Chapter 9: Preparations
The graze of Mark’s fingertip against that tight, forbidden ring sent a jolt of pure panic through Amanda. Her body locked rigid beneath him, a silent gasp catching in her throat. No preparation, her mind screamed, flashing images of tearing pain, humiliation. Amanda had plenty of experience with penetration from her many nights with her dildos. But it had always been slow, passionate and with plenty of lube. This felt sudden, invasive. Her hands flew to Mark’s shoulders, fingers digging in, not in passion, but in primal fear. "Mark—" The name choked out, thick with alarm.
Instantly, he froze. His dark eyes, clouded with lust, snapped into sharp focus on her face. He saw the wide-eyed terror beneath the mascara, the tremor in her lips. The predatory intensity vanished, replaced by swift concern. He pulled his hand back as if burned, lifting his weight off her slightly, creating precious inches of space. His gaze held hers, searching. "Hey," he murmured, his voice rough but instantly softer. "Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry. Too fast?" His thumb brushed her cheekbone, wiping away a tear she hadn't felt escape. "Didn't mean to scare you."
Amanda swallowed hard, the frantic pounding of her heart slowing a fraction. The relief was dizzying. He hadn't pushed. He’d stopped. "I... I've never... Not a... real one..." she stammered, unable to finish the sentence, the admission hanging raw in the lavender-scented air.
Understanding dawned in Mark’s eyes, deepening the concern but also sparking a flicker of something else – tenderness, perhaps. "Okay," he breathed, nodding slowly. He shifted his weight fully off her, kneeling back on his heels between her spread thighs. His own arousal, thick and flushed against his stomach, was impossible to ignore, but his expression was gentle, patient. "Okay. We go slow. Exactly how you need."
He looked down at his straining cock, then back up at her with a mischievous glint slowly returning. A slow, deliberate grin spread across his face. He gestured downwards with a tilt of his chin. "You want to get me ready?" he asked, the question playful, an offering, a distraction. "Ease the tension a bit?"
The sudden shift, the cheeky invitation, cut through Amanda’s lingering anxiety like sunlight. A genuine smirk tugged at her lips, Amanda’s confidence surging back. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, her gaze locking onto his thick length. "I would love to," she replied, her voice regaining its husky timbre. She deliberately ran her tongue slowly over her lower lip, tasting the faint residue of her lipstick. The desire was real, potent, a familiar thrill replacing the fear. "But," she added, a flicker of practicality surfacing beneath the bravado, "I do hope you have actual lube as well...?" Her voice lifted slightly at the end, a hint of that nervousness returning, but wrapped in Amanda’s playful challenge.
Mark chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated in the quiet room. He nodded, reaching towards the sleek nightstand beside the bed. "Of course," he assured her, pulling open a drawer. The glimpse inside revealed neatly organized items, and he retrieved a small box of condoms while a familiar tube already sat on top. He placed it conspicuously on the smooth surface. "Always prepared, remember?" His grin widened, predatory again but tempered now with undeniable affection. He leaned forward slightly, bracing one hand beside her hip, his eyes darkening as they held hers. "But..." he drawled, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, "...am I wrong in thinking you really want to suck my cock?"
Heat flooded Amanda’s face, fierce and undeniable beneath the layers of foundation and blush. She felt the flush travel down her neck, across her chest. Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard, the sound audible in the stillness. His boldness, the raw, unvarnished desire in his question, was both terrifying and exhilarating. She met his gaze, refusing to look away despite the blush. "You are not wrong," she whispered, the admission feeling like a surrender and a victory rolled into one. Her voice was barely audible, thick with want. "Can I?" she asked, the question tentative yet filled with yearning.
Mark’s smile softened into something breathtakingly warm, possessive, and utterly approving. He shifted his weight, settling more comfortably on his knees, presenting himself fully. "It is all yours, babe," he murmured, his voice thick with promise. "Take your time."
Mark loomed above Amanda, bathed in the bedroom’s golden light, his cock standing thick and proud, the flushed head glistening faintly. The sheer size, the potent masculinity of him, sent another wave of heat pooling low in her belly. She could smell him now, intimately – musk, clean sweat, the faint, expensive scent of his soap. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the pulse she could see throbbing visibly along the thick vein running the length of his shaft.
Tentatively, she reached out. Her fingertips, trembling slightly, brushed the hot, velvety skin just below the head. Mark hissed, a sharp intake of breath, his abdominal muscles clenching. Emboldened, she wrapped her fingers around the base, feeling the incredible heat, the solid weight, the smooth skin stretched taut over iron-hard flesh. She’d touched herself countless times as Amanda, fantasized about this very act, but the reality was overwhelming. The scale, the heat, the sheer presence of him.
She leaned in, her breath ghosting over the sensitive tip. She glanced up, meeting his dark, watchful eyes. His jaw was tight, his breathing deliberately controlled, but the intensity in his gaze was scorching. Permission. Desire. Need. It fueled her.
Closing her eyes, Amanda parted her lips. She pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the very tip, tasting the salty, musky precum that had gathered there. The flavor was unfamiliar, primal, strangely compelling. Mark groaned, a deep rumble from his chest. His hand settled gently on the back of her wig, fingers tangling in the blonde strands, not forcing, just anchoring.
Encouraged, she opened wider. She took just the swollen head into her mouth, swirling her tongue experimentally around the sensitive ridge beneath the crown. The texture was smooth yet yielding, the taste intensifying. Mark’s hips jerked involuntarily. "Fuck... yes... just like that," he breathed, his voice strained.
Amanda sank lower, taking more of him. Her jaw stretched uncomfortably, a dull ache starting, but it was eclipsed by the sheer sensation, by the power thrumming through the flesh filling her mouth, by Mark’s ragged breathing above her. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking gently, exploring the length with her tongue, tracing the prominent vein. She found a rhythm, tentative at first – suck, swirl, pull back, take more. Her free hand slid up his inner thigh, feeling the powerful muscle tense beneath her palm.
Mark’s fingers tightened slightly in her hair. "God, Amanda... your mouth..." His praise was fragmented, gasping. He guided her head with gentle pressure, not demanding, just showing her the angle he liked, the depth he craved. She followed, relaxing her jaw further, taking him deeper until the head nudged the back of her throat. She gagged reflexively, pulling back with a wet gasp, saliva slicking her chin.
"Easy," Mark soothed instantly, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Don't hurt yourself. Just... fuck, just what you're doing is incredible." His voice was thick with awe.
She nodded, catching her breath, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. The taste of him, the musky scent filling her nostrils, the sounds he made – it was intoxicating. She dove back in with renewed determination, focusing on the head and upper shaft, using her tongue relentlessly, swirling, flicking, sucking hard. Her hand worked the base in time with her mouth, twisting slightly, mimicking the motions she used on herself. She lost herself in the act, in the wet sounds, in the tremors running through Mark’s thighs, in the choked curses and ragged groans falling from his lips. She was Amanda, desired, powerful, giving pleasure with her mouth, her hands, her whole being focused on this man, this moment. The awkwardness of Adam melted away, consumed by the fierce, feminine confidence of the act.
===
The wet heat of Amanda’s mouth, the relentless swirl of her tongue, the tight suction pulling at his very core – Mark’s world narrowed to pure sensation. His head tipped back, a low, continuous groan vibrating in his chest, fingers tightening reflexively in the soft blonde strands of her wig. "Jesus, Amanda... fuck... yes..." His praise was fragmented, gasped between ragged breaths. "You're a fucking natural... god, that mouth..." Her lips never left his thick shaft, sliding down, taking him deep until her nose pressed against the coarse hair at his base, then pulling back with exquisite slowness, her tongue tracing every ridge and vein on the ascent. She moaned around him, the vibration traveling straight up his spine, her own arousal a palpable heat radiating from her body which lay flat against the bed. Her own erection rubbing against the soft bedsheets. The slick sounds filled the hushed bedroom, mingling with his choked curses and her muffled whimpers, a symphony of shared, mounting need.
Time dissolved. There was only the rhythm, the taste, the overwhelming pressure building relentlessly in his balls, tightening his stomach. He felt her free hand slide up his inner thigh, her nails grazing sensitive skin before her fingers curled possessively around his sac, squeezing gently. The dual sensation – mouth and hand – nearly undid him. "Close... babe... so fucking close..." he warned, his voice strained, hips lifting slightly off the mattress, seeking more depth, more friction. His thighs trembled beneath her touch.
Amanda heard the raw urgency in his voice, felt the tremor running through him. She doubled down, hollowing her cheeks fiercely, sucking hard as she plunged down again, taking him impossibly deep. Her throat opened, accepting him fully this time, suppressing the gag reflex with sheer will. Mark cried out, a sharp, guttural sound. His hips jerked upwards involuntarily, pushing deeper into that wet heat. His fingers clenched in her hair, holding her firmly in place as the crest approached, undeniable, terrifyingly close.
Then, abruptly, he pulled back. Not harshly, but with decisive strength, his cock slipping wetly from her lips with a soft, obscene pop. Amanda gasped, blinking up at him, her mouth slick and swollen, chin glistening. Confusion flickered across her flushed face beneath the smudged makeup. Had she done something wrong? Disappointed him?
Mark was breathing hard, chest heaving, his eyes dark pools of barely restrained lust fixed on her. He gestured weakly towards the nightstand beside them. "Wanna... wanna put some of that on me?" he asked, his voice rough but playful, a shaky grin touching his lips. His gaze flicked to the tube of clear lubricant resting conspicuously on the sleek surface. "There's condoms... in the drawer..." He paused, his eyes locking back onto hers, intense, questioning. "Think you can slip one on me?" The question hung in the air, thick with implication.
Amanda froze. Her gaze darted from his flushed, straining cock, slick with her saliva, to the lube, then back to his face. Understanding slammed into her, stealing her breath. Her hand, still resting on his thigh, trembled slightly. He wasn't stopping. He was preparing. For that. Mark wanted to fuck her. Truly fuck her. The reality of it, the sheer physical logistics she’d fantasized about countless times alone, crashed over her. Her stomach clenched, a potent mix of terror and fierce, undeniable longing. She bit her lower lip hard, tasting the faint salt of his skin still on hers. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. And beneath the fear, a wave of pure, molten desire surged, hotter than anything she'd ever felt. She wanted him to. Desperately. Completely.
===
Amanda nodded, a flush creeping up her neck that had nothing to do with arousal this time. "I can try..." she offered, a slightly awkward, teasing smile playing on her lips. She turned towards the sleek, minimalist nightstand, the movement shifting her body on the bed. Her fingers fumbled for a moment with the smooth metal handle of the drawer before pulling it open. Inside, neatly organized, lay what she sought: a small box of condoms. The sight was mundane, yet charged with profound significance. The lube was already on the nightstand.
She grabbed both items, the cool plastic of the bottle and the crinkly foil packet feeling both alien and familiar in her grasp at the same time. Turning back towards Mark, she held them up, her smile widening into something more self-conscious. Adam had certainly wrestled with condoms before, fumbling rolls in dimly lit rooms with fleeting partners. But this? This was Amanda’s task. Putting a condom on another man’s cock, kneeling between his powerful thighs while dressed only in her wig and heels – it was a bizarre, thrilling first.
"Well, here goes," she murmured, tearing open the foil packet with perhaps a little too much force. The small, rolled-up ring of latex seemed absurdly small as she pinched it free. Mark watched her, his expression a mixture of intense arousal and barely suppressed amusement, his thick erection jutting proudly before her. He lay back, leaning on his elbows, giving her space, his dark eyes gleaming. "Take your time," he rumbled, a hint of laughter in his voice. "No pressure. Much."
Amanda squinted at the condom, trying to determine the 'right' way up. She pinched the reservoir tip, her fingers slightly slick. Tentatively, she reached for him. The moment her fingertips brushed the slick head of his cock – still wet from her mouth – he twitched, letting out a soft grunt. "Easy tiger," she teased, trying to channel Amanda’s confidence to mask her nerves. She placed the rolled ring against the very tip, took a breath, and attempted to unroll it downwards.
It bunched immediately. The latex clung stubbornly to itself, refusing to roll smoothly over the thick crown. She tried again, pushing more firmly. It wrinkled sideways instead. "Damn things," she muttered under her breath, frustration warring with the absurdity. She repositioned, holding the base of his shaft with her other hand for stability. Her thumb accidentally brushed the sensitive underside. Mark sucked in a sharp breath, his hips jerking slightly.
"Sorry!" Amanda gasped, snatching her hand back briefly. "It's... slippery."
A low chuckle escaped Mark. "S'okay. Just... sensitive." His voice was thick. "Maybe... lube?" He gestured towards the bottle still clutched in her other hand.
"Right! Yes. Lube." Amanda fumbled with the cap, finally popping it open. She squeezed a generous dollop of the clear gel onto her fingers. It was cool and slick. She looked at his cock, then back at her sticky fingers, then the condom still half-crumpled near the tip. The sheer awkwardness of the mechanics struck her. A giggle bubbled up, unexpected and unstoppable. "This is ridiculous," she laughed, shaking her head, the blonde wig shifting slightly. "I feel like I'm trying to wrestle a very enthusiastic... well, you."
Mark’s laughter joined hers, deep and genuine, filling the quiet bedroom. His chest shook, the sculpted muscles rippling. "Just think of it... as dressing me," he offered, grinning broadly, the tension momentarily dissolving into shared, silly relief. "Accessorizing."
"An essential accessory," Amanda agreed, still giggling as she wiped the lube onto her palm, then carefully smeared a thin coat over the head and upper shaft of his cock. The coolness made him hiss softly, his erection pulsing visibly in her grasp. Emboldened by the laughter, she picked up the condom again. This time, with the added lubrication, she managed to pinch the reservoir tip properly and press it firmly onto the head. Taking a steadying breath, she began to roll.
It caught again halfway down. "Come on," Amanda pleaded, her voice laced with amusement now rather than frustration. She used both hands, carefully unpeeling the stubborn ring, easing it over the thickest part. Mark watched, utterly captivated, a wide smile softening his features. The sight of Amanda, kneeling naked between his legs, biting her lip in concentration as she wrestled latex onto his erection, was bizarrely endearing and intensely erotic.
Finally, with a soft sigh of triumph, she unrolled it all the way to the base. She smoothed it down carefully, ensuring it was snug but not constricting. "There!" she declared, sitting back on her heels and wiping her sticky hands on the sheets beside her without thinking. "Successfully accessorized." She grinned up at him, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright with accomplishment and lingering laughter. Her own arousal, momentarily overshadowed by the task, surged back, hot and urgent, seeing him sheathed and ready.
Mark looked down at the condom, then back at her face, his gaze softening into something deeply affectionate and fiercely hungry. The shared laughter hung in the air, a sweet counterpoint to the heavy scent of sex and lube. "Perfect," he murmured, his voice dropping back into that low, possessive rumble as the lighthearted moment began to evaporate, replaced by the crackling intensity they’d set aside. He sat up in bed again, the two of them facing each other, now both on their knees. Mark placed both hands on Amanda's hips, kissing her intensely. The condom glistened, a stark reminder of the threshold they were about to cross.