Page 39 of Santa's Baby

“Again,” I say, before she’s even had a chance to catch her breath.

The gorgeous Tiffany does what she’s told, rolling back over to start anew.

“It’s so tender it hurts,” she says, panting.

“Do you want to stop?”

She shakes her head. “No, it makes me want it even more.”

I want to share her with those monster dildos so badly it makes my balls ache. I want to shove my hand right into her hungry cunt and take control, but I don’t. She does it all for herself.

She shows me how she plays, and exactly how she likes it. She gives me telltale signs all the while, such as the way she turns her head from side to side and grits her teeth as she’s teetering, and the way she lashes the bed with her right foot when she’s riding the waves.

I file them all to memory. I study the way she touches her own body, like it’s an art form.

“I don’t think I can take any more,” she whimpers after another round, but again, I put her hand back on her pussy, fingers just grazing her beautiful clit.

“Come on, Tiffany. I know you can.”

Her eyes are hooded, drifting. The poor creature is exhausted.

“I wish you’d just do it for me. Please, Reuben. Just fuck me. Please.”

I’m a hairline from reaching the edge of temptation. I cling on by a bastard thread.

“No, this is about you, not me, remember?”

“Oh fuck, I can’t,” she says, but her fingers keep stroking herself. “I need help. I need cock. I need you to tell me what a filthy slut I am.”

“I don’t believe that’s true.”

“Reuben, please…”

I close my eyes to resist the temptation.

“No, Tiffany.” My voice is lower. “Do it yourself. Make yourself come.”

“Fucker,” she says and it makes me smile.

She’s sore, there’s no doubt about that. She grimaces as she resumes fucking her pussy, and there is no warmup involved now. She’s sweating like she’s at an aerobics class, groaning and fighting against the fisty plastic cock like she’s giving birth.

Jesus fucking Christ. The thought almost makes me come in my pants.

I look at her big belly, her swollen tits, nipples like the proverbial bullets, and the way she’s squatting and pushing down to take it, teeth gritted.

And that’s when it hits me, full on in the face.

It sets white lights off behind my eyes. My secret of secrets. The game I never play.

This was what was under my own private hood with her the whole time, and I never knew.

Or at least, I never acknowledged it.

“Good girl,” I say. “That’s it, Tiffany.Push!”

I don’t know why the words come out of my mouth, but her eyes are straight on mine, digging. We both heard the underlying meaning.

We both understand.