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I just enjoyed the sensations of touching his taut, firm body… feeling the hard sheets of muscle beneath my fingers…
And then I reached where I really wanted to go.
My fingers brushed through soft curls and nudged up against his rigid shaft. I put my fingers around him in a ring, encircling him.
God he was thick… just the sensation of him filling up my hand was making me wet again…
“Unnnh,” he groaned as my hand traveled up slowly, gently, to the head. I rubbed my fingers in his pre-cum and stroked softly downward, trailing wetness along his cock.
My fingers broke their ring-shaped ‘O’ and cupped his tight sack… tickled his balls with the lightest touch of my nails… and then ringed around his girth again and slowly moved upwards.
“Oh Jesus, Kaitlyn,” he moaned, and screwed his eyes shut in delicious frustration.
I traveled back up to the swollen head, wetting my fingers with his juices, and stroked back down, slowly, then back up, slowly, over and over, until he was soaked and slippery, and my hand could move with almost no friction at all. I increased the pressure of my grip slightly, moving up a little faster, massaging the sensitive head and making him groan, then slipping down to his base, then back up.
I must have done that for at least five minutes, gliding my hand up and down and around that thick, gorgeous cock, feeling his skin soft as silk, wet as my pussy, hot as a fever, and hard as steel beneath my touch.
Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. I pressed my upper body against his and sought his mouth.
He kissed me greedily as I moved my hand over his cock, wet and slippery, up and down, stroking him, faster, faster. He lowered his head to my breasts and sucked and licked and I moaned, and I was stroking him harder, firmer, faster, faster and then he cried out and his entire body tensed. I looked down just in time as I felt the first convulsions in my hand and saw the spurting jet of white milky come, hot and wet over my fingers as it splashed onto his taut, muscled stomach, over and over, a new spurt every second as his cock pulsed hard and thick in my hand.
“Oh Jesus oh Jesus oh Jesus,” he moaned as I continued to stroke him, letting up on the pressure, but still rubbing softly, my hand even wetter than before.
I kissed his lips and he kissed me back deeply, caressed my face and my hair as I slowly stroked him… slower… and then stopped.
67
I grabbed a couple of Kleenexes and wiped off my hand and then his stomach and cock. I loved the weight of it lolling there in my hand, not fully erect, but still thick and long and beautiful.
Then he pulled me down next to him on the bed and we kissed again. He pressed his body against mine, muscular and hot and slightly damp from where he had come. We lay there like that for four or five minutes, just kissing and making out and touching each other in the afterglow.
But when I felt him growing hard again, pressing against my stomach… when I felt his hand travel down to my thighs and touch me on my lips… I put my hand against his and broke away.
I shook my head ‘no.’
He stared at me. “What’s wrong?”
The buzz from the wine was gone.
The flood of hormones had temporarily abated.
And I wasn’t turned on enough – not yet, at least – to ignore what I was doing. Not a second time.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
“What’s wrong?” he repeated, more insistent this time.
It was like I hadn’t been thinking about it all along, and now that I was, the dam came tumbling down. Silent tears spilled out of my eyes and streaked down my cheeks onto the bed.
“Oh, Kaitlyn – no… don’t,” he whispered tenderly, and cupped my face in his hands. “Please, don’t…”
I closed my eyes and smiled a little through the tears – a bitterly sad smile. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t… do this… I want to, but I can’t…”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I want to. That’s the problem.”
“Then do it.”
He reached to kiss me, but I turned my lips away.
“…I can’t…”
He was quiet for a long moment.
Then he asked, “Because of him?”
I nodded ‘yes.’
The guilt was crushing me. Guilt over what I’d done… and what I still wanted to do… and the fact that if I could go back in time 30 minutes, I still would have done it all over again.
I broke down into sobs. “I’m sorry.”
I could hear the kindness in his voice, even though my eyes were closed. “Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
