(6) - part 1

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His hands wrapped around her waist as she threw her leg over his lap and lowered herself ever so slightly on the bulge in his pants. He was hard already - and straddling him, she began rocking her hips lazily above his crotch, her panty-clad pussy delicately brushing against his cock as she moved back and forth again, and again, and again.

She leaned towards him, just enough for her hard nipples to graze his cheek, seemingly adjusting herself, and his grip on her tightened. She watched as he lifted his face to look at her, his lips parted, his head rolling on the back of the sofa, his hands slowly sliding down her body and taking in her curves - 'Goodness gracious,' she thought, 'God's spent good time on this one.' He had the kind of face that stopped people in their tracks - modelesque, timeless.

She leaned towards him again and in a swift move that made it look like he'd known her body forever, he captured a nipple between his lips and thrusted his hips to meet hers, but in vain - she planted her hands on his chest and pushed him back down, moving out of reach.

He smirked.

Truthfully, she was craving the contact as much as he was and she knew the ache at her core would only be satisfied by riding him ragged. She sunk down a little lower as her hips continued their dance, so that her pussy could caress the full length of his cock with each stroke. She was soaking wet.

And he smelled like summer dust.

His cock throbbed and twitched every time she ground along it and soon, his lips found her skin and he placed a trail of kisses on in the soft spot between her neck and her shoulder - why the hell was it called dry humping if she was so wet and ready to fuck? Her hands ran up his neck and found their way into his salt and pepper hair, as she let him take a lead on the cadence, hyper aware of the sensation of his cock poised just at her opening. Had she been selfish, she would have ground on his cock to a galloping orgasm, right then and there.

But she had something else in mind for the night.

Reluctantly, she untangled herself from him - at that point, she wasn't sure she still knew where he ended and where she begun - and sunk down on her knees between his legs, licking her lips. She needed him very worked up for what she had planned.

She tipped forward to nuzzle his cloth-sheathed cock, rubbing it against her cheeks and lips, fascinated by how the fabric of his boxers molded to it like a second skin. She traced her tongue against the head, tasting his precum through his underwear and he flexed in response. He tasted so good and she was getting impatient.

She tugged and pulled on the band of his boxers, silently begging for him to take them off and he obliged - oh, how the tables had turned now... She tried to refocus as she was greeted with the appearance of his rigid rod and it took every ounce of will in her body not to make a beeline for it. Instead, she gently lapped up and down, getting his shaft shiny with spit, tormenting him a little before she wrapped her lips around it. She took him in little by little, inching her lips down the smooth skin as she swallowed him a little deeper with each bob of her head, loose and slick on the downstroke, tighter on the way up.

She could feel her pussy getting wetter in response, and she wanted to touch herself, but she had one hand chasing the movement of her lips on his erection and the other fondling his balls.

Her tongue danced over the thick veins of his shaft, sucking harder as she went, her cheeks hollowing. He was tense and when his groans grew urgent, she pulled back and looked at him with eyes she wanted innocent.

They both knew she was anything but.

With her hands on his thighs, she pushed herself back up, bringing her face towards his, careful to let her body caress his on the way, and let her lips hover of his. 'I think it's time we take this elsewhere,' she offered.

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