Loading...Aaron moaned, head rolling from side to side on his pillow. His jaw was tightly clenched, as were his fists. He thought hazily that he must be bruising the soft, perfect pear curves of her hips, but he couldn’t help it. He was dying. His cock was wedged tight in the hot clench of her no-longer virgin cunt and she was riding him, tits bouncing prettily, long red corkscrew curls springing and sliding over her lightly freckled shoulders. Her mouth was a lush rose bed of pleasure, lips wet and parted on harsh, hard, eager moans.
He watched her astride him, lithe body wringing and squeezing and massaging his cock while she rode up and down, and he was writhing and groaning under her, complete captive to her enchantment.
So fucking close to erupting inside her…
Leaning forward, she put her pretty face close to his. Her hot-sauce colored curls curtained around his face; his nose was suddenly filled with her, the woman-child sweetness of honey, strawberries, and rose. So perfect. So innocent….
“C’mon Mister Wagner,” she whispered, that same innocence in her smile even as she squeezed her slick cunt around him. His hips and upper thighs were her saddle as she rode astride him mercilessly. She was sweet and wild, a newly ruined virgin, his Lolita temptress, now his sweet little cumslut.
“C’mon Mister Wagner,” she breathed again, this time over his lips. “You want to. Come on. Do it. Cum inside me.”
He exploded.
His body snapped upward in a hard arc and he made a wild, open mouthed cry of pleasure that bordered on a howl. He shook while molten blasts of orgasm flashed through his blood.
“Baby–” he gasped. “Sweet….sweet…baby–”
Aaron Wagner woke from his erotic dream gasping those words and shaking. He lay on his back; cock spurting a few last drops of warm cum onto his belly; the final, shredded remnants of yet another wild wet dream.
And, as always, inspired by the same incredible female. His neighbor. His Lolita.
His best friend’s daughter.
Groaning, Aaron raised up on one elbow, dragging a hand through his hair before reaching across the bed to the nightstand for a tissue. Lying back on his pillow, he found himself looking at the breeze punching the curtains inward. Cleaning himself off, he caught brief glimpses of the second story window of John McAlton’s house next door.
He’d known John, a widower, since college. While he was still married and his own boys were off to college, John’s only child, Leila, had just turned 18 and was finishing her last few months of high school.
And driving him totally insane.
Watching the curtains, catching brief glimpses of Leila’s open window, he sighed, thinking of the night his obsession had begun.
Mid October had been uncomfortably warm, the nights deep and dark and heavy with humidity. He’d been feeling restless for several months; they’d just sent their youngest son off to college weeks before and his wife had been gone for nearly a week, on the first of what would prove to be many frequent business responsibilities out of town. He and Maggie had always had a good, stable marriage he supposed, but he’d been restless in the bedroom for several years now and she’d been less than interested in spicing things up.
A week before Halloween, he’d been sitting on the far side of their bedroom nursing a beer after a long, cool shower and sporting a very stiff cock. He’d leaned back, unbelting and opening his robe in an attempt to allow what little breeze existed to cool him off, sipping beer in the dark.
When Leila’s bedroom light suddenly poured out her open window he’d been surprised, glancing up automatically. It had been well after midnight, but she was, after all, 18 and pretty as a doll and it had been a Saturday night. With a tiny nudge of something that felt like jealousy (but he attributed at the time to nothing more than an almost fatherly concern since he was, after all, like her second father) he was relieved to see her home, and apparently happy.
He couldn’t have said if, before that event, he’d noticed the things he did that night: the ethereal gold-red halo that seemed to shimmer about her hair; the way her shoulders shifted–gently, with catlike grace; the sweet, almost invitational curves of her calves. She’d been wearing a short white sleeveless dress with a little matching jacket, stockings and strappy white heels. He’d been transfixed at the moment she snapped off the harsh overhead light, turning her back to him and slipping off that little jacket, baring shoulders of creamy, pale skin luminous in the moonlight.
She bent forward at the waist to snap on a little table lamp, surrounding herself with soft, low light. And while she was bent down, his cock throbbed suddenly and hard at the quick glimpse of that short dress riding up over gorgeous, delicately plumped thighs encased in pretty lace topped stockings, and the shadowy lower curves of an ass that made his palms itch.
He sat there in the dark, feeling incredible guilt for the purely sexual thoughts he was having about pretty little Leila and on the other hand, his cock was standing at proud attention and shouting hallelujah at the mere thought of those thighs.
She switched on the stereo next to the lamp. Rather than being irritated as he sometimes was with her bass-pounding choice of something unintelligible, he found himself thanking the unintelligible band for their pure unadulterated genius, because Leila started moving her hips in a way that made his fingers twitch, dropping the nearly empty bottle of beer onto the carpet.
She lifted her slender arms, taking something from her hair and letting it shower down her back, glimmering copper and fire against the stark white of the dress. Hips rolling in sensuous rhythm she stood there, her back to him, beginning a striptease that made him groan aloud in the dark.
She unzipped the dress; shimmied out of it, hips wriggling.
Aaron had seen her in a bikini a thousand times, but there was definitely something different about watching her dance in a skimpy white bra and panties.
She reached behind her and unhooked the bra; turned to face him. In an instant, the filmy scrap hit the ground.
So did Aaron Wagner’s good sense.
She lifted her hair off the back of her neck, hips rotating to the beat.
He had to open his mouth to breathe.
She slid her hands down her neck and caressingly over her high, tight breasts; the tip of her pretty tongue slid over her bottom lip.
Aaron was stroking his cock at the thought of that sweet, kittenish tongue; warm, wet and slightly rough, on his tightly stretched shaft.
He’d been held in an aroused thrall, filling the bedroom with his throaty, grinding moans and the scent of hot skin and salty precum. The wet sound of his fist masturbating his cock was raw and rhythmic.
She’d disappeared into her bathroom, but it didn’t matter then. Aaron sat staring into that room, the sight of a sweet, young, red-haired siren stripping for him lingering, bringing him to a spattering, teeth-grinding orgasm.
Since then he’d watched her, shamelessly. Walking to school with a friend, her ass and thighs hugged tight by the jeans she loved to wear. Sitting on her front porch, a sunny yellow T-shirt skimming over her belly and pulled taut over her breasts. And very occasionally, a glimpse of her in bubble-gum pink babydoll pajamas or panties and bra, moving past her open window.
And in some of those moments, his hunger imagined that when she looked back over her shoulder, the saucy smiles she smiled were for just for him; that every extra little wriggle of her hips was designed to entice him. Each time she waggled her fingers in passing, grinning and saying in her near Southern drawl, “Hey, Mister Wagner” he imagined a shot of hundred proof naughty in her voice.
Groaning at the idea, he dragged himself out of bed before his cock had him at the mercy of his fantasies.
Again.
The next few weeks seemed to drag. All Aaron could think about was Leila; she seeped into his skin, invaded his thoughts, monopolized his dreams. Maggie was working more hours than she was home and Aaron found himself with plenty of time to fantasize. It also gave him plenty of excuses to sit in the dark in their bedroom, stroking his cock, hoping for a glimpse of his red-haired angel.
And every day, the guilt grew. Leila was no longer a child, but he was married, for cripe’s sake! He had no business thinking how badly he wanted to sneak into her bedroom late at night and get his fill of her. She was the daughter of his best friend. He shouldn’t be imagining how tight the fit of her cunt would be grasping his cock, or how slick the roof of her mouth would be if he could push the swollen head of his cock back and forth against it.
How she would look, hair mussed, naked, on her knees, swallowing his thick cum.
With only a month left in the school year, Leila was getting ready for prom and graduation. Several nights, Aaron sat watching her parading in front of a full-length mirror trying on different outfits, each one better than the last. Despite John’s obvious disapproval, she settled on a green spandex dress that hit her mid thigh and high green heels.
Early the evening of the prom, Aaron was in his room, repairing one of the hinges on a closet door–one of the myriad little chores Maggie had listed on a “honey do” list on the fridge. A thousand things to keep him busy on all the evenings she was away. She’d left the house hours before, dressed to the nines, for yet another out of town business dinner and “intolerably stuffy” meetings. As his obsession with Leila grew, her increasing absences felt somehow like a slap in the face.
He thought about those two things and how they might be–or were–connected: the continuation of their lack of enthusiasm for their marriage, and his increasing desire for his best friend’s daughter. As he worked, he caught glimpses of Leila sprinting excitedly around her room, getting ready for the prom. She’d obviously had her hair done professionally; it was a beautiful mess of soft red curls atop her head and trailing down to tickle her throat and shoulders. She pranced, danced and sang, in her happiness clearly not caring that she was only wearing a light pink-peach bra and silky matching panties and that her curtains were wide open.
And that a grown man, his cock throbbing hard and his mind projecting dream films of her riding his swollen manhood, lived next door.
Aaron had ten minutes worth of work to do on the hinge. At 5:30 he sat down with his tools to repair the hinge.
At 5:45 she was smoothing some luscious cream that he imagined smelled of roses and sugar all over her delectable body and the hinge was still broken.
At 6:06 she threw on a robe to answer her door and hug her dad, who Aaron heard drive off a few minutes later. He wondered why on earth John would leave at a time like this. Hell, if she were his daughter, he’d want to embarrass her silly by doing the “yeah-I’m-the-parent-and-yes-I-have-to-take-pictures” routine and have a few minutes with the boy who had the nerve to think himself worthy of his princess, just to set the boy’s ego straight about who the man in her life really was.
And the hinge was unrepaired.
At 6:18, after she’d thrown off the robe again, she proceeded to dance to something that surely was too erotic to come out of the throat of anyone as sweet as Brittany Spears. The hinge had one of six screws as loose as all of his were and his hand was on his thigh, his thumb arcing back and forth over the fly of his jeans. The denim was nearly groaning with the effort to restrain his erection.
At 6:26 she bent over to smooth on a pair of iridescent gray stockings and he moaned so loudly that he was afraid she’d turn her head to look out her window and jam the curtains closed in disgust.
John had mentioned that the prom was at seven, so at 6:30 when the date was no doubt close to arriving, Aaron ignored his agonizing desire to cum, grabbed his car keys from the bureau, and ran down the stairs and out to his car.
Five minutes to the hardware store wasn’t enough time to get his swelling down and come up with a good excuse for going to the hardware store, so he drove out into the country for an extra fifteen minutes before heading back to town from the direction opposite his house. He jacked up the volume on the radio, drank half of a stale can of cola in the drink holder, and generally gave himself hell for ever having thought the kinds of things he was thinking about sweet, innocent Leila.
By the time he was pulling into the more developed end of town and heading back toward his own house, he’d decided that he really didn’t need anything from the hardware store except a big chunk of common sense, and he doubted Maggie left enough on the Visa to pick up one of those. So he breathed deeply, and tried to relax in the knowledge that when he got back to the house he could finish his hinge because Leila was gone. He’d jump on the net and get off to something he didn’t have to feel guilty about, and then spend the rest of his evening being responsible and husbandly. He had to admit that the ideas weren’t as arousing as the thought of teaching his best friend’s 18 year old daughter how to use her mouth to make a man cum, but hey, it was his life.
He pulled into his driveway and the first thing he noticed was that only the porch light was on next door. His own house looked equally unappealing and empty. Locking up the car, he headed in the kitchen door at the back of the house, ignoring the lights and heading toward the front hall stairs. He needed a damn shower, but he couldn’t figure out a way past the laws of physics to get the water cold enough before it froze.
It was the smell that stopped him.
Halfway down the hall to the living room, it drifted into his lungs, a potent paralyzing agent despite its delicacy.
Lilacs. Roses? Sugar. A tiny waft of spice.
“Leila.” He said the name aloud, instantly recognizing her in the scent, then cursed and went forward, certain he had lost his mind. Emerging from the dark hall, he froze.
She was standing in a halo of a small lamp left burning in the far corner, innocently sexy and sweetly sophisticated in her womanly hairdo and thoroughly modern prom dress: a perfect tube of emerald green hung over her slender shoulders by two thin rhinestone straps and swaging dangerously low between her exquisite breasts. Her legs, encased lovingly in the shimmering pale pearl-gray stockings were perfect as far as he could see them–halfway up her thighs–and her high heels glimmered soft green and made her look tall and mature, and her legs mouth-wateringly sexy.
His best friend’s daughter. His best friend’s daughter….his best friend’s daughter…..his best friend’s daughter……
“L–Leila,” he managed to choke out again, this time instead of thinking he’d lost his mind, wondering if his incredibly painful erection was noticeable in the half light.
She smiled, and the world wobbled. It was innocent, and sweet and so fucking erotic he wanted to groan. But he had to stay cool…she was probably here for some perfectly reasonable explanation.
“You shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked,” she said teasingly. “Just anybody could walk in.”
He nodded, feeling like his tongue was on permanent vacation. “I’ll try to remember that, honey, thanks.”
Her smile widened a two almost imperceptible dimples appeared in her creamy pale cheeks. “You knew I was here,” she murmured. “You said my name. In the hall.”
“Perfume,” he managed, finally feeling his breathing even out….but not much.
Leila nodded, setting those pretty fiery curls dancing on her throat. “Maybe I wore too much?”
“Oh, no!” he said quickly. “You’re perfect.”
She looked at him, clearly flattered by the outburst, while he was sure he blushed.
“You think so?”
He nodded. No reason not to agree, right? She was perfect. “Yeah. I do.”
“Well, ” she almost whispered, blushing herself, “that will make this a whole lot easier.”
“T–this?” Oh, god…what was “this”? His fists clenched; his body tightened. He wasn’t sure if he was awake, or dead on the side of the road. Yes, that was it…he’d had an accident and he was dreaming.
“Yeah,” she smiled again, taking a few steps toward him, then a few more. “This.” Then she was standing in front of him, the scent of her so hot and sweet he did groan aloud, but apparently that didn’t bother her, as she looked up at him and smiled while her hands took one of his, lifting it between them and smoothing his fingers away from his palm. “You’re tense,” she murmured. “Is that what I do to you?”
“Tense?” Was he tense? All he could think about was her hands holding his, her fingers smoothing his palm, his fingers curled naturally and so close to the swell of her breast….
“Yeah,” she chuckled, lifting his hand to press it to her cheek. “You’re tense. Is that because of me?”
He nodded. Apparently, he was incapable of lying to her, heaven help him.
Her smile tilted to one side, making her so adorable he had to smile a little, too. She was still a little girl…he was going to be okay, right? It was all just a dream.
Then she rubbed her cheek into the back of his hand, lost the smile in favor of a look so hot the soles of his shoes melted to the floor, and slid his knuckles down her throat…toward her cleavage….
He jerked his hand away.
“Lol–um….Leila,” he croaked, stepping back shakily. “Did you–” Why was she here?? What was the reasonable explanation? “Did you need something?”
Oh, lord…wrong thing to say.
She looked painfully unsure of herself for a fleeting instant in which he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and baby her; soothe her. Then she got a look of determination again and stepped toward him, leaving less space between them than before but, thank heavens, not touching him.
“Yeah, Mister Wagner. I do.”
“D–don’t you…have a date?” he tried to ask casually, sidestepping and walking around the long coffee table in a foggy attempt to remember where the light switches were. “You’ll be late for the prom, won’t you?” He glanced at the grandfather clock; it both reminded him that the prom started 20 minutes before and that he was ancient compared to her. What on earth was she doing??
“I’m not going to the prom,” she informed him almost casually. “I don’t have a date. Well…not from school, anyway.” And she grinned at him while he nearly stumbled over the edge of a table. “Is something wrong, Mister Wagner?”
“W-wrong? No….no, nothing’s wrong. Why on earth would anything be wrong?”
“You seem nervous,” she replied. “You never seemed nervous around me before.” Lowering her chin, she looked up at him through her lashes and pouted her lower lip just a tiny fraction, looking innocent and fragile. “You don’t like me anymore?” she whispered.
His heart broke. Moving back to her, he put his hands on her shoulders in an effort to soothe away her distress, hating that he’d made her feel that way. He was imagining shadows where none existed. He’d known this child all her life, for goodness sake. His thumbs arced up and down the soft inner skin of her upper arms; she was creamy warm in his hands. But he mustn’t think about that.
“Oh, honey, of course I still like you,” he managed evenly. “You just startled me, that’s all.” He needed a drink. “Why don’t you have a date? You’re all dressed up.” Good lord, where was the brandy? In the corner cabinet, next to the grandfather clock. Releasing her, he went to pour himself a generous glassful.
“Can I have some too?” she practically purred, somehow managing to slip up behind him and lay her cheek against his shoulder from behind.
Aaron jumped; brandy tilted over the side of the glass and spilled all over his nervous hand.
“Oh, look what I did,” she said in an I’m-innocent-but-oh-so-naughty voice, coming around him, taking his hand, complete with brandy snifter, back into both of hers. Removing the crystal from his nerveless grip, she set it down on the liquor cabinet, giving him an apologetic look. “Too bad,” she whispered, glancing around them. “No towels. And I have this little mess to clean up.”
She grinned; she stepped closer, lifting his hand at the same moment; she licked the fleshy base of his thumb and Aaron groaned, staring at her as if she were some celestial being visiting him to inform him that the accident he’d just had ruined his brain.
She licked again, this time lifting his hand higher and starting at the slightly jutting bone at his wrist and making one long, wet, warm swipe with her tongue all the way up to the end of his middle finger. Aaron stared. She parted her pink lips, taking the tip of that finger into her mouth; she sucked. He wondered how long it would be before he felt himself hitting the floor.
He swallowed; she slid the finger in to the first knuckle…..making a soft murmur of approval….the second knuckle….rolling her tongue around his flesh…..then all the way in….and all the way out…..
The floor was coming….the floor was coming…..surely.
He never hit it. Instead, reality slapped him and her jerked away from her, leaving her in the corner looking bewildered and more desirable than before.
“Leila–”
She looked up at him, all pink and cream skin, innocence and fire. “Don’t you want me to?”
Didn’t he? Didn’t he want her to suck…oh YES, he wanted. Needed. Ached. Was ready to beg for. Couldn’t find his voice to save his life.
“Don’t you want me to touch you?” she asked sweetly, reaching up with tender fingers to stroke the side of his throat. Flutter over his jaw.
Her skin was velvety. Against her touch he felt rough and very, very old.
She stepped closer. The first soft feel of her breath against his throat made him shudder. Her nose tentatively bumped his Adam’s apple and he closed his eyes, breathing her in even while he knew he should step back. Step away.
“Your skin is so hot,” she whispered, her lips brushing the side of his throat.
Aaron groaned. Her left hand was still on his face; her lips brushed his ear. Her every touch, every shift, every breath was sweetly awkward. He could feel her trembling.
“Are you?” she whispered, her breath a warm bath for his reeling senses. “Are you hot too?”
Her hip shifted, skimming his thigh. Aaron jumped.
“I am,” she sighed.
Aaron tried to pry his tongue from the roof of his mouth. His cock was so hard he could feel the imprint of his zipper all along its length, but all he could squeeze past his vocal cords was her name, breathless and slightly broken.
“Leila–”
“I know you want me,” she went on, ignoring his distress. “I know you’ve been watching me, Mister Wagner. Through the windows.”
“Oh no,” Aaron groaned miserably. He looked down into her face; she was smiling slightly, teasingly.
“Oh yes.” Leila nodded. “How do you feel about blackmail?”
“Blackmail??”
Leila laughed softly before sliding both arms around his neck. “I was joking.” Kissing the pulse at the side of his throat, she pushed her body against his.
Aaron backed up, but she only came along, now kissing up his throat, nipping his rough jaw and making him shudder.
“I…promise….I’ll…..never do it….again,” he rasped.
“Oh, yes you will. You like watching me. You get off on it.”
Aaron curled his hands into fists, trying not to reach up; not to hold her. Leila’s tongue was hot, wet and lightly rough behind his ear and her soft belly was pressing against his swollen cock. He was aroused, and ashamed of himself.
“Leila, please–”
“I know, I know. But you don’t have to feel guilty,” she answered. “I get off on it too.”
His cock jumped and swelled; she curled her fingers up into the hair at his nape. Aaron found himself stuck between the wall and her soft body, everything in him throbbing for her; looking down into her lovely face.
“That first night,” she confessed, her breath sweet on his chin and lips, “I had to run to the bathroom to play with myself. I was so excited. I knew you were watching me and…” she rotated her hips seductively against his. “…and….stroking yourself,” she finished, blushing prettily. “Do you think I’m sexy Mister Wagner?”
He choked on the word ‘yes’ as it hissed through his vocal cords; his hands–completely of their own volition–were at her waist, clenching and unclenching in indecisive spasms.
Leila smiled. Lifted her chin.
Kissed his mouth.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
Fuck her???? Oh fuck YES. Hard. Deeply. Repeatedly. From behind. With her riding his cock. YES. FUCK HER!
Aaron closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath; unfortunately rather than steeling himself against her seduction, it drew her further inside him.
“Leila–” he gasped. “I can’t–”
“I’ll tell my daddy what you’ve been doing,” she pushed. “I’ll tell him you’ve been jerking off watching his little girl undress.”
Aaron groaned. “Leila, have pity–”
She shook her head, a look of cunning and absolute desire on her features. “I want you. You want me. What’s so hard about that?”
He shook his head. He couldn’t do this. As much as he wanted to. Desperately wanted to…he couldn’t. “No,” he rasped. “It’s….it’s wrong. I can’t do that to you. To your dad.”
The moral stand he wanted to take didn’t appear to dissuade her. Instead, she stroked his hair, his face, settling her warm body tighter against his.
“You can do it to me because I want you to,” she murmured, rotating her hips again, rubbing his cock with her body through their clothes. “And as for my dad….” She raised one pretty brow. “Do you want to know where my dad is right now, Mister Wagner?”
Aaron frowned down at her.
“He’s in a hotel,” she whispered conspiratorially. “With his lover. Doing what I want to do with you.” Leila curled her fingers in the slight gap between the top buttons of his shirt. “Do you want me to tell you, in detail, what I want to do with you?”
YES!!!!
“No. Leila…I’m married.” He was running out of reasons not to. Or maybe he was just hoping that he was running out of them.
Leila smiled the kind of smile a woman displays when she knows some deep dark secret in your heart that she can use to get what she wants. Yeah, like the fact that you’re a peeping Tom who watches sweet young girls through their bedroom windows. Aaron watched her, wanted her. Positively ached for her, cock and heart and all.
“Yeah,” she murmured, unbuttoning the first button just under the hollow of his throat. “I know.” She moved her head, her silky hair tickling his chin as she bent her lips to that little bit of skin she’d uncovered. Her lips a hairsbreadth from his body, she inhaled and shuddered, as if as affected as he. Then she kissed, and he slammed back against the wall, jarring the cabinet full of crystal and the grandfather clock the way she was jarring his last shred of resistance.
“Please,” he hissed, not sure if he was asking her for more, or less. “Please…Leila. I’m married.” It was the last hope; the holy grail of moral right; the cross and garlic and holy water to her vampiric seduction, and he held it up like a banner, closing his eyes and taking her upper arms in his hands as she unbuttoned the next button, and gathering that last bit of strength he needed to push her away….
Then she said it.
“You know,” Leila whispered in that little girl-woman voice, “Where she is tonight?”
He stared at her, in mid shove.
Leila looked up at him, loving him in a way she’d never loved–or lusted after–anybody her own age, and felt sorry for him. But she was glad, too, that she was here, to break his fall. “You know who she’s with?”
He stared.
Leila straightened, wrapped her arms around him; held him. Whispered about the secret she’d smiled earlier. “She’s with Daddy.”
Aaron thought maybe his chin was on the ground, but he could feel it right where it should be. That seemed odd. And he was in his living room, holding the siren of his erotic dreams….that was odd, too. But this….
“She’s on business,” he threw back. “Out of town.”
Leila nodded, her eyes on her fingers as they went for the third button. “Yeah. Chicago. For three days. Last week, she worked late every night but Tuesday. So did Daddy. The week before that, it was Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Daddy had to go out of town on real business that Thursday and Friday.” Releasing the third button, Leila bent and licked his skin there, making him groan. Or maybe it was the truth.
“It’s okay,” Leila whispered against his chest, kissing the edges of his collarbones. “I’ll take good care of you, Mister Wagner.”
His resolve broke. His hands on her upper arms, he hauled her away from him all of two inches, making her look up at him with an aroused, almost frightened look on her face, and then he jerked her back, making her gasp, and he kissed her.
Hard.
Moaning, she melted against him, her arms going up around his neck again, her soft, firm breasts pushing into his chest, her hips cushioning his hard cock through their clothes. He wrapped her in his arms, tilting his head, kissing her as if she were some experienced whore and not his innocent next-door-angel. He forgot, for a moment, that she was more child than woman. Opening her mouth, tasting her tongue, her teeth, the roof of her mouth, all while she moaned for him and gave, and opened and rubbed against him. She tasted like nothing he’d ever dreamed.
He gentled his touch, releasing her upper arms to cradle her face in his hands. He couldn’t release her mouth; the taste of her, moaning, her tongue gracefully; delicately playing with his, was too rich. Too deep, dark, secretive. Succulent.
He softened his mouth on hers, seducing her as he slowed his pace, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs, all the pads of his fingertips slowly caressing her scalp.
She sighed and purred and moaned under his mouth as he taught her kissing–adult kissing–and swam in her taste and fucked her with his tongue. Somehow he turned them both until she was against the wall and he was pressing her. Between a cock and a hard place, as it were, although ‘hard’ definitely described the former as well as the latter.
Minutes passed. Hell, it might have been hours, while the only sounds were pleasured sighs and eager mouths. And when he could finally part from her they were both working for breath and he was looking down into the sweetest expression a woman had ever worn for him.
“Tell me to stop,” he gasped, offering her an out.
Lelia shook her head. Eyes glowing and as soft and warm as candleflame, wet lips deliciously swollen from his mouth. “No.”
He looked into the farthest depths of her eyes that he could reach and wanted to smile, but his cock was throbbing too painfully. “Say that again.”
She whispered, “No,” again, gasping when he reached for her wrist, jerking her away from the wall; toward the fireplace, where he stood her in front of it, facing the sofa.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, a feeling of incredible sexual power making him shudder to his toes as he moved to light the gas fireplace, backlighting her with a warm orange-red glow. Leaving her standing there, he went about the room, making sure that every bit of every window was covered with the heavy curtains his wife had chosen so carefully. Locking the front door and then the back, engaging the deadbolts on both, so that even if someone arrived unexpectedly, they could not enter without his allowing it.
He came down the hallway a second time that evening, this time knowing she was standing there, waiting for him.
Wanting him.
Coming back to the living room, he walked the perimeter of it, watching her, nearly growling at the tentative, almost timid looks she gave him from under her thick lashes. He poured himself another drink. Rounded the sofa. Sat, facing her, sipping.
“If you aren’t sure about this, now is the time to say it,” he told her plainly. She looked at him with an almost panicked expression as soon as she heard it. “Because in about five minutes, I’ll be beyond letting you go.”
At that, Leila smiled and relaxed, but only a little.
He gave her a minute, away from his body, from his influence. Finished his drink while he let her think. Finally, he put the empty glass on a side table and then stared into her face, showing her just how far gone he was already.
“You have to be sure,” he repeated.
“I’m sure,” she whispered, the sounds of the flames licking behind her almost louder than her words. “Please…”
He closed his eyes, resting his head back on the thickly padded sofa. “Say that again,” he told her.
He heard her move; after half a second, felt her soft knee in its pretty stocking brush his knee. Felt her bend over him, her heat blanketing his senses. And then, sending electric shivers down his spine, heard her voice in his ear as her hands settled on his shoulders.
“Pretty please, Mister Wagner?”
He grabbed her, jerked her off balance, and onto his lap; she had to straddle him or fall over completely. Aaron held her tightly by the waist and she sat there, skirt hiding very little of her upper thighs, radiating heat from her core against his crotch, even inches away. He looked up into her face.
“Now…show me what you want, baby.”
She looked dazed for an instant, then tilted her head a little and bent to kiss him. Experimentally, she ran her hot little tongue across his bottom lip, making him groan. She stroked his hair, his shoulders. Scooted closer until her sweet bottom was high on his lap and her cunt was separated from him only by a few thin layers of her panties and his trousers and briefs. She cooed and sighed and wriggled, all little-girl kinds of awkwardness making him harder, and hotter.
They were kissing again, this time with her pressing into him, taking his tongue into her mouth, sucking at it, making the wettest, most eager kissing sounds and moaning in the bargain. His hands stroked down her hips, to her ass, skimming over the soft material of her dress, then up her spine. Every touch he gave, she moved into like a cat craving the petting. Every kiss made her writhe against him and moan and he could feel the hard little peaks of her nipples tightening and pushing at his chest, where his shirt lay open already. He didn’t know how long he’d last.
He took his hands from her and started on the last of his shirt buttons; without leaving his mouth she shoved his hands away and did it herself, biting at him with pretty pearl polished nails in her eagerness. She tore the last button off, popping it somewhere to the floor, before grabbing handfuls of the tail of his shirt and jerking it almost angrily, making little whining sounds into his mouth as she fought to get the thing out of his trousers.
Aaron lifted his hips, letting the fabric release from where he’d tucked it in so neatly this morning; she made a noise of triumph as she moved her hands to his shoulders to push it off; by moving a bit and shrugging first one shoulder than the other, he helped her dispose of it.
Her hands were all over his chest; her mouth was on his cheek, kissing…always, eagerly kissing….over to his ear. She nibbled. She sucked, making little noises that were hungry and impatient. Aaron let his head rest, arching his neck a little for her, and decided, despite his desire to rip her panties away and shove his cock up into wet, tight, young cunt, to allow her all the experimentation she liked. He stroked her hips, her back, reaching up for the tab of the zipper of her dress while she worked her mouth down the tense column of his throat. The damned tiny sliver of metal eluded him, slipping from his calloused fingertips three times before he claimed it; dragged it down fast with a long zzzzzzzzzzzzzzip to her waist. His fingers were rough against the silk of her spine and lower back; he found her shoulderblades and memorized them by fingertip. She arched her back and wriggled closer. Now, only a space that a breath could barely get through kept her cunt from his cock.
“Baby,” he gasped, the vision of his wet dreams now sitting on his lap, sucking on the opposite earlobe. “Oh, my sweet baby…”
She gave both of his ears, and both sides of his throat, equal time with her luscious mouth. Then his shoulders, and his collarbones. He got the hem of the dress in his hands and, as she had been impatient with his shirt, he growled and tugged at her dress, tucked tightly between the backs of her thighs and the tops of his.
Leila pushed at his shoulders, sitting up astride him. Again they were face to face, looking almost helplessly at one another, with her face a little higher than his. Aaron was breathing hard, his chest moving deeply up and down; she traced her fingertips across his collarbones, watching the motion, licking her lips. Then she looked back at him. Then back at her fingers on his body, tickling them down to his nipples, brushing. Making him groan a little. Playful experimentation. Then down, over the line to his belly. Back and forth over the top of his waistband. He knew when her eyes dropped that she was looking at his cock, wildly straining against his trousers, making a large, hard bulge. She licked her lips again. She reached for him and he grabbed her hand.
“No!” he hissed.
She tilted her head in a sweet little gesture of confusion. “No?”
Aaron shook his head, her hand in his. “Baby, if you touch me, this will last about ten seconds. I’m old, remember?”
She laughed. Musically; magically. His 18 year old siren sitting astride his thighs, laughing, her breasts bouncing just slightly as she did, captivating him as he never imagined he could be. “Oh, please,” she said in that typically teenage way of disbelief. “You’re not even close to old yet. You’re perfect.”
She raised a brow playfully and winked at him, and Aaron grinned, feeling as young as she thought him to be. But that didn’t change the reality of his anatomy and its age. She tried to touch him through his trousers with the other hand, and he snagged that one, too.
“I mean it,” he warned.
She relaxed in his hold and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck; he released her wrists while she snuggled against his chest, whispering in his ear. “How many times do you think we can do this tonight?” she murmured, nibbling his earlobe. “Three?”
Aaron’s hands clenched on her hips.
“Four?” She licked his throat.
Aaron jerked.
“Five?” She pushed her hips forward against his, settling her crotch against the bulge in his pants he wouldn’t let her touch and Aaron moaned, grinding his teeth against the desire to cum.
“If it only lasts ten seconds,” she whispered seductively, “that’s okay with me. I’m planning on doing it to you again. All night.”
“Oh sweet god,” he hissed as she rotated her hips against him. “Please…baby, not like this.”
She raised up on her knees, reaching between them to release his cock from his strained fly and take him into her hand. Then she made a sound of excitement he hoped was because he had the biggest cock she’d ever seen (hell, he hoped it was the only cock she’d ever seen) and started stroking him, between those silky stockinged thighs. She was sitting back, moving her hips unconsciously in the rhythm of her hand, her thighs open over his. She stared, clearly fascinated.
“You’re so hard,” she whispered in a sort of sexual awe, and moved her soft little hand so smoothly over him that he bucked up into her touch.
“Baby…” he whispered. “Oh, god…baby don’t stop…please.”
She looked at him and grinned so wickedly it made his nerve endings sing–or was that the way her fingertips teased at the head of his cock?–and when she looked down again, he followed her eyes, only to groan at the sight of his cock, thick and rigid and dark, against the soft pale perfection of her smooth hand. She used her other fingers to take the hem of her dress, and slide it up her thighs until he could see the wide, intricate lace at the top of her stockings, and then pale thighs, lightly dusted with adorable freckles he planned to lick right off her, and then…oh god…then….her panties. A tiny scrap of lace some designer had the good sense to sell to kids, heaven bless him. Aaron was breathing like a freight train and his balls, still crammed tight in his trousers, were swelling and aching like the devil.
“Do it on my panties,” she whispered.
Aaron growled, his body tightening like a bow, nearly throwing her back, and he came. Hard…long…painfully…erotically…his body jerking, his mouth open to allow noises that were nothing less than animalistic to emerge. Spasming, he watched his body shoot hot ribbons of white cum all over her pretty hand, and those prettier thighs, and when a stream darkened her light silky panties, he came harder, moaning deeply.
It subsided, after what seemed like an hour of pleasure, leaving him bodily limp, feeling as if his soul had been drained, and he rolled his head back against the couch, gasping.
Leila purred as if she’d just won a gold medal, her hand slowing, making him shake and convulse every time her fingers rose on his shaft and over the head of his softening cock. He endured it, because when he looked at her, his eyes opened just a slit, she was watching herself play with him, utterly enrapt. He didn’t have the heart to ask her not to touch him, even if it was almost too much sensation for him to endure. When finally she stopped the motion of her hand, he could feel himself starting to pulse again…the hot race of blood starting somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.
Leila tore her gaze away from the man’s cock in her hand, and looked at the man himself with soft eyes.
“I want to make you feel like that again,” she whispered, her voice raw with desire.
Aaron put his hand over hers, their fingers threading together, both wet with his cum. He wondered if he’d ever experienced anything so blatantly sexual, or so perfectly sweet.
“Baby,” he murmured, “it’ll take me a few minutes to recover.” He chuckled softly. “That was….incredible.”
She blushed, and smiled almost shyly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Looking down at their hands, she grinned devilishly. “I made a mess,” she sighed playfully.
“Mmmmm. Yes, you did, Princess.” The term of endearment made her blush harder. “Now it’s my turn.” Leila raised a brow at him questioningly but he only reached for the box of tissues on the side table. After the next minute or so, he decided he never wanted to have to clean himself up alone again; having her help was too erotic. Then he tossed them to the floor, adjusted his trousers, and took her hands in his.
“Stand up, baby,” he ordered softly, scooting to sit at the edge of the sofa as she did, his knees apart, with her standing between them. He raised his hands to her shoulders, where the thin straps of the dress were already slipping dangerously low, sliding one finger under each strap and moving them down over her softly freckled shoulders. The bodice of the dress lost its taut position, beginning to gape. Aaron leaned forward, licking the skin there, the sides of his tongue skimming the inner slopes of her breasts, growling a little when she jumped and moaned, holding his head.
His fingers slid the straps to her elbows; he tugged to get her hands down and the straps off. When he did, the bodice slumped down to her waist, revealing her perfect breasts, barely and proudly held up for his mouth by a little scrap of strapless bra that matched her panties. He kissed her, on that satiny strip of flesh just between them, inhaling the scent of aroused woman and child-innocence and her hot perfume, alternating licks with his kisses, loving the way she moaned and pressed his head into her and squirmed. He loved the way she whimpered when he kissed his way slowly, passionately, along the upper edges of her bra, over the fullness of each breast, only an inch from the hardening nipples that he felt brushing his cheek as he moved. He sucked her skin on the inside upper curve of her left breast; she moaned softly.
Pulling back just a bit, he looked at her, displayed so prettily for him, and at the small, hard spots of her nipples like tight little rosebuds under the fabric, pouting for his mouth. She sighed, and he could hear the rush of her breath through her lungs and feel the warmth of her close to him each time her breath moved in her chest, pushing her forward, as if in the very act of taking in air she was begging.
“Please,” she whispered quietly, sounding so sweet he smiled. Then he parted his lips and put them over her left nipple, sucking her through the fabric.
Leila’s hands convulsed on his head, pulling him hard into her, and pushing her breast hard into his mouth. Aaron laved her with heat, sucked and nibbled and licked at her nipple until she was breathing moans and pleas.
“Oh…..please…..please!” she hissed, undulating her body in innocent attempts to get her breast father into his mouth.
He drew away, looking up at her, her face flushed with desire, her lips parted and wet. Then he put his hands up, cupping her tits, running his thumbs across the hardened nipples, and pinching them lightly. She bit her lip and whined softly, back arching, head falling back a little, hands on his shoulders.
Aaron put his hands to the flimsy little scrap of a bra between her breasts and tore it open so it fell in shreds and threads to the floor, her pretty, plump breasts bare, nipples pale pink and tight with arousal. Aaron put his mouth back to her, taking her right nipple between his teeth, lightly teasing and raking her, then soothing with licks and sucks while her moans and whimpers grew louder; stronger. More frenzied. He felt the rough stubble of his chin and cheeks abrading her, arousing her, and growled at the knowledge that he was marking her for his own. She was his.
Leila trembled as he used and adored and assaulted her breasts, Aaron by turns being gentle and forceful, taking what he wanted of her cream and honey skin. And only after a long, long time did he take himself away from her, reclining back on the sofa, looking up at her, his cock stiff as iron again. She stood there before him, shaking slightly, skin reddened from his mouth and teeth, dress around her hips. She was a siren. A slut, and an innocent angel, all at once.
“Take your hair down.”
Leila reached up, removed the clips or pins, showering that fiery hair down over her shoulders.
“Take off the dress, ” he said firmly.
She put her hands at her waist, pushing slightly, and the material slipped down, pooling around her feet in those ridiculously high heels. Her body was slim and plump in the right places; the slight swell of her thighs and hips were feminine and so very, very young…
“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron breathed, and Leila relaxed visibly, as if his approval was what she’d needed; wanted. Rising, Aaron took her by the hands, turning her as she stepped out of the dress so that now he was facing the sofa and she had her back to it. He slid down to his knees in front of her, sliding his hands across her body as he did. Her arms, the sides of her breasts, her waist, hips. Her outer thighs, her calves. Then he traveled back up again, but only as far as the little pair of panties that hid her sweet pussy from his eyes; his mouth. Bending forward, he kissed her pretty little navel, sliding his tongue around it, making her giggle and gasp and her hips thrust forward. He could smell the hot arousal of her and he put his hands between her legs, pushing her thighs open a bit; she wobbled on the heels, putting her hands back on his shoulders for balance.
He should have been a gentleman, he supposed, and let her take off the shoes, but hell, they made her legs seem miles long and her ankles so sweet and delicate that he didn’t have the heart. The contrast of innocent little prom queen and wanton was making his cock throb painfully.
Aaron looked up to find her shaking and watching him, suddenly looking small and shy and he knew she was realizing how much she’d put herself at his mercy.
“Take off the panties, Princess,” he growled.
She put her hands on the panties, at her hips, and in a motion that was awkward and unpracticed, she slid them down over her hips. Because she was in the tight space between him and the sofa she couldn’t bend down to push them farther; the panties snagged and hung, just above her knees.
Aaron’s nose was inches from the softest, sweetest smelling cunt he’d ever had displayed for his pleasure. She was not shaved, or even trimmed; instead, her rosebud-colored-freckles-on-milk skin boasted velvety curls the color of that hot sauce he loved so much. Her hands were knotted into fists at her sides. Aaron closed his eyes, inhaling…and his cock beat in hard time with his heart.
Rising, Aaron stepped back until he could feel the fire at the backs of his thighs, staring at her, her panties around her knees, her eyes wide and waiting. Slowly, he undressed. Shoes, socks…trousers, boxers. She forgot to be nervous about her own body, staring at his.
“Sit down, Leila,” he said in a tone he might have used telling a child to pick up her toys. When she moved to slip off the panties first, he stopped her. “No. You can slip them down but leave them on, and sit down.”
Leila nudged the panties; they slid down to her ankles and she sat as gracefully as she could, with panties cuffing her ankles and those high heels a handicap in themselves, sinking down onto the sofa.
“Spread your legs for me, baby,” Aaron whispered.
She did, as far as the panties would allow, planting her feet farther apart, hands at her sides, tits warm as fresh cream in the firelight, hair burning like his need. The soft curls between her thighs parted too, and he caught a glimpse of moist pink pussy lips, and groaned.
Moving back toward the sofa, he stood over her for a moment, his cock jutting out hard and throbbing at the right height for her to lean forward and open her mouth….
He went to his knees in front of her again, reaching down to remove her panties and toss them in the direction of his clothes, fully intending to keep them. With one hand on either of her thighs, he pushed her legs open farther and she moved her feet wider, sinking back into the sofa, exposing her perfect, wet, delicious pink slit to his gaze.
Aaron rocked forward, taking her nipples again, making his little angel moan, never moving his hands from her thighs. She wrapped her fingers around his head, pushing her tits into his avid mouth, whimpering and making soft begging noises, back arching, legs trembling in his grasp. Teasing and arousing her with his mouth, Aaron marked her throat and chin and shoulders and plump tits with the rough stubble of his chin and cheeks and all the while she bowed up toward him and gasped and asked for more…more….
Sliding his hands up her thighs while he sucked her tight little nipples, Aaron touched the swollen lips of her with his thumbs, parting her. Leila cried out a little, sinking farther back into the cushions. He kept her open with one hand and with the other, slid a fingertip from the base of her cunt up to her clit, and she jolted and jerked and groaned. Suddenly, he ducked his head, planting his mouth over her cunt, licking her clit.
Leila screamed.
Her fingernails dug into his scalp and she bucked up, pushing her cunt at his mouth, but he only gave her the one feel of his tongue. Nose-to-cunt with her, he grabbed her behind the knees, pulling her ass to the edge of the sofa, making her gasp. Then he pushed her thighs open again, farther this time, and the smell of her–hot, ripe, sweet and tart–made his mouth water. He buried himself in her cunt.
Aaron ate her pussy wildly, all his intentions to be slow and make her crazy lost in his own hunger for this taste of paradise between her soft thighs. He licked and sucked at her clit, slid his tongue up and down, up and down, along her slit. Fucked her tight pink hole with his rolled tongue; wrapping his arms around her thighs, he lifted her ass off the sofa and to his mouth, feasting.
Leila sobbed and begged and writhed, trying to get her fingers into the sloppy wet mess he was making of her, to stroke her clit and get off, but he wouldn’t allow her to end it so fast. She was pushing his head down and her hips up in rhythmic thrusts, fucking his face like some seasoned cumslut rather than the sweet little girl he knew. She begged, then pleaded, then swore softly at him.
“Oh god, pleeeease Mister Wagner,” she gasped. “PLEASE. Make me cum!”
Instead, he went on fucking her with his tongue, as deeply as he could, his thumbs rubbing on either side of her slippery, swollen clit. Always pushing her toward it…never letting her get there. Her cunt was oozing the sweetest arousal he’d ever tasted, the lips swelling and getting slicker. Hotter. He ate and ate at her, licked and sucked and fucked her pussy. She put her high-heeled feet on the edge of the sofa, to push herself harder at him.
“Please…” she gasped as his hands grabbed her tits, pinching her tight little nipples and his mouth went back to her clit. “Please…..please…..PLEEEEEEASE!!!!!!”
Aaron took her clit between his lips, rolling and sucking it, flicking it with his tongue. Leila arched and laid back her head and screamed, her hands scratching madly at his shoulders. She came, her body bouncing between his mouth and the sofa, hips wild in her passion, cunt flooding with juices that covered his lips and chin and nose. He was relentless, pushing her harder and harder, sucking her clit even as her spasms calmed and she began begging him to stop, refusing to allow her time to bottom out before pushing her up again. She made high-pitched, open mouthed cries, trying to push him away, until she passed some point of pleasure and began to moan and writhe again, nearly sobbing with the intensity of it.
He gentled his mouth but continued licking and sucking at her, loving the taste of her cunt juices on his tongue; wanting her ready for the next fantasy.
Leila was mewling and whimpering in pleasure when Aaron took his mouth away; she made a soft sound of disappointment until he came up to kiss her, and she had the first taste of her own cunt. Aroused and shocked by the sharing of her pleasure, she kissed him, and licked delicately, kitten-like, at his chin and lips and cheeks, cleaning him and learning her own flavor. Then he took her by the hands, her smaller, softer ones so delicate in his own, pulling her to her feet.
“Come on, baby,” he murmured, walking backward, leading her toward the fire. Leila’s face was flushed with pleasure, her cheeks warm and pink, a look of delicious satisfaction in her eyes.
Aaron drew her to her knees before the fire, lowering himself with her and they knelt there and he kissed her….over, and over and over, the heat sated for a little while, the embers banked. She sighed and moaned and made sweet, soft sounds that throbbed through his cock, her hands like delicate little wings on his skin. Aaron’s hands were on her face, stroking her cheeks while he devoured her mouth and taught his little angel to suck at his tongue.
He pulled her down. Lying on his back on the floor before the fire, Aaron pulled her atop him, the length of her so delicate and soft and light; his cock rubbing at the silky curls between her thighs. He raised one knee to part her legs; her knees naturally straddling him as he continued kissing her, never releasing her mouth or taking his hands from her precious face. As her thighs parted, his cock pushed up against the wet folds of her cunt and he rocked his hips up and back, parting her lips farther; getting his cock wet with her delicious juices.
Leila wrapped her arms up behind his shoulders and put her weight on her elbows and knees, levering her hips up and moving against him. Aaron moved his hips up, she pushed down. He pulled down, she followed him, never letting her wet cunt lose contact with his cock. She broke from his kiss, both of them gasping, and bent down to whisper in his ear, “Fuck me.”
Aaron groaned, his hands tightening on her face just before he slid them down to cup and caress her breasts, his cock insistent between her thighs.
“Please,” she breathed in his ear, moving her hips so that the head of his cock was at the slick entrance to her cunt. “Pretty please, Mister Wagner?”
Aaron had no control. He grabbed her tits, shoved his cock up; buried the whole hot, hard, pulsing length of his meat into her cunt, and arched his neck, crying out aloud at the feel of her around his shaft. It took nearly a minute for her reaction to come clearly into his fuzzy brain.
Leila’s hands were like claws on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. She was shaking, and he was sure that at the moment he’d taken her so roughly, she’d sobbed in his ear.
“Baby….baby, what’s wrong?” he murmured, stroking his big hands up and down her back.
“I never……….I never…….” was all she gasped.
Aaron froze. “You’ve never….done this?” he rasped, his voice cracking a little.
She shook her head on his shoulder. “I…my last boyfriend and me…we fooled around a little, but….we never….”
Aaron wrapped his arms around her; smoothing his rough hands over her silk skin, calling himself all manner of filth for having been so stupid with someone so precious.
“I’m sorry, baby. So sorry. I promise I won’t ever hurt you again.” He gentled her with his words and then with kisses, all the while, the thick, throbbing length of his dick buried so deep inside her that she was stuffed full of him and yet he stayed motionless, barely daring to breathe in an effort to let her adjust to him. He wiped tears off her cheeks; she bit her lip in that soft, blatantly sexual way that was so beautifully innocent. He murmured soothingly to her; little by little, she began to squirm, pushing a little, then rocking, her body sliding back and forth just a few inches in one direction, then the other, but it was enough to make Aaron clench his fists on the carpet and moan for her to stop.
“It’s okay,” she whispered in his ear. “It feels…”
“How does it feel, Princess?” he rasped, forcing his hands to open so he could grasp her silky hips and help her move up. Back. Up. Back.
“Mmmmmmmm it feels…” she closed her eyes, moving a little harder against him, shoving her cunt down around his shaft deeper. “It feels so hard,” she whispered. “Hot. It feels so good, but–”
Aaron wanted to scream no. He was afraid she was going to stop; to say that it wasn’t as good as she’d wanted it to be, that he wasn’t what she’d wanted. But instead, she pushed at his shoulders, sitting up astride him, and his cock slid impossibly deeper into her and she gasped loudly.
“Ohhhhhh,” she moaned. “Yessssssssss. Like this! It’s so deep. So hard…” Her eyes closed, she rose up on her knees, only to slam down again onto his erection, and Aaron cried out with pleasure.
Aaron cupped her tits, rubbed over her nipples with his thumbs and forefingers; she put her hands over his and pushed herself harder into his hands.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” she chanted sweetly, and every ‘yes’ was punctuated by her wet fist-tight cunt sliding up and down his thick cock. Every slide ended with her body mashed down against his with a wet little sound that made Aaron moan.
“YES! Oh….yessss,” Lelia whimpered, her body moving faster, her cunt soaking him with sweet liquid arousal. She looked down on him with her face soft and pink, flushed with need. “Oh…oh….oh…..Mister Wagner….PLEEEEASE come inside me!!!”
She started to shake, her head falling back, her hands grabbing at his wrists and at the first feel of her cunt squeezing him in rhythmic waves of her orgasm, Aaron shoved his cock up into her as high and tight and far as he could reach, grabbing her hips and shoving her down onto him as he began to spurt heavy ribbons of cream into her pussy.
They moaned together, bodies arching hard and spasming in mutual orgasm. Leila whimpered–a sweet, high-pitched, gasping sound of pleasure while Aaron groaned, teeth grinding hard, using her as his hot little cumslut; the sweet princess who took his thick white load. They were both shaking when it was over. Leila slumped down onto his chest and all Aaron could do was hold her, stroke her, and catch his breath.
The fire licked warmth around and over them, and she snuggled into him in ways that made his cock ache, even as it softened and slid from her tight sheath with a little hot, wet sound against his thigh. He sighed, and wondered if he had ever been so satisfied in his whole long life. Then Leila stirred, rising slightly to kiss him, grin, and whispered,
“That’s only two.”
And Aaron, his angel on his chest, lifted his chin and laughed, and kissed the little minx and started thinking about number three.