I’ve been on a roll with the Lizzie stories lately; I’m up to seven completed ones, each between 5000-8000 words. If I can hit ten, I can put together a book.

Here’s a bit of the sixth:

I murmured an affirmative and very carefully climbed on, lying on my back, legs apart, head between her pillow and mine. She pushed them out of the way and then swung her leg over my head, lowering her bare, smooth skin to my face. 

I inhaled her scent, and it sustained me. I was able to focus on her now, taste her, touch her, grab her ass and push her harder against my mouth, taking as much as she could give. 

And Lizzie could give in this position just as much as any other. She let out cries of passion, soft at first, but growing louder and sharper until she ground against my mouth and gushed on my face. I licked fervently, wanting more, wanting her to come for me over and over. Which she did, several times, until she finally pulled out of my grip and collapsed beside me on the bed. “Shit,” she breathed. “Fuck.” 

I smiled, face wet, bedsheets damp under my head, and licked my lips. Lizzie tasted so good — not like anything I could put my finger on, just like my wife should taste. I lived for this, lived to give her pleasure, lived to love her in every way possible. 

We laid together for a long time, Lizzie in my arms, her breathing hard as she rested her head on my shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered. 

“I love you too.” My jaw was a little sore — not nearly as sore as other places, but Lizzie weighed something like two hundred twenty pounds, and when she put her weight on my face, I felt it keenly. And while she was over what her doctor called her ‘optimal’ weight, more than a little of it was muscle. We went to the gym together, after all, and I saw just how strong she was when we did our [strength training]. It was just another sexy thing about her, along with her intelligence, her sexiness, and her kindness — one might argue against that one given what she did to my balls on a regular basis, but she was generally a kind person. Maybe she hadn’t been when we’d met, but I like to think I’d rubbed off on her over the years. 

Now, more than ten years after she’d snuck into my bedroom one night when I was home from college, when I was twenty and she was nineteen, she had become the perfect woman for me. 

She also gave really great blowjobs, something she demonstrated to me when she could finally move again. She ripped off the self-adhesive tape, freeing my still-hard cock, and gulped me down loudly until I was in her throat. Lizzie had a gag reflex, but she could control it while she was going down on me — most of the time, anyway — and she sucked and slurped, drooling all over my cock, my leash in her hand, my collar still tight, my balls aching, my whole system short-circuiting. I was in so much pain, but what she was doing with her mouth was giving me so much pleasure, and for a while I didn’t know how to respond except with moans and gasps. 

The nice thing about Lizzie having conditioned me to only come when my balls were being hurt was that I could last a long time for her. Unfortunately, tonight I was agonized, and I was probably going to come soon. She must have known; she pulled tight on my leash, moaning around my cock, and my hips rolled upward as I spurted into her mouth. She swallowed thickly and loudly, taking everything I had to offer, until she finally let me free of her lips. She loosened the collar and I felt a rush of relief, and when she crawled up the bed to kiss me — I tasted my come on her and didn’t really mind — I could barely reach up to caress her cheek as I kissed her back. 

“There,” she said, her lips close to mine. “Now you won’t forget me.” 

“I could never.” 

“I know.” She kissed me again. “I know.”

This isn’t quite what I imagine Lizzie to look like, but the body proportions are right.