She kisses me, taking care not to move with me impaled inside of her.
The distraction of her lips on mine does help to ease the mind-bending pleasure that shoots through my cock.
She breaks the kiss and leans into me so that her lips are at my ear.
“Is that how you imagined it would be? When you read about it in your dirty little book?”
She flexes and her muscles play over me.
“Annabelle,” I gasp.
“Tell me.”
“It’s better,” I admit. “Much better.”
She smiles. And I gasp.
“I will—I am going to?—”
“No, I trust you won’t spend,” she says. “Not when my pleasure depends on it.”
And then she rises up so that I am drawn out of her completely, her muscles clenching over my very bothered cock. I cry out but am able to keep my control. Her breasts are level with my face once more.
I marvel at their beauty. I can’t stop my hands from cupping her.
“I love your breasts,” I say, half to keep myself in my wits. “I have dreamed of breasts like these. And awakened hard and unspent and aching for release.”
She lets out a short sound—a little moan—above me. Her sound surprises me. I had not expected to affect her with my words.
“Do you like when I talk of such things?”
She sinks down on me again. The pleasure is so intense that I fear again I will embarrass myself, but somehow I find self-control again.
“Yes,” she says. “I like to imagine you in the vicarage. Hard and thinking of me.”
“Well, I amthatoften.”
“Tell me of it.”
“There isn’t much to tell. I think of you constantly.Every memory. Every word. Every time you have touched me. It is difficult for me to go about my business. For I am always thinking of you.”
She whimpers. Actuallywhimpers. She rises again and this time comes down swifter, finding a leisurely rhythm. To my surprise, I am able to withstand the sensations when I speak aloud. Even though the pleasure hums through my cock and up my spine, I can distract myself when I speak to her—especially when I sense that it gives her pleasure.
“I imagine what I would do to you if given the opportunity. Even though I know it is sinful. Beyond sinful. But I can’t stop myself. I imagine it anyway.”
“But you don’t touch yourself.”
“No. Because you’ve commanded me not to. So I sit there in my vicarage,yourvicarage really, with a hard, raging cockstand, thinking only of you. And wondering if you know about the depraved things I read about and if you’ll do them to me if I ask.”
She whimpers again, even as she continues to ride me. The pleasure has built to such a point that I have difficulty controlling it.
“What from your reading would you like to do to me?”
I still her with my hands. She stops.
“Be gentle with me,” I say, reminding her of her promise earlier. “I will spend if you don’t stop. I don’t want to disappoint you.”
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t move.
