We were the last two awake in the flatshare, the others passed out behind closed doors, the kitchen still thick with the smell of cheap wine and the bass from the party downstairs still vibrating through the floor. Sophie sat on the counter in her vest top, her ginger hair damp against her neck from dancing, and I watched her gaze keep dropping to the outline straining against my jeans.
"Your girlfriend is literally in the next room," she whispered, but she did not look away.
"Then we do not touch," I said, unzipping right there, letting my weight spring forth, the foreskin bunched at the tip before I pulled it back to expose the swollen crown. Sophie gasped, her lips parting, her eyes fixed on the veined girth of it, the way it curved heavy toward my stomach, already weeping clear fluid.
"Jesus," she breathed, her hand drifting to her own chest. Through the thin cotton I could see the silver bars piercing her nipples, the slight rise of her breasts barely disturbing the fabric, just enough to show the metal glinting against pale freckled skin. She lifted the hem, revealing the sparse copper hair between her thighs, her slit visible and slick beneath the tangle.
I began to stroke in earnest, my fist working the loose skin over rigid steel, smearing my arousal down the shaft. Sophie spread her legs wider on the counter, her fingers finding her own pearl, circling through the wetness there. We watched each other with brutal intensity, the only sound the wet slap of my fist and the slick friction of her own hand working beneath the copper curls.
"No touching," she reminded me, her voice breaking, her hips rolling toward her own fingers. "We said."
"I know," I groaned, pumping harder, watching her slight chest heave, those pierced nipples hard and straining. "Just look at it. Look what you do to me."
She was flushed scarlet across her chest and throat, her fingers moving faster now, dipping inside herself then returning to her swollen clit. I pulled at my length, my foreskin sliding over the engorged head again and again, the pressure building at my root. We were both panting now, the transgression electric between us, her eyes locked on my thrusting fist, my gaze fixed on her open sex glistening beneath the ginger thatch.
"Now," she whimpered, her thighs trembling on the counter edge. "Do it now."
I spent in thick ropes across her kitchen floor, my cock jerking in my hand as she convulsed, her own spend gushing through her fingers in clear pulses, dripping onto the tile between her spread feet. She milked herself with shuddering strokes, watching me empty onto the ground, her pierced chest heaving, until we both sat spent and guilty in the silence, the smell of our mingled spend thick in the air.
