Andreas
Despite being on the verge of surrendering to exhaustion, she slowly gets on all fours. She moves over to me, and I put on my best performance of a tranquil and unbothered male as she reaches closer, naked and fuckable.
"Come on, beautiful. Turn around, seat yourself on my lap, and keep your head against my chest." She climbs onto me and rests between my legs. It appears some of her bratty behaviour has died out. "Good girl. I love it when you're obedient."
I separate her legs and observe her wet cunt from above her. A brief glance at her hand and then I'm resting it over my palm, admiring the black acrylics and hints of silver shining on their lustrous surfaces. My thumb brushes over her fingers, then past her nails. "Look at these, so pretty and clean." Perfect adornments for a perfect lady. I sweep my thumb over them once more, and give her hand a swift kiss. "My apologies, baby, but I need you to get them dirty. Pleasure yourself. Two fingers."
Her eyebrows furrow, and she fusses beneath me.
"What's the matter?" I ask. She pulls my hand downwards, insisting I follow the order assigned to her, and looks up at me with displeased eyes. "I see. You've decided, now that you're not getting what you want, you'll end the obedient act and begin on whining. Drop the attitude, my sweet girl, and then you might find being well-behaved will reward you."
"But—" Her head drops, and I gently massage her thighs, fondling with what's mine. "Why can't you do it?" she asks, a hand hovering between her legs, a film of hesitance over her gentle voice. I grip her thighs harder. Her fingers drop with the wordless order.
I watch diligently, humming as she moves around her clit, slowly rotating her fingers and using an unoccupied hand to clasp my forearm. Comforting herself. For my own amusement, I lightly tug at her hair and earn small pained moans.
"Fuck that hole of yours. Come on, get yourself ready for me."
Her fingers travel down from her clit and cross down her centre. The first bolt of excitement shoots up my cock as she pushes them inside. Our time together has lasted for weeks, for weeks of working and pleasuring, and not once have I stumbled across an experience where she touches herself lounged between my legs. The thought of her masturbating beneath our blanket intensifies my erection―how many times has she played with herself without my notice?
I groan watching her, at the whimpers as she picks up the pace. She's slipped down enough that her lower back can feel my hardness, and her hair is fanned out over my chest, flowy and vibrant.
"Another one," I order.
Reluctantly, she enters a third finger, hips orbiting.
Those quietly high noises, made from inside her throat—I want to gobble them up with a slow kiss, and I'd do so unashamedly if I had her facing me. I control the adrenaline coursing through my arms and legs and every muscle that encourages me to fuck her immediately. Luckily, I have patience, and don't fuck her immediately.
Instead, I sneak two fingers beneath her working arm and circle them at her clit. She shifts her upper body to the side and glances up at me, eyes narrowed in pleasure and teeth fastening her bottom lip. Her chest shudders, breathing sharpening as she fucks herself. This observation of her is the destruction of my sanity.
"Shit..." I curse under my breath. "Pass me your hand." I present my hand before her, and she follows by putting her own atop it, the one that was clasping my forearm. I chuckle and take her other, and her fingers are forced out of her. She gives me a look of disapproval as I terminate her fun entirely by seizing both her wrists and crossing them over herself, tying them against her waist. "You're not as well behaved as I had anticipated."
"I'm not doing anything," she whines, trying to wriggle out of the restraint of our arms.
"Listen to me. In a short moment from now, you're going to take me really, really rough. Because I think you're aiming to control me with your pretty face, and we can't have that over here, can we? A bad girl like you deserves to shut up and get fucked, and that's exactly what I'm striving towards." Verbal teasing is indeed my favourite form of amusement. The worried eyes when she hears that she's being a bad girl for being too pretty is a chief reason why I'm unable to resist poking at her.
She settles down in the arms confining her, accepting her failure. "You're being mean to me," she says softly.
"Oh, am I?"
"Yes. You're...you're not nice."
The hole she's dug for herself. "But if I were to request that you spread open your pussy with two fingers so I can get a quick touch, I'd find my fingertips a little wet even after I've been mean to you. Isn't that right?"
She stills. This is adorably pathetic.
I break the restraint over her, releasing my arms, and grasp her by the hips. "Up," I demand, and she gets onto spread knees, hovering above my cock. I draw it along her slickness, my tip stiff and waiting to enter, until I find the space to fit into her.
She gasps. Her back curves, body falling into the flow of jumping up and down on me. Her insatiable appetite is finally being relieved. She indulges on my full length, packing herself up to the fullest, doing exactly what we want even if the pain of it slows her down.
"Yes, fuck. Just like that," I breathe. "You're mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. A filthy princess that belongs to me."
Our breaths become hurried, pleasure amplified, moans doubling in volume. My lower body heats up, with both the contact of her skin and an early approaching orgasm bolting through my blood, lingering in my cells, filling my mind with the certainty that this is the lady I want. That I need.
Her hand stumbles onto the mattress, trying to provide stability as I use her hips as a tool to help her onto me faster.
You're reaching the end of your game.
You're reaching the end of your game.
You're reaching the end of your game.
Weights plummet on my chest. I fail to lug them off.
Have you shaped her to be your possession or lover?
My rhythm is suddenly honed. An abundance of oxygen is thieved from my lungs, and my groans augment, heavy with elation—and panic.
Panic with that ceaseless voice.
When I feel that pressure surrounding my cock—the one where she tightens around me, the physical hint that she's going to orgasm—I rise, and she reels forward.
The movement startles her, but her position, on her elbows and knees panting, tells me the minimal break I'm offering is well needed.
I follow after her, bringing her ass towards my front, and admire her tousled yet shiny hair, long arms, back that's heaving with sharp intakes of air. Her tasty ass.
Past the realm of our fuckery, I want to kiss her and lay her down, knead every inch of her body with a splash of oil and my hands, soothe her scalp with my fingertips beneath a faucet. A part that ignites that steadying fire in my heart that can't seem to diminish or get comfortable...the part I'll be ignoring...it wants that.
From the clamour downstairs, I glean that my friends are conversing, prone to hear what's unwinding up here. But my lady is waiting for me, and that other steel, indestructible, and unmalleable part of me that refuses to be heated with lovely fire has come to take the request.
Possession or lover?
I grip her hips, then I'm back inside. She cries out, and I take advantage of the accessibility I've been given from this position, where her ass is risen before me, to go rougher and deeper.
"You're staying in this fucking room until I'm certain all our friends can hear you. Cum all over this cock, baby. It's all yours. It belongs to you. Yours to get fucked by, yours to pleasure." My hands slip to her waist, tightening around the silky skin. Tattoos would be perfect here. Possibly a print of my hands?
"I—I can't keep quiet." Her face is buried into the mattress. A futile attempt to lessen the volume of her muffled moans.
"You're completely powerless." I almost feel guilty chuckling then immediately pounding into her with more force. "I love seeing you like this—barely able to tolerate what you want."
On cue, tightness returns around me. My mouth gapes at the clamping sensation. I take my fingers to her clit and begin working—then her thighs spasm, she grasps the blankets, and her shoulders tense.
It's a sign to fix all my efforts into every one of my thrusts. To let myself stop erecting a barrier between my body and the orgasm that's boiling within it.
I hunch over her, rub faster, heat all over.
"Don't stop," she begs. "Please don't stop."
"Not even an earthquake would fucking stop me. Keep going, my sweet girl. I won't stop, you're being taken care of, and fuck, you feel so good. And, oh―"
We roar out our pleasure like we're the only people in the house.
I feel every spellbinding stimulation of my nerves. The sensations climb through my thighs, whizz around my torso, along my arms, and go chaotic between my legs. It's not within my capacity to engulf any groan and keep it lodged in my throat. Everything is let out through my mouth—and releasing cock.
We pant and watch as I carefully slide from the well of cum. Pulling out completely gives a fabulous display of a dripping pussy and red ass.
I get off the bed, legs aching and spine lined with sweat, and slug over to the foot where I observe her puffed out state and stroke strands of hair away from her face. She blushes and follows me into the shower.