Grab the redhead and lay one on her
From Create Your Own Story
"There's nothing miniature about how I golf," you say, seizing her by her upper arms.
"Poor choice of words?" Her speech rushes out as you yank her to you and press your mouth on hers. Your hands are rough but your lips are slow, gentle, inexorable, forcing hers gradually, rhythmically wider. Her body holds itself awkwardly in your grasp, but as you kiss, she melts against you, sighing in her throat, her hips moving against your thighs and her tits at your chest.
You separate wetly. Your breaths echo in each others' mouths, apart only a little, and her eyes open on yours. She purrs "Hel-lo" and kisses you again, this time fully open, mouths wide, tongues deep. You hear a sound like something metallic clattering on the ground, she has dropped whatever she got from the car, and her arms are around you, hands on you. You release her biceps and gather her in close, running your fingers down her back and under her ass. She takes a fistful of your shirt and launches a kiss that threatens to chew your mouth off. You struggle for a moment and push her away with your hands on her tits; her hair obscuring the bronze bourbon heat in her eyes, a fuck-me-red curl to her lip, she presses them back into your palms as she strains to pull your shirt closer with you in it.
"Can't take the heat?" she sneers, tossing her head back.
"Aw fuck you," you say, and dive for her neck and chest, biting like a starving man. You want to score her with your incisors. "Oh, I think you've got the right idea," she says, one hand pulling in your hair. She gets a knee up on the hood of the car and slides the tomcat between her legs against your thigh; you can smell the heat, tomcats fighting polecats. You grab her ass, her crimson dress in the way, you pull it up around her hips with your other hand, get your fingers nestled in there where the backs of hter thighs join her crotch, conducting reconnaissance and electricity. You imagine a river of milk, an ocean of pleasure, death by drowning. You wrench her against you and gasp in pain as she squeezes your envised erection.
"Aw," she pouts, "does puppy need his collar off? Should I let this junkyard mongrel out?" she says more lasciviously.
"If you do you might want to run."
"Does your dog bite?" she says mimicking an outrageous French accent. She leans close. "I bite too." A quick peck and she goes to work on your pants. It's not easy. "What the fuck," she says, and then slaps your torso, hard, and then again.
"What's the fuck did I do?"
"Wearing pants too fucking tight! Hold still, goddammit! Damn this is.. frustrating.. ahh." She has the button undone. In a trice you are out and in her cool, cool mouth, the texture inside smooth, slow, thick. You almost come as her nose tickles your bush, cockhead hugging her throat. She pulls out, a quick flick of her tongue as her mouth leaves you.
"Normally I'd suck it until you begged, but I'm feeling greedy." She takes your hand, guides it. "Feel that?" You don't even need to remove her white panties; they slide around your fingertips as your fingertips slide against her drenched labia. "Feel it? That's hungry. Thirsty. Fucky. Whatever you want. Oh!" You slid a finger inside. You move another to where it can go in. You look nakedly into her eyes, face. "You feel that" she says, returning your gaze, breathing hard through her nose. It's half-question, half-ontical-statement. Her voice has gone up. Oh. You push more. Oh! Yes don't stop, she begs. Keep on.. keep on.. keep, keep.. Her pussy shoves into your hand, reflex, she pushes her lap closer and her hands twine like roots around your neck, her red dress sinking dangerously low on her tits (yes, it actually is dangerous for one's nipples to be exposed in this fashion, thank you very much), and as you stretch your fingers as far as they can reach, she comes, right on time. There's no mistaking it, it's business class, a fat, rolling come that has her hands moving unavailingly, gripping you and letting go and gripping again somewhere new. You can feel her fingers after they've moved as though her come gave her hands like Kali.
She's breathing with high mm, mms through her nose, her green eyes closed. You move your fingers gently, waiting for her to soothe, subside, but suddenly she shakes like a dog from the lake, looks at you. "Let's keep it going, ducky. Oh, my goodness. That rocked. Oh did it."
"Keep it going?"
"Can't wait. I want to surf that right back out to sea." She tenderly removes your hand. "Ooh. Sugar." Her tone is confidential. "I need you to bend me over. The only question is, Where do you want it?"
| Status | ||
| Health | Horny | Location: |
| MP | 0 | |
| Level | 1 | |
