Strip him!my vagina orders.Strip him and ride him and let him be our sugar daddy!
She and I don’t see eye to eye on everything.
But—“Oh god,” I gasp as his thumbs work their way up to my nipples.
He’s pushed my sports bra up so it’s choking the upper part of my breasts, but he’s pinching my nipples and rolling them between his thumb and finger andoh my god, when he puts his mouth on one nipple and sucks, everything goes blinding white with pure, uncut craving.
Pants off.
Pants have to come off.
Ride him.
I’m wet.
I’m swollen.
I’m aching.
He sucks harder, still torturing my other nipple too, and I whimper. “So good.”
Instead of answering, he hums softly, the vibration making my knees wobble.
I’m gripping his hair and I want to touch myself because it would only take three strokes to get me off right now, but I can’t let go of him because my brain has forgotten how to brain, and also if I let go of my grip on his head, will he stop what he’s doing to my breasts, because this—this is exquisite.
Exquisite torture.
I didn’t know a man could do this to me just with his mouth on my breasts.
And yet—“Simon,” I pant. “Please.”
He releases my nipple from his mouth, then blows on the wet skin, and I gasp again.
“Please what, Bea?”
“I don’t—know.”
“No?”
“Feels—so—good.”
“Naturally.”
My eyes are half-crossed and my knees might give way, and here I am, laughing at the man now sucking my other nipple into his mouth.
“Oh god,” I gasp again.
And that’s before he grips my thighs and slides both of his hands up under my loose shorts toward my panty line.
I widen my thighs.
His thumbs trace the edges of my panties.
I’m so turned on, I can smell myself.
“Touch me,” I whisper. “Oh my god, please touch me.”
“Here?” he murmurs against my breast, his thumbs drifting farther from my pussy.
