Her mouth leaves my cock shocking me for a moment.
“You have no idea how good I can moan.” She smirks, licking her lips.
“I hope to find out one day. Now please, get back to it.”
She grins. “And if I don’t?”
“If you don’t, I’m pretty sure I’ll combust into a million little pieces.”
“So, I do have power over you?”
“Jesus. Yes. Okay? You have a modicum of power over me, Prue. Now please, keep sucking my cock.”
Her mouth widens, as her eyes light up. Quickly, she takes me back in her mouth, pushing forward until she has it all inside of her. Her tongue rubs against the underside as she sucks me harder than before.
She is far too good at this. I doubt I’ll ever enjoy another blow job in my life. Before, they barely did the trick as it is, but now, knowing what she is capable of, they will never compare.
It would be a shame if it wasn’t so fucking good.
I let her go on for a few minutes, fighting back my release to savor it. The desire to show her I’m not some loser who finishes in two minutes every time keeping me from blowing my load. Bad enough I did that the first time.
She moans around my cock at some point, digging her nails deeper into my thighs and I nearly explode. My control is slipping. I’m not going to last much longer.
“Fuck. Prue,” I moan. “You’re going to make me cum, baby.” Once again, she looks up at me. The lust in her eyes sends me over the edge. The minute I start cumming she pulls back a little, allowing me to fill her mouth. I almost prefer this feeling compared to cumming down her throat like last time.
She grins when I finish, pulling her mouth off my softening cock. Shifting forward she opens her mouth, showing me my cum sitting on her tongue.
“Jesus,” I moan, my cock already flexing again.
Grinning, she shuts her mouth, and I watch her throat as she swallows my load.
How could anyone hurt this girl? All I want to do is make her feel a fraction as good as she makes me feel. She is so fucking hot. A little vixen of lust covered in prim and proper attire. It’s the fucking male fantasy. Girl next door, slut in the sheets.
I reach forward, gripping her face. She melts into my hold, relaxing as I let my thumb stroke her jaw. I press my forehead against hers, trying to memorize the way her eyes look at this moment. It’s a picture I wouldn’t mind adding to my collection of tattoos. But I highly doubt I could draw it well enough.
I let my lips dip to hers. My tongue sweeps across her plump bottom lip before she presses it against mine. I let her think she is leading, as our lips dance together. Her hands wrap around my neck, pulling me closer. I slip off the couch, pushing her onto her back.
She is too caught up in the kiss to care that I’m hovering over her body. I doubt she even notices the parallel position we are in right now.
My hand moves to unzip the hoodie she is wearing. It smells like another man, but I don’t care. Shouldn’t care. Whoever itbelongs to isn’t about to make her feel as good as I am. By the time I’m done with her, she won’t even remember them.
When her tongue pokes against my lips, I let it in. She explores my mouth with urgency, as my hands begin to slip up her shirt. I want to know what her tits feel like in my hands. Her flesh alone feels like heaven. Smooth and soft. Cold as fucking ice, and the desire to warm it up with my own overcomes me.
I let my fingers stroke her hip bone and she gasps into my mouth. Her little body thrusting up against mine. I fight which direction to let my hand go. I want to touch every part of her, but what part first?
Letting my hand side up her flat, taunt stomach, I let it rest just under her tit for a moment as she continues to let her tongue dart in and out of my mouth.
When I shift slightly, letting my hand rests against her rib, she gasps again, jerking away from me.
“Ow,” she mutters.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, not aware I had applied any pressure.
“Get off me.” She pushes at my chest.
I snap backwards, creating space. Her voice tells me she is no longer present in this moment, but somewhere in her head. She is fighting a memory right now. I’m not sure what set her off, but I want to find out so I can avoid that in the future.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “What did I do wrong?”
