“You think this can support our combined weights?” I tease.
“We’ll soon find out,” he growls. His face looks stern, but his eyes betray how much he wants me.
Still, he doesn’t make a move.
He wants me to initiate.
I’m more than happy to oblige.
I open up my jeans, and slowly slide them down. They’re so tight that they draw my panties down a bit, but not enough to reveal my pussy.
I kick my pants aside, then wiggle my ass in his face.
“You like what you see?” I ask.
In answer he slides the center part of my panties to the side and exposes my pussy. He massages me, and I moan.
I can’t help but squirm and wiggle my body; I gently rock my ass up and down against his touch.
After a moment he slips a finger inside me. “So wet.”
I’m still down on all fours, so I gaze between my legs at him, and watch as he removes his finger from my center and sucks it.
He meets my gaze. I used to think his eyes were icy—now all I see is blue fire. “So fucking good. I could taste you all day and I’d never grow tired of you.”
He slides my panties down so that they’re wrapped around my knees; he pauses to take a good long whiff of my underpants, as if he’s inhaling cocaine or something, and it turns me the fuck on.
Then before I realize what’s happening he’s shoving his tongue into my pussy. He darts it in and out and I arch my back, moaning. He massages my clit with his fingers at the same time. I’m squirming underneath him, the pleasure pulsing outward in waves from my core.
He repositions: sliding two fingers into my pussy and sucking on my clit with his tongue instead. He’s doing that special thing he does with his fingers, and I squirm and moan all the harder.
How does he do that??
He works quickly, not teasing me or holding back. I want to tell him how close I am, but I can’t speak. I can only pant.
My body shudders as I climax.
“Massimo!” Since we’re the only ones home, I shout his name at the top of my lungs. I’m not going to hold back today. “Massimo!”
And then I slump forward on the piano.
He pauses for a moment to let me recover, then he begins again. He works just as fast as before, doing everything right, so that I’m a quivering mess beneath him.
After I cum a second time, he flips me onto my back atop the piano, and then pulls me toward him so that he can eat me out from the front. He plunges his face into my groin and begins to work.
My legs are squirming against and pressing into his upper body. I slide my hands down into his tousled bleach blond hair and grip handfuls of his precious locks. He looks up at me with those fiery eyes and those gorgeous lashes and devours me with his gaze, and his mouth.
Soon I’m rocking my hips into his face and arching my back and shuddering as I climax again.
He pauses now, gently massaging my inner thighs, and then running kisses all along the outskirts of my core. But then he attacks again, shoving two fingers inside my cunt while massaging my clit with his thumb. He keeps kissing my surrounding skin at the same time, and his eyes never leave my face. I have a feeling he’s studying me, making subtle adjustments to his touch based upon what he sees, with the overall goal of keeping me in a heightened state of pleasure at all times.
It works, and I rapidly come close to the edge. As I’m nearing release, I find myself praying that he won’t make me beg. It feels too good to stop. Thankfully he doesn’t withhold my orgasm today, and I cum, smiling lasciviously, tightening my fingers into his hair and curling my toes into his sides.
He makes me cum three more times like that, only stopping for a moment between each climax to give me time to catch my breath. He doesn’t make me beg. Not once. It’s almost like he’s rewarding me. For playing the piano?
I’ll fucking play for him every day if he does this.
Or maybe he’s rewarding me because I didn’t try to escape.
