Gilly’s continual trust in me –especially in the sack– isn’t shit I take for granted.
Like the way the boys trust me on the ice.
It’s something I’m grateful for and always prepared to work at.
Removing my touch from her slick nub expectedly receives a pout of displeasure; however, the feeling of my palm gliding up her back, underneath the sweater to grip her shoulder, is gifted a soft moan of approval.
I swiftly work my shaft out of my sweats and boxers only to then teasingly drag my tip along the back of her lower lips, each shudder spurring her legs to widen.
Her torso to fold.
Her face to fall.
“Fuck…”airily creeps out as I teasingly press just the head my cock against her entrance, “look how pretty this pussy is…” Thick, creamy juices drench my slit, begging me to inch in deeper. “I swear somethin’ sinful on this side of the Mississippi that my Slayer has the prettiest pussy out there.” Gilly’s sopping wet muscles swell around the fraction they can reach. “So pretty…” A second taunting push precedes me praising, “So perfect…” This time when I pull back, I wolfishly groan over the view and sensation of my soaked shaft alike. “So mine.”
My girlfriend impatiently bucks back in encouragement.
Whimpers.
“All mine,” I reiterate at the same time I slip back inside. “Only. Mine.”
The dreamy nodding I’m given is accompanied by a muffled moan.
“Look up for me, Slayer…”
She gradually drags her face up despite wanting it to loll forward in pleasure.
“Look how fuckin’ good you take me.” Sliding my cock continues until I’m completely seated inside. “Look how fuckin’ perfect you are on my dick, baby.”
Tremors tear throughout her frame, pussy following suit with such intensity it threatens to wobble my stance.
“Watch,” escapes just above a shaky whisper. “Watch yourself slay the tendy.” I nestle my free hand back between her thighs, harshen my grip on her shoulder, and gradually rock myself all the way out simply to see how drenched every inch of me is. “Damn, Gilly…” My tongue steals a small swipe of my lips. “How the hell did I get so fuckin’ lucky?” Her abrupt buck backward knocks a guttural growl out of me. “Lordhavemercy…” Finding her gaze in the mirror once more, I demand. “Do that shit again.” I apply the faintest bit of pressure to her clit at the same time I command, “Fuck me.” Yanking her towards me occurs next. “Slay me the way only a Slayer can…”
Another needy, muted murmur precedes her doing just that.
My woman widens her legs a tad further.
Pops her ass back.
Once.
Twice.
By the time the third occurs, I can’t keep my focus elsewhere.
Each jiggle is like a clap of applause for my cock that has my balls desperate to encourage an encore by making a similar motion.
Stickiness streams down my boys.
Smears itself onto our thighs.
Drowns my finger that’s unremittingly skating around her clit.
Gilly barbarically slams one hand on the countertop prior to using the other to ball the sweater up giving her something else to clutch and me a perfect shot of her tits.
“Fuck, I wish I had those in my mouth,” I mutter, fingers abandoning her shoulder to cascade to her hardened nipple where they lightly brush. “I always want these in my mouth.” Giving them the tiniest tug leads to her wet muscles swelling. “I always want you, Slayer.”
The woman I’m Patsy Cline crazy about slaps the counter in ecstasy a second time, hooded stare growing more so as she watches the way she throws herself into each thrust and shoots to her toes on every jerk and damn near topples over whenever the sound of my balls slapping her pussy reverberates around the room.
