She Made Me Lick Her Clean

Felix came through the apartment door still wearing his work shirt, the collar open, the day stuck to his skin. Twenty-eight, and the walk up three flights had left a damp line between his shoulder blades. The lamps were already on. Delphine was in the kitchen in a short cotton dress, barefoot, pouring water into a glass like she had only just come in herself. She was twenty-six, dark hair pinned up loosely, a shopping bag sitting on the counter with its handles still knotted.

“Where were you?” he asked, setting his keys down.

“Shopping.” She smiled over the rim of the glass, easy, almost bored. “The mall. Tried on things I didn’t buy. You know how I am.”

He kissed her cheek. She smelled like her perfume and something warmer underneath it, something he couldn’t place yet. They wandered down the hall the way they always did when the evening had nowhere else to go, his hand at the small of her back, her hip brushing his. In the bedroom she dropped the dress straps off one shoulder and reached for the lamp. The room was close. He was sweating before he even unbuttoned his cuffs, a thin heat crawling up his neck.

Then he caught it.

Not perfume. Sex. Thick, unmistakable, riding her skin and her breath when she turned toward him and laughed at nothing. The musk of a well-used pussy, the salt of a man’s spend, faint on her mouth like she had been kissed hard and recently. His stomach dropped and tightened at the same time.

“You weren’t shopping,” he said.

Delphine’s smile went playful, the corner of her mouth tipping up. “I was. Don’t start.”

“I can smell it on you.”

“You’re imagining things.” She stepped out of the dress anyway, panties a pale scrap she hooked down her thighs and left on the floor. Her body was flushed, nipples already tight, the soft inner skin of her thighs faintly shiny in the low light. “Come to bed. I’ve been thinking about you all afternoon.”

He stripped because his hands were already doing it, shirt, pants, boxers kicked aside. Naked, both of them, the air between them startlingly thin. His cock was half hard and confused, heavy against his thigh. She looked at it and her eyes went bright.

“See?” she said. “You want me.”

He did. That was the worst and the best of it. He climbed onto the mattress and she lay back, knees falling open without being asked, one arm flung above her head like she was offering him a gift she had already unwrapped for someone else. Felix slid down between her thighs the way he always did when he wanted to taste her first, mouth open, hungry, his nose brushing the dark curls at the top of her slit.

The smell hit him full in the face.

Stronger here. Hot. Male. Cum, not hers alone—creamy, sharp, worked deep into her. He froze with his lips an inch from her pussy, breathing it in, sweat breaking fresh across his back.

Delphine laughed, a surprised little sound, almost delighted. “Oh. You really can.”

“Delphine.”

“Yes,” she said, and the playfulness cracked into something filthier. Her fingers sank into his hair. She didn’t tug yet. She held him there so he had to keep smelling what she had brought home. “I lied. I wasn’t shopping. I got fucked. He came in me. I walked around with it. And then I came home to you.”

His cock jumped against the sheet. Shame flooded his chest and his hips still rolled, seeking friction he hadn’t meant to give himself. He hesitated, mouth open, not quite touching.

Her grip tightened. She pulled his face down into the wet heat of her and held him there, voice gone low and commanding, every word clear.

“NOW YOU ARE GONNA LICK ME CLEAN.”

He made a sound against her, half protest, half groan. She didn’t let go. Her thighs closed around his ears, soft and insistent, and the taste flooded his tongue the second his mouth opened on her: salty, thick, not hers. Another man’s load, smeared through her folds, leaking slow onto his lips. He hesitated one more second, shoulders tight, and then his tongue moved because she was grinding and because his own cock was throbbing so hard it hurt.

“That’s it,” she breathed. “Don’t you dare spit it out. Lick.”

He lapped. Broad strokes at first, clumsy, gathering the cream from her outer lips and swallowing because there was nowhere else for it to go. The taste coated his tongue. Humiliating. Electric. Delphine moaned above him, not performing, hips lifting to feed him more.

“God, Felix. Look at you. Face in my messy pussy like you were made for it. He fucked me so deep. You can still taste how full he left me. Get it. All of it.”

A minute of that and something in him broke open the other way. The hesitation burned off. He stopped enduring it and started devouring her, nose buried in her, tongue pushing into her cunt to scoop what the other man had left behind. He sucked her folds clean, noisy, greedy, swallowing every thick mouthful. His hands clamped her ass and hauled her closer. The shame was still there and it was making him harder, a filthy heat low in his gut that he didn’t want to name and couldn’t stop chasing.

“Oh—fuck—yes,” Delphine gasped. “You’re enjoying it. I can feel you. You’re licking me like you’re starving. Good boy. Clean your girlfriend’s well-fucked pussy. Suck his cum out of me.”

He groaned into her and did it, tongue fucking shallow and then flat, lapping the slick mix of her arousal and the stranger’s spend until his chin was wet and his jaw ached and he didn’t care. She tasted like sex and like herself under it, sweet-salt, and every time he thought he had gotten it all another slow trickle met his tongue and he chased that too, whimpering, rutting the mattress.

She laughed again, breathless, and hauled him up by the hair. Their mouths crashed together. She kissed him deep, tongue sweeping his, tasting what he had just swallowed, not flinching from it. Cum-flavored, filthy, her teeth catching his lower lip.

“Kiss me,” she said against his mouth. “Taste what you did. Taste what he did. You’re so hard, Felix. I can feel it on my stomach. You loved that.”

“I did,” he heard himself say, wrecked. “I hated how much I did.”

“No you didn’t.” She bit his jaw, smiling. “You loved hating it. Now fuck me. Put yours in where his was. I want to feel you lose it in me.”

He shoved her knees up and drove into her in one long stroke. She was soaked, open, used, and the slide was obscene—hot velvet gripping him, still slick with what he hadn’t managed to get. Missionary, her ankles locking behind his back, his forehead dropping to hers. He fucked her hard because she pulled him in with her heels and because the thought of painting over another man’s cum with his own made his vision narrow.

“Harder,” she whispered, dirty and close to his ear. “Don’t be gentle. He wasn’t. Fill me up. I want your load on top of his. I want you leaking out of me so I can make you clean that too.”

“Jesus, Delphine—”

“Say it. Say you’re fucking a pussy that already got creamed today.”

“I’m fucking your pussy,” he panted, hips snapping, the wet sound of it filling the room. “You let him come in you and you made me eat it and I’m still—fuck—I’m still hard for you. I’m going to come. I’m going to fill you.”

“Do it.” Her nails dragged his back. “Come in me, Felix. Give me another load to feed you.”

He buried himself and broke, pulsing deep, groaning into her neck while she held him there and milked every spurt with slow rolls of her hips. The heat of it flooded her. He stayed inside until the aftershocks faded, shaking, sweat dripping from his chest onto hers.

Then her hand was in his hair again, firmer than before, and she was pushing.

“Down,” she said, voice honeyed and merciless. “Again. You’re not done. Lick me clean.”

He slid out, cock twitching, and she shoved his head between her thighs before he could catch his breath. His own cum was already leaking, white and thick, mixed with whatever was left of the first load and the shine of her. She ground against his mouth.

“Suck it out. All of it. Yours and his. I want your tongue in me until I’m empty and I’m coming on your face.”

He didn’t hesitate this time. He sealed his mouth over her and sucked, filthy, devoted, swallowing the salty rush of himself as it spilled onto his tongue. The taste was different and the same—his, hers, the ghost of the other man—and he lapped like he needed it, tongue thrusting, nose rubbing her clit, hands spreading her so nothing escaped. Delphine rode his face, thighs trembling, filthy encouragement spilling out of her in a rush.

“Yes—yes—eat it, eat your cum out of me, God you’re disgusting, you’re perfect, don’t stop, right there, suck my clit, I’m—Felix—”

She came hard, grinding down, flooding his mouth, crying out while he kept licking through it, swallowing every drop she pushed at him until she was shaking and tugging his hair not to stop him but to survive it. He stayed until she eased, licking her soft and clean, the taste thinning to just her.

Delphine purred, a low satisfied sound, and pulled him up into her arms. Their mouths met slow this time, sticky, unhurried, sharing what was left on his lips. She stroked his hair, thumb tracing the damp at his temple, and smiled against his cheek.

“So hot,” she murmured, “that you obeyed. Both times. My good filthy boy.”

He kissed her again, spent and glowing, and she held him there, legs tangled with his, the room quiet except for their breathing. Sleep took them like that, her hand still in his hair, his mouth still tasting of her.