ME: This is harder than I remember. Haha.
Our bodies are slick, making it hard to find the right friction. It’s like fucking on a Slip N Slide. You claw at me – your nails leaving a mark – just trying to dig in to hold on.
But it feels good. It always does. We know our rhythm; can dance this blind. It’s the difference between a new fuck and an old fuck. Not that this is old. It’s something in between. That magic area where you know what each other likes, what you’re doing … but you keep finding new surprises.
A moan here. A grunt there. You whisper, your tongue flicking my ear. Bite my shoulder. Graze my ass with your nails. Each time is different, a universe of different variables, all connecting to my nerve endings, sending a million little bolts to my brain, to my cock. To that little voice that says, “This is not the norm.”
We are down and at it, fumbling in the dark. I am on top of you, your legs around my shoulders, my cock buried deep. I push to my knees, almost sitting upright, pull your ankles to my neck. I can fuck hard this way, sliding almost all the way out before slamming back in. I know you like it. I can feel you like it. Hear you like it.
I like it, too. Almost too much. I like it when you like it. Every time you like it. It’s this game we play. “I try to make you cum over and over, and you let me.” It’s a fun game.
You don’t even tell me when you’re close. We are past that. That was the first 20 minutes. That was the “I don’t want to cum yet” period, right before the “please let me cum” section. Now we are in “I am in control of you and will do what I want” closing act.
You clench and squeeze your eyes and flex every muscle, like a full-bodied spasm. I know your body and how to make it last. I count how long you hold your breath. Ten seconds. 15? I lose the number after six strokes.
I wait for you to calm down, slide my hand between your thighs, my thumb grazing your clit. I want a seventh act. “No,” you say. “Please. I can’t anymore.” I am not entirely convinced that is true, but this is our arrangement … like the manager signaling for the reliever to finish the game.
I pull out, still on my knees. My hand jerking my cock. You lower your legs, the color returning to your cheeks. You try to catch your breath, your eyes watching me stroke. You like seeing how hard you make me. You like seeing the damage.
“Are you going to cum?” you ask.
You think about it like a good girl. I like that you think about it. Not in a “where’s the most convenient?” way, but more like “where do I want my reward?”
“My tits,” you say, finally, smiling. I lean down and kiss you, your tongue teasing my lips. I jerk harder, staring at your body. I was just inside this gorgeous girl, I think. It’s an odd thought, both because it’s true and because I can’t believe it is.
I jerk faster, sitting back up. Sliding slightly so my cock is near your breasts. I like putting on a show. I like being watched. I enjoy the audience.
You play with your nipples, the way you know I like. Then your hands slide up, play with mine. I grunt. Sometimes that’s all it takes.
“I’m going to cum,” I say.
“Fuck,” you say. “Please.”
I know when the finish is near, always do. It’s not that I cum. I “give in.”
I jut my hips forward, my hand pumping at my cock. I am at that moment, that definitive end, but I hold it. As long as I can. She clenches to make it last after it starts. I clench to delay it before it does.
I let go and feel warm release, all through my body. My cum shooting out, hitting your chin. Then your neck. Finally your tits. I jerk until my hand is numb, covering you with my lust. My thick cum almost blending in to your pale skin.
I grab a cloth and clean you up as you giggle at my bad aim. I collapse beside you, pulling you against me. Our bodies still slick but not sliding now. I close my eyes and listen to your breathing, happy to be connected even when we aren’t.
prguitarman
pixelskylines
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
yousharknotpass
