Tag: his voice makes me cum

“You’re riding me.”

This thot spills out of your mouth in breathy whisper before you can stop yourself. Though you are not alone; we are both slightly amazed at this. . . fit. My silky thighs tense. I spread and you slip in even deeper. Your hands firm. This is where we want me. You, to see me, to drink in the upward curve of my swinging tits. Me to pinch my nipples for our mirrored jaws, dropped. I want you in awe. I want your chant “Yeah, oh yeah, Fuck.”  You hold my hips in place and I buck. The last of your fullness pushes my smooth lips aside. I swell with the stretch of your cock filling me to its end. A ragged gasp falls out of me, I am over-heating. . . pulsing with need. I dig my fingers into your chest and harder, I thrust into you.

I am.
I’m riding you into the sunset.

My juice, my juice slaps us sweet to slick. Me above, you below. Breathy silence rides the wind of our rhythm, of my fwapping thighs and our soaked groins. When you thumb my clit, you push me deeper into your gaze and I break, I can’t do this. . . can’t bear the blurring of what we both want. I take. In this moment, I take your length and your beauty and our trust. I inhale with the only part of me that matters. I gorge on our giving, on our passion. I am insatiable. Right until you flip me around and take me from behind, ass up, legs entwined, I take you in. We fill this saddle and we fuck. We fuck. We fuck me hard and deep into this forbidden night. My own button pushing, pushing us both, spilling us over the edge.

I feel your lasso fingers well into the next day. Invisible, if not for this ache you’ve branded into me. Your voice the echo that tethers me to a Promise of More.  So much more.