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“Have you ever been fisted, baby?”
I moan.
“Have you ever had someone push their whole fist past your resistance and completely destroy you?”
I’m so close, my walls already clamping tighter, sucking his four fingers in past his knuckles. He’s not thrusting. That would be too obvious to anyone around us, but he doesn’t need to. I’m about to break.
“I’m about to come.” Simon grits out, rubbing over the hardness in his pants.
“Yes.” I breathe, lifting my pelvis to grind against Garrett’s hand.
“Would you like to feel my fist deep inside you, baby girl? So far in, that I’ll be able to touch every single pleasure point inside you?”
“Yes,” I growl right as Simon’s face twists and he jerks in the seat. Then I convulse.
Slapping the back of my hand against my mouth, my eyes widen as Garrett wrings my orgasm from me, my teeth digging into my flesh in an attempt to be quiet.
It feels like I ride each wave for hours, but it’s only seconds, and when it finally ends, I sag back, flopping my head on Shaun’s shoulder.
“That was better than I ever imagined,” Garrett whispers in my ear as he slowly draws his fingers out of me. “What do you think, Grady? Did that hit the right spot?” Garrett holds his hand up, separating his fingers to show my wet stickiness coating them.
“Fuck yeah, it did. I wish it was Saturday night already.”
“My, how your tune has changed, Grady.” Shaun grins, grabbing hold of Garrett’s hand and licking one of his fingers.
“Oh, fuck.” I hiss, my energy suddenly restored at the sight of Shaun licking Garrett’s oversized finger.
“She liked that.” Marcus grins, a level of playfulness I’ve never seen shining through.
Then, Simon stands, grabbing Garrett’s hand and practically deep throats Garrett’s middle finger.
“Ok. I’m ready to go again.” I grin, uncurling my legs from Shaun and Garrett’s knees.
The guys chuckle, and Garrett offers a finger to Marcus. I have no idea what he’s going to do since he’s been nothing but a surprise today, but instead of licking Garrett’s finger, he takes my knickers and wipes the last two fingers clean.
“This is for later when I jack myself off into your panties, Rhee, which means you’re going home commando.”
30
Garrett
Holding back any longer was impossible. Am I pissed off that the first time I touched her weeping pussy was in a fucking restaurant in front of the other guys? Well, yeah, a little, but then again, it was hot as fuck. I walked out of Macca’s with a wide gait, like I’d just spent a week on horseback when, in fact, my dick was as stiff as a board, and my nuts felt like they were filled with lead.
The bus trip back to Rhys’ house wasn’t all that pleasant either. Her eyes were pools of lust as she looked at me, her cheeks flushed and her breathing long and ragged like she imagined me inside her the entire trip. It didn’t fucking help that I knew she didn’t have any panties on under her school skirt, either.
Fuuuck!
“We probably have about an hour and a half before anyone gets home,” Rhys explains as I follow her up the path that leads to the front door of her house. It’s in a new estate. There’s no garden, just fences and a pile of dirt, the house a mix of brick and render looking brand spanking new. “So, if it’s ok with you, I’ll take you straight to my room and give you the tour later.”
She looks back over her shoulder, her black lips tipping up in a cheeky grin as she reaches the shiny black front door.
“Sounds good to me.” I grin back, and fuck me; the flush on her cheeks darkens. I’ve never known her to be a blusher until recently. It’s a good thing, I think. It means she’s feeling things in a different way. Like she’s more emotionally involved.
Rhys keys in a number on the digital lock, and a moment later, the door clicks open. That’s some fancy shit. No one in my neighbourhood has anything like that, although it’s a good idea. Maybe I can get one for our house before my old man turns up from prison. That’ll keep the fucker out.
Following my girl inside her house, the first thing I notice is all the white. White walls, white floors with the only other colour, a light grey. It’s stark and clinical yet has a really fresh feel to it. It’s also fucking bright, holding a glare that the dull yellow-tinged walls of the Millhouse my family lives in just can’t compare to.
“Yeah, so, my olds are still decorating. They couldn’t decide on colours, so they went all white. It’s boring, but it’s clean.” Rhys explains, walking down the passage, past a room that has theatre seats in it, and into an open kitchen living zone.
