Masturbation Monday: Cocky

Well, I know it’s been too long for me not writing for Masturbation Monday and it’s Masturbation Month as well. Let’s get to it, shall we? This is in honor of #CockyGate.

“You’re late. Get naked.” The snap in Hart’s voice cracks like a whip. Hart doesn’t even spare me a glance, busy checking the lighting through the camera. I can tell he’s tense as fuck because he keeps making the same tiny adjustment.

A tremor crackles through me and I steel my spine. “If you had answered your phone or listened to your voicemail, you’d have known I was running late. So, fuck off.” I try not to grit my teeth as I slip out of the sundress. The only other thing I’m wearing are flats. I kick them off, the rise in anger causing one of them to hit him in the shin.

Hart ignores it and continues his adjustments. I pad over and pick up my shoe, then go back over to hang my dress and set my shoes next to his. I’m not at all sure why he’s barefoot, but he is, and he’s the creative cocky bastard, so I don’t bother asking. If I did, I’d get some arbitrary answer about stars or space dust or butterflies, or something completely different and nothing that would answer the question at all.

Instead, I take my place on the simple stool. Without a single word, he slides his fingertips just right up my spine, forcing me to sit up straight. And then he’s snapping photos. With the set of Hart’s shoulders, I can tell he’s still pretty pissed about me being late, which ruffles my feathers. I can’t help but slide into resting bitch-face.

Hart grumbles something under his breath. I can’t understand a word he says. I push. “What?” The question pops out of my mouth like a lollipop. He doesn’t answer but stops and walks over. He adjusts my chin, the direction my face is pointing, and then starts snapping again.

“Oh yes, I love seeing you naked.”

Hart and I have worked together off and on for a few months now. He would call me in for things other models wouldn’t do. I had my own limits, of course, but being naked has never bothered me. I’m not perfect. Curvy, cellulite, slightly sagging boobs, my ass could benefit from squats. I dress myself as though I’m in my 20s. I love fashion and makeup and hair. No one would guess what was beneath my clothes.

Another grumble, another adjustment. Before I realize what’s happening, I’m falling. I screech in fear. Hart catches me, calloused fingers digging into delicate flesh. The soft fabric of his shirt brushes against my skin, a curse from his lips is heard quite clear, and then I’m right again. We’re both breathing hard and fast and sweat has broken on his brow.

Giggles erupt and I can feel my flesh jiggling as I crack up. Hart starts laughing, too. The anger bubble has burst around us and now a different kind of feeling infuses my flesh. My nipples are hard and quite perky. Scents of sweat and sex permeate the small room. Hart loosens his hold to grip me in another way.

I look into his eyes as his fingers hold my chin, beautiful eyes. Soulful eyes. Eyes that now look at me as I have looked at him all this time. He swallows hard and starts to back away, but I grab his shirt and caress his beard. I want this, I want him.

“You’re overdressed.” I push the shirt off his shoulders and when it’s halfway down his arms, I start untucking his t-shirt. The man wears a ton of layers, yet always complains of being too hot. “Get naked.”

“Now who’s being cocky?” This time it’s me who growls and grumbles at him, but he doesn’t hesitate. Before long, he’s naked and beautiful and oh god all that body hair. I want to rub my entire body against him, so I start doing just that.

My bubble doesn’t just pop. It explodes and ripples.

He laughs. “What the hell are you doing?” He twitches a little. I know he’s ticklish and I don’t doubt one moment that I’m hitting every tickle spot with my fingers.

“Do you have any idea how rare it is these days to see a guy with chest hair? I can’t help myself.” I am a few inches shorter than he is, my mouth is in the best place to suck in a nipple, so I do that. It does exactly what I hope and he gasps.

Speaking becomes difficult for him but he blurts out the words despite my distraction. “Most women want to see chests and abs and guys with hairy bodies tend to have those hidden, depending.” I roll my eyes up, pausing in my sucking. When he realizes how ridiculous he is talking about body hair he relaxes. Then I amp things up by biting his nipple just long enough to elicit another sound of pleasant surprise.

“Dammit Lyra, do that to the other one.” His thick fingers slide into my hair and Hart directs me to his other nipple. I suck on it, but swirl my tongue around it, too. After a few moments, I nip it good. The rumble in his chest sound likes abject approval to my ears.

I squirm, my pussy is soaked to the point that my thighs are sticky. I need him to touch me and I show him where. Taking his free hand, I guide it down my muffin top and lower. Soon his fingers are making me hum in happiness.

“Hart, I need you. I need more of you.” He leans down as I reach up and, in the middle, we start to tease with lips and tongue. He grabs me and pulls me tighter against him, his cock bobbing between our bodies. I feel clingy, the way I have my hands holding him as if he may pull away and escape any second, but I can’t help myself.

“All these months, Lyra. I have a confession. The last two naked shoots have been for my own personal pleasure.” He held onto me as though I may now be the one to run off.

“Really? You like seeing me naked that much?” I can’t believe the breathiness in my words, but there it is. I sound like a frail female about to faint. As though being around his manliness is just too much for me.

“Oh yes, I love seeing you naked.” Hart pulls me, arms still wrapped around me, we walk awkwardly into the area with the mirrors for models to do their makeup and hair. He pulls me in front of the mirror, stretches me out against him, my back to his front. “Look how beautiful, how real you are. All woman.”

I raise my arms up and wrap them around his neck behind me. It lifts my boobs. I shift slightly, sucking in air and appearing to flatten my stomach just a little. Hart reaches around me and pulls out a tall stool. As he sits, gently pulling me with him, I can feel the head of his cock slip between my legs.

All these months, Lyra. I have a confession.

“Please, Lyra. I need you.” The heat of his voice hits my neck, his beard grazes my skin. I almost climax from the gruff sound of his voice. The mutual scent of our bodies permeates the little studio. The taste of his skin still lingers on my tongue.

I reach down between my legs, grasp his length and we fit ourselves tightly to each other. For a few moments, Hart holds onto me tightly, rubbing his scruffy face back and forth along my shoulders, then up my neck, to place a kiss there.

“I can’t wait, please Hart.” I can’t bear the slight whine in my voice, but there it is. Full of need and desire I squirm against him. Hart pinches my nipples and grinds into me, but just once.

“You feel even better than I dreamed, Lyra.” Hart squeezes my breasts, massaging them as his hips start to move against me. The heat of his body, the feel of his chest hair against the sensitive skin of my back creates tingles, lighting up nerves long dormant.

The way he says my name against the back of my ear causes me to go all gooey inside. I move against him, rolling my hips, meeting him for every thrust. Pressure builds and I’m so sure that I’m going to explode, but it doesn’t happen. Hart changes rhythm enough to tease me. The need to climax engulfs every cell, every nerve, I become one giant bubble about to burst.

“Please, Hart!” I beg, the words turning into a moan. Strong arms tighten around me, holding me closer. Our bodies slick with sweat and sticky juices. I dig my nails into his arms as the first hint of bliss appears and I plummet over the edge.

My bubble doesn’t just pop. It explodes and ripples. I feel as though I’m split open and the only thing that’s left is this ever-expanding wave of emotion. Hart is petting my hair, my skin, whispering sweet words into my ear. Kisses rain across my shoulder and the back of my neck.

“Fuck, Lyra. If I knew just how damn sexy you’d be right this moment, I wouldn’t have waited so long.” Hart’s voice sounded different to me, like his stress-bubble had exploded as well. We both started off with the wrong foot this morning, but everything turned out so much the better.

“Can we do this again?” I curl up against his chest, teasing his chest hair with my fingers.

“Fuck yes. Perhaps somewhere a little more comfortable, though.” And now we were giggling again, jiggling and sticky.

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