Happy birthday, Belle! 

 I finally dug up this part three of “The Last Time I Saw Belle” posts (that should really be called “The Last Time I Fucked Belle,” as I’ve seen her a few times since then) that I was working on back in December. See part one, where I watch her get tattooed and get hard watching her in pain, and part two, where she unbuckles my belt and jeans with her mouth before blowing me, if you want to refresh your memory of what happened.

“Fuck me,” she gasped into my ear, on her back, legs open, my fingers already slid inside her panties and jeans, still on. “I want your cock.”

I lifted myself to my knees, laying between her legs, and gripped my cock, stroked it a little. “Do you have a condom?”

“Uh … ” her face was apologetic.

“Really?!” I swore I’d leave one in my wallet for moments like this. Dykes do not always remember we should use them with our toys - and I always use one with my (now infamous) favorite packing cock (it’s porous, so not sterilizable).

We laughed. I slid off the bed and began to locate my sweater and polo shirt, now scattered. “I’ll go to the bodega.”

“No, no. My neighbor’s still around, I bet he has some.”

“Uh, what?” He so saw me come into her apartment with her. Would he know why we needed it? That was a little too … exposing.

“He’s grateful we shared the wine with him. He’ll have some.”

“C’mon, no way. I’ll go get some.”

She gave me a coy look. “Don’t you go anywhere.”

“Look, I’m already dressed,” I said, picking up one boot after sliding my swater on.

She was still topless and smirked at me. “Maybe. But I’m faster.” She zipped her jeans and darted for the door, arms folded over her large round breasts, hands over her nipples. I was too surprised to stop her.

Laughing, topless, still holding her hands over her nipples, she came back in a minute later, and tossed one wrapped NYC condom to me.

“You’re amazing,” I said, ripping it open, laughing, embarrassed, surprised at her ability to go after what she wants so boldly. “… But we may need more than one.”

I unzipped again and pulled out my cock, slid the condom on easily. It felt swollen and thick. She’d gone out there topless for this. Made me want to take her out into the courtyard of her apartment building and fuck her, hard, make her come long and loud, make her scream fuck me, fuck me, and hear her say please in that delicious begging voice she gets when she is hot and frustrated. A whine, but not annoyingly so. A plea. So soft and vulnerable. It thrums against something deep in my pelvis, something hard, that wants to go into that same voice that says please and make her sob.

I tore off her jeans, a little rougher than I’d meant to, and she slid her thighs around my waist.

We fucked until we were sweaty, sticky in places, nude, panting on her bed, both of us laying back, looking up at the ceiling, catching our breath.

She turned onto her knees and began backing off the bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked, low-voiced.

“You’re going to fuck me, bent over like this,” she answered, hips swaying a little, toes on the ground, arms out in front of her, bent over the bed.

I groaned, slid off the bed, and took hold of her hips, slid my fingers hard inside her. The condom was spent, hung limp from my cock. I fingered her hard, pressed my way inside her, made her come once but didn’t let up, twice, three times, before letting her collapse on the bed.

And that was the last time I fucked Belle.