He whimpers.
I focus my efforts, picking up the pace. Not rough, just precise. Deep strokes, curling over that perfect spot each time. His body shakes uncontrollably, and he pushes up on his toes, fucking himself on my fingers.
His body is strung as tight as a wire, every muscle trembling. He’s so close he can’t even breathe right.
“Come for me,” I command softly. “Come, Becky.”
Like he was waiting for permission, he doesn’t last a second longer. His orgasm detonates. His entire body snapping tight, then bowing beautifully. I hold him steady with one hand as the other stays buried inside him, curling and coaxing every last shudder out of him.
Hot pulses of cum shoot out onto the bumper, onto the carpeted trunk floor, and all over my hand where it slipped under him to brace his hip.
I lift that hand instinctively, letting his warm spill coat my palm.
“God,” I murmur, low and hungry. “Look at you.”
Beck collapses forward, trembling, breath coming in broken gasps. He’s so wrecked he can’t even form a word, just a soft whining sound that shoots straight to my dick.
I slide my fingers out of him slowly. He makes a helpless little noise, like he doesn’t want to lose the contact.
“Shh,” I whisper. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Before he can lift his head, I bring my cum-slicked hand down between his cheeks. I spread him open gently, dragging the slick of his own release across the seam of his ass, smearing it up and down the crack.
He gasps a sharp inhale that edges into a moan.
“Brody—”
I hum softly, rubbing the warm, slippery mess right over the spot that makes him twitch. “You feel how hot you are? How sloppy?”
His hips jerk helplessly backwards.
“Yeah,” I breathe, letting my voice drop. “That’s all you. You did that.”
I smear a slow circle over the entrance I just opened with my fingers, letting the cum coat him. He whimpers, pushing back without even realizing he’s doing it.
“Such a slutty little hole.”
He shudders so violently the car creaks.
My cock aches against the fabric of my pants. The sight of him like this, bent over, open, shining with his own release, is too much.
I step in behind him, pulling my cock from the confines of my pants and positioning myself between his shaking thighs. I grip his hips, guiding him just where I want him, pushing his chest down and tilting his ass back.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to fuck you. I just want to feel you.”
To his credit, he stays still, or tries to, but his legs are trembling so hard his ass pushes back into me in tiny involuntary movements.
I line myself up between his cheeks and drag the length of my cock through the slick mess I milked out of him, pushing his cheeks together. My breath punches out of me at the heat of him, and the tight slide of his body embracing the ridge of me without taking me inside.
He gasps. Loudly.
“That’s it,” I groan, rutting slowly between his cheeks, letting the head of my cock glide up and down the slippery crack. “Feel that? That’s what you do to me. Such a good girl for me. Such a filthy, slutty, good girl.”
He moans into his arms, hips rocking back to match every stroke like he can’t stop himself.
“You’re perfect like this,” I pant. “So fucking perfect.”
His body flexes, muscles clenching with every drag of my cock. His spit and cum-shined ass create a slick, hot path I glide through again and again until the pleasure coils sharp and deep in my gut.
