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I grind my hips against his, my panties soaked now. Andrew groans into my mouth, his free hand gripping my hip, hard enough that I will surely have finger shaped bruises in the morning. I untangle my fingers from his hair, reaching down to yank his shirt up and off him.
He takes it from me, and flings it across the room, and then his mouth is on my chest, kissing down to my tits. He flips the cotton cups, letting my breasts fumble out into his waiting palms. They’re big enough to fill both his hands, and still have a little overflow. He sucks and marks the skin of one, pinching the nipple of my other until it’s hard between his fingertips. I arch into his touch moaning my pleasure. My hands rest on his bare shoulders as he switches to my other breast.
I pull back, needing more. I slide off his lap to the floor, hooking my fingers around the belt loops of his jeans. “Off,” I urge. He lifts his hips, and I yank them down, taking his boxers with. I take him in my hand immediately, and start to stroke him. Andrew’s head drops to the back of the couch, palms covering his eyes.
“Josie,” he groans my name like a prayer. “Fuuuuck.”
Licking him from base to tip, I can't help but smile at the shudder that wracks his body. I love that I can completely unravel him. He groans long and low as I take him deep to the back of my throat, holding him there, only releasing when I feel myself start to gag. My fingers are still wrapped around the base, so I use my other hand to cup his balls, rolling them between my fingers.
I bob my head up and down him, sucking hard, flicking the tip with my tongue. The pressure between my thighs grows to the point where I can’t handle it anymore. I drag my hand down his leg, to between my thighs.
Pushing my soaked panties out of the way, I slide two of my fingers between my slit, wetting my fingers. My fingertips find my clit, and I start drawing slow, methodical circles. The ache is instantly relieved, though a different kind starts to stir, low in my belly.
Moaning around his cock, Andrew opens his eyes, trailing them down my body to where my hand disappears between my thighs. Without giving me a second to react, Andrew bunches my hair that was curtaining my face, and pulls me off his cock, directing me with my hair.
“If you need me between your legs that bad, why didn’t you say something petals?” Andrew purrs.
He stands, his cock right in my face. I try to take him in my mouth again, but he tuts at me. “No no, you need me now. It’s my turn.” He tilts my head using my hair, then guides me back until I’m laying on the floor, spread for him.
Andrew’s eyes glaze over as he kneels between my legs, devouring my body with one look. He hovers over me, his fingers sliding between my legs to my cunt. The fabric is covering me again, but he touches me over it, groaning when he feels the wetness. Mouth descending, he kisses me deep, rough, claiming my mouth with his. His fingers slip underneath my panties into the hot wetness there.
He searches for a moment, knowing the moment he finds my clit at my ratcheted gasp. He chuckles lowly, then with a measured precision, starts working me like he knows my body inside and out. In minutes, he has me panting, the pressure building with every articulate movement. I’m definitely not the girl who can come on command, or even within a few minutes. Sometimes, it doesn’t even happen for me. I desperately want to come, I want him to make me come, but I don’t want him to grow tired of waiting for it to happen. I feel my focus on the moment drifting, but I can’t let that happen, so I zero in on his hands on me, his mouth, his touch.
“Andrew, fuck,” I moan, bucking my hips into his hand. He uses his thumb, stroking my clit, sliding two thick fingers deep inside me. He slides in easily, rhythmically pumping his fingers.
“That’s it. It’s your turn.” Andrew continues, carrying me higher and higher. I latch onto his words, chasing my orgasm until the embers burn into white hot flames, my entire body pulsing and clenching as he continues to work me over. My cunt squeezes his fingers as I come, yearning for more.
“Fuck me,” I nearly shout. “I need you to fuck me, Andrew.”
“I think I can manage that, Josie-girl.” His thick fingers slide out of me, leaving me aching, needing him to fill me again. Andrew sits up on his knees, reaching for his jeans. He pulls a condom out of his wallet, and if the foil didn’t look so crisp, I’d offer to go get one of mine that I keep on hand.
You never know how long guys keep condoms in their wallet.
I sit up, shimmying my underwear down my legs in the process, and sitting up on my knees. I hold my palm out for the condom, and Andrew raises a brow, but drops it into my waiting hand. “Sit down,” I direct. He does, sitting so his back rests against the couch, his legs straight out.
I straddle him again, loving this position with him. Tearing open the packet, I take the condom out, pinching the tip and sliding it over the head of his dick, rolling it down his shaft.
He shivers, and I scoot forward, ready for this. So. Fucking. Ready. Andrew grips my hips, scooting slightly so he’s in a more comfortable position. “Okay?” he asks, eyes softening.
“Yeah,” I reply with a nod, resting my forehead against his. “You okay?”
He nods in reply. “Can’t believe this is real life.”
I huff a laugh, reaching down to position him at my entrance. “Me either.” I press my lips to his. The frenzy from earlier is gone, replaced by this tender moment. My thighs shake as I hold myself over him, his tip just barely inside me.
Andrew drops a hand to my waist, the other cupping my neck. Our foreheads stay pressed together, eyes only on each other as I sink down onto him. Slowly, taking every inch of him until I’m flush with his thighs, I savor the delicious burn of being stretched by him. We both gasp at the feel, my pussy involuntarily clenching around him.
I fight the urge to close my eyes. I want to see every part of his reaction to being inside me for the first time. He must feel the same, because we stay locked like that, unmoving for a long moment, adjusting to this feeling, this connection.
I lift my hips, gently moving up his length. I suck in a hurried breath at the motion, then slide back down. Sweat pools on his brow, dripping down the side of his face to his cheek and onto his neck. I resist an insane urge to lick it off him.
Resting my hands on his shoulders, I find a rhythm. Andrew lifts his knees, changing the angle, giving him a bit more leverage. I drop my hands to his sides, my head to his shoulder, trying to keep the momentum going, but losing it when my legs start to give out.
I really need to do some more lunges or something, because damn, this shit is hard.
Andrew grips my hips, thrusting himself up and into me. He takes over, creating his own pace. “Ahh,” I cry out when he hits a spot I didn’t know existed.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” Andrew grunts, pumping himself inside me.
