For Her – JOI (Jill-Off Instructions) (L)

(L) – This story contains strong language. 

 

Hey guys! So Cal wrote this story of what we did last night, but I, Cindy, am writing the introduction. This is the long-awaited Jill Off Instructions from my husband. But ladies, this isn’t just a jill off. Normally when Cal and I give instructions, it’s via FaceTime, but I’ve been on him to write one, and he wanted to write one from memory. So he made me get off while he basically stood over me, and then we… well, you’ll see.

So here’s what you’ll need to truly follow along: a vibrator and a couple dildos, preferably including a glass one. Also your husband. Yeah, that’s right, if you want to follow along past the JOI, you’re going to get railed. If your husband isn’t available this time, just obey Cal’s instructions until you orgasm. I know you will.

Muah, enjoy!

 

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You’re already on the bed when I walk in—naked, needy, legs spread like you’ve been waiting all day. The second your eyes land on me, your lips part. You’re not even subtle about it. You’re staring at my chest, following every drop of water sliding down the ridges of my abs, then lower, right to the thick length hanging heavy between my thighs.

“Fuck…” you whisper, biting your lip. “Please tell me you’re gonna fuck me now.”

I don’t answer. I just smirk, towel slung over my shoulder, walking slow—letting you see every inch of what you want but can’t touch. Not yet.

“You think I’m just gonna climb on top of you and give it to you?” I ask, voice low, teasing. “Nah, baby. Not tonight.”

You whine, shifting on the sheets, already dripping.

“I want it,” you beg. “I want your cock. I need it.”

“You’ll get it,” I say, stepping beside the bed. “But you’re gonna work for it.”

I reach into the drawer and pull out your favorites—your silver bullet, the wand, and that glass toy you pretend you don’t love, even though you squirt like a fountain every time it’s inside you. I lay them out one by one, watching your breath hitch with each click of plastic against the sheets.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” I say, stroking my cock slowly, leaning back against the wall, my body still glistening from the shower. “You’re gonna make yourself cum. Hard. I want to see it pour out of you. You don’t get this”—I give my erection a slow stroke, just to tease you more—“until you soak this bed for me.”

Your lips tremble. “You’re not gonna touch me?”

“Not a finger. You want me to fuck you? You’re gonna give me a sexy show.”

You pick up the wand first. I can tell you’re already trembling when you flick it on, pressing it right where you need it. Your moan is instant, loud, hungry.

“That’s it,” I murmur. “Let me hear how bad you need it.”

You roll your hips, breathing harder, grinding down like you’re trying to milk the orgasm out fast—but I know your body too well. You’re close, but you’re holding back.

“Don’t stop,” I warn. “Now slide that glass toy in. Let me see how filthy you really are.”

You hesitate—just for a second—but that needy little moan in your throat gives you away. You want this. You love it when I take control, when I make you prove how desperate you are for my cock.

I lean back in the chair at the edge of the bed, legs spread, abs flexed, and start stroking myself slowly—right where you can see. I wrap my hand around the base and let my thumb glide over the swollen head, slick with precum. You watch like you’re hypnotized, lips parted, panting.

“Eyes on me,” I murmur. “You see what you’re begging for? This thick cock you keep whining about? You’re not getting a single inch until I watch you break.”

You whimper. Your hand hovers over the toy, but your gaze keeps flicking back to me—watching the veins throb as I pump my length slowly, deliberately, like every motion is just for your torment.

“You’re fucking soaked,” I mutter, letting my eyes roam over your trembling thighs, the way you clench around nothing. “Dripping like a bitch in heat. Damn, you’re beautiful when you’re desperate.”

“Daddy,” you whisper, your sexy accent sweet but wrecked. “Please…”

I smile. “Please, what?”

“Please let me have it. Please… I want your cock.”

“Oh, I know you do,” I say, tightening my grip and giving myself a long, slow stroke. “But you’re not ready yet. You haven’t earned it. Not until I see you make a damn mess. Now be my good girl and use the toy.”

Your hand trembles as you finally pick it up.

“Take your time,” I say. “Slide it in slow. Let me watch that pretty little pussy swallow it whole. Look at me while you fuck yourself.”

You ride it. Desperate. Groaning. One hand clutching the wand to your clit, the other driving the toy deeper with every thrust.

“Good fucking girl,” I growl, stroking myself harder. “You look so damn hot when you’re falling apart.”

You’re moaning now—high, breathy, broken.

“Cal—I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Do it. Let it go. Show me what this pussy’s made for.”

And then you explode.

You scream my name as your legs lock up, your back arches, and you squirt—hard—soaking the sheets, your thighs, your hands. It gushes out of you, again and again, until your whole body collapses, twitching, gasping for air.

I don’t wait.

I grab your hips, yank you to the edge of the bed, and line myself up. You’re still shaking when I thrust in—deep, slow, but thick and full—and you cry out like you’ve been waiting your whole life for it.

“You did good,” I growl into your ear, thrusting hard. “Now it’s my turn.”

You cry out when I bottom out, your soaked pussy gripping me tight like it’s trying to keep me inside forever. I don’t give you time to adjust—I don’t want you to adjust. I pull back halfway, then slam in again, harder, making the headboard crack against the wall.

“Fuck, Cal—” you gasp, nails clawing at the sheets.

“That’s right,” I growl, picking up the pace, hips slamming into you with heavy, punishing thrusts. “You wanted this cock? Now take it. Take all of it.”

You moan so loud, I swear the neighbors will hear. But I don’t slow down—I want them to hear. I want the world to know just how wrecked you get when I’m inside you. How no one else could ever fuck you like this. How you’re mine.

I grab your wrists and pin them above your head with one hand, my other gripping your throat—not choking, just holding, letting you feel my control. Your eyes roll back when I lean down and whisper against your lips.

“You’re my good little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, daddy! Yes! I’m yours,” you pant, barely able to speak with the way I’m fucking you.

“I made you squirt with my words,” I snarl. “Now I’m gonna make you cum again. You don’t stop until I say.”

You nod, but you’re already there. I can feel it in the way your pussy clamps down on me, fluttering, spasming, sucking me in with every brutal stroke. You’re a mess—sweat-slicked, eyes glassy, mouth open, begging for more even as I fuck the orgasm right out of you.

Your legs start shaking. You try to close them, but I force them apart again.

“Don’t you dare run from it,” I growl. “You wanted this. Now take it.”

And you do—body locking up under me as you scream, convulsing, cumming so hard it soaks me, along with the bed all over again, your juices splashing down your thighs and soaking the sheets beneath us.

But I’m not done.

I let go of your wrists and flip you over onto your stomach, dragging your hips up and shoving a pillow beneath you.

“I said it’s my turn.”

You don’t even have time to whimper before I slam back into you from behind—deeper this time, harder, as my hands wrap around your waist and use you. I watch your ass bounce against me with every thrust, red from earlier, slick and shining under the light.

I slap it—hard. Once. Twice.

You cry out. I groan. “God, you’re perfect like this.”

Your body’s limp, but your pussy’s still squeezing me like a fucking vice. I’m close. So close.

I lean over your back, panting against your ear.

“Where do you want it, baby?”

You barely manage a whisper—“Inside… fill me…”

I growl low and deep, hips slamming once, twice more before I bury myself to the hilt and explode inside you—thick, hot ropes of cum spilling into you as I groan your name like a curse and a prayer.

We stay like that. Breathless. Shaking.

I stay buried in you for a long moment—just enough to make sure every last drop settles deep inside. Then I pull out slowly, savoring the sight of my thick cum already starting to leak from your used-up pussy.

“Don’t move,” I growl, gripping your ass and spreading you open so I can watch it drip.

You’re panting into the sheets, wrecked, trembling. But you stay still like a good girl.

I let the silence stretch while I stroke myself lazily, still hard, watching the mess I made inside you. Then I speak—low, rough, commanding.

“Reach down,” I say. “Use your fingers. Scoop it up.”

You gasp, but your hand obeys. Fingers sliding between your thighs, gathering the warm, sticky mess leaking out of you.

“That’s it,” I murmur. “Now bring it to your mouth.”

You don’t hesitate— you know better. Your fingers are glistening when you lift them, lips already parted. Your tongue flicks out, tasting me, tasting us, and your whole body shudders.

“Good fucking girl,” I whisper, groaning as I stroke myself harder. “Lick it all up. Every drop I gave you.”

You suck your fingers deep, eyes rolling in delight, moaning like it’s your favorite dessert.

“You love it, don’t you? You love being filled up, tasting what I gave you.”

“Yes,” you breathe, licking your lips. “I love your cum, daddy.”

I lean over, grip your jaw, and press my cock against your cheek.

“Then clean the rest off me. Use that dirty little mouth.”

And you do. You clean and suck, greedy, eager, filthy. Just how I like you.