My Nightie............fiction copyright 2002....................superlittlegirl


Jason and I have slept together quite a few times, but it’s always been in my bed. And we haven’t been fucking, at least not in the usual sense, because he doesn’t put his dick in me. And I’m not exactly pushing him to do it, because it’s more interesting to see how many ways we can make me come without using it.

But I’m at his place tonight, in his room in the basement of his house. It feels different, somehow. I’m feeling a little shy, I guess, and a little curious about what’s ahead for the evening. I perch on the edge of his bed, just mattresses on a frame really, and watch him as he spins records. He’s been throwing on hip-hop records, but now he switches to deep, sexy house. I know he’s teasing me now, because this music is for fucking. He’s got his back to me; his head to his shoulder, and he's mixing in something even sexier than before.

His place is not posh. It’s an unfinished basement laundry room, with exposed wiring and a bare bulb overhead for lighting. He has record covers tacked up, and stickers on the walls. It kind of feels like we’re just two kids hanging out after school or something. Except the music brings me back to thinking about how badly I want to wrap my legs around him and grind my pussy against his thigh. The music makes me think about how I want his mouth on my clit, sucking in and teasing it. The music makes me think about how I want him to stop spinning records and come to bed.

Waiting is not doing me any good. I press my thighs together and feel the anticipation spread. I reach up and feel a nipple. Yup, it’s hard, all right. The other one is too. I lose myself for a few moments playing with them. I think I should just chill for a while so he doesn’t think I’m being jealous of the turntables. But he’s being such a tease! He’s obviously into his music, but I’m ready to play. I pinch each nipple, hard, through my shirt and feel myself getting more wet than I already am.

I lean back on his bed and stretch out, letting the music tell my hands and body what to do. I can feel the bass in my lower back and belly and pussy. The bass hits much faster than my pulse, so I feel the bass and then the thud of my heartbeat in my panties.

My hands roam freely from my breasts to my belly under the top of my jeans. I slip my hand under my panties and feel how smooth I am and I slide my fingers even farther down. My breath comes in tiny gasps as I ease my middle finger into the little divot where my slit starts. It’s super slick, and warm. With my eyes half closed, my breaths slowing and deepening, I trace tiny circles around my clit with the lightest touch possible. My finger glides effortlessly-- there is absolutely no friction between finger and clit because I am so wet. My movements synch with the music, increasing intensity as the song gains momentum, and backing off when the fallout hits, savoring the moments of stillness before the song peaks. And when it does come back in it slams in hard pulling me with it begging me to come. But I hold back, teasing myself now, wanting so badly to fall into pieces but holding it together in anticipation of the next song.

And then it’s quiet. I open my eyes, and he’s looking at me, smiling. I feel the flush in my cheeks, and the heat rising off of me. I smile back. “Come get in bed with me,” I say, as I pull my shirt off and wriggle out of my jeans.

“I’ll be right there,” he says. I feel a tiny flick of annoyance as I watch him pull wires out of inputs and replace them with other wires. He pushes in one last wire, pushes play on his mini disc recorder and the room is filled with music again-- the first song in the set he just played. I grin as I realize he was recording that set for this, for right now. He sits down next to me on the bed and looks at me very solemnly from under his impossibly long eyelashes. My breath catches as he looks into my eyes; I can feel this stare all the way down to my pussy. And he says, finally, “I want you to be in charge tonight."

I think about this for a few moments. I wonder to myself, does “I want you to be in charge tonight” really mean “I want you to suck my dick”? That’s what it meant the last time I heard it, without a doubt. I feel my arousal chill as I remember the lazy casanova who got me all bothered by telling me that he wanted to be dominated-- and then refused to let me tie his hands because he needed them to push my head down to his dick.

I turn away from him and climb under the covers. I’m furious with myself for letting the other lover invade my thoughts, and with Jason for making me wait so long that I’m grumpy and tired. And then telling me that he wants me to do all the work. My pussy aches from the extended teasing, and I can’t decide if I want to just go to sleep and forget it or if I want to fuck the hell out of him and then go to sleep.

He turns the light out and I feel tears in my eyes. The corners of my mouth turn down and start to quiver. I am ready to cry because the decision is being made for me. I don’t want him to just give in and go to sleep. I want him to want me. I want him to ask me for it again. I scowl into the darkness as a tear slides across the bridge of my nose and into the other eye, stinging and then sliding down my cheek.

Then his hand is on me, in the curve between ribcage and hip. It doesn’t feel like his hand, though. There’s something else. It’s silky and cool. He smoothes the silky thing up my side and cups my breast in his hand, pinching my nipple between the cloth and his fingers. He tugs me very gently by the nipple and pulls me over onto my back, his hand traveling down to my belly almost to my pussy to rub there too, but not quite.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s my nightie,” he says. “I like to put it on.”

I reach over and flick the light on. We blink as our eyes get accustomed to the light, and I see the negligee he’s holding. It’s nothing I’d ever pick out for myself, but it’s okay. Blue floral print. Spaghetti straps. Tiny bow at the v in front.

“I want to see you put it on.”

He slips it over his head and tugs it down, a little awkwardly. He runs his hands down his torso, visibly enjoying the feel of the fabric on his body. He reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a pair of silk panties and puts them on over his already hard dick. He rubs his hardon through his silk panties. I understand.

I murmur low into his ear, “You’re my little bitch, aren’t you?” I feel my smile accenting the words with just a touch of meanness. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are terribly bright as he strokes his length with the hem of the nightie. I lean over as if to kiss him, and instead catch his earlobe in my teeth. I bite a little too hard, on purpose.

“Say it!” I hiss, through clenched teeth.

He doesn’t say anything-- perhaps he can’t say anything-- so I reach around to his asshole and prod not-so-gently at his opening. My slutty boy pushes back onto my finger and swallows it whole. I pour lube onto my hand and push the slickness into his hole, between his ass cheeks, and all over the hair in the crack of his ass. It looks frothy and obscene already, and I haven’t even begun to fuck him in earnest yet.

And then I do fuck him in earnest, first with one finger, and then the middle two, then three, hard at first, and then even harder. He whimpers and pushes back onto my fingers, greedy and insistent. His nightie is pushed up to his shoulder blades, and his panties are pushed to the side. He looks so used, and a little forlorn, because he wants even more, and he knows that I know it.

And I’ll give it to him, but I want him to ask for it. “What do you want me to do to you, little bitch?” I ask, my voice low, my eyes hard.

“I want for you to fuck me harder,” he gasps, between thrusts.

“I am already fucking you harder, you silly slut. I think there’s something else you want, and I want for you to tell me what it is.” I feel his asshole clench an involuntary agreement, and I know I’m right.

He still doesn’t say anything, so I take my hand away. I feel his muscles gripping my fingers as they slide out of him, but to no avail. “Tell me now.” I smack his ass with the hand that was just inside him, marking his left cheek with lube and ass-funk.

“I want for you to fuck me with your big black dick,” he finally blurts, all in one breath, almost as one word. His eyes are cast down, shaded by his girly eyelashes, and I can’t tell if he’s really ashamed or just playing at it.

“Ok,” I growl as I reach for the dildo, “But you’re gonna have to suck it first.”

My dick is gorgeous. It’s exactly the dick I’d like to have if I could have one in real-life. It’s not long; only five and a half inches, but it’s got luscious girth. I can’t circle it with my fingers. And it is, indeed, black.

I’m too wound up to bother with strapping it into a harness. I just want his greedy mouth on it, sliding up the length. I want to bump his gag reflex, just for fun. I get up on my knees and hold my dick with one hand as I push his head down onto it with the other. He sucks dick like a pro, licking up and down the shaft, paying attention to that little sweet spot on the underside of the head, and then he takes it deep into his throat. He’s pushing the dildo into my clit and every time it hits the back of his throat my pussy jolts. And then I’m coming, and I take both hands and pull his head down onto me, clenching him to me until the vicious orgasm subsides.

“You’ve been a good little slut,” I whisper down to him, “and I know I should just give you your reward, but I’m still feeling a little mean. I want to hear you beg me for it.”

He cranes his neck from where he is still crouched to look up into my eyes. I tower over him. Frustration furrows his brow. “Please?” he whimpers.

And maybe it’s his pretty eyelashes that get him off the hook this time, or maybe I’m just done with being mean for the night, but he doesn’t have to beg any more. I pour out a handful of lube, slicking it over the dildo and then in the crack of his ass. My fingers pause at his opening, still so relaxed and soft and wanting to be fucked. I dip in for just a second, to make sure he’s ready, and then I nestle the head of my dick right against his asshole, pushing ever so slightly.

He pushes back against it and I can feel the resistance of his anal ring as it passes the head of the dildo. And then it’s really in, and he’s starting to move, and I am holding the dildo for him, feeling all at once extremely detached and very much a part of the situation.

I become aware of the music again for the first time since the whole thing started. It’s rich and multilayered and deep, and so sexy that it brings me fully back to the task at hand. I move my dick in and out of him slowly and deeply, tapping into the music and letting its force guide my hands. As the song builds I fuck him faster and harder, taking inspiration from different elements in the song until I find the speed and depth that he wants. He starts to make noises that are unhinged from human language, noises that are surprisingly similar to the ones coming out of my own throat.

I can tell he’s going to come very soon, and I reach out with my free hand to grip the hem of his nightie and pull him closer to me. I don’t break stride as I pull the fabric in clenched fist down to my pussy and rub my clit until I’m right on the edge too. I fuck him hard, his ass gripping the dildo appreciatively until it has had enough and he gives in to the onslaught of orgasm. He comes with visible intensity. I can see his ass clenching and releasing the dildo with fierce determination, and I let myself go, rubbing myself against the silkiness of his nightie.




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