Finding The Limits (The Limitless Trilogy Book 1) by Harper Cole Page B
Authors: Harper Cole
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that. "Well done. You're only to cum for me, now. Can you do that?"
"Yes, sir," she said, too quickly, not thinking it over. Too hasty. She might regret that acquiescence.
"Push your fingers inside. How many fingers do you have inside your wet pussy?"
"Two, sir."
"More.
"Three … sir."
"More."
"I can't."
"You can. I want your hand inside you, filling in. I know you're flexible … you can do this."
I wasn't totally sure if she could reach down and bend her hand back enough, but I needed her to try.
"Four, sir," she gasped.
I would let her leave it at that. "Well done. Fuck yourself. Fuck yourself hard. I know what you must look like, right now, your wet pussy pink and stretched around your hand, your breasts heaving, your skin glistening. I'm pulling on my cock. I'm going to shoot my load while I listen to you make yourself cum …"
"Oh God…"
"Fuck yourself harder!" My own breath was ragged now as I stroked up and down my shaft. I remembered how she'd sucked me; how she'd let me fuck her face. Now she was naked and masturbating for me. The power rushed through me and I felt my balls tighten. "I need to hear you," I groaned.
"Yes - oh God…" She was panting and her voice was indistinct. She was clearly struggling to hold the phone to her ear as she fisted herself and the knowledge that she was losing control turned me on even more. I was close to cumming.
"Scream it!" I demanded as my own cock finally jerked in my palm and my body tensed as the thick ropes of cum shot out.
"God! Sir!" she was saying, over and over, and I heard her moan and cry and stifle a yell.
"Now lick your hand clean," I said, still struggling for breath, as every part of my lower body tingled with release. I'd unleashed such a torrent of cum that I'd caught myself by surprise; I'd assumed that the previous night's blow-job would have emptied me somewhat.
And even now, I still thrummed with need. I'd cum, and so had she.
But I wanted more.
* * * *
I terminated the call abruptly so that I could get cleaned up. I had hoped it was like scratching an itch, and that now I'd be able to go to sleep, and wake refreshed on Monday morning, ready for a new week at work.
But even in the shower, I felt unsettled. The phone sex had turned me on, and reminded me of what I wanted - all of her, at my mercy, spread out before me, needing me, begging me.
My cock was stirring again. I hadn't been this rampant since my teenage years. I towelled off quickly, and went back to my smartphone. I'd call her again, and arrange for her to be naked and waiting for me; I needed to see her. Tonight.
But this time she didn't answer. I waited ten minutes, in case she was showering as I was, and called again.
No answer.
It was only nine o'clock.
I pulled on some jeans and a clean shirt, and went out to my car.
* * * *
The street-level door that led to the communal entrance lobby of her building was propped open with a brick. Handy for me, perhaps, but pretty poor security. I rode up in the silent lift, wondering if she'd ever get used to calling it that. Or, if she settled her in the UK, would she stubbornly hang on to her American words? They sounded better in her accent. If she tried to use English slang, she'd sound strange.
I could hear her voice in my head. It made me smile. I was still smiling as I stepped out into the corridor and along to her door.
Which was also standing open.
There was a dent just above the handle, and a scuff mark at the bottom of the door, as if it had been kicked. I was immediately on the alert, and I paused, straining my ears. There were two flats on each floor of this building, and most of them were inhabited by hard working professionals who were often away on business.
Convenient, then, for anyone with nefarious intentions - as looked likely here.
There was no sound at all. Still, I went in carefully, as silently as I could. I knew I could handle one and maybe two men in a fight, if they didn't have
"Yes, sir," she said, too quickly, not thinking it over. Too hasty. She might regret that acquiescence.
"Push your fingers inside. How many fingers do you have inside your wet pussy?"
"Two, sir."
"More.
"Three … sir."
"More."
"I can't."
"You can. I want your hand inside you, filling in. I know you're flexible … you can do this."
I wasn't totally sure if she could reach down and bend her hand back enough, but I needed her to try.
"Four, sir," she gasped.
I would let her leave it at that. "Well done. Fuck yourself. Fuck yourself hard. I know what you must look like, right now, your wet pussy pink and stretched around your hand, your breasts heaving, your skin glistening. I'm pulling on my cock. I'm going to shoot my load while I listen to you make yourself cum …"
"Oh God…"
"Fuck yourself harder!" My own breath was ragged now as I stroked up and down my shaft. I remembered how she'd sucked me; how she'd let me fuck her face. Now she was naked and masturbating for me. The power rushed through me and I felt my balls tighten. "I need to hear you," I groaned.
"Yes - oh God…" She was panting and her voice was indistinct. She was clearly struggling to hold the phone to her ear as she fisted herself and the knowledge that she was losing control turned me on even more. I was close to cumming.
"Scream it!" I demanded as my own cock finally jerked in my palm and my body tensed as the thick ropes of cum shot out.
"God! Sir!" she was saying, over and over, and I heard her moan and cry and stifle a yell.
"Now lick your hand clean," I said, still struggling for breath, as every part of my lower body tingled with release. I'd unleashed such a torrent of cum that I'd caught myself by surprise; I'd assumed that the previous night's blow-job would have emptied me somewhat.
And even now, I still thrummed with need. I'd cum, and so had she.
But I wanted more.
* * * *
I terminated the call abruptly so that I could get cleaned up. I had hoped it was like scratching an itch, and that now I'd be able to go to sleep, and wake refreshed on Monday morning, ready for a new week at work.
But even in the shower, I felt unsettled. The phone sex had turned me on, and reminded me of what I wanted - all of her, at my mercy, spread out before me, needing me, begging me.
My cock was stirring again. I hadn't been this rampant since my teenage years. I towelled off quickly, and went back to my smartphone. I'd call her again, and arrange for her to be naked and waiting for me; I needed to see her. Tonight.
But this time she didn't answer. I waited ten minutes, in case she was showering as I was, and called again.
No answer.
It was only nine o'clock.
I pulled on some jeans and a clean shirt, and went out to my car.
* * * *
The street-level door that led to the communal entrance lobby of her building was propped open with a brick. Handy for me, perhaps, but pretty poor security. I rode up in the silent lift, wondering if she'd ever get used to calling it that. Or, if she settled her in the UK, would she stubbornly hang on to her American words? They sounded better in her accent. If she tried to use English slang, she'd sound strange.
I could hear her voice in my head. It made me smile. I was still smiling as I stepped out into the corridor and along to her door.
Which was also standing open.
There was a dent just above the handle, and a scuff mark at the bottom of the door, as if it had been kicked. I was immediately on the alert, and I paused, straining my ears. There were two flats on each floor of this building, and most of them were inhabited by hard working professionals who were often away on business.
Convenient, then, for anyone with nefarious intentions - as looked likely here.
There was no sound at all. Still, I went in carefully, as silently as I could. I knew I could handle one and maybe two men in a fight, if they didn't have
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