When he doesn’t immediately follow my command, I pull on the last thread of my self-restraint. Bending my knee, I manage to brace my heel against George’s shoulder and push him away. He goes without resistance, even while wearing a frown on his mouth, slick with my arousal.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.
“No,” I wheeze, winded by the pleasure wracking my body, demanding a release. “But I want to taste you, too.”
George licks his lips, setting off a shiver along my nerve endings. “Later.”
“Now,” I insist. “At the same time.”
His brows raise slowly, and a hunger lights in his eyes. Then he smiles slow. “Sorry. You’re right.”
“I am.” I smirk as I watch him stand and strip off his shirt in one swift move. “It’s good you’re learning that now.” Then my ability to snark at him fades as he pushes down his pants and briefs and shows me exactly what we’re working with.
I thought his thighs were thick. Looks like that moniker applies to a lot of him.
“I’m not fitting all of that in my mouth, but I will try my best.”
George closes his eyes, drags his hands over his face and then his scalp, and all the while his erection juts proudly. “Jesus, Beth. I’m going to come just from you talking.”
“You could keep my mouth busy,” I offer.
The skin of his jaw whitens as he clenches his teeth, then George reclines on the bed beside me. As I make to move, he drags my body over his, using my thighs as handholds as he brings my pussy back to his face.
“Do whatever you want to me, Beth.” Then he resumes his methodical licking and sucking, and I try to keep my wits about me so I can pay proper homage to his cock. A bead of precum sits at the tip. I grip his length, angle it toward my mouth, and flick out my tongue to catch the bit of moisture. The body I’m sprawled on goes rigid.
“Fuck.” The curse comes with a hot breath on my core. “Do that again.”
I follow George’s direction.
His hips rock. “Good girl.”
Then he spears his tongue into me, fucking me with his mouth, an arm banded like iron across my back to hold me still. The only way I can deal with my growing pleasure is by aiming all my attention on his dick.
My lips around the tip of him, I suck like a lollipop and pump my hand over his length. George redoubles his efforts on my clit, grunting and groaning as he torments me. We’re almost dueling, torturing each other with desire.
Then the bastard slips two fingers into my slick channel and somehow curves them just right to massage my G-spot. As if he’s studied the manual on how my body works. Like while I’ve been taking classes for ground school at night, George has been reading up on Beth’s pleasure zones 101. He quickly figures out the exact push-and-pull motion to liquefy my brain to a goo of pure ecstasy.
His cock pops free of my slack lips, and all I can do is grip his root as I soar into a heady, body-wracking orgasm. I am ejected from my safe seat into a free fall of pleasure. A sound—part scream, part sob, part moan—tears from deep within my lungs. Even pressing my face against George’s thick thigh can’t muffle the cry.
The tremors in my muscles take their time easing away, shaking in aftershocks that set my fingers and toes to clenching. Eventually I go slack. Boneless.
George carefully rearranges me to lie on my side, my head tucked under his chin, and he spoons me from behind as my body continues to twitch and my nerves buzz.
“Are you good?” he asks while kissing my neck.
“So good,” I breathe.
“Do you want more? Or do you want to stop?”
I appreciate him asking. But there’s no doubt in my mind.
“More.” I cover his hand with mine and guide it up to cup one of my breasts. “Let’s see if you fit in me.”
George buries his face in my hair, but that doesn’t smother his groan or hide the way his hips rock a straining erection against my backside. “Condoms are in the side table drawer,” he murmurs.
I reach out and slide it open, my slightly numb fingers fumblingaround until I find a new box. The expiration date is far off, leading me to believe George bought these recently.
I wonder how long since his last partner.
