“You haven’t been yourself, baby,” she commiserates, and it’s true. Clouds flatten the cold sky outside the window. Silent birds huddle in the trees.

His response to her: a low groan. 

“Something's missing.” She slides her finger one knuckle deeper into his ass. As she wiggles it she feels his muscles grasp at her knuckle in galvanic response. He whimpers.

“But I think we've finally found our answer.” Her breath is a feather at the feverish skin of his neck, teasing him. She licks at him. Her free hand grips the base of his cock tightly; she is in control, and allowing no passage.

“Everything is going to be better, baby.” She squeezes his root. He groans again, really a continuation of the last groan; he’s been groaning for over an hour. His lungs pump, his blood surges like a rain-swollen river beneath his skin. The shaft is shiny with spit and pre-cum; the head pulses an angry, insistent red. His hands feel like they are handcuffed to the sides of the bed; he is, in fact, free to move.

The thick drop of pre-cum that peeks out from the tip of his cock draws a ragged, audible gasp. She parts her lips to reveal the tip of her tongue.

“Oh, my, yes,” she purrs. “A pearl? Is that a pearl of sweet cum for me?” Her hand tightens around the base of his shaft, her finger sinks a full knuckle deeper into his ass, curling like a trigger, expert at plumbing the mysterious workings of his body. She knows just where to tease him, what buttons to push. His entire body jerks: a caught fish.

“Do you want me to take your pearl? Do you want me to suck it from the tip of your hard thick cock?” She lingers on the words “hard” and “thick,” stretching them out, landing on the final “k” like a slap, or a kiss.

“Let me make it all better,” she coos.

She forms her mouth into a warm wet oval, her tongue lolling on her lips like a wet and filthy fantasy, reaching toward his swollen, quivering head.

The sight of her offering her tongue and mouth to him is too much. He arches his back and his cock jumps. She releases her stranglehold on the base of his shaft; he spurts thick rivers of cum into the air that land on his chest in uneven lines, like runes, a fortune waiting to be read. He collapses back on the bed.

“All that just for me?” she asks him. She looks out on his still heaving chest, thirsty for his seed.

He attempts words but cannot manage them, still in thrall to her magic.

“Do you feel better?” The smile in her voice settles against him like sunshine. He tries to answer, and realizes he is on the verge of laughter.

“Because I think you’re going to be just fine.” She lowers her head and licks her way down his chest, the salt from his warm cum painting her lips. The feel of her tongue on the hairs above his navel tickles at him, and the laughter that has been building up inside him bursts forth in a throaty giggle that sounds like birdsong, filling the room.