I was a bit distracted by the whole experience to notice, but my friends seemed to pick up on a few red flags as I told them about her. The fact that he is playfully punishing me surprises and delights me. I climb off of him once he's finished, and I start rearranging my clothes, making myself presentable while he recovers. Early on, possibly even before the first time things got physical with him, he'd confessed the fantasy that a girl would just "torture" his dick, and that's exactly what I have in mind. Capricious and random as our meetings have been, I assumed he wouldn't notice the loss of me in the jostle of real life. Do I need to describe her again?
My hand slides up him underneath, my hot, wet pussy slides down him on the top. I told him of course not, because as much as I would've liked to have been able to go again, I knew I wouldn't walk right in the morning if we did. Once she put her dress back on, she just looked too fucking good not to take again. I groaned and bit his lip as he started working on removing my pants. He isn't exaggerating and undoubtedly does want me to get on with things, but, as always, he is agreeable and goes to lay down on the bed. I want that freak to come out to play. I remember her telling me that I had to be more forward to get what I want. Incrementally and indelicately, until he throbs inside me, and I alight with the feel of him hot and heavy and hard, hard, hard. Were they a good lover? Early on, possibly even before the first time things got physical with him, he'd confessed the fantasy that a girl would just "torture" his dick, and that's exactly what I have in mind. I tilt my head back, look him in the eye, and I nod before taking him all the way into my mouth, into the opening of my throat, reflexes taking over once, twice, before I relax and let him find a rhythm, fucking my mouth, and I am lost again. I loved the feel of the back of his teeth, the strange suction two mouths can make. There is so much, I'm unable to contain it all, swallowing what I can, using the rest as lubrication for the post-game, squeezing out and drinking down every drop I'm able. I felt like a teenager but I was so damned proud of myself for making him forget himself like that that it didn't even matter. I could barely walk. She was soaked and delicious. This one, he revels. Take that thick Dick. What did you talk about? I think he likes being just the slightest bit helpless. You can't involve anyone in your sex life without my knowledge and agreement, so that I can choose whether or not I want the exposure to someone else and their possible risks. I loved watching his big hands with the broad flat nails as he put the condom on himself. What did they look like? I'm not the only one who likes it when he's ordering me around. Everyone has some secret little sexual story they tell themselves, the one that isn't publically acceptable, the little streak of freaky that hides in the shadows out of shame or propriety. I clung to him and tried not to mark his shoulders too much with my nails. He molded them and squeezed them, seeming to like the way they looked today.
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