8 | A Research Opportunity

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TW: moderate sexual descriptions.

Her back was arching up and off from the bed, steadied only by quivering legs.

Despite the brief quantity of time they'd been acquainted with one another, she was confident she could write a one-thousand-word essay about the many aptitudes of his tongue.

His palms kneaded relentlessly into her pelvis, her legs dangling over his shoulders, as his mouth ran stripes from her folds to her clit, coating his tongue with the distinctive flavour of her desire.

Caliana was in throws of pleasure as Roscoe both eagerly and expertly devoured her; his tongue swirling in excruciatingly slow circular motions against her core, before adding his fingers to the mix, delving in and out leaving her moments away from her impending release.

His index and middle finger were curled inside her, striking that oh-so-sweet spot, and bringing her to her edge within seconds. She tugged and yanked at his russet-toned locks, her thighs wrapped around his brawny shoulders, trapping him in her dripping ocean.

"You're really good at that, Roscoe," Caliana murmured, as she laid spent against her pillow, peeking up at him lazily through drooping, heavy lids. His body reclined down beside her, the bed frame emitting a harsh howl in response to his impressive body weight.

"I always aim to please, darlin'," Roscoe answered, his voice thick with lust, and his face still slightly slick from her climax. She could see his left hand retreating into his unbuttoned denim jeans, as he started tugging his length.

Caliana almost felt guilty. Almost. Even though she'd been vehemently convinced that she and Roscoe would never happen, their combined inebriated and aroused states had led to an agreement of Roscoe performing oral sex on Caliana. She persuaded herself that it was a completely legitimate idea — how would any woman in their right mind refuse such a grandiose offer?

She'd been astonished at his zeal, but clearly, despite her first impression of Roscoe on move-in day, he was quite the giving lover.

Caliana now observed as his fist trailed up and down, the movement growing more aggressive with each passing stroke, his breath catching in his arid throat every few seconds. Detecting Caliana's stare, he peered over. "Do you wanna give me a hand?"

"Me? The 'voyeur girl'?" She teased through pursued lips, but allowed a small quantity of spit to dribble from her mouth onto her palm, before slinking her hand across and capturing his length within her fist; the pearlescent beads from the head coating her hand, aiding the moving up and down his shaft with little to no friction.

Spurred on by the short moans fired from his mouth, she allowed her second hand to join at the base, the index finger and thumb of her first hand forming a ring at the tip, making short movements up and down until both hands coalesced in the middle.

She knew he was growing nigher to his release from the way his breaths were coming out far more choppily, and the way half-eaten profanities poured from his tongue until spurts of creamy residue rested upon her hand.

She provided him an inert smile, before scurrying to the bathroom to remove the lingering detritus that had now begun to blanket the webs of her fingers.

Now, as she reentered the room, an uneasy silence dallied between the two of them. She joined him on her bed, peeking over at him, noticing his eyes peeled to his phone as he tapped out a hurried message. "So...tell me about your family, Roscoe."

"You what?" His half-closed eyes struck open, as he rested his bent elbow beneath his head for support. "I thought you said this was a casual thing."

"It is," Caliana insisted. "But we are living together, so it'd be good to know more about each other, right?" She continued. Truth be told, post-nut clarity had hit her quicker than a bus, and in her sobriety, she recalled Jasmin and her earlier pledge to aid the girl in speaking to her brother. Only days before, the younger girl had sent her flurries of text messages detailing her inner turmoil over telling her brother the truth about what had happened.

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