My hand skates across the furry material of my costume without a negative thought entering my mind. Coach James was very adamant with his rules, but not once did he stipulate I couldn’t participate in an activity like this.
Elvis’s strokes on his cock quicken when the cow suit slips off my body in one fell swoop. He seems to like that I’m wearing the same bra and panty combination I wore the last time we had a sleepover. As my hands unclasp my bra, I lick my lips. The visual in front of me is too glorious for words. You’d think the size of his thighs would detract from the magnificent girth of his cock. But it doesn’t—not in the slightest. And the length. . . I groan. I might need to change his nickname to tripod.
“Come on, Will, give me something to work with. . .”
His words trail off when my bra falls to my feet. When my panties quickly follow, his thumb skids across his knob to gather a glistening drop at the tip. Before he can use it to lubricate his pumps, I seize his hand and raise it to my mouth. His groan rumbles straight through my core, and his taste frees me from any modesty inhibiting me.
After stepping back to drench my unruly hair with steaming hot water, I cup my breasts in my hands. When I twist my nipples, jolts of electricity dart down to my sex. I roll and fondle them at the same pace Elvis strokes his cock. I pretend he’s tit-fucking me, my tongue instinctively darting out to lap up his goodness like I did in this very room five weeks ago.
When the slither of my hand halts halfway down my stomach, Elvis gives me a final push of encouragement. “Go on. Show me how much you’re enjoying this.”
His dick throbs in his hand when I roll my fingertips over the hood of my clit. The sensation is overwhelming, the show nearly over before it even begins.
“Sit on the hob and rest your foot on the shower screen.”
I’m more than happy to oblige. . . until my new position adds rolls of fat to my midsection.
“No, no, no. Stay there. Just like that. It’s fucking perfect. You’re fucking perfect.” The fire in his eyes reveals the truth in his statement, but if it didn’t, the amount of precum pooling on the end of his cock would soon clear up any misconceptions. “That’s it. Nice and slow.”
He slows the speed of his pumps, matching them to the grind of my fingers. We fuck as one, as if there isn’t three feet of air between us.
“I can feel you squeezing my cock, sucking at it.” Elvis tightens his hand, strangling the vein feeding his manhood with every stroke. “Can you feel me, Willow? Can you feel me pumping into you, taking you in the shower like I’ve fantasized about every day since we met?”
I nearly jest that my fist couldn’t replicate his cock, much less two fingers, but I keep my mouth shut, finally recognizing that sexy time is not a place for jokes.
“Uh-huh. I can feel every inch of you. You’re getting thicker, harder, seconds from release.”
“And I’m going to release inside you, aren’t I, Will?”
I shouldn’t love the way he sounds desperate to fill me with his seed, but I do.
After locking my eyes with his, I nod. The hope in my eyes causes an avalanche of excitement. I grind my fingers into my pussy harder before lowering my second hand to toy with my clit. Elvis adjusts the spread of his feet before leaning close enough to me, his virile, manly scent activates every one of my hot buttons.
While one of his hands pumps his cock, his other braces against the tiles above my head. The heat in the room turns excruciating as we bring each other to climax without laying a finger on one another. This isn’t the first time I’ve pleasured myself, but it is the first time it’s been this exhilarating. My entire body is coiled tight, ready to shatter at any moment.
I do when Elvis raises my head to his with his spare hand before planting a kiss on my quenched mouth. Recalling my demand for no tongue, he keeps our kiss innocent, but it gives me the final push I need to freefall into orgasmic bliss.
He follows closely behind me.
“ICAN WALK,you know. I have legs.”
Elvis smirks as he continues strutting across his bedroom. His footing seems lighter than it was thirty minutes ago, his happiness at an all-time high.
“Pick a side, buttercup. I have no preferences.”
When I peer at him in shock, he nudges his head to his bed. “Left.”
“Right it is.”
He laughs when I punch him in the bicep. “Ouch.” After adjusting me so he’s carrying me with one hand, he rubs his arm, feigning injury.
“Serves you right.”
“What? I can’t help that I want anything you want.”
He drops his head to the side and flashes an adorable smile before dragging back the sheets on his bed. As requested, he places me on the left side.
When he slides in behind me, I roll over to face him. “Do you think we should get dressed first?”
