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Chris’s hands are lithe, his fingers long and callused. His thumb rubs the back of my hand, and the combination of the excitement coursing through me and his hand grounding me feels right. I’m even more confident now that it’s going to be amazing.
We get back to his house, and as soon as the door closes, we’re making out again. Chris presses me against the door, his dick on my hip, his hand turning my head to the side and then sliding down my torso. His fingers trace over my hip, down my thigh as far as he can reach before pressing against my pussy.
He groans, and I thrust my hips forward and against the small circles he makes.
“Fuck, you’re wet. I can feel how bad that cunt needs me.”
When my body bucks, Chris chuckles and drags his mouth from mine. I’m panting as his lips work their way down the side of my neck, the hollow of my throat, over my pulse.
His fingers leave, and I whimper. The softness of his lips and tongue on my collarbone is replaced by teeth grazing my skin. Chris’s cock is like iron between us. My breath catches as he slips his hand inside my pants and cups my pussy. The tips of his fingers stroke through my wetness, and I clutch his head, holding him to me while I strain for more.
He gives me more.
Fingers plunge inside me, and my body curls as Chris presses his palm against my clit.
“More?” he rasps. His breath warms the spot where his mouth was.
“Oh, god, yes.”
He adds another finger. His hand and my hips move together, and I press my face into his neck and rise up onto my toes as the pressure builds.
A few more strokes and my orgasm roars through me. I’m crying out into his skin and clutching at him to ride it out.
Chris keeps working me as I shudder and whimper. My body slowly relaxes, and so does he.
I kiss Chris’s neck, nudging him with my face until he pulls back and slots his mouth against mine again. The kisses are slower and gentler now.
After a few long kisses, Chris eases away from me. His free hand traces over my temple, my cheek, down to my neck and the opposite shoulder where his mouth was, all while he holds my gaze.
His palm slips down to my breastbone and holds, feeling my pounding heart. Inside me, his fingers twitch, reminding me he’s still there. My eyes flutter, and when they reopen, Chris is staring at me.
“Again?”
I pause and think. Chris gives a lazy stroke inside of me.
Sometimes, when using my vibrator, I turn it down and ease off the pressure after coming and relax. If I keep browsing porn, I might feel the urge to come again and turn the vibrator back up.
Same feeling here. I nod.
Chris grins, slow and wicked.
This time is slower. His hand shifts in small circles, fingers slowly pumping in and out.
I watch Chris’s face. His gaze darts around, taking in every reaction I have: the sawing breath escaping my lungs as I build up again, the flush I feel on my cheeks, my hooded eyes.
My core starts to tighten, and I grasp his forearm, the one still planted on my chest. He moves, taking the pressure off. “No, I like it.” There’s a needy edge to my voice.
He presses again, and under my fingers, the cords of his muscles flex and twist. I’m pinned between his hands, squirming.
“More, please, Chris, oh god.”
He leans, his face closer, his palms pressing harder, the lower one giving me the immovable force I need to grind against him. Our faces are closer, Chris’s pupils blown out by lust. We stare at each other, and I watch that lust shift to carnal satisfaction while I pulse around his hand in another orgasm.
27
Chris
I am goingto wreck her.
