Making the Influencer Cum While She’s on the Phone with her Boyfriend [MF] Part 3

Disclaimer: Everyone in this story is above 18

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Bea’s apartment was decidedly more cultured, more inviting. The walls are a pale, subdued shade of cream that immediately takes me back to her IG profile – soothing themes that coated her every picture now paint her walls. While the walls appeased, the furnishing invited you to ask. There are large vases and empty pots with symbols scrawled along their necks. Tribal masks stare back, perched in the corners of the hall. “They’re tokens, memories,” Bea explained once. “From my trips.” But none of my thoughts are on any of that right now. Instead, it, along with my eyes, are centred on Bea. 

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Bea stood there under the blinking, yellow fairy lights of her room wearing nothing but a blood-red Victoria’s secret push-up and thong set, and her pair of *fuckme* stilettos, her eyes on mine, taking slow steps, placing one heel in front of the other, like a vixen about to devour her prey. 

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Sex had become a regular occurrence over the last few days. With Patrick away for six, Bea and I packed every waking period with all manners of sex. There was sweaty sex – minutes after the gym when I ripped off her blue legging off and fucked her from behind while she still had her loose tank on, a sprawling mirror in front of us. 

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We fucked in the changing room by the pool – the high of public sex, the thrill of being caught making Bea’s pussy convulse around my cock in under three minutes. Little did she know I’d slipped the guard a tenner to claim the pool was closed for ten minutes due to maintenance reasons.

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*We didn’t need ten minutes.* 

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Then, there was that night at mine, where Bea slowly ground on me, while I gently kissed her when pace gave way to patience. Soft moans filled the room, our eyes locked on each other. The pleasure marinating, simmering. As our bodies rubbed into one another, slowly but surely the fire ignited, sending waves of pleasures blazing all over us, until Bea finally collapsed into me, our bodies both limp, like dying embers. 

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“Ah fuck,” she cursed, and then ”Ow ow ow!”. Bea’s right ankle wobbled, then buckled as she took another step forward, forcing her to abandon her sexy strut in favour of the slightly less seductive hop and hobble on one foot routine. 

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“Come and sit down, you sexy klutz,” I chuckle, wrapping her arm around my neck and helping her onto the bed. 

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I kneel and take her foot in my hands. “Let me,” I try to tell her, but Bea’s stubborn, using her foot to *shoo* my hands away and rolling her ankle a few times, a handful clockwise then a few more against. “ I’m fine,” she concludes, kicking off her fuckme heels into the corner, then slowly standing up and taking one, then two, then three steps forward. 

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“Now, where were we — eeee,” Bea squeals as I grab her from behind, lifting her up by hugging her bum cheeks with my palms. 

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“You sure you’re okay?” my brows creasing ever so slightly. 

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Bea doesn’t use words to respond, deciding that kissing me was a far more important use of her lips, simply managing a “Mhmmm” and a nod. 

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Bumping Bea lightly against my bedroom door, the solid wood reverberates dramatically. Her hands cross behind my neck, her palms clenching my skin for support. “You’re going to fuck me against the door?” Bea’s voice is sultry. 

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“While carrying you by your bum cheeks,” I add. “Nothing gets by you cap’n,” I snigger, raising my imaginary hat off the top of my head with one hand, the other flexing and balancing Bea.

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I can’t see it, but I feel Bea’s cheeks spread, probably with a smile. I feel what comes next, the light slap against my cheek. “Well, aren’t you a gentleman”. Her finger’s dig into my skin as I nuzzle her neck, my breath ragged. Bea starts to purr, only to be suddenly muted by the sound of a xylophone in the distance, growing in volume. 

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“Shit. Sorry Tyler, I’ve got to get that,” her voice is urgent. Letting her go wordlessly, Bea speed walks to her phone. Running would’ve made it too obvious to me. Walking would’ve been too slow for *him.* 

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“Yeah hey! No, not just working on a post,” she speaks into the phone. Bea glances up, but her eyes dart to the window when they accidentally meet mine. “I told you, this bikini company”. Bea’s lips curve down, but I look away. 

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Here’s the other thing that had become a regular occurrence – the incessant phone calls. 

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Patrick always called, and Bea always answered. She *had* to, every single time it rang. 

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“He gets shouty if I don’t pick up,” was the only thing Bea ever mentioned, the one time she talked about it. Every time she put the phone to her ears, I looked away, my fingers rolling into balls. 

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I never heard Patrick’s voice, nor his words, but you could instantly tell how the conversation was going from eyeing Bea. Her shoulders sagged forward, her face pointing to the ground while she chewed on her lip. The angrier he was, the further forward she slumped, the more lip she chewed. 

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Sure, I’d considered plucking the phone from Bea, and simply ending the call. But this wasn’t my fight, I had no right. This was Bea’s fight. There was another reason too, of course. One I would rather not acknowledge, one I would rather not admit – that I was the other man. 

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These phone calls were like the gut punch, the hangover that follows the ecstatic high we’d experience every time her lips were on mine, and when I was in her. Their conversation was getting too loud, every word somehow thudding in my head. Staring aimlessly out the window at the towering buildings that shadowed Bea’s condo, I hoped my thoughts would turn their conversation into a dull drone. 

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This, *this* is why people having affairs have sex all the goddamn time. Sure, there’s the high of it all, the risk, the taboo. But underneath it all, the sex papers over all the frank conversations that need to be had, the hard truths that need to be faced. Because if you’re not having sex in an affair, everything hits you all at once – how shitty you feel, how horrible you are, how you can’t really do this —– 

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“Hey, where’d you go?” Bea’s voice brings me back. 

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“Huh?” my voice is quick to regain its composure, my face, not so much. 

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“Tyler,” she cradles my face in her hands, gingerly raking along my stubble, which oddly makes her smile. “Have I told you? You’ve got a *terrible* poker face”. 

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*I do.* 

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“I know you were thinking about him”. She pauses. “He who must not be named”. Her joke, that smile all masked her reluctance to utter Patrick’s name, as though if we didn’t, he would cease to exist, if only for a fading moment. 

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My eyes narrow, studying her face. “How do you just,” I snap my fingers, “just shift like that?”. 

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Bea wiggles her eyebrows at me, then suddenly her hands make a bee-line for my ass cheeks. “Think it has something to do with this ass of yours,” she toys. Usually, I’d smile, but the weight on my shoulders still weighs me down heavily. 

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“Bea, you’re this strong, incredible woman. Why are you putting up with this, with *him*?” my words are firm, like they’re trying to snap Bea out of it. 

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I expect a pause, but immediately she says, “You don’t know who I was Tyler, before him. Sure, you’ve seen the fun side of me – but before him, I was wild, crazy. I was getting drunk every day. My posts were all far more revealing. I was loud, annoying. I was …”. Now the pause arrives, this time surprising me. After a deep breath, Bea exhales loudly. “I was sleeping with a new guy every day”. 

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Bea’s eyes look to the floor as she words the final sentence in shame, her teeth back to biting her lower lip. 

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“So?” I respond with one word, enough to cajole her eyes back up to face me. “So what Bea? Everyone’s done that”, I shrug. “That’s nothing to be ashamed about”. 

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“No Tyler, it’s not healthy”. 

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“Your relationship with Patrick is not healthy”, I blurt out, the words spilling out of my mouth. There, now his name was out there, and suddenly, the reality about the affair came to light, closing in around us, my mouth dry and the air constricting. 

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I grab Bea by the waist, close my eyes to arrange the words in my head so nothing spills again, then speak. “Listen, I’m sorry Patrick’s done this to you. But you’re still loud, you’re still wild, and you can probably drink more than me. You have since the first day we met”. Bea’s face remains still, unflinching. “Patrick’s made you think all that was bad. You’re not yourself Bea. You’re pretending to be someone else, someone you don’t even like”. 

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Even though my words were rehearsed, the moment my lips shut I regret everything instantaneously. It wasn’t my place. Before I can even consider an apology, Bea reacts. “Get out, Tyler”, she says, her voice brittle. 

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“Bea, I … “. 

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“Get. Out”, her voice jumps in decibels while she stabs a finger at me. “Get the fuck out”. 

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I raise my hands in surrender, making my way to the door, all the while wondering if I should apologise. Gripping the doorknob, I speak one last time without turning around. “I’m sorry, Bea, sorry you’ve had to go through what you did. But I won’t apologise for what I said. Someone had to say it”. There’s no point in waiting for Bea’s response, and I’m outta of there immediately. She needed her space, time, all of it. 

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The next few hours are torture. Every buzz of my phone causes hope to flicker deep within me. I decide that I’ve fucked it up, that Bea isn’t going to call me back. I make my peace with it, telling myself I’ll be okay. I’m at the bar pouring out a Stout when my phone goes off again. The pint is far too shoddy for my liking, the deep brown beer topped with far too much froth. “It’s on the house,” I wave an apology to the burly man at the bar before he can kick up a fuss and head to the corner. 

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*Let’s take a trip* reads the message from Bea, instantly disappearing after I’m done reading. 

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My fingers stretch to type out the reply, but they instead press answer when a call immediately follows. 

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“Hey,” Bea’s voice on the other end is honeyed and soft. I press the phone closer to my ear. “Don’t overthink this. Let’s go on a trip, just you and me. Let’sss …. Forget everything for a day or two.” 

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We couldn’t do more than two, Patrick was due home in three, the same number that constituted a crowd. 

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*Poor joke, Tyler.* 

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Thought and logic, my two trusted companions were nowhere to be found – lost the moment I heard her voice, replaced by a growing heat. 

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Where?” I choose to say instead. 

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“Let me pick.”

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“You’re not going to go head to the airport and do one of those ‘what’s the next flight you have flying out and book those clichés’, are you?”.

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“Fuck that,” Bea dismissed. “We’ve only got two days of fucking left. I’m not wasting a single second standing in-line at check-in. I’m booking the tickets — oh”. Her voice goes mute on the other end, and it hits me the same time it hits her. “He may be able to – “. 

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“I’ll book the tickets,” I say quickly over her. “Just tell me where”. 

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Bea settles on a city which is 45 minutes away, and I book the next flight out. 

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“See you at the airport,” my voice is distant, my feet already ushering my body out the door. 

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“Do – do you think … “, she sounds clipped, almost whispering. 

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“What is it?” my feet halt. 

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“Nevermindddd”, she tries feebly to lift her voice. “Tyler, I’ll leave in five – “. 

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“Bea,” I drag her name, then say nothing. 

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“Do you …”, she inhales deeply, then suddenly yells, “Do you think I can bring my vibrator?” like the words needed to be shot out all at once, or none at all. 

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“Of course Bea?” I say puzzled. “Bring two if you like”, I chuckle. 

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“Okay, thank you, Tyler. See you soon”, she very matter-of-factly says, then hangs up.

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*Weird*. 

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It’s a short flight to a small neighbouring city. We’d already booked an AirBnB, and upon checking in and throwing our bags on the floor, I roughly kiss Bea, pressing her against the door. 

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“Not now, Mister,” she pulls away. “No sex. We’ve got things to see. Go get ready!”. 

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*Well, shit.* 

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There’s only one bathroom, so I iron my shirt while Bea showers. Eventually, we’re out the door, she in this stunning little black dress that hugged her curves and a daring amount of cleavage exposed by a plunging neckline, I in a black shirt that squeezed my biceps, the sleeves rolled up, so Bea could trace the veins running down my forearm as we walked the streets. 

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It only seemed appropriate given our attire that we would then elect to dine in the least sexy place imaginable – a barbecue joint. 

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“Oh my God,” a soft moan escapes Bea’s lips as she dives face-first into some ribs. 

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“Bea, we’re in public,” I decry, slapping my thigh with a laugh, receiving a healthy serving of side-eye for my troubles. 

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There was alcohol too, just enough to take the edge off – a handful of beers gulped as we met the locals at another dive bar, most of whom were guys – all of whom sneaked glances at Bea’s chest. Sure, the thought of ‘defending’ Bea flickered in the back of my mind, but Bea seemed to be revelling in it, the attention, the wandering eyes. 

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With her neckline low and her spirits high, I just sit back and watch Bea. Every now and again, she brushes against my crotch, stirring my cock from its slumber. Our table is poorly lit, and when Bea comes to park her beer on it, all the men look away. 

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“They’re intimidated by you,” she whispers in my ear. “I don’t know which is sexier, the fact you aren’t an egotistical douche who would eye up all the guys staring at me orrr,” she nibbles my neck, “this white shirt you’re wearing.” 

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Bea grabs my crotch under the table. Not discreetly either, her hand grabs at my cock, while she stared at me unblinking. 

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“Two can play at that,” I brush her hand away, my fingers tracing a quick line down her exposed cleavage, the running back up and lightly grazing her soft nipple over her dress.

 

“Tyler!” Bea slaps my hand away playfully, checking to see if anyone noticed. 

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I do it again, this time to her other nipple. “I made sure no one was looking,” I tell her, with my finger lingering on her hardening bud, slowly rolling. Bea’s eyes shut and her neck snaps back, and when a light moan slips past her lips, my hands shot back down to my side. 

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Bea’s covers her mouth in horror, and neither of us can stand to look around us. I pay the bill and book and Uber almost immediately. 

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The night was still young as we returned to our room, and the first thing that filled the air was silence. It was odd how heavy the air was, fraught with apprehension. Bea and I had fucked every waking minute we had between us, and yet here we were, ambling around like it was a first date and both of us were waiting for the other to make the initial move. It felt different. It felt like it wasn’t just sex any more, and that made it far worse.

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It doesn’t take much to break the stillness. Bea’s smiling the moment my fingers brush her cheek, giving rise to that sexy smile of hers, solely reserved for when our clothes come off. When her lips curved that little bit more, flashing a little dimple on either cheek, accompanied by a tilt of the neck. 

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We shared our longest kiss, our lips kneading each other’s while our tongues slow-danced. 

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My lips taste her perfume as they trail down Bea’s neck, her breath slowing, getting heavier. My hands move from the small of her back, gripping her thigh and heaving it in the crook of my arm. 

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When my teeth rake down her neck, and press just above her collarbone, I hear her the filthiest moan she’s let out, they’re softer but full and deep, like they’re coming from her very core. 

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My hands wander around her dress, feeling the soft silk straps, then tracing her exposed skin by her shoulders down her back. Bea fucking shivers, goosebumps peppering all the soft spots on her skin. My fingertips dance back up, and through the silk, I feel the curves of Bea’s tits. 

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They feel around them, pressing the silk down and around the curves of her breasts, until I reach two pointed peaks, her nipples already hard, full and tingling. 

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The moment I stop, Bea snatches at my hands and eyes me, her glare hungry. A smile erupts on my face as I then trace my fingers over her nipples again and again, rubbing the silk over her hot bud.

 

“Oh God”, Bea moans deeply. 

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Slowly I increase my tempo, until she can’t take any more. As my hands run up her thigh, I feel her wetness, and then some deliciously moist spots all along, like a trail of pleasure guiding me to the honey pot.

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She’s *excited*. 

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Finally, my fingers feel that crease, the one that told me where her thigh ends, and where the rest of Bea, her most vulnerable area, was about to begin. 

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My index finger slowly pushes her folds apart, while the middle finger tantalisingly dips in. Her pussy feels wet, yet her juices feel sticky, like honey. My index middle finger wiggles deeper and deeper into her. “Hey, you okay?” I check on Bea, her face red and tortured. 

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“Yes, I need more, Tyler”. 

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“More?” I questioned inserting my index finger inside her now. “I want you to cum on my fingers, Bea”, I command, both my fingers massaging upwards, feeling her G-spot and then rubbing down even harder. 

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“Oh fuck!” Bea’s voice shudders, and she bites down on my shoulder. I can feel her wetness, her juices slowly coating my fingers, running down her thigh. She doesn’t have long left. 

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Eventually, I use my thumb and slowly encircle her ripe clit, so full and engorged it feels like it’s about to erupt. I maintain a steady pace, my mouth on her nipple, overloading her entire body with sensation. 

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“Mnggg”, Bea sputters, her teeth digging into my skin.

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I pull Bea to face me. “I want to see your face, Bea, when I make you cum”. 

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She nods, looking at me with desire, her blue eyes tearing with pleasure. She keeps nodding. “Yes, Tyler, make me cum. Make me cum”, she nods again and again, hoping it to be true. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” she mumbles to herself. 

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The sound comes from my right, by the bedside table. It’s soft at first, and then it’s all I can hear, drowning out Bea’s whimpers until they’re gone. That fucking xylophone. 

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“Fuck!” I shout. 

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Bea looks at me, and I think she actually considers not answering for the very first time. 

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With my hands on my hips, “Go ahead”, I tell her, shaking my head. 

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“Tyler, I want your fingers back in me”, Bea’s eyes suddenly bloom. 

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I want the scream *WHAT!* but my jaw just goes slack, and there’s a long moment where nothing happens – the sound of the xylophone continues to ring while I stand there trying to digest what Bea is implying. And just like that, everything snaps back into action when Bea pressed into the screen, and then letting her phone drop onto the bed. 

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“Hey babe, why’d you take so long to answer?” Patrick’s voice was terse and deep. Bea had fucking answered the call, and left it on loudspeaker. His fucking voice. *What the fuck is she doing?*

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“I’m masturbating. You wanna hear me get off?” she says to Patrick while looking directly at me. It’s the way Bea says it – no hello, no hint of emotion, her brazen question coming out nonchalant like a bullet shot directly through the phone, sharp and cutting. I freeze, but Bea presses her finger to her lips with the same goddamn devious smile, then spreads her legs. 

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*Make me cum with your fingers,* she mouths to me. My hands don’t know what to do with themselves, but Bea’s hands are already busy, like they knew what the plan was. She stretches to her bag lying on the bed. Her eyes stay with me, but she turns her bag upside down and without looking, begins to feel for something. There’s a smirk on her face telling me she’s found it. I hear it before I see it, a low buzz droning from within her hand – a sleek bullet making her eyes twinkle with anticipation.

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“Mhhhmmm”, Bea purrs once she begins to stroke her pink clit with the tip of the black bullet. 

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“Er, yeah sure”, Patrick finally responds. I wasn’t the only one caught off-guard. “Babe, turn on your video, I wanna see you”.

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Bea pauses, as if she’s chewing on a long response. Then, she simply says, “No”. The vacant look on her face after tells me it’s not something she says very often, if at all. “No”, she repeats again, as if Bea herself couldn’t believe it the first time. “If you wanna hear me masturbate, you can’t speak”, Bea adds. 

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There’s no such pause from Patrick’s end, his voice sharply responding with, “Yes, yes, fine. I’ll play this game. Get on with it. I wanna hear you. I’m unzipping myself”. 

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“You. Can’t. Speak,” Bea reiterates, every word pronounced at a snail’s pace. It was fucking sexy listening to her be so dominating.

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*Am I really going to do this?* My thoughts weren’t certain, but it didn’t matter because my hands were already running up Bea’s thighs once again, the sight of her getting herself off in front of me simply too much to resist. 

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*Make me moan,* Bea mouths to me as I kneel between her legs. There’s still one last lingering pause when my face is by her pussy. But the moment my tongue lightly traces her entrance, it tastes it, I taste her – her sweet and salty nectar. And then, I instantly turned ravenous and lost all control. 

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I plunge my fingers into her, one at first, then two, then three. They massage into her, feeling her walls, filling her up. They lap up a glob of her glorious cum, hot and sticky. Bea moans theatrically, loud and erotic, her hips rising with the movement of my fingers. I stick my fingers into Bea’s mouth, so she can taste herself, and then they push back into Bea. 

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“Oh God,” Bea whimpers. She’s so wet, my fingers make a sloshing sound as they go in and out of her, the vibrator humming along as it threatens to make her engorged clit pop with pleasure. 

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“Babe”, Patrick’s voice, suddenly re-emerges from the other end of the call. “Are you using a vibrator?!”. His voice was splintered, caught between two minds. 

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Neither Bea nor I gave the question any attention, my fingers relocating that rough spot in the roof of her pussy and curving, pressing down and goading it, torturing it. Bea’s body thrummed with pleasure, her back arching, her body writhing while her hands grabbed fistfuls of the bedsheet. 

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“Bea!” Patrick finally broke, the mask he’d been using falling off. “We discussed this. You’re not allowed to use a vibrator without me there”, his voice tore into her. 

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Bea responded with a filthy groan, and then going “fuck, I’m close”. 

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“Bea, this is your final warning”, Patrick’s voice is but a white noise now, drowned by the wet sounds of my fingers being enveloped by Bea’s sopping pussy. 

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“Yes, yes, yes”, Bea recited, like a spell that was about to reach its climax. Somehow, Bea’s hands blindly started to feel around, until she got a hold of her phone. In between strangled breaths, Bea managed to blurt out, “you’re not going to have the privilege of hearing me cum any more”, before ending the call and flinging her phone across the room. 

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“Tyler, please don’t stop!” she said my name now, needily. 

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My tongue slowly pushes into her folds, flicking along the bottom of her throbbing clit, adding a new sensation. 

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“You taste remarkable”, I growled at her, then continued to lap every drop of her that I could. “Mmmm”, I snarl. “I need more. Cum for me, Bea, cum all over my face.” 

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My fingers felt it first, her pussy writhing and squeezing all around them. Bea’s fingers began to curl, her grip loosening over her bullet. Quickly, I grabbed onto it and kept it where she had. My tongue continued to flit her clit from the bottom. Her thighs pressed together, clamping my face. And just then, it happened. 

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“I’m cumming, I’m cumming …. Fuck!” Bea screamed while her eyes rolled and left only whites behind. Her hands went limp, fingers curling in pleasure. Waves of pleasures rolled through her body, her hips bucking and jerking roughly. Her pussy crushed into my fingers, choking them and coating them with her juices. 

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Her chest dipped and rose, her orgasm loud and overflowing. Barely a minute later, with my fingers and tongue tired, I hear the words that force me to keep going. “Tyler, I’m cumming again”. She bit down on her bottom lip hard, then her mouth shot open with another moan. And then she came again, and again, and again. 

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When she was finally done, after cumming five times, Bea’s body collapsed, her hair a mess and her body drenched and spent. 

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“Are you okay —”. 

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Bea interrupts me, her hand pushing me back when I go in to cuddle her. “Get off the bed”, she exhales. 

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Slowly, I push myself off and stand at the bed’s foot. Before I can even ask, Bea is rolling herself onto the floor and getting on her knees. Her fingers trace the outline of my cock, from my shaft to my balls, wiping the damp spot on my boxer briefs with her hand then staring up at me, licking her fingers. 

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Then she does something I’ve never experienced, wetting her fingers by rubbing her slit, and then using it to glaze my cock, giving it a sheen. “Fuck, when your veins look like this, your cock looks delicious”. 

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Bea nudged me slightly, pushing me back, a step to the left, then a little more right. 

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“What are you doing?” I quiz her. 

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Bea smiles, her gaze shoots across the room, which I follow, until I’m met with our reflections staring back at us – a full-length mirror with a gold frame sitting there. “Making sure you get the perfect view”, she teases while checking herself out. 

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“Someone’s excited”, she hisses, her fingers then digging into my waistband and pulling it down, my cock springing free. “You’re so thick”, she tells me. 

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“Tell me something I don’t know,” I retort with a stupid, juvenile laugh. 

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Bea looked up right at me. “I’m going to swallow every last drop of your cum”. 

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“Is that right?” I attempted to banter. “Well —- oh fuck”, I cursed, Bea’s lips already enveloping my tip, her lips glossed with my precum. I felt the softness of her tongue swirl at the delicate spot right under the tip of my cock, the small rough bumps agonisingly circling over and over until my knees were getting weak, and my thighs began to tense. 

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“You were saying,” Bea suddenly said. I could see two strings of my precum running from the roof to the base of her mouth as she did. Her lips released my cock with a pop, her tongue then dancing along my balls. “Oh fuck”, I grunted as she took one of my balls into her mouth, then the other. “Fuck, Bea, that feels wonderful”. 

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“Tell me when you’re gonna cum,” she breathlessly murmured and devoured my cock once more. Her eyes looked to the right, urging me to do the same. Bea was staring at our reflections as I edged closer and closer to a climax. I could tell she was checking herself out as well, the sight of her, on her knees, and yet I was the one at her mercy, my cock engorging to the point my skin didn’t feel like it was enough to contain my erupting pleasure.

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“Bea, fuck, I’m going to cum,” I warn her. 

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I feel her fingers trace my ass, her palms then clenching. 

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“Fuck,” I cursed, feeling Bea push my entire length down her throat, gripping my ass and doing it over and over. “Where — Bea, where do I cum?” My voice is urgent, but Bea doesn’t respond, simply deepthroating all of me, swallowing my fucking soul. 

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My cock stiffens for the final time, and my cum pools within my balls. I stare at our reflection, as does Bea when I finally climax. 

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It’s like the pleasure takes over me, my orgasm hitting first, and then slowly, my cum begins to release, a huge glob of me spilling out in Bea’s mouth, and then, like the dam was broken, cum begins to shoot out. One, two, three then four ropes going down Bea’s throat, I felt myself empty into her, flooding her mouth. Her hands prevented me from moving, their grip on my ass tightening as Bea swallowed every last drop as she said she would. 

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Bea stares at herself, then my face throughout my orgasm, admiring her body of work. 

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When I’m done, Bea’s mouth stays shut, and pleasure spears through me, my sensitive cock still being licked, Bea’s tongue swirling over it. It was too much, and not enough – I felt my head about to implode, pure ecstasy shooting through me. 

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“Beaaa”, I almost whimper her name. Like she’s heard a cry of surrender, Bea finally releases me, her mouth letting my member go free. 

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“That was – “. 

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“Fucking hot”, Bea completes my sentence, wiping her mouth with a palm.

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“Get up here”, I pull her up, and then tilt my neck and embrace her lips with mine, full and breathy. I taste myself on her, licking up any bit of me leftover. 

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“You were whimpering,” Bea teases. 

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“Well, you’re a sex goddess,” I freely admit.

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We both crash into the bed, with Bea resting her head in the middle of my chest, using my pecs as pillows and lightly tracing circles on them. I, in turn, wrap my arm around her neck, pulling her close and closer until I can kiss between her brows – she’s staring right up at me when I do, those big blue eyes somehow making me feel even more naked than I already am. 

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“Did you mean that, just now?”. 

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“The sex goddess thing? Hell yes”. 

​

Bea slaps my pec hard. “No! About how you didn’t care about all *that*, who I used to be”. 

​

“Yes, I meant every word”. Brushing Bea’s hair back, I feel how warm her body truly is. Even when she’s laying here, I want to wrap myself around her. “I don’t care what you did, who you were. I want to know the real Bea”. 

​

“You really don’t care that I’ve slept with a tonne of guys?” her eyes look down. 

​

“Well, define a tonne,” I laugh, and then quickly nudge her chin up to mine, lightly pecking her on the lips. “I don’t care, Bea. We all have a past”. 

​

“How do you think I learnt how to that at the end there with your dick?” she suddenly smirks.

​

“Right then,” I playfully push her off and get up off the bed.

​

“Get back here,” she yanks me back down and then claws at my arms, holding me down. We’re both laughing, and then kissing, and finally, we drift off. Bea’s phone went off a few more times throughout the night, but every time it did, I just pulled Bea in a little closer, and she gripped my hand draped around her waist a little tighter. 

​

*Why didn’t she just turn her phone on silent?*

​

But Patrick wasn’t done with Bea, nor she with him – not yet.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/121ntdq/making_the_influencer_cum_while_shes_on_the_phone