cw: virgin men, masturbation, sexual fantasies, implied age gaps, implied inexperienced sexual relationships, oral sex, masturbation, whats the thing where you get caught jerkin it? that.
Everyone loves virgin! Simon who's unknowingly a sex god while he bullies a fat cock into your horny cunt. Huffing and puffing in your ear as he asks you how good you feel, accidentally overstimulating you but far too clueless to even consider that your shaking and trembling is related to how dumb he fucked you. 'Course, he was just trying to be sweet to you, maybe get some coffee if you hadn't jumped on him for a good ride on his meat.
Even virgin! König had a considerable amount of attention for his monstrous cock that he'd never be able to fully fill you with. Too much of a jock-ish idiot to even know where to begin with foreplay, just rams his fingers up your cunt until you're sore and bucking your own hips against his palm to help smear your sloppy juices down his wrist. Every single "do you feel good?" is followed by your crying whines for him to shut the fuck up and keep stroking his own cock. Eyes wide watching pearl tears drizzle from the angry tip.
But where do I, the writer, draw the line? Virgin! Price. Old bastard aged like fine wine, his values held to something much more conservative - planned to spend his first time with a beautiful woman he dressed in pretty white silk on her wedding day. Someone who made his heart throb passionately; not with lust and the greedy desire to consume and ravage away her beauty.
Ideally, a woman to grow a family with.
Of course, considering his job, the risks his simple existence poses on any of those close to him - he cowered. Though, Price never really did see a true need to focus on that one, simple wish. He was satisfied with his 141, a group of rebellious young men he considered his own children; he was satisfied with his rare takes of leave, where he spent his time hiking and hunting, occasionally catching up with old friends from his civilian life; most importantly, Price was content.
A past tense term, considering his "ideals" of what made life so damn tolerable were thrown out the window. Shattered into billions of pieces that painted maps around the single coffee mug that was left on his desk one early morning. A note in your handwriting, with the coffee made just exactly as he liked it, and maybe even a small pastry from the vending machine - a pastry which was his favorite. Usually one that was hard to get because it was so damn good. And the note?
Have a good day, Cap'n! Love ya!
btw, this is your favorite, yeah?
Fuck. You were too cruel. You and your pretty handwriting, smudged in blue gel pen ink. It was cute, sweet, endearing from a young thing like you. Made him feel sick and perverse, adjust the tightness that began around his crotch - because it felt so fucking dirty to be some turned on by a kind gesture. Especially a gesture from something as sweet and innocent looking as you.
All of those thoughts in his mind brought to a painful, stirring silence. Price would've almost felt shame for his next actions, the somehow graphic act of taking a huff of the sweetly scented drink made just for himself by you. The smearing of his finger tips against the note and getting a faint whiff of your sweet scented hand cream, the one you keep in the staff fridge, bitching at anyone who touches at it (something he was personally victim to).
The gentle, candied scent was enough to make his cock stir; rub against the rough fabric of his boxers, through his pants, through to his palm that somehow assisted in a slow, grinding motion against his self. His hand tilting backwards, eyes rolling back. Was the door locked? He wondered, not bothering to even give himself a glance at the knob to see if the slit was tilted horizontally or vertically; none of it mattered, too consumed by the peak edge he needed.
Too consumed by filthy, tainted thoughts of you. Your lips smeared in his own milk white sperm, no doubt still virile despite his years of maturity; wondered if his load would take if you just gave him the chance. Wondered if you'd pant, or moan his name. If your cunt dripped or creamed around his throbbing cock; what he'd kill to see your entire body trembling from a few bounces against him. Shove his calloused fingers into that pretty mouth of yours, begging you to be silent, and good.
You would be his first and final; a crossing thought that blurred past his mind. And the thought of putting a pretty jewel on that little ring finger of yours made him audibly gasp, sweat droplets splatter down from his cheek to his chin. And you, you're so young, full of potential. A real energetic pup that would probably eagerly teach him all the ways to make you feel good.
By now, Price was roughly, almost brutishly, fisting his own cock. Panting and hunched over the pretty note made by pretty you. His eyes squeezed shut as he bit into his fist, trembling at the splattering liquid that filled his palm. Droplets hitting the floor beneath him, a mess that would be so fucking frustrating to clean; the last thought on his mind.
Because how could he focus when you stood at the other side of the desk, a palm on either side as you leaned forward. So softly whispering: "Cap'n, did you like the coffee that much?"
Virgin! Price, who gives you the honor of being the first missus to wrap a warm mouth and plump lips against the tip of cock, kitten licks to clean away pearly beads of arousal that dribbled down the shaft. His clean hand rubbing your scalp so gently, humming soft, purring coos; mentally pondering your ring size as you greedily fit him inside your mouth. Whining vibrations fading the thought away once again.
tagging my fwends: @yandere-kokeshi @kettlemouse @babybimbo777
