Your Angel Or Your Devil update (Patreon)

Quentin allowed Madison to lead him back inside. Where her fingers touched his, he felt tingling sparks, like there was electricity running through her skin, vibrating where it contacted his flesh. His throat felt dry, while his eyes couldn’t seem to stay off the undulating rhythm of her hotly rounded ass. She really was one hell of a woman. If he weren’t in a relationship… well, there was no point thinking about that. He’d find himself out of his relationship if he let himself get worked up over Madison.

There was a roll-out bar near the big stone fireplace. Madison pulled it from the wall. “Not much of a selection here, I’m afraid. But you’re welcome to whatever we’ve got. I’d hate to deny you anything.”

Quentin leaned in to peer at the bottles. “Vermouth, port… what’s this?” he asked, lifting a large bottle of clear liquid from the bottom shelf.

“Absinthe,” Madison said, smiling. “My favorite. It has a reputation, but as long as you can handle your liquor, you won’t want anything else.” She was standing very close to Quentin; her hand lightly petted his arm. “How do you like it, Quentin?”

“I’ve never had any.”

“You should try it,” she told him. “I could never go through life knowing there’s something really special I just haven’t tried.”

Quentin grunted dubiously. “How do you mix it?”

“You don’t. You just put it on ice. I’ll get some from the fridge.”

She came back moments later with a tray of ice. Quentin had gotten out two glasses; she dropped an ice cube into each one. He uncapped the bottle and poured for both of them. As the clear liquid embraced the ice, it took on the green hue that Quentin associated with absinthe: “That’s a neat trick.”

“Absinthe has many surprises.” Madison lifted her glass, a raised eyebrow prompting him to follow suit, and then she toasted. “To your writing.”

“Well, I’ve drunk to that before—why should I stop now?” He drank, found that the absinthe tasted sweet, albeit with a strongly bitter aftertaste, but once he got used to it, it went down smooth, almost like candy. The contrast, as he drank more and more, was enthralling.

“Like it?” Madison pressed.

“I think I could get used to it.”

“Mind getting used to it with me? I’d hate for you to go without the benefit of my experience.”

“Sure.”

“Then let’s sit down.”

They sat on the couch, and it seemed to Quentin like Madison sat strangely close to him. She crossed one slender, tanned leg over the other, pulling the material of her shorts against her mound, so that he could see the beginnings of her cleft and how her mons bulged out from the surrounding flesh. Quentin looked away, then felt compelled to look back when Madison leaned forward, so that much of her creamy bronze breasts were exposed to him—and just a hint of the ruby stiffness at their tips. Quentin felt heat rising at the back of his neck, but he couldn’t take his eyes from Madison’s luscious cleavage. His cock spasmed inside his pants with the quicksilver start of a real good hard-on. Feeling a little ashamed, Quentin drank more than he’d intended to, draining his glass in one big gulp.

“Looks like you need more,” Madison cooed, taking a healthy swallow from her own glass and then taking his cup from him. She slid off the couch and went to the bar, humming to herself and twitching her buttocks in a little dance as she refilled their drinks.

She’d lied to Quentin. It wasn’t quite absinthe they were drinking, though it was similar in most respects. In fact, what they were having was one of the world’s finest and most potent aphrodisiacs. She knew the effect it had on the male libido after just a few glasses. It increased her own sexual fervor too, but she could handle it. She doubted Quentin was ready to. Yes, he was hers now—she felt wetness beginning to trace over the sensitive walls of her pussy, thinking of what would happen as the drink took greater and greater hold of Quentin.

She carried the replenished glasses back to Quentin, giving him his back. Madison felt his eyes on her lushly ripened body, all the taut muscles she’d exercised to keep herself toned and fit despite her age. She glanced now and then at the bulge in his pants, letting him feel her eyes there. When she did, she saw his erection jumping occasionally, as he tried to fight it down but couldn’t keep it from pushing his trousers out however briefly.

Madison felt her juices dampen her panties with even more anticipation. The second drink disappeared even faster than the first, now that Quentin had a taste for it, and Madison quickly refilled his glass again. He drank thirstily from it, as if it offered some respite from the lustful feelings growing more and more prominent in his head.

A soft, relaxed lethargy came over Quentin in waves. He knew the drinks were having that effect on him, but he didn’t care, it was so pleasant and it didn’t matter. So what if he got a little tipsy? He wasn’t going anywhere, he could man his way through a hangover, and maybe the warm, celebratory feeling would last once he started working, like a hearty bon voyage to send him off on his journey. Besides. It wasn’t every day that he got to drink in such good company as Madison Lee.

She really was one hell of a woman, he thought admiringly. Without ever being slutty, she exuded a pure animal sexuality, like a veil that invisibly fell over her as she moved, spoke—even just looked at him. What he wanted to do, really wanted to do, was to take her in his arms right that minute, kiss her, let her feel his burgeoning erection and find out what she would do with it… he had a feeling she’d be pleased with how hard he was getting for her. Have a definite idea what to do with all his stiff inches.

Christ, but it would be nice to kiss her soft red lips, caress her warm white breasts, tweak the nipples into that painful stiffness that could only be relieved by him taking them into his mouth and suckling them to a blissful overwhelming of sensation, like he did to get Alex off.

Thinking of Alex, his girlfriend, brought into sharp relief how rigid his cock was, straining for release from its prison. He tried to will it to go back to sleep, to banish the lascivious thoughts that were making it so hard, but the hot blood swelling up his prick stayed right where it was. Guiltily, he looked at Madison’s face, determined to keep his eyes off her amazing body.

He found that she was staring at his turgid erection. Smiling with half-parted lips and burning eyes.

“Well, Quentin,” she husked. “I can see whiskey dick is one problem you don’t have.”

“I, uh… I wouldn’t…” he sputtered.

Madison laughed deep in her throat. “It’s okay, Quentin. I get it. You want to fuck me, that’s all.”

He faltered even as his breath quickened. “No, that’s—not it…”

“You don’t want to fuck me?” she said in mock surprise, mock reproach.

“I do, but—“

“And that’s why you have a hard-on, because you want to put it inside me. You want to fuck me. Make me come. Fill me up. All with that big, hard, cock.”

“Jesus Christ,” he managed to jet out. His cock was throbbing madly in his pants while his mind reeled. He couldn’t believe he’d heard Madison correctly, but her words were ringing in his ears. Why? Why was Madison talking to him like that? Didn’t she know he couldn’t do those things with her?

Shit, he could feel his balls aching, bloated, full of gathering cum. He really wanted to fuck, he did, he needed it, and Madison talking to him like a bitch in heat wasn’t helping any. Did she know what it did to him, hearing her talk like that? Wasn’t she worried what might happen? He took another long swallow from his glass and heard the clink of the ice inside as his hand trembled, knocking the cube around the empty confines surrounding it.

Madison leaned close to him and he felt her breath on his cheek, like the heat coming off a furnace. She touched his knee lightly, but the brushing contact seemed to sear deep into his flesh.

“Well, Quentin? Do you or don’t you?”

“Don’t I…?”

“Want to fuck me,” she purred.

“Madison, come on now, I’m… I’m only human…”

“So am I, Quentin baby,” she husked. “And I feel like I’m on fire, just like you. Don’t you know what we have to do to put the fire out?”

She reached out and gripped his throbbing erection like it belonged to her.

Quentin almost leapt off the couch as if she’d given him an electric shock, but even if he had, he couldn’t get away from the suppleness of her touch. She lightly stroked his encased prick, tantalizing it, sliding closer to Quentin as he tried to deny the feeling. Madison increased the rhythm of her caresses to make that impossible for him. Her breasts pressed warmly against his arm and her lips kissed his jaw, relishing every little lipstick-y imprint they made along his cheek and then down his chin, teasingly missing his lips. Then she licked up his face, trailing liquid fire along his flushed skin while her hand kept rubbing his uncomfortably engorged manhood.

“Madison, for Christ’s sake…”

“We have to put the fire out,” Madison droned, chanting in an almost hypnotic voice. “You want to fuck me, don’t you Quentin? You want my cunt and you want it with your big stiff prick.”

“No, I… I… oh, fuck!”

He never said yes except with his actions as he crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue pushing deep into her mouth. Her hands moved with fast approval on his straining cock and she sucked at his tongue, twisting her own around it, darting her tongue into his mouth and then drawing it along the length of his to pull it acceptingly into her mouth.

As if with a life of its own, Quentin’s left hand came up to her breast, squeezed and kneading its soft warmth through the covering fabric, then reaching inside the halter to pull it aside, exposing her naked breast with its stiff, fiery nipple. He felt the blunt, heated wetness from his precum seeping into his underwear, irritably clinging and pulling at his cockhead as Madison kept massaging him into readiness with a practiced thoroughness.

He wanted his prick out of his pants, out and in Madison’s hand instead of locked behind confining clothing, but then, with his hand on the firm flesh of her tit and his cock jerking out of control except for the stroking Madison was delivering, the full impact of what he was doing struck Quentin hard.

Shit! He thought in fast, darting madness. What am I doing? This is wrong, all wrong, I’m with Alex… what would she say, seeing me feeling another woman, being stroked off by another woman? She’s a great girlfriend, she let me get that massage parlor happy ending, and instead of appreciating that, now I’m going behind her back for even more? I can’t go through with this, I can’t—

The sudden surge of guilt was so overpowering that Quentin wrenched himself away from Madison, pulling his lips off of hers, turning his hips so that her hand could no longer stroke his cock. His face was flushed a deep red—partly from shame and partly from how aroused he still was. He averted his gaze from Madison, staring at the walls, breathing in ragged gasps as he struggled to regain his equilibrium. And keep from going back to the paradisiacal feelings he’d been experiencing.

“What’s the matter, lover?” Madison asked with feigned casualness. “Thinking that the missus wouldn’t approve?”

“No, I mean, yes,” Quentin managed. “What we were doing… what we were starting to do… it’s crazy, we can’t—”

“Can’t we?” Madison interrupted.

“No… of course not…”

“Because it felt like we could. And it felt like we’re going to. And all you’re doing is delaying the inevitable.”

“I love Alex… she’s my girlfriend…”

“Then why isn’t she here when you need to fuck so bad? Doesn’t she want to fuck you? I want to fuck you,” she heaved in that mesmerizing voice of hers. “I want to fuck you as much as you want to fuck me. We both know it. Why pretend any different, lover?”

“It’s wrong.”

“Right, wrong, those are just meaningless words we put on what’s physical. Biological. You want to get at my wet little cunt and I want your big dick inside me. That’s all that’s happening here,” she purred, her words floating endlessly through his head.

“I love her…”

“Sure you do. She’s a great girl. But as much as you love her, that doesn’t give you any pussy to fuck right here, right now. I do. You don’t have to love me. You just have to fuck me.”

I can’t hear anymore, I can’t listen to this. Quentin thought in a panic. It was wrong, so wrong, but it made an amount of sense to his whiskey-soaked mind that couldn’t be denied. But he had to deny it, goddamn, he couldn’t step out on Alex!

Quentin jumped out from the couch, putting his back to Madison, looking at the wall where it was safe. His heart raced harshly and his cock was still as hard as granite, still trickling out precum, but he knew he could do it. He could compose himself, get Madison to leave, and then he’d go back to Alex, with nothing having really happened.

Madison’s voice went deep and husky behind him. “Quentin, you’re missing the show.”

He turned, gathering his courage to tell her he wanted her to leave, but when he saw her the words disappeared from his mouth. His chin dropped and his eyes widened into plates.

Madison was completely naked. She had stripped off her clothes; they made a bright puddle on the dully colored floor. She stood with her legs apart, her chest thrust out, her hands settled on her proudly curving hips. She smiled at him with her lips back, baring her teeth slightly, while her wet, rose petal cunt was presented to his eyes like an offering. The brown triangle of her pubic hair caught the light and was tanned almost white. Her high, sweetly rounded breasts, all but the nipples as lushly tanned as the rest of her bare body, jutted out like ruby-topped hills, waiting to be climbed. Her legs were long and slender, satiny smooth at the inner thighs with a glossy sheen of sweat, matching the flowing arousal of her slit.

“I liked what I felt, Quentin,” she husked. “Do you like what you see?”