HEAVEN
Millie Dynamite
© Copyright 2026 by Millie Dynamite
Below this line are exactly 750 words
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Lying in bed, thinking of him. With my hands touching my bare nipples, caressing my breasts, I see him in my mind’s eye. A god in human form, tall, strong, virile, the longing burns inside. Knowing every square inch of his body, I envision him thrusting inside me.————————————————
Heart beating wildly in my chest, breathing ragged and raw, my fingers follow the lines of my lust. Lips collide, only in my mind, tongues twisting together, as I remember the first time I cupped his balls, thick and bigger than ping pongs, “Turn your head, and cough.”
The right eye, staring at me, he coughed, and I moistened.
One hand lingers on my belly, and moves back to my tit, squeezing tit, pinching my nipple, the way I desire him to do. My fingers of the other, moves down, thumb teasing my clit, wishing it were his, fingers move between lips, down, down, back up, while I continue to squeeze one boob, and frig my button.
Reminiscing about putting on the glove, snapping it, “Bend over, please.” Applying lube to the latex, rubbing hands together to warm it. I press, “Relax, please.” I slip inside, index only, and add the middle finger. Going in, as far as possible, nothing amiss here. As I pull back, he squeezes. Removing them, turning them inside out, I throw them in the wastebasket.
As I wash my hands, he’s staring at my ass. Oh, yeah, he’s interested.
Writhing on my bed, in my sweet imagination, we make love. The forbidden suitor, and me. Bodies twist and turn, mouths crash, lips duel, hips thrusting. Fucking, fucking, fucking one another, all time know, this could be the end of my career. A soft buzz interrupts my mental tryst.
Rolling on my side, I grab my phone and see my husband’s text.
Thinking of you
Wanting to send back, liar, I don’t. Likewise, jets to him inside. Then XXOO and a heart emoji.
What you doing?
Trying to take a nap, I send back.
Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.
Thanks. We’re done, that’s it, trial separation continues, unabated.
The moods shattered. Standing, I walk to the living room, still naked, still yearning for a good fuck with a dangerous man. Pouring a double shot of bourbon, neat, I down it in one gulp, pour another, and move to the couch. Gazing out the window at the city. A sea of lights stretches to infinity.
Twisting, placing my legs on the cushions, lying back, downing my drink, and letting the glass fall to the floor. One hand on my breast, the other between my legs, I again concentrate on yesterday’s examination of an Adonis.
Thumping his hard pecks, listening to his hammering heart, his breathing, clear lungs, strong muscles, and quick reflexes. Under the thin paper gown, his cock rises, twitches, as I’m feeling for imperfections.
“Sorry,” he says, but I’m not.
“Get dressed,” I say.
He moves behind the screen, takes off the gown, while I watch in the polished stainless-steel reflection of the medicine cabinet and equipment. Thick and veiny, his cock glistens in the sterile light, at least six and a half inches limp.
Wet, seeping lube for him, yearning for him.
Playing with myself, thinking of him, a new patient, married with three kids. Doesn’t drink. Doesn’t smoke. A man of means, the president of a multibillion-dollar corporation. The chart tells me a lot, but not if he fools around.
Daydreaming, I fall to my knees, take his cock in my hand. Stroking it, gazing up at him, I say, “Shush,” while his cock grows. Kissing the tip, licking the glans, under the rim, down the shaft to his balls. Leaning back, he braces himself, hands behind him, on the sink.
Sucking his balls, first one, then the other.
“Oh, sweet, lord.”
Slobbering back to the tip, mouth on cockhead, I work down, one inch, two, three, four. The thing swells more, stretches. Gagging, move further, it moved into my throat.
“Oh, dear god, Doctor.”
Conjuring what might be, slaver grows, our pulses quicken. Drawing back, jacking the length of his member. At that moment, his pleasure turns liquid, hard jets of slick, thick fulfillment flood my mouth. Consuming it, sucking it down, milking out every last drop while patient four of eight whispers nastily into the room.
Fingers thrusting into me, three of them, my thumb torturing my clitty, and I explode. Rolling, bucking, I continue toward the promised land.
Nearer, closer, there.
HEAVEN!
