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He slowly guides himself into me, his eyes never wavering from where our bodies connect, mine consuming his, observing the entire process. Most guys do like to watch, but in my experience, they aren’t usually this blatant about it. I don’t mind. It’s just Fozzie, and there’s no reason to be shy or pretend that it’s inappropriate.
With my legs positioned steadily at his shoulders, Foster licks his thumb and then begins to rub my clit while steadily pushing in and out of me, causing my skin to flush from the inside.
My breathing rate increases.
Whimpers of pleasure fly across my lips.
He slams into me harder and then glances in my direction with a look so primal and exceedingly sexy that I lose all sensibility.
Screaming out cries of pure physical bliss, I let go of any resistance and give him the power to make me orgasm. My legs turn to jelly, my flesh tingles, and a heat runs through my veins as he continues to enter me with an intense vigor.
Foster tightens his grip around my ankles and squeezes firmly when he drives into me a final time, grunting with gratification.
When both of our panting returns to a more measured rate, he collapses onto the bed next to me, where we lie side by side, staring at the stark ceiling above.
Out of nowhere, he positions his palm about a foot away from my face.
“What?” I ask, winded.
“High five?”
Slapping my hand with his, I say, “That definitely deserves one.”
