I assess the quiet wonder I feel at the warmth of her on my legs. I can’t even see her, I’m not touching her with my hands, my cock is nowhere near her body, and yet this is the most profoundly sexual I’ve ever felt.
“I don’t know,” I finally say. “I don’t know.”
We continue in silence for a few more minutes, and I stay there, stretched and straining and still, all so she can pet and explore me, so she can satisfy her curiosity.
“On your back,” she says after a while. “I want to see your…” a shy pause. “Your penis again.”
I don’t tease her for the Latinate language. I’m past teasing. I’m starving, I’m dying. I roll over and expose my aching cock to the cool air, and I know I said I wasn’t going to let her make me come—and I meant it—but I just want her to touch it again. Just once, just a little bit.
“So when you’re not…erect…it’s not this big?” she asks. She’s moved so that she’s perched on her knees between my legs and her hands slide up my thighs to bracket my balls. Her thumbs meet in the tender place right below my testicles and my cock jolts like it’s been hooked up to a car battery.
“No,” I say, my voice so raspy it’s barely a voice any longer.
“And then it gets—”
“Hard,” I supply, trying to nudge her past the textbook terms.
“Then it gets hard,” she soldiers on, “whenever you’re turned on?”
“Yes. That’s when it needs to fuck.”
“And when you don’t have anyone to fuck? What do you do?”
I show her by circling a hand over my cock and tugging upwards. Pleasure spears deep into my groin as I do, and I have to remind myself that I’m showing her, that she’s exploring, that this is part of the plan, and I can’t just jack myself right over the edge like I want to.
I go slowly, so she can see the places that send me squirming, so she can see the steady rhythm I like, the grip. And then there’s the way she looks at me as I do it, her gaze hot on my tensed stomach and bunching biceps, on the swollen tip that emerges from the end of my fist over and over again.
“Can I try?” she asks in a voice both timid and inflamed, and my God, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, ever, ever, ever.
“Yes, baby. You can try.”
I release my cock and watch her grip it, a bit uncertainly, stroking up with a hold too loose for any real friction.
But it’s still too much. Her determined face, with its pouty mouth screwed up in concentration, which makes the piercing in her nose wiggle and glint as she wrinkles her nose. Her hair brushing the ends of her shoulders in uncountable dark spirals, her tits with their nipples in tight little beads, her ribs and stomach quivering with breathing she can’t quite control.
I throw my arms over my face so I can’t see her, because even her clumsiness is fucking hot, everything about her is so much, too much, and I should be worried, I should be terrified that she has this power over me, but I’m not, and maybe that’s the scariest part of it all.
I let her experiment with rhythm and pace and tightness, I let her try stroking the lower part of the shaft and squeezing and caressing the head, I let her try whatever she wants and I just do my best to hold on, to keep my promise not to come at her touch.
It’s fucking agony though.
Agony.
Finally she finds the killing zone, that sensitive underside right under my crown, and within seconds she has me arching and panting. When I dare to peek out from under my arms, I see her lower lip tucked into her teeth and her eyes glued to my steel-hard dick, fascinated. And her other hand rubbing idly at one breast, as if she can’t stand not to touch herself as she’s touching me, as if she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.
I’m going to come if she doesn’t stop.
“Enough,” I growl, sitting up and grabbing her fast enough to surprise her, to send a cute little squeak out of her mouth.
“But I want to see you come,” she says from the cage of my arms. “You promised I could see you come.”
She’s too perfect not to kiss, so I kiss her. I drop my mouth to hers and I fuck her mouth with my tongue the way I want to fuck her pussy. “You’ll see me come, princess,” I murmur against her lips. “You will.”
She’s dazed by the kiss, melted and boneless in my arms, sharing breath with me, tentatively sliding her tongue against mine, her hands flexing and fisting at my bare chest like a kitten kneading her paws. “I want you to come now,” she finally manages. “Now.”
“One thing first.” And if I enjoyed having this body because of the way Zenny looked at me before, I extra enjoy it now, being able to effortlessly move with her cradled in my arms, being able to drape her over the edge of the bed with her face down and her ass and cunt available for me to eat.
And then I show her the thing I promised on the night of the gala.
She squeaks again at the first lick—right up to the pleated aperture between her cheeks—and I have to band an arm over top of her hips to keep her still. She squirms and gasps, one of her legs kicking up at me in an instinctive move to hide herself.
“Sean,” she pants. I can actually hear the scratches of her fingers against the covers. “It’s…I’m…”
I know what she is. I stop eating her, running the tip of my nose in the divot between her cheeks, very close to that entrance that she’s embarrassed of. “Don’t worry, darling.”
“I know, but you can see everything like this,” she protests, a hand reaching back as if to block me.
“I know, and I can smell and taste everything too. That’s why I like it.” I catch the hand and guide it to my hair instead. “Here. Whenever you think you can’t bear it, you pull my hair instead of trying to pull away.”
She gives my locks a gentle yank. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It would be worth it,” I say and then lean forward again, letting her feel it all—the bump of my nose against her ass as I devour her cunt, the stubble of my jaw as I work, even the light scrapes of my teeth. It’s messy and delicious and she’s all over my lips and my face, she’s on my tongue, she’s the slick combination of sweet and salt and earth. She may be shy, embarrassed, inexperienced from her navel up, but down here, she is all woman. Her cunt knows what it needs, growing wetter and softer, her clit getting plumper like a little needy berry, and even as she still makes noises of flustered, uncertain pleasure, her hips grind back into my face and her legs spread more and more, letting me deeper, lower, letting me suckle on her clit. Her hand still snatches at my hair; like a good student, she’s done as she’s told and pulled on my hair whenever the surge of shame or awkwardness rolls over her. But the yanking has changed from the simple tugs on my hair to practically tearing at it to get me closer to her, to get my mouth on her harder, faster, more—
“More,” she gasps. “Oh my God, more, more, more, more…”
Shit, I want to fuck her right now. Right here, bent over my bed, with her so wet and begging. I’d squeeze into that tight hole and show her how good it feels to come around a cock.
In fact, I even get so far as standing up before I remember myself, before I remember THE PLAN, SEAN, THE FUCKING PLAN, and instead I smooth a gentling hand up her back and press a single finger inside her. I easily find the spot that drove her so wild before, and I press down in massaging caresses that make her moan into the bed. I lean my body over hers, savoring the feel of her smooth legs against my hair-rough ones, the delicate wings of shoulder blades against my chest. The firm plumpness of her ass against my hips as I replace my finger with my thumb and start rubbing at her clit with my middle and pointer fingers together.