* EXPLICIT sex content. read at your own risk, and please don't mind that it's so poor written. clownerella's forte clearly ain't smut*
فيزا
Sean and I spent a bit of time snuggling in bed like the average, unproblematic lovebirds, and despite the pain in his gut and the sore, open cut under his knuckles, he tried to slide a hand into my trousers and touch me, at some point ... but I didn't give him an inch. More like, I didn't let him give me any inch, although he wouldn't have said no to that: I found a way to sit him down, bribing him with boobies of course, and I just did what any failed doctor, actual veterinarian girlfriend would've done. Which means, I loaded his hand over my lap, I cleaned his open cut from bloodstains with a gauze and peroxide, I let him curse me all the way through the procedure, and in the end, I just wrapped his hand like a present with gauze and surgical tape. I told him to keep that hand to rest because he's gonna need it for tonight's show, he told me that 'he can't keep his hands to himself when I'm around' ... and after a bunch of bantering and giggles, and after I told him that he gotta heal and be in his best shape to provide for Syria and I, he laughed his ass off, began to hump my leg like a horndog, and begged me to get into my nurse outfit for 'scientific purposes'. I told him that I had other 'scientific' priorities over fornication, although fornication is very scientific, I kindly reminded him that I'm a doctor, not a nurse... and when I removed his shirt and began to give away hints of wanting to rub healing ointment over the bruise on his stomach, his aura changed, and his playfulness gave way to heaviness and... withdrawal from words.
Sean is one moody guy, and I know it. I shouldn't be surprised by the fact that five minutes ago, he was drooling over me like a dog on a bone, talking about wanting to fuck me in my 'nurse outfit', as if I were even a nurse to begin with.. and now he's all curled up in a ball in bed, shirtless, using his own arm as a pillow, silent as he's never been before in my presence, and pretty much distanced from me. That mood change was quick as fuck and pretty unexplainable, if you ask me. And if I have him well figured out, and I think I do, he's behaving this way for two reasons: first one, he's still fucking pissed and willing to kill Gerry, and he just wants to be left alone for the sake of better planning his homicide and his burial. Second, he's humbled by the fact that I've done something nice to him, he's come across as the one in need and he absolutely hates that, in virtue of the self assured man that he is... and goodness, I just hope that he ain't holding something against me for as little as loving him and wanting to take care of him. But judging by the fact that I'm rubbing his back, silently because I don't want to fuck this up with words, and he ain't even turning my side to look at me and see how worried for him I am, I'm brought to think that maybe, he wouldn't even like me to be here now.
He's no easy, he has these moments in which he zones out and doesn't seem to care about anything, à la the world may be falling but I'm too busy dealing with my own mind to give a fuck. He holds everything inside and tries to get away with his own thoughts and emotions by cracking jokes and doing the cryptic prankster, until he just gets weak and sends everything and everyone to fuck ... and it makes him an extremely hard one to handle or to read through. Sometimes I don't know how to behave with him, especially when he's in a mood and doesn't even acknowledge my presence... but I know what I was signing up for when I chose him, I love him for everything he is, and I'd choose him a thousand more times, all over again, if necessary. Talk about love, to say it à la Van Halen...
I sigh out loud, and under the influence of my own thoughts, I stand up from the bed, and I head to the door, thinking that I'll be back at Sean when he'll be feeling less low and reclusive and mysterious about it. At the end of the day, every god damned human in the world has these moments in which they just wanna be left alone for five minutes, or maybe even for an entire day. I am human, and I have these moments too, pretty often if I gotta tell it like it is. Sean is human, just a little moodier than the average human, and I respect and stand with his need to be left alone for as long as he thinks is necessary to feel better with himself. Looking at him now, harmless as a baby but with fists clenched like he'd throw them if he could, sweating, cursing and letting go of all the pent up anger in his body with semi shakes, I understand what's going on with him... and sigh even louder than before. My man, my love and my heart, the one I'd take a bullet for, is having a whole adrenaline outflow because of that fucking stupid altercation with his guitar player buddy that he didn't even start himself. He beat the fuck out of him and got beat some in return, and now his body is slowly, not so easily adapting to the more peaceful environment. It's just him, his rage and I now, we're all gathered up on the bed... and oddly enough, I'm staying super lucid and calm through it. I've got this.
I rub his back to let him know that, unironically much, I've got it, but he grunts like he's almost bothered by my attentions. I sigh, and just withdraw my hand, cursing myself because I've touched him even if I knew he just wanted to be left alone. I stand up from the bed once again, but before I can head back to the door to finally leave him alone, he turns my side, pulls me closer to him by the arm, puts his head well over my chest... and looks up to me like he's apologising for the way he's just handled me. I smile to let him know that it's all good, I rub his hair until he closes his eyes... and I just enjoy this moment of very silent, very sweet human rawness.
The silence is making me feel a little awkward though, because I just ain't used to keeping my mouth shut in my man's presence. His eyes are open now, and he's once again giving signs of nervousness, grunting under his breath and clenching his fists. I'd like to chime in and reassure him that the bruise on his stomach and the wound on his hand will be gone for good in a couple days, if he lets me medicate them every four hours and doesn't do the capricious child. But the next thing I know is that he stands up from the mattress, drags me down with him, and in the throes of his pent up anger I reckon... he literally turns the bed upside down with a single, smooth and tornado-like motion. I widen my eyes in semi shock, because I don't remember having seen him so angry ever before, and the sudden mood swing and the blankness of his stare are freaking me out... but when he rips off the gauze and surgical tape on his hand with his teeth, he grabs the bedside lamp and smacks it against the wall, coincidentially enough the one communicating with Michelle... I mean, Mike's room, I literally scream from the top of my lungs, and throw myself at him, legs well wrapped around his hips and his face cupped between my palms. Y'know, in the hope that my bodyweight will hold him back from reaching out to the television, and destroying it like he did with the television in our hotel room in Denver.
Here it goes, another room we won't get our deposit back for, 'cause Mr. Kinney destroyed a good part of the furniture in it. But do I care about the fifty bucks we won't get back from the reception, because my boyfriend bloody loves to break stuff out of impulsiveness wherever he goes, although he shouldn't be supposed to? I couldn't care any less about that, money is the last one of my worries, now that I make my own, and I make quite a bit of it. My only worries concern Sean's terrible, belligerent mood, and my only thoughts of the minute concern ways in which I could potentially try to calm him down. Should I even give it a shot and try, or should I just let him cool down by himself ? I don't fucking know. I'm lost, and I don't even know if he feels like being found. After he collapsed and got hit by a wave of humbleness when I treated his wound, and after he 'apologised' to me to only wreck some furniture later, I've put every ounce of my being and of my genuine benevolence to question.
I'm holding on to him, legs yeeted around his hips, and head over his frantically pulsating chest. He's holding me, he's preventing me from falling butt first on the floor, but besides that, he ain't doing a thing nor making a move. And with that, I understand that it's all up to me now, words and actions wise. Should I open my mouth and say something? Should I hop off him, lift the bed and fix it, so that we can snuggle some more, and eventually fall asleep on all of this crap, and wake up brand new and all cuddled up ? Or should I...
...nevermind, I shouldn't do a thing nor say a move. More like, I can't do either one of the two things, because my boyfriend, in the throes of only goodness knows what exactly, smacks my ass hard and sound, grins with delight when I moan for him, and force pins my back against the door. I groan, because the impact wasn't very kind on my back, but still, I let him get away with it and totally dig his forcefulness, because the trail of kisses and subtle bites he's leaving all over my neck feels simply divine, and wonderfully eager on his side. He sinks his teeth in the sensitive skin of my neck, I pull his hair in a state of half confusion, half ecstasy, and he begins to suck on my neck and bite on it until he leaves me there writhing, and with a purplish love bite right on the hollow of it. And my panties get moist on the spot, because I simply love it, when my man marks me for everyone to see. I'm going to have to wear a turtleneck in front of Jessica... but wanna talk about how fucking hot a hickey makes you feel?
I try to reciprocate the favour, but Sean liplocks me and keeps me with my back well pinned against the door. His hands are ramming over my body, from the hips to the waist, then to the breasts... and when I think that he's going to touch them because he knows I go absolutely feral when he does that, he surprises, me and just violently rips my T-shirt off me. This one used to belong to him and spark great controversy at the breakfast room, but now it's useless, and torn in two over my body. My cleavage is on display, and naturally, he's grinning with amusement, because I ain't wearing a bra, and I'm totally in awe of him and of his forcefulness. I'm getting flashbacks of the first time Sean and I got it on, in that backstage room in Oakland, and he ripped my top off me and made it useless just mere seconds before smacking me over a makeup table and doing me from behind. If I have him figured out well enough, I think that he's feeling that kink now, and soon enough the same fate of a few weeks ago will await me... and I just bite my lip with anticipation of that.
Blinded by my arousal, and aroused by his very unexpected raunchiness, I begin to tease the buckle of his jeans, y'know, to remove them before he bends me down and fucks me rough, and with a master's trick of the leg, I peel his jeans down together with his underwear. I take a look at his hardening down boy, and bite my lower lip again, this time in approval for what I'm seeing. I've seen his cock a number of times, and had it inside of me just as many, but despite this and that, whenever my eyes land on that fucking thick stick, I get feral, and feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world. He grins, the width of his grin and the toothiness of it suggests me that he's feeling that instinct for real, and that he wants to fuck more than he wants anything else now... and I nod through my own physical pain, when he literally tosses me over the vanity table, and bends me well down the surface of it. Ass up, cheek against the mirror, and his lips assaulting the side of my neck that's still free from love marks. Or horniness marks, at this point, I don't know anymore. All I know is that he wants to vent his anger by fucking on it, I want to fuck too, I want to fuck so bad ... so who am I to say a thing?
'Kink?' He growls into my ear, with one hand around my neck, and his thumb pressing right where he's just left a second, reddish love bite. I moan and I nod, I nod with conviction and feel that kind of heat in my core... because how could I ever say no to him? How could I ever say no to kink? How could I ever turn down a round of spicy hot, raunchy as hell sex that I just wasn't seeing coming? How could I turn down his offering, if he asks stuff so nicely and with such horniness, straight into my ear even? My answer can only be 'a thousand times yes'. If sex, the angrier the better, gets us off and if it makes his anger subside for good, it's the closest to a win win situation as it gets. Actually, thank you Mr. Cuntrell, because your crap got my man in his mood that I like the most: bossy but still kinda respectful through it.
'I'm yours'. I mumble, and although I've just done the obvious, reminding him that I'm his (and his only) and letting him know that I'm feeling the angry sex kinda kink, he receives my words with a massive, triumphant grin. His hand is still gritted around my neck, he begins to kiss me so hard that I literally gasp for air in his mouth, and quiver in anticipation for him. I throw my head back, because I'd like to bite his lower lip for good and make it swell like I did the first time we ever got it on, as the flashbacks of that night are keeping me going... but the moment I lift my cheek from the mirror of the vanity table, he forcefully pushes it back where it once was, and slightly pulls my braids while he's at it. I moan, because I can't do much else than that, in my state ... and at some point into our raunchy kissing, while his one hand is still around my neck and the other one is ravaging my breasts, I slide my hand into my trousers, and begin to touch myself. That, because I have my man well figured out, and I just know he ain't gonna undress me nor touch me down there anytime soon. He's a slow burn tease, where I'm more of an urgent person... and sometimes, one just gotta do what one gotta do: diy. With clothes still on, because in this pair, he's the naked as a worm one, and I'm the one who's still clad from the hips down, and with a ripped open T-shirt.
Our lips are tied in a fire hot knot, parting on and off, but just for what it takes of him to pep talk me into touching myself 'for him'. Slightly red in the face at his taunts, although I was the one to slide a hand between my legs and touch myself out of my own initiative, I keep doing my thing, and while I'm teasing my entrance with the tip of my pointer finger, because that's how bad I need to feel something inside of me... he smacks my ass once more, and grips my neck so hard I legit cough. But before I can even finish a moan or cough twice, I feel him stripping me off from the waist down, raking the inside of my thighs, and peeling my trousers down, together with my soaking panties. He spreads my legs a little, perhaps to take a better look at what's happening between them, and kisses my neck while I keep pleasuring myself. Then he throws one arm around my waist, and flips me back first over the table, cheek no longer glued to the mirror. He smirks, I smirk twice as wide and smile with total defiance, when he loads my legs over his shoulders, and takes a very thorough look at my fingers sliding between my glistened folds. I keep touching myself, because I know he's just teasing and ain't gonna do it for me... and get redder and redder in the face whenever he tightens the hold over my waist to the point where it almost hurts. I complain about his hold, more like, I simply whine a bit, because it ain't entirely pain-free... and when I try to hop off the vanity table because the position he's put me into is near damn breaking my back, he puts me back in my place, grabs my face between his thumb and pointer finger, slides his thumb in my mouth, and slaps my cheek with the rest of his hand. Fucking hot, but again, not entirely pain-free. But again, I'm throbbing down there, and I know I won't be able to go on without his cock inside of me for any longer.
'You should pick up fights with people more often... if fighting does this to you'. I taunt him, my free hand now rubbing his chest as he kisses my ankles and keeps his thumb well planted in my mouth. I think I'm making myself look ridiculous, trying to talk dirty to him when I can barely speak because of the finger in my mouth... but I realise I may appeal to him more than I give myself credit for, when he smirks at my words, and uses my taunt as an excuse to slap my face with the rest of his hand again. I moan, and again try to slide a finger inside of me, at this point ready enough to call it quits with the tease, and move on to the appetiser at least. But he just grips my face tighter between his fingers, growls with accomplishment when he sees how much of a mess I'm becoming... and out of all the things he could do now, he now slaps my hand, and makes sure I remove it from between my legs. I thought his hand was sore, he was all curled up in a ball and complaining about the stinging cut on it, as little as five minutes ago, but now he's in his trooper element, and I can't take it away from him. Not that I'd want to take it away from him to begin with... I was worried for him, five minutes ago, but now I'm totally lost on my drive, and the sight of his disastered hand trailing between my thighs is turning me on beyond belief. Talk about kink ...
He picks me up between his arms, and once again, like clockwork, smacks me back against the floor, biting and kissing my neck all along, and pressing his chest well against mine. He's reckless, as his usual... but I'm being mindful enough not to press myself too much against him, because I know that he would never admit it, but the bruise on his stomach must be painful as fuck. But he's a trooper, he's showing me that he can fuck me no matter the wounds he's sustained in the fight at the breakfast room... and I'm a trooper too, because I ain't begging him to fuck me already, although I feel like it'd be long overdue. My arms are around his shoulders, and I'm sinking my fingers into his locks and moaning his name, while my buttocks are in his hands, and his teeth are now sinking in the skin of my chest. He only lets go of me when he's sure he's left yet another love bite on my skin, in the gap between my breasts to be precise... and while he's about to drop me on the floor and make me fall on it knees first, I cling to him, and I give him a taste of his own poison: I bite his neck until I can feel his skin getting tender in my mouth, he growls, slaps my face again, I somehow manage put my tiptoes on the floor through the sheer disrespect, and I roughly pull him away from me. I see his eyes going a whole, darker shade of brown, I can see him clenching his teeth and coming here to get me to teach me a lesson on how to stay in my lane... but I hold him back from tossing me over the first available piece of furniture by throwing my arms around his leg, looking up to him with my best pair of doe eyes, and letting my tongue trail up and down his throbbing length. The moment my tongue caresses the head of his cock, a split second before I pop it in my mouth and begin to suck and lick it simultaneously... he's tame. Harmless. And more beautiful than ever, with his eyes almost shut, his mouth agape, and his ever so arousing sounds of endearment.
'Can you handle two at once?' He speaks, his voice broken by low grunts, as I take as much of him as I can into my mouth, and I almost gag when he thrusts his lap against my face. This is a first time ever kinda thing for him, he generally stays still and pretty much in his place when I give him head ... but if I gotta be honest, I don't mind the forcefulness. On the contrary, I understand his horniness-fuelled rage, it keeps me going, and makes me wanna attempt my first deepthroat ever. My lips are wrapped around his cock like a vise, my hands are on his buttocks, and I'm accustoming as much of him in my mouth as I can. But when he pulls my braids, makes sure I lift my head up and look at him straight in his eyes as I take a solid three quarters of him in my mouth, and I can see a sprinkle of demanding in his eyes... I furrow my brows in confusion for what he's just said, because I have zero fucking clue what he's talking about. My man is into being cryptic even when he gets his cock sucked with love and diligence... and for as much as it turns me on, now I'm just fucking horny, allured, confused and that's it. Like... what the fuck does 'can you handle two at once' mean? He means two as in two pee pee's, am I right? He knows that I could as well, he knows that I couldn't care any less about proving that because it's just one that I need, and it's him... so help me here... I just can't understand. But I can always suck, and that's the reason why I keep going down on him, drooling by the sides of my mouth and wiping the drool off with the aid of my elbow like the trooper that I am.
'Wanna invite one of your friends?' I speak, as I pop his cock out of my mouth with a sordid smack, I pick my breath back together... and of course, I earn myself another slap in the face and a rough hair pull, for having said what I've just said. At this point, it's clear that he wasn't inviting me to a man/man/woman threesome, and he's 'punishing' me for having logically thought that he was. Silly, silly, slutty me... and silly, silly him, because I love him, and I would've never said yes to that anyways. I deserved my slap, we both agree on that, and that's why I'm looking at him like I'm daring him to plant another one on my fucking face... but in the end, he doesn't. He just jerks himself off a little, and aligns his cock with the entrance of my mouth. So, a slap and a hair pull later, decorated with a wondrous fucking cock in my mouth, what the fuck's 'can you handle two at once?' mean? Twins, 'cause he wants to bust another nut inside of me, and send me down emergency pregnancy lane all over again? If it's that what he means, I suppose I will just try and get his end off by giving him head. I mean, how bad can it be? He gets his fucking end off in five minutes anyways, whenever I go down on him. He's in my mouth now, I'm bobbing my head up and down his length, he's breathing heavily for me and pulling my hair some more, because he knows it keeps me going... can it get any better than this? I don't think so.
Or maybe yes? Because while I'm sucking him off for what he's worth, and I'm simultaneously rubbing his chest because I know he's a sucker for the touch... he walks a few steps backwards, brings me along with him as if I were a dog on a leash, when in reality I'm just a girl with a hundred, extra tiny and extra long braids, and he begins to ravage the inside of my suitcase. I'm still going down on him, I'm giving him one of these sticky tongue twirls alternated with sucks that never fail to get him curse my entire bloodline under his breath... but when I catch him pulling something that I bloody love out of my bag, I look up to him as if I were a dog on a leash with a succulent bone in the mouth who just wants its favourite toy now. Except that I'm just a very good, little bit slutty girlfriend, I have my boyfriend's cock in my mouth and I'm drooling over it... still, I wouldn't say no to using my favourite toy now. Because y'know, it's my vibrator that he's bringing to the table, and I would never, never say no to that one. Combined with real cock, it works like a tick bomb on me... and soon enough, he's gonna get a taste of it, out of his own initiative. A-fucking-mazing. Like this, I can definitely handle two at once, and I let it be known by flipping my hair back, smirking like the horny, little demon that I am.
'Babe, you forgot to say which friend are we gonna invite'. I taunt him, as I unhook my lips from around his cock, I somehow manage to grab my sparkly pink vibrator from his hands, and I hold it up right next to the real fucking thing. I smile a smile of total self confidence, and like the closeted slut that I am, I begin to go down on the two ... ahem, sticks simultaneously, with licks only, because ain't no way I'm ever gonna be able to pop two of them in my mouth altogether. Of course, that until he resents my 'playful' taunt, in the horniest way known to humankind ... and of course, he lets it be known with smacking my cheek with his cock. At first, I look up to him as I'm wondering what I've done to be hit again. But after a second, I keep slutting around like it's none of my business, because that's what I can do best when I'm horny... and I begin to go down on my vibrator, dodging my boyfriend's meat stick on purpose, and like my whole life depends on that. I love this power game that we're playing, it's turning me on so much that I'm back at touching myself again, he's getting pissed because his pushing my head and pulling my hair is giving it away for him... and yum. All I can think about now, from the top of my horny brain fog, is yum. Yum yum.
'Don't piss me off, Jennifer... suck my dick and hop on this fucking thing'. He growls, firm as I don't recall I've ever heard him before ... and in order to assert his dominance and remind me of who's in charge of this, aka him, or at least so he thinks, bless him, he shoves his cock back into my mouth with his own hands, roughly much. In order to remind him that I'm feeling the submission, but religiously in my terms, I spit on his cock, I look at my own spit falling from both sides of it, and feel like the most entitled to slut in the entire world. But that changes, the moment he kneels on the floor with me, keeps me tame by devouring my mouth, and arrows the tip of my vibrator at my sulking entrance. I lower myself on my sex toy, I moan into our kiss because even if this is no real meat, it still feels fucking amazing to be filled with something... and I diligently begin to ride my vibrator and suck my boyfriend's cock altogether, as in his original, fucking hot fantasy. That, while he's calling me by the wrong name, and he's making my pussy swell because being called 'Jennifer' during naughty time fucking gets me over the edge. I'm living my least expected, least thought of, yet hottest slutty fantasy ever, and man, I'm fucking loving it.
'Yeah, this is the kinda shit I wanna see on MTV'. He growls, and only when I look up to him and get my braided hair off my face, I can see that he's laid my camera on record mode on what's left of our bed. Aka a bunch of pieces of broken wood, torn nails, and a mattress turned upside down. A for effort, because I swear to god, I have no idea how he was able to find and set my camera up while I was sucking his cock and side eyeing him all along. And another A for effort, because he's slandering me now, and his way of using my 'MTV' work camera to film some 'spicy backstage content' is keeping me going like a well oiled machine. What can I do, I love the humour and the tease even when I'm horny and sucking and riding. This man is a fucking genius, he doesn't lose his brilliance, ever, not even when I'm giving him head and hopping on my vibrator for his amusement... and fuck, if I love him. FUCK and that's it, too. Because I've got a mouth full of him, a pussy full of something else, a camera eye pointed at me, and I'm still thinking that I'm grateful I have a man who makes me feel this way, and I'm grateful we trust eachother enough to do this kind of kinky shit. Call it a kink ? I think it's multiple ones altogether.
'You're so funny... ha ha... Jennifer, MTV, the camera ...'. I tease him, once again popping his cock off my mouth and popping my cherry on my turned off, yet mighty vibrator ... but before I can resume the blowie from where I've left it, and turn it into the blowie that will kill my man in the end, my man abruptly picks me up into his arms, loads me well over his shoulder, and thrusts my vibrator inside of me in short, teasing pulls. He walks us back to the vanity table, smacks me over it, belly down and cheek back against the mirror, our trusted camera on the wooden surface ... and while he begins to thrust the toy deeper and harder inside of me, he makes sure I take a look at my reflection in the mirror. There, I see a mess: I have eyes red and swollen with semi-tears, smeared lipstick, melted kajal and mascara falling all the way down my reddened cheeks, a red hand mark around my neck, and hickeys on both sides of my neck and between my breasts. I'm in such a state, while my man is looking absolutely flawless, with that cheeky grin on his lips, that mischievous, pierced nose of his, messy fucking hair, and that wounded hand keeping my cheek well pinned against the mirror. He can smack my ass and call me Jennifer, he can fuck me with a plastic toy and air it on MTV for real, and I'll let him get away with it. I mean, have you seen him? How could I not let him get away with any shit?
'How we gonna call this movie?' He gives me as good as he got from me, points the camera straight at my disastered face... and I reach a whole new level of feral, when he so sarcastically throws it back to my r-rated movies. More like, the movies I don't make anymore, because he's pulled me out of them, and these days, if I fuck in front of a camera, I do it with him just for the sake of kink. This is the first time we ever do it, and the Jennifer in me is bloody loving this. I don't know how we should call this movie in particular, the only thing I know is that I'd like to do the Gerry and punch him in the gut, because he's pulling the damn vibrator out of me and laughing with spunk in my ear... but I forgive him on the spot, when he throws the toy away like it's worth nothing, puts the camera back on the vanity table, and just squats on the floor and puts his face between my legs. The moment I can feel his thumb parting my nether lips and his tongue edging my clit, I throw my head back, put my hands over the mirror, and moan his name out loud. I feel quenched, because he's eating his candy before popping it, and it's such a noble thing of him to do... but with a twist of useless, because all of what I can do from this position, is hold on to the table and hope it doesn't fall on us. A little hurt never killed nobody... but I don't really think we'd like to be crushed by the vanity table of an already half broken hotel room.
'Fuck me'. I writhe, clenched and soft moans escaping my mouth, as he keeps his one arm around my waist, and keeps eating me out with such hunger. He's playing games with me, teasing me and stuff, he's got his face between my legs and his tongue on my clit for my own good... but I just want him, at this point, and I want him to know it unmistakably. I need to feel him inside of me. I need to become one with him. I need to find out if he's gonna thrust me into the floor as he promised at the breakfast buffet. I need to be taken just like this, from behind, and bent over a flat surface, like the first time we ever got it on. The head he's giving me is fucking amazing, his lips are around my cherry, and he's sucking and licking it alternately, making me shiver and moan everytime he showers it with kisses with the tip of his tongue. But man, I just fucking want to be filled with his big, big cock.
'Ok, nice name. Simple but effective'. He answers, more like, he tries to answer, while his tongue is still tracing my sulking clit... and we both laugh a little, when we realise that we're being a little bit quirky, no matter the spicy hot setting. I laugh even harder than him, more like, I laugh and moan simultaneously, as I subside to his head, and I wink at the camera that he's left on the edge of the table. He kisses the inside of my thighs, I cup my own breasts, hoping that it's going to make me feel hotter for the camera... and before I know it, he's edging my clit with his thumb, fucking me with two fingers, and jerking himself off altogether. He could be fucking me already, my pussy is ready, stretched and wet, I've just verbally told him I wanna be fucked ... but Sean is Sean, he needs his time with things, he possibly needs to joke around 'em... and like always, I'm gonna trust him and the process. How could I not? He's making me feel like I'm worth a thousand bucks, thrusting his fingers inside of me, then pulling them back, and laughing with spunk as he sees them coated with my sticky wetness. It could be his cock inside of me now... but he still wants to play, and that's why his tongue is back on my clit, his fingers are moving faster within me with each thrust, and he's still out there, not very secretly jerking himself off.
This is amazing by default, and the fact that we're getting everything taped up with my camera elevates the quality of this already very excellent tryst ... we're making a movie, or a home video, or the closest as it gets to that, but I still don't know how we're gonna call this one... anyone's got ideas?