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“Quiet,” he growls, every part of him pulsating as if there’s a bomb inside of him ready to detonate at any moment. “Get on your knees now. I’m not talking about this until I’ve covered those tits of yours in my come. Hurry up, Juliana. Do what you’re told.”
I gasp at the fierceness of his words, at the way his gaze burns into me.
I have no idea how he feels about my virginity.
Right now, everything inside of him seems aimed at my breasts, as if nothing else exists.
The after-tremors of the orgasm are still tickling through me, making my insides warm and hungry.
Deep inside, a part of me I’ve never felt before is throbbing over and over, screaming at me to stop being stupid, to take this silver-haired giant’s dick right now, to let him spill a river of his seed inside of me so that we can make wonderful babies together.
But reason tells me that I wouldn’t be able to go through with it tonight.
I’ve had a mental block about it for so many years and, as the years wore on, it just got worse and worse.
“Juliana,” Jett snarls.
“Oh, sorry,” I gasp, sliding to the plush rug on the floor, softening the weight on my knees.
I stare up at him, biting my lip as a combination of tingling lust and nerves dance through me.
“Push those tits together. When I come on them, start massaging my come over them right away, understand? I want to still be creaming when you’re rubbing it in for me, like the horny fucking thing you are.”
“Okay, okay,” I moan. “I’ll do it, Jett.”
He smirks, his intense eyes glinting for a second.
“I fucking know you will.”
He pulls down his trousers and the biggest cock in the universe explodes out of his underwear.
Obviously, I don’t have much experience. But it’s absolutely huge, at least eleven inches, a forearm-sized thick venous weapon of a cock.
He’s so hard, his veins engorged against the skin of his dick. He walks closer to me, his trousers falling down to his knees, his boxers wedged under his balls.
“Moan like a slut,” he says. “But know,” he adds a beat later, “that you’re my slut, and mine alone. Nobody else, nobody, will ever see you like this, on your knees and ready to take a shower of my come. Do you understand? Do you fucking understand?”
“Y-yes,” I whimper, stunned at the animal ferocity in his voice.
Why does he care if anybody else sees?
Why is he getting so possessive all of a sudden?
Not that I’m complaining.
“Good,” he growls. “Now rub those tits and arch that back.”
I move my hands over my breasts, my nipples still sore and needy. It feels so perfect to grind my palms over my nipples, to feel how hard they are against my palm.
I moan as I rub, like he told me to, his words ricocheting around in my mind.
Nobody else.
Just him.
Jett grabs his cock and starts to pump his hand, staring down at me. An explosion could tear through the upstairs and I don’t think he’d care.
A big dollop of precome clings to his enraged helm, and as he strokes it makes his whole length glistening, wet fleshy noises filling the air the more he pumps, combining with my shivering moans.
We go on like this for a beautifully long time, my nipples getting even more sensitive, tingles shivering across them.
Then Jett’s growls of pleasure become deeper, throttled in the back of his throat.
He groans and a fire-hot jet of come splats across my breasts. I remember what he said, and start massaging it into my skin, moving faster as more and more come smooths hotly across my skin.
Jett lets out a feral growl as he stares down at me, his face tight, his whole body quaking as an impossible amount of come steams over my breasts.
Finally, he takes a stumbling step back, his cock slowly wilting, his breath coming raggedly.
“Clean your tits,” he breathes. “Now.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to try something. Now be a good virgin and clean those big round tits.”
He says big and round like it’s a good thing like I don’t need to be teased or humiliated about it.
Big, big, big, I sing the word in my mind, still finding it difficult to believe that this man is going this crazy over me.
But he is.
The evidence is smeared all over my breasts.
I grab the ragged ruins of my trousers and quickly mop away his come, tossing the desire-wet fabric back to the floor when I’m done.
“Good,” he growls, as he pulls his pants back up.
He pounces on me and lifts me up, hooking one arm under my knees and bracing my back with the other.
I giggle in disbelief as, suddenly, I’m flying. Just like when he carried me to the couch before, it feels impossible, how light and carefree I feel in his arms.
