Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I don’t want to climb him right here on the couch, but I angle my leg up and curl it into the back cushion so he has more room—more room to fit himself exactly where I need him. The hardness of him moving more toward my aching clit. His kiss scores through me, burning every bit of my body. He’s still hovering above me, careful not to crush me or put any pressure on my wounded nipple.
He’s still rough at the same time. Rough and gentle. Gentle where it matters. He doesn’t kiss me gently. He doesn’t stick his hands in my hair gently. He does those things like he means business.
I try to rock against him, but I’m still not hitting the right spot. A wiggle and a cinch of my leg up on the back of the couch, and yes. Yes! Yesssss! My vagina cries out in ecstasy. Yes, finally, some action. Penis action. Erotic male penis action.
Finally, feeling him, even constrained by his zipper and jeans and my dress and underwear, is the most wonderful sensation I’ve known on this couch. Or off of it. My vagina starts generating more fantasy images that my brain delivers behind my closed eyes. I lean into Mont’s kiss as I think about what his exact shape would feel like inside me. In my mouth. What his mouth would feel like licking my vagina like tomorrow isn’t coming.
Yessssssss!
I want to ride his face and come on his tongue. I want him to tell me to come on his tongue. I want him to tell me that my vagina is the best vagina on earth. The hottest, the tastiest. Then, I want commands. I want him to give my vagina commands, and I want her to obey, and that’s how I want to come. I want him to be bossy the way I can be bossy. I want him to be a boss in real life and a boss between the sheets.
Holy crabvioli. At the crab shack, crab ravioli is a thing, but I haven’t tried it yet. Maybe next time. There has to be a next time. For crab. For conversation. For this.
There has to be another time and another. There’s no way I’m going to have enough in a single session. I tilt my hips up to get a better feel, to angle Mont’s thick, hard length right at my clit. When it bumps against me, I make sounds against his mouth that sound like a jellyfish consuming a shark. I didn’t say glarb, glarb was sexy, but he grunts like it is.
We’re wearing too many clothes. I need less of them and more of this.
“Do you have condoms?” I pant, and then, since that was shockingly unsexy and blunt, I run my tongue over his lower lip.
“I do, yeah. Bathroom. I’ll get them.”
Okay, we’re doing this. We’re actually doing this. Unless he’s miscalculated and he’s out of condoms. In which case, I could be creative, and it would be more than satisfying, I’m sure, but I want all of him right now, and that includes more than his tongue and fingers.
I feel way too light when Mont gets off the couch. I don’t know how we got from sandy beach hornet crab date disaster to this, but we’re past all that, and we’re here now, and I’m here for it.
I’m here for it when he comes back with a shy smile on his face that looks so reluctantly in place. I can’t see packets of condoms trailing after him, but I’m sure he found one or two and put them in his pocket.
He sweeps me off the couch, so careful to make sure that the injured parts of me stay protected again. I gasp and hold on tight, but just because I have my head tucked against his shoulder doesn’t mean I don’t sneak a good look at the condo while we go up those twisty metal stairs. I’m glad he’s the one climbing them. My legs are way too unsteady for level one stairs, and these ones are more like an extreme level. I’d probably wobble and go careening straight over the edge.
Mont doesn’t wobble.
We get to the top of the stairs, and like magic, a light turns on. I’m not sure if he has it proximity wired. It would make sense, though. Rich people always have crazy devices to make their lives easier. Wait. I think anyone can buy those kinds of lights. I remember when dimmer switches, outdoor motion sensors, and the lights you had to make noise to turn on were a thing. Oh, and touch lamps! Oh my god. Technically, all of that was before my time, but my mom has a thing for stuff that was popular back when she was a teenager, so she’s kept a lot of her lamps, and every single light in my parents’ house is on a dimmer switch.