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“Trust me, I’m not complaining,” he replies, watching as I bring one hand around and stroke against his dick then groaning at the pleasure. “You feel free to grab anything of mine that you want.”
I push up on my toes and nip his lips as I unbutton his jeans.
“My ass,” he says as I tug the material to the side. “My arms.”
I slowly draw his boxers down, watching hungrily as his dick springs free.
“My cock…” he finishes, his mouth falling open as I grip him, hot and hard in my hand, the cold clearly not having any kind of effect.
Bishop groans, and I keep my eyes on his as I drop to my knees, stroking him.
“Can I put anything I want inside my mouth?” I ask, leaning forward and licking him gently, my tongue swirling around his tip.
“Fuck yes,” he says, licking his lips as I begin to slide his cock into my mouth, the salty tang of him filling my senses. “Shit, Gabi.”
I take him all the way in, until his head bumps the back of my throat and he curses again. Bishop’s hands move, sliding into my hair as I suck on him. Then he begins to guide my movements, the gentle pressure of his grasp moving my head and his hips beginning to thrust. I love seeing that expression on his face, like he’s totally lost in this moment, like he’s never felt a pleasure like this.
When we had sex that night at Bishop’s, he spent so much time focused on me, on my pleasure and bringing me to the brink. I don’t doubt in the slightest that he was trying to show me how he felt with his body, with his sweat and his effort and his dedication to making me come. I want a chance to do that for Bishop. I want to be whatever I can for him, to show him what he means to me, to show that bringing him pleasure is something that brings me joy.
Bishop continues to thrust into my mouth, and I suck him hard, wanting to wring him dry, wanting to draw him out of his skin. But then he slows, yanking himself out of my mouth and yanking me to my feet, kissing me deeply, roughly, desperately. And god, do I kiss him right back, with just as much desperation and need.
His hands begin to tug at my leggings. “I have a condom in my wallet,” he says, his hands grabbing at my hips and my ass then returning to trying to pull my pants down, almost like he doesn’t know what he wants to do first.
“I’m clean.”
Bishop freezes then moves back, looking me in the eyes. Even in the dark, I can see uncertainty there.
“And I’m on birth control. I haven’t been with anyone in like, a year.”
He brings me in, kissing me briefly. “I’m clean, too, and it’s been a while. But, are you sure?”
I nod. “I’m sure. I want you inside me. Nothing else.”
He groans then yanks me in for one more kiss before he returns to removing my leggings. “Why are these so hard to get off?” he grumbles.
I giggle, aiding his efforts, until my leggings are finally down to my knees. He yanks off his sweatshirt and lays it on the railing behind me before spinning me around so I’m facing out into the forest and the dark of the night.
I’ve never had sex outside before, but as Bishop slides one finger between my lower lips and then into my core, I can’t help but feel supremely thankful that we don’t have any neighbors. I moan at the sensation, my legs already shaking slightly as he strokes that finger inside me. And then he adds another.
“You’re so wet,” he growls. “Is this for me?”
“Yes,” I pant in response. “God, I get so turned on by you. By everything you do.” I pause. “Sometimes I get turned on just thinking about you.”
Bishop hums, his fingers pulsing again before he slides them out. The heat of his body envelops me as he presses up against my back, his hands wrapping around my front and reaching up to grab my breasts.
“When was the last time?” he asks, his dick hard and warm pressed against my ass, his hands slipping under the flimsy cotton bralette beneath my shirt.
I whimper as he pinches my nipples.
“When was the last time?” he asks again, one hand traveling low and returning to my pussy, a single finger zeroing in on the little bud between my thighs.
“For what?” I reply, struggling to understand him when I can only think about the way his fingers are bringing me so much pleasure. This was supposed to be about him, and now I feel like I might fall apart at any minute and he’s not even inside me yet.
“When was the last time you got turned on thinking about me?” he asks.
His body shifts slightly, and then I feel the fat head of his dick pressing up against me, tucked against my opening.
I squirm, trying to push back against him, wanting him inside me.
