The kitchen tiles cool my bare feet as Saturday morning sunlight streams through our curtains, painting everything in golden hues. I'm caught between the counter and Sabrina's warm body, her presence both comforting and electrifying as she presses against my back.
"Hold still," she whispers, her lips brushing the sensitive skin below my ear. Her left hand works methodically between my legs, each stroke perfectly calibrated to drive me wild without pushing me over the edge too soon.
I grip the counter's edge, knuckles whitening as pleasure builds at the base of my spine. "Sabrina," I gasp, my voice catching as her thumb circles the sensitive head of my cock.
"Shh," she murmurs, her other hand appearing in my peripheral vision. She's holding her favorite ceramic mug, the one with "I'm Stuff" emblazoned across it in bold letters, positioning it strategically below where her hand works its magic. "I need my morning pick-me-up."
I lean back into her, surrendering to the familiar ritual we've perfected over countless mornings like this. The steady rhythm of her hand makes my breath catch in my throat.
"God, I love how you taste," she murmurs against my skin, her free hand holding the mug steady beneath me.
"I love you," I manage between ragged breaths, the words tumbling out with raw sincerity.
I feel her smile against my neck, lips curving with satisfaction. "I love you too, Leo," she whispers, her voice wrapping around me like velvet. "So much."
Her tongue traces the shell of my ear, sending electric currents down my spine. The dual sensation of her warm breath and skilled fingers pushes me dangerously close to the edge.
"Sabrina," I whimper, my hips jerking involuntarily against her touch. I'm teetering on the precipice, every muscle in my body tensing with anticipation.
"That's it, baby," she encourages, her voice dropping to that husky register that makes my knees weak. "Give me what I need." Her grip tightens perfectly, her rhythm increasing with practiced precision. "Cum for me, Leo."
Her command unlocks something deep within me. The pressure that's been building explodes through every nerve ending as I cry out, my release spilling into the waiting mug. My vision blurs at the edges, pleasure washing over me in overwhelming waves as Sabrina works me through each pulse.
"Perfect," she purrs, milking the last drops from me with gentle strokes. She kisses my shoulder blade, a tender contrast to the intensity of moments before.
I slump against the counter, legs trembling as I struggle to catch my breath. Behind me, Sabrina makes a contented sound, and I turn just in time to see her raising the mug to her lips.
"You don't have to actually drink it," I say, my voice still shaky from the aftershocks of pleasure.
She meets my eyes over the rim of the mug, a wicked gleam in her blue gaze. "But thats the best part," she says simply, before taking a deliberate sip. She maintains eye contact the entire time, her expression shifting to one of satisfaction as she swallows. "Delicious."
My cheeks flush with heat that has nothing to do with my recent climax. There's something about Sabrina that never fails to surprise me, her boldness, her complete lack of shame about her desires. It's intoxicating.
"You're unbelievable," I murmur, shaking my head with a mixture of awe and embarrassment.
She winks at me, taking another slow, deliberate sip from her mug. "Come sit with me," she says, nodding toward our kitchen table. "I'm not done with you yet."
I follow her like I always do, my body still humming with satisfaction as I settle into the chair across from her. The morning light catches in her blonde pixie cut, creating a golden halo that makes my heart swell. God, she's beautiful.
I rest my chin on my hand, gazing at her with what must be the most ridiculously love-struck expression. Even after all these years, moments like this still feel dreamlike, this powerful, stunning woman choosing me, wanting me, loving me despite knowing all my broken pieces.
"So, honey," she says, setting her mug down with a decisive clink, "there's something I'd like to do tonight."
"Anything you want," I respond immediately, meaning it completely
Her smile spreads slowly as she lifts the mug again, taking another long sip while maintaining eye contact. There's something predatory in her gaze that sends a delicious shiver down my spine.
"I recently heard about a motel," she says, her voice casual despite the mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, curious where this is going.
She traces the rim of her mug with one finger. "They have a glory hole there."
My breath catches as understanding dawns. The image forms immediately in my mind, a dark room, an anonymous opening, strangers on the other side taking what they want from me.
"And you want me to just put my cock in it and see who uses me."
"Yes," she confirms, her pupils dilating slightly.
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "Would you be in the room with me?"
Her smile widens into something brilliant and possessive. "Yes," she says, reaching across the table to take my hand. "I'd be right there, watching everything."
The relief that floods through me is immediate and powerful. As long as Sabrina's there, I can handle anything. Her presence transforms what might otherwise feel degrading into something shared, something intimate between us.
"Okay… When were you thinking?" I ask, my thumb absently stroking the back of her hand.
"Tonight," she says, squeezing my fingers. "I've already made the arrangements. All you have to do is show up and be your beautiful self.
For a moment, a shadow creeps across my mind, the familiar dread of slipping back into that life where my body was just a commodity, passed around for others' pleasure. The memory of those desperate years flashes through my consciousness, the strangers, the degradation, the emptiness after each encounter.
But then I look at Sabrina, her eyes bright with excitement, her hand warm in mine, and the darkness recedes. This isn't the same. She'll be there. She'll keep me safe.
"Sounds good."