My balls are heavy, and my cock is so hard that I’m straining under my own skin as I rub myself. My hips tremor, my mind goes blank with pleasure as I suck down more oatmeal.
It’s coming too fast. The oatmeal is too good, and the friction of my hand on my cock as the head presses against my slacks makes it even better.
I wish I didn’t have such an active imagination. No matter how Luke looks at me, it’s not right to imagine the way he would open his soft mouth, his tongue wide, flattening his piercing hard against my cock as he licks up to my—
“No, dammit,” I curse. I can’t stop now.
My chin dips forward, and I push my head into the bowl, lapping at it to suck up the last dregs of oatmeal. There’s still more in the pot, but I can’t let myself go anywhere near it after this.
My pleasure is building, the tingles burning through me, buzzing up my shaft as I palm my cockhead.
I’m almost there, just one more stroke, one more lick of maple syrup, and my eyes roll as I groan.
“Shit,” I gasp as I press my hand against the top of my cock, panting, snarling over my bowl like some animal gorging, exactly like Luke said.
I catch my cum, crying out too loudly as sparks fly.
The bowl is clean, but I keep on lapping at it as pleasure pours through me and my whole body sings. If Luke finds me like this, I’ll never live it down.
I’m still holding my cock, looking up at the silver pot on the stove in shock. There’s no way I can go any further. I can’t take any more. I said I’d stay away from it. My stomach is full, but my cock is growing hard again as I run my tongue over my lips, licking up those very last drops of maple syrup.
I don’t want to move, but it’s right there. I need one more taste.Just one more…
“I’m the worst,” I growl to myself as I push off my stool, keep my hand on my cock, and walk over to the pot.
Ollie
Islap my palms against my mouth as I shake.
I can’t moan, I can’t whine, I can’t make a single freaking noise as I peek around the wall again.
As soon as I left the kitchen and entered the living room, I hid behind the corner to see what Timber would do. Because hismoan was so criminally sexy that I’m ready to become a beat cop so I can cuff him and make him tell me where it hurts.
My pussy is wet, my slick hot, and I’m perfuming so hard I choke on my own scent, but I can’t move. It doesn’t matter how much I know it’s a bad decision. I’ve just seen Timber Holtz come in his pants, and I want to give him another hand.
The sight of him padding around the counter to stand in full view is insane. He doesn’t stop or think as he shoves down his slacks, exposing his rock-hard ass and his cock.
I clench my teeth together to stop my feral whimper as he grabs the ladle and starts scooping.
With one beefy hand around his cock, one deep ladle up to his mouth, he extends his tongue to lick it as he groans.
“Oh God,” I whisper as he thrusts his hips, oatmeal dripping from his mouth and covering his pillowy chest.
Since he’s reacting like that to my slick mistake, how will he sound if I grab his head and bury his face in my pussy?
If he finds me, then fuck it. He can decide what he wants to do with my hard nipples and my aching pussy. I need relief, and there’s an alpha right there. All my common sense has been drop-kicked out the window because he’s vacuuming up my oatmeal, and there’s a better place he can use those sucking skills.
Timber is so wrapped up in it that he won’t notice my muffled cries, right? I’ve already crossed the line, so I should just keep running.
My hand creeps under my pants as I take another peek at Timber thrusting.
I spread my pussy, using my middle finger to slowly stroke down, gathering slick, wetting my clit, curving my back like I’m presenting to him.
He’s always unresponsive and uninterested in me when I flirt, and now his ass is out, pumping away.
Pushing my palm harder against my mouth, my hips rock back and forth.
I’m going to come so quickly I don’t know if I can deal. But the idea of him catching me here is even hotter than watching him fuck his hand.
