cock slipping out. She flopped on the table, her pussy dripping cum on the floor.
“I guess I need a new regular drink,” I said, slapping her ass. She jumped at that and tried to glare at me, but all she could do was stare in dazed satisfaction.
“Two days,” she mumbled. “I’ll have something for you.”