I’m gulping for air and I don’t know what I’m doing with my hands or if my eyes shall ever uncross, but god help me, her smooth, warm hands on my cock, and—Christ— cradling my balls now too—I’d forgotten exactly how much I enjoy being with a woman.
More so being with a woman I appreciate rather than simply tolerate.
“Touching you is making me wet,” she whispers against my neck.
“Beatrice.”
“Yes, Simon?”
She’s smiling. I can hear it.
And that too makes my cock swell harder in her hand.
Those dimples.
I could lick her dimples, but I cannotseeher dimples.
“I don’t—have—a condom,” I pant.
“I wasn’t planning this, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t prepared.” The hand cradling my balls disappears, which makes me whimper quite an unmanly whimper while the bag rustles.
And then her hands are back on me, and all is well.
“Your dress drove me crazy all evening,” I gasp out.
“Did you fantasize about taking it off me?”
“Yes.”
“All through dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Naughty man.”
“God, call me that again.”
She grips my cock and slides the condom down it. “Tell me something else dirty.”
“I hope you get grass stains on your knees.”
Her hand pauses.
I grip it and guide her along. “Was that not dirty enough?”
“That was…double dirty. I’m impressed.”
“You’re welcome, darling.”
Her laughter is soft and breathy. “Naughty, naughty man.”
And then she’s kissing me again, swinging her leg over my hips once again, her lace-covered pussy teasing my cock.
“You need to remove these.” I stroke a finger beneath the band.
“Do I?”
“Beatrice Best, you are a terrible tease.”
