She drags my tail between her pussy lips, nestled deep between them. The ridges of my tail slide intimately against her clit, and I watch her brows knit together with pleasure as shecrests each ridge. Her hand slides further down the length of my tail to the more sensitive underside, following it inch by inch.
Honestly I’m so preoccupied by the image of her pleasuring herself with my tail that I barely notice the way she rearranges herself on top of me, straddling my chest with her ass in my face. It’s not exactly easy to focus on what her hands are doing with the sight of her wet pink pussy spread before me.
Zero thought goes into grabbing her hips and pulling myself up enough to lick her, my fingers digging into her pillowy thighs. I can’t help but drag my tongue through her irresistible folds, delving deep inside to taste her. She smothers a squeal against my hip, and that’s about when I wonder what she’s doing over there.
She’s tugged my sweatpants further down, straddling me backward. Her hand sweeping down my stomach, past my cock. She flattens her palm against my sack, teasing a finger down the middle, and when the heat of her tongue drags down my tail, my hips buck involuntarily.
Lacey’s giggle at that is evil incarnate. She’s got my balls in one hand and my tail in the other. I can’t remember if I’ve ever been so deeply at someone’s mercy, sexually.
“Lacey,” I pant, no, beg, and she strokes both together, pulling a note of pleasure from me that is entirely too vulnerable for my liking. At the same time, I’m so gratified that she knows exactly what she wants to do with me.
Of course, the pretty, wholesome-looking girl from Channel 6 News is a bit of a freak. Maybe I should have seen that coming.
Caressing the underside of my tail, she wrings an orgasm from my body with embarrassing ease, all without touching my cock. I’m too into this. I come hard and quick.
Somehow more of it gets on her than on me. Hot streaks land across my stomach, pooling in the divots. I paint across her whole body, the entirety of her T-shirt. Arc after arc. My every muscle tenses as my cock endlessly unloads onto her, the tip of my tail lashing back and forth beside us. She muffles a cry against my hip, her blunt teeth pressing against my skin. Her thighs quake as her core clenches in fluttery spasms around my tongue, her hot release dripping down my chin.
After several jaw-clenched moments, the tension eases from our bodies, and my overeager cock lays spent against my hip, finally nothing left to give.
Lacey makes a good effort not to collapse directly onto me, rolling over onto her side next to me. For several moments, we just breathe and wait for the spots to clear from our vision.
I find her shin at my side, rubbing a hand up and down her leg. Down at the other end of the mattress, she presses a kiss to my knee.
We didn’t even get to use the condoms, that had been my plan for containing at least some of the mess.
“I’m sorry about your shirt,” I pant, gesturing to the drippy mess. Beneath all that, it strikes me as familiar. “Oh, I have that exact same T-shirt. You’ve got good taste.”
Nothing good comes out of the way she bites her lower lip. She nods, holding back a smile. That’s her actively committing evildoing face; I know it a little too well by now.
My eyes linger on the shirt, as I skim a couple fingers underneath it. My claw hooks through a well-known hole near the hem and my brows knit together. “Hang on, is this my shirt?”
“Whaaat, I would never,” she blusters, tugging it off over her head. Once it’s inside out, she tosses it at the laundry basket but doesn’t totally get it in.
“Jackets, sweatshirts, T-shirts, am I going to have any clothes left when you’re done?”
“You’ve guessed my masterplan.” She grins, flopping nude onto the mattress beside me. Honestly, watching the way her breasts jiggle as she lands is worth all the hassle of the last month.
“There’s easier ways to get me naked, you know.”
She arches a brow, and I watch as she drags a finger through the rapidly coolly cum on my stomach, bringing a stringy droplet up to her lips. My cock gives a feeble twinge. It’s too soon to get hard again, as much as my libido presses for it at the sight of her licking my cum off her fingertips. “You can keep your socks.”
“I’m not worried about my socks,” I grumble against the side of her neck, but there’s no animosity in it, just an incredible fondness. It wouldn’t be the first shirt of mine sacrificed for the cause, nor the only one like that in her laundry basket. At least Lacey has an in-unit washer/dryer, and I no longer have to cart my shit down to a laundromat three blocks away from the base. “God, you even got a towel out. This was so avoidable.”
“My guy, you didn’t see that I was wearing your shirt this whole time? Before you came all over it?”
I pull her in closer, murmuring low and conspiratorial against her hair, “Your guy?”
Lacey tosses her hair, shrugs, nestling close against me. “Yeah, what about it?”
“Is that what I am?”
“You want to have this conversation now?” She rolls her eyes and shoves my shoulder a little. “Are we dating now?”
“I dunno, does Ms. Lacey Vigil want to date me?”
She smiles and stretches. I kick off the sweatpants tangled around my ankles, and sigh into the warmth of her body against mine. “Oh, I guess. If I must.”
“Don’t let me bully you into it.”
