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My eyes roved wildly over the apartment as I paced back and forth.
"That definitely wasn't decaf," I said.
"You don't say," Sherry yawned. She had stripped down to
her sleeping clothes: a white tank top and soft cotton shorts. She
was curled up with a woolen blanket covering her legs and Che
Guevarra delicately washing his paws in her lap.
"I told them three times," I growled. "Decaf! Decaf!
Decaf!"
"Maybe they couldn't hear you. You should have said it a
fourth time."
Che regarded me with even less interest than my
girlfriend. Sherry flicked the remote control from channel to
channel as I walked a six-foot elipse around the living room.
"I'm just about ready for bed," she told me.
"Not me," I snapped, and continued my pacing while she
channel surfed.
"I think I'd better go to the gym," I finally said.
"They close at ten on Sundays," she told me.
"Shit! God damn it!"
Sherry looked at me with a faint smile on her lips.
"You're sure that wasn't decaf?"
"Very funny."
She turned off the TV. "Come over here," she said,
patting the sofa next to her. Che Guevarra issued a fervent hiss
and meowed discontentedly, then ran for the hills, darting across
the living room toward the cat tree.
I looked at her with mixed suspicion and paranoia.
"Why?" I asked.
"I'm going to hit you over the head with a flower vase
and knock you cold," she said.
"Please," I said, sitting next to Sherry on the sofa.
She was on me in an instant, bearing me back onto the
sofa, crawling on top of me. She kissed me, recoiling just a bit
when she tasted my tongue. Sherry hates coffee. She threw caution
to the wind and kissed me harder, her tongue sliding against mine
as she reached her hands down my sweat pants.
"I know what'll calm you down," she said.
"I doubt it," I told her bitterly.
"But it certainly can't hurt," she said, pulling my
sweats down. "Besides, your lips say no no but your
caffeinated cock says make it a double."
She took my cock in her hand as it hardened, then bent
forward and wrapped her lips around it. I sighed softly as her
mouth began to slide up and down on my shaft. I was painfully hard
in an instant, and as Sherry's tongue swirled around my balls she
stroked the tip of my cock with her thumb, caressing me in exactly
the way she knows will make me come faster than fast. Her mouth
worked around my head, her lips closed tight around it, and when
she pulled back she moaned, her breath warm on my glistening
prick.
"Come on," she cooed. "Let it all out. All that naughty
caffeine into your cock. I want you to come French Roast, baby.
Come on, I can take it."
Then her mouth was on my cock again, and my fingers were
tangled in her hair as her head bobbed up and down. Long, low
moans escaped my lips and I heard Sherry whimpering softly in the
base of her throat. Her lips worked the head while her tongue
lapped at the underside. Her hand began to pump the base.
Che was sitting at the top of the cat tree blinking in
bemusement. He made eye contact with me and pawed the air. I would
have sworn the little bugger was shooting me the feline version of
a high-five.
Sherry's mouth rose off of me for just an instant. "Come
on," she said. "Let it all out." Her mouth came down over my cock
again and she hungrily pumped it, sucking me harder than before.
I moaned, my hips lifting, and let go. Pleasure washed
over me as I came in Sherry's mouth, listening to her tiny
whimpers as she swallowed and hungrily sucked for more. A big sigh
came out of me as I finished coming.
Sherry snuggled up on top of me, cuddling close. She
whispered softly in my ear.
"You're right," she said, licking her lips. "It
definitely wasn't decaf."
I smiled ruefully.
"So now you'll be up all night?" I said.
She giggled and kissed me on the neck.
"Yeah," she told me, her fingers spidering up my stomach
underneath my sweatshirt to tease my nipple. "But it's not a
problem, baby. Not a problem at all."
Che jumped on top of us and began to knead Sherry's hip.
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