#stroking cock

You’ve been fucking on edge all day. Horny as hell. And yeah; there’s a fucking reason. You’re married to the hottest DEA agent to ever walk through Colombia - and honestly? Probably the U.S. too.

You and Javier got married a few months ago. And it’s still nonstop sex and filthy moments. Javi tears you apart in the bedroom just to put you back together again. On the kitchen counter. In the shower. Up against the hallway wall. Even once in a dressing room.

Lately he’s been buried in the Cali case. New evidence, long nights. You knew he was staying late at the base. Place was dead. So you thought about calling him. Asking where the fuck he was. Telling him you missed him. Telling him your needy, soaking pussy missed him. You ended up getting each other off over the phone. You were picturing his mouth, doing all that shit only he knows how to do. His thick, hot cock, stretching you open, filling you the fuck up. Oh god; you’re obsessed with his fucking dick.

He was probably thinking about your mouth. Or your pussy. You knew when he came - that deep grunt, the way he moaned your name like he couldn’t fucking help it. Like he was losing it just from your voice. And you loved it. That you fucked him up just as bad as he does to you. At least.

But tonight… it’s not gonna be phone sex. You hear the sound of his keys in the lock. He’s finally home. And you already know; there’s no fucking way you’re letting him rest.

You put on the tiniest shorts you own. No panties. Just that little tank top. You’re standing in the living room, waiting. You hear him. That soft, tired grunt as he kicks off his boots. The water running in the bathroom as he washes his hands.

And then - he walks in. He’s wearing that gray blazer. One of the ones he wears now that he got promoted and has to sit through endless meetings with senators and other assholes. Underneath? That white shirt with the gray stripes. And that stupid fucking tie with the fake-ass flowers on it.

Hair perfectly parted. That signature Peña side part. Eyes full of exhaustion. He walks right up to you. “Hola, cariño,” he mutters, voice low and rough, and kisses you soft. He smells like cigarettes and mint gum. Then he sighs and drops down onto the couch. Leans back, arms behind his head, another long breath.

God, he’s fucking hot.

You stare at the top of his head and think only one thing - I’m gonna ruin you tonight.

Quietly, you slip off your shorts. There’s nothing underneath. Just slick. You were already dripping just thinking about that phone call earlier. Yeah… he’s got that kind of hold on you. You’re fucking Niagara for him.

You circle around the couch, and before he even knows what’s happening, you’re straddling him. Legs around his waist. His body goes still the moment he realizes you’re completely bare down there. “Mmm, cariño… no panties?” His voice is lazy, teasing, but he knows the answer.

You start grinding on his lap. Slow. Just enough to get him there. You feel him underneath you - tired or not, he’s already thickening. He leans in to kiss you, hands ready to touch, and his right hand slides low - straight for your pussy.

But you stop him. His eyes flick up, surprised. You take his wrist, guide his hand back down along his own thigh, then run your palm through that perfect fucking hair of his. And you grab that ridiculous tie, pull him close, and whisper into his ear: “Tonight… I want it different.”

His chest rises. And then he lets out a sharp, shaky breath. You stand up. Slide off his lap. Both of you glance down at the small wet spot you left on his pants.

Javi’s pupils blow wide the second he sees it. You move to the coffee table and sit down. Legs part slightly. Just enough. You want your sexy motherfucker of a husband to have a view. And a reason. Because yeah - you want him to jerk off for you. Because you love his cock. You fucking worship it. You married the hottest goddamn DEA agent in this country, with those bedroom eyes that feel like they could fuck you without even touching you. And there’s not a single part of him that isn’t perfect. His dick? No exception.

Javi stares; completely fucking transfixed by the sight of your bare pussy. His breath catches.

And that’s when you know - you’ve got him exactly where you want him.

“Baby?” you murmur, eyes half-lidded. “Show me how you do it. When I’m not here. When you miss me. When you miss my pussy.” You don’t move. Don’t do anything but keep your knees parted just enough. “I wanna see you. I wanna see your cock. I wanna see you cum.”

He lets out a low, breathy chuckle. No words. But he doesn’t hesitate. Still in his blazer and shirt, didn’t even bother taking them off. Unbuttons his pants. Unzips his fly. His face doesn’t even twitch when he pulls it out. He knows what he’s doing. He knows you’re already dizzy from the sight. Hard. Long. Thick as fuck. The kind of cock that makes your legs fall open before you can even say ‘wait’.

“You know what I think about when I jerk off without you?” his voice drops low, rough.

You shake your head.

He tightens his grip around his cock, slow and firm. “Think about your little pussy. So wet and tight I can’t even fucking pull in.” His hand pulses at the base, fingers digging in. “Think about how you moan my fuckin’ name when I split you open.” He’s not even stroking yet; just holding himself, like he’s already there.

Thick and hot and heavy in his hand. And then (finally) he drags his palm up the shaft. Slow. Fucking slow. Like that first stroke is just for him. Then he looks at you. Head tilted. Eyes dark as hell. “You sure you wanna see this, cariño?”

You nod. Fast. Chest rising, thighs twitching. Your stomach flips and your pussy clenches around nothing.

Javi groans. Low. Fucked-out. Already on the edge. And then - he fucking spits in his palm. Casual as hell. Like he’s done it a thousand times. Like jerking off in front of you is just what happens when he walks through the door. Then he grabs himself again; now wet, slippery, and way too hard. His fist moves slow, dragging up over the tip. A rough breath slips out of his throat: “Fuck.”

You love that cock. And Javi knows it. You love watching his hand stroke it. Love the way he runs his palm over the tip, always the most sensitive part.

His hand moves again; slow stroke from base to head, like he’s touching you. And maybe he is. Maybe in his mind, that’s exactly what he’s doing. “You really just sit there and watch?” His head tilts - barely - eyes heavy, mouth curved in that lazy, half-tired smirk. “Don’t even touch yourself? Just wanna see me fall apart for you?” He looks at you with those deep brown eyes, head slightly lowered.

You don’t answer. Just smile. And that’s all he needs. His fist starts to move a little faster. Not enough to push him over the edge, just enough to fuck with you. “Fuck…” He licks his lips, thinking. But not really; he knows exactly what he’s gonna say. “Sometimes I think about you on your knees,” he mutters. “In my shirt. No panties. Just that sweet little pussy dripping ’cause I’m not home.” His eyes narrow. His breath’s getting heavier. Fingers of his other hand dig into the couch. “I bet you do the same,” he says, voice rough. “When I’m not around. You start thinking about me, and your legs fall open like they are now. You slide your fingers in but it’s not enough. It’s not me. It’s not my cock. It’s not this…”

And fuck, just hearing that, watching him fall apart like that, it makes your pussy throb. You’re soaked. Clenching around nothing. Your whole body buzzing, desperate, wired with want. You don’t even need to touch yourself, he is touching you without laying a hand on you.

It’s getting harder for him to hold your gaze. Harder to form a full sentence. His body’s shaking, his mind wrecked, and you know - you’ve got him right where you want him. And still, somehow, he’s got you too.

He presses the tip of his cock against his palm. Just holds it there. Watching you. Eyes locked. Neither of you looking away. He makes a little “cup” with his hand, just enough of a fist to fuck into with the head of his cock. And he does. Drives the tip right into it, again and again. His abs twitch. Thighs go tense as hell.

You can’t take it anymore. You reach down - just barely - and brush your fingertip over your sensitive clit. Light. Barely a touch.

But Javi sees it. His eyes drop to your soaked pussy and he groans out loud. His hips jerk harder, sharper. Thighs flex, muscles tight as stone. His hand squeezes around his cock, knuckles pale, breath caught in his throat.

And now - there’s no rhythm. Just need.

His strokes get faster. He starts moaning. “Shit… cariño, I’m not gonna last, I swear to god–” His voice cracks. “Keep your eyes on me, yeah? Just like that. Let me cum for you. And spread those pretty legs a little wider.”

You’re already sitting there with your knees apart, mouth open, staring at him like he’s fucking divine. “All messy like this,” you whisper. “That how you do it when I’m not here?”

“Mhmh,” Javi breathes, nodding vaguely, voice fucked-out. “But it’s never this strong. Not like now, when I see you like this. Spread out. For me. Only for me.” He’s barely holding eye contact now. Can’t even put a sentence together. His whole body’s unraveling.

“Baby, cum for me,” you whisper. “Just for me. Like you wanna fill me up.” That’s it. That’s what breaks him. His fist moves faster, messier, sloppier and his body locks up.

You see it. Feel it. The way his thighs tremble and rise. The way his jaw clenches, his head tips back. One last glance at your soaked pussy and he fucking loses it. Loud, broken moans tear out of his throat as he cums. Spilling across his stomach, down his hand… deep, hard spurts like he’s giving you everything. Some of it hits the front of his shirt - messy streaks soaking into the fabric, right over his abs, right through the buttons. But he doesn’t care. Not even a little.

And fuck… watching him like this?! The sounds, the way his body jerks, the look on his face? You swear your pussy clenches so hard it nearly makes you cum too. You’re dripping. Aching. Your clit throbbing like it felt every drop he gave you.

And you didn’t even touch yourself.

His voice drops into this low, hissing groan. Pure fucking relief. His hand slows - stops for a second - then grips again. Just a few more strokes. Like he’s squeezing out every last drop. For you. “Fuck… fuck, cariño. Look what you do to me.”

A few moments pass. His breathing starts to calm down. He finally lifts his head. Eyes hazy, cheeks flushed, completely wrecked.

And you? You’re smug as fuck. Satisfied.

And yeah… his cock still looks fucking perfect. Even softer. You know damn well you’re gonna want to watch him do that again. You bring your knees together and stand from the table. Walk up between his thighs and stop in front of him. “Look at me, baby,” you say - soft, but firm.

He lifts his head, those big brown eyes totally blown out. Wrecked. Beautiful.

Before you can pull back, his hand slides up between your thighs. Just barely. Just enough. His fingertips brush over your soaked pussy - light, slow, curious. And when he feels how wet you are, his lips part like he can’t even believe it. Like that wrecked, empty orgasm he just had still wasn’t enough.

You shiver. And he looks up at you with that look. Worship. Lust. Love. All of it at once.

“You did so fucking good, honey,” you tell him, brushing your fingers through his hair. You lean in. Kiss him gently on the temple. “I love you like this. Wrecked. Wet. Maybe even a little more than usual.”

His hand slides up between your thighs again, slow and sure; and this time, he slips a finger inside. Just one. Just enough to feel the mess he made in you without even touching you. He exhales hard. “Shit…” And then he leans forward, presses his lips to your bare stomach, and whispers: “Next time? You’re not getting away untouched.”

Thank you for reading!