thoughts - fingering ii
Pac whines, desperate and choked as you curl your fingers inside him, making him squirm and arch his back, grinding against your fingers. He has one hand in his own hair, holding tight as he works hard to follow your instructions, to be good for you. You told him that he wasn't allowed to touch, and he's so determined to be good.
He has a hand over his mouth, muffling his moans and whines, or at least trying to. You're taking great satisfaction at pulling noises from him loud enough they can't be muffled. You coo at him wordlessly, pressing your fingers deeper and watching Pac flush deeper.
It's tempting to push another finger into him, to watch him gasp and buck his hips into your touch, but instead you angle your wrist just right, seeking out that little bundle of nerves that will take him apart.
Pac wails when you grind your fingers against his prostate, relentless and hungry as you watch him arch his back, his body shaking as he comes hard, his own cum streaking his stomach.
You give him a moment to come down from the high, to breathe again, and then press your fingers up again, intent on ruining him.