Page 81 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

My hands fist in his hair, hips bucking up to chase the pressure. He groans against me, the vibration shooting straight through my core, and doubles down, sucking my clit into his mouth, tongue lashing, two thick fingers sliding inside me, curling just right.

“Leonid—” His name breaks on a whine.

He doesn’t stop. Just keeps devouring me until my thighs are shaking and I’m grinding against his face, chasing the edge.

When I’m trembling, right on the brink, he pulls back. Stands. Discards his jacket in one fluid motion, unbuttons his black shirt halfway down his chest, enough to expose the hard planes of muscle. Trousers shoved to mid-thigh, cock thick and heavy in his fist.

He lifts me again, sits on the couch, and guides me down onto him in one long, slow slide. I gasp at the stretch, the sudden fullness. He’s so deep I feel him everywhere.

“Move, solnyshko,” he rasps, hands gripping my hips. “Ride me. Use me.”

I do.

I roll my hips, then bounce, slow at first, finding the rhythm, then faster. My nails dig into his shoulders. He watches me the whole time, eyes hungry, reverent. I throw my head back, closing my eyes.

“Look at me,” he orders. “Look at me while you ride this dick.”

I do. Our gazes lock. Heat floods my cheeks.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” he growls. “Tits bouncing, pussy gripping me so tight… my good girl taking what she needs.”

He surges up suddenly, strong arms banding around me, and lifts me just enough to slam me back down. Hard. Deep. I cry out, head falling back.

“Again,” he says. “Take it. Harder.”

I do. Faster. Sloppier. Whining, hips grinding, chasing that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyes.

He feels it, the flutter, the clench.

“Squirt for me,” he murmurs against my ear. “Come all over this dick. I know you’ve got it in you.”

“I can’t—”

“Oh, you can.” His hand slides between us, thumb circling my clit in tight, relentless strokes. “You’re gonna soak me, solnyshko. Let it go.”

He presses his forehead to mine, breath ragged. “You’re gonna squirt all over this dick, aren’t you?”

I nod frantically, tears pricking my eyes from the intensity. “Yes—”

“Tell me you deserve to come.”

“I deserve to come,” I gasp.

“Louder.”

“I deserve to come!”

“Good girl.” He slams up into me again, holding me down so I feel every thick inch. “Look how fucking gorgeous you are riding me… you were made for this cock.”

My hands scramble over his shoulders, his chest, needing to touch, to hold on.

“Hands on me, mama,” he growls. “Feel me. Breathe with me. In… out… that’s it.”

I match his rhythm, chest rising and falling with his. The pressure coils tighter, unbearable, perfect.

“Come,” he commands. “Squirt all over me. Show me how good I make you feel.”

I shatter.