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His use of my wife has my insides quivering.
Why is that so hot?
Pressing into me, one hand on each side of my head, he holds the weight of his body above me as he kisses me, and those kisses almost make me forget that his dick is that big.
“That’s it, Whitley. Take my cock just like that,” he groans.
I start to circle my hips, hoping it helps speed up the process because he was being far too nice—or maybe I’m being far too needy—but I want this. I want him inside me. I want to make him feel as good as he makes me feel.
Kissing, kneading my breasts, plucking my nipples, licking up my neck, bending to suck on my aching peaks, his hair tickling my skin, filling me … so full of him. I am overwhelmed by all the pleasureful sensations he is giving to me all at once, and by the sounds he’s making, I know I am not alone.
He grabs around my leg, hitching my knee up to rest on his hip, and he grinds into me.
“What—what—what … ohh God, I think—I think?—”
“You think you’re gonna come, baby? You gonna fucking come on my dick? Your pussy is milking my cock so hard that I’m gonna come quickly again, but I won’t do it until I get you there.”
He begins thrusting deep inside of me, sliding out and filling me with one thrust he stills giving me a few moments to catch my breath. And then he moves. God how he moves. I feel his balls slap my ass over and over again. The feel, the sound … so sexy.
Turned on like I have never been, I feel an orgasm begging to burst from deep inside of me, it’s something that I never knew happened, that intense build, the tension that causes my body to stiffen so much I know my muscles —as well as my vagina— are going to ache tomorrow, and then….. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”
And I do. I come so hard that I swear I see stars.
“Fuck,” he groans as my body shakes uncontrollably beneath him. “Fuck yes. Keep milking that cock. It’s all yours Whitley Mae Paul. All. Yours.”
I had no idea it was possible, but somehow, he’s driving into me deeper and faster, and my orgasm is still rocking my core.
“Fuck, Whit, you’re on the pill, right?”
“No,” I gasp, pushing him off of me.
“Son of a bitch.” He grabs something and groans as his body releases his own orgasm.
“Oh my God, how did we not talk about this?”
Panting, he says, “We’re good, but this sexy little number you bought to give me a show, I’m not sure it’s gonna make it.”
When he holds up the satin nightie, I can’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?” He smiles.
“I didn’t buy it to give you a show. Gram did.”
“No fucking way?”
He pulls me into his arms, and we both laugh.
“What’s your name?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my head.
“Oh, please,” I huff, knowing exactly what he’s doing. He’s asking because he said he’d temporarily make me forget my name.
“Come on. Tell me.” He pulls me closer.
“It’s Whitley Mae Belington.” When his chest vibrates in a silent chuckle, I push up off his chest and glare down at him. “You’re good, but …”
I stop when his grin spreads, and he asks again, “What is your name?”
I narrow my eyes, “Not fair.”
