Come to think of it, her situation is kind of miserable. Here she is, with a handsome and incredibly sexy man, who is stark naked and lying in bed with her. And he falls asleep without so much as making a pass at her.
She listens to his breathing. Her mind tumbles with all sorts of possibilities. And always she comes back to his kisses, the feel of his hard body against hers, the smell of his aftershave mingled with his intoxicating, extremely male scent.
Her entire body stiffens. Moistness trickles within her core, and she feels a rush of inexplicable need, as if her insides have turned into gooey mush.#p#分页标题#e#
Oh, oh, oh!
Her hand moves to her swollen sex, all plump and ripened by the hormones coursing in her bloodstream. She’s about to do something embarrassing, but she’s helpless to prevent it.
She closes her eyes as she slips her fingers underneath her panties. Her clit tingles at her own touch. She delves her fingers through her cracks, squeezing her clit in between. A soft moan escapes her lips. Her pussy is exquisitely wet, which lubricates her scissoring movements. She wriggles and digs her fingers in deeper, prodding the soft petal folds of her clit and inner labia.
Her breathing rhythm escalates even as her heart slams against her ribcage. In her mind’s eye, she can see only Brian’s face, hovering above her as he fucks her repeatedly.
The pleasure that peals in her pussy lifts her body and arches her back. She twists her neck against the damp pillow as her orgasm crests through her. Her muscles contort explosively. She coils and recoils, her body a whiplash of sensory overload. The sheets beneath her hips are a veritable mess of intermingled creams and sweat.
Oh Brian, Brian!
She would be mortified if he ever found out she masturbated while thinking of him when he was beside her. She would never live it down, especially with his caustic, razor tongue. She can well imagine him using his tongue for something else more inappropriate – much is the agony of it.
Her shudders dissipate slowly, like a wave breaking apart into froth.
Her body aches with the afterglow.
He is still immobile next to her, deep in slumber. She watches his steady breathing, not daring to touch him in any way lest he awake. She knows that if she just ventures a hand forth, she would touch his smooth back. Or his well-shaped buttocks.
Go to sleep, Sammie, she berates herself.
She finally does. But her dreams are filled with images of Brian fucking her.
*
Brian wakes up sometime in the morning. The blackouts are drawn close to keep the light out, but from the intensity of sunshine shining through the slit in the curtains, he can tell that it’s late morning. Possibly eleven o’ clock.
His body aches mildly from too much dancing. He smiles as he remembers last night. He can’t recall having such a fabulous time in years. The party had been in full swing, and he vividly remembers Sam’s hair tossing here and there as she whips her head back and forth in Zumba dance moves. Sam laughing delightedly. Caleb and Cassie having a wild time.
Sam’s warm body is splayed next to his and her hand is unconsciously flung across his back. He turns slowly, displacing it. She does not wake up.
Shit, but he’s got an incredible boner.
He watches her in the semi-dark for a while. Her shuttered eyes. Her sweet face. The rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. The blanket is down to her shoulders, and he glimpses the pretty negligee she is wearing, all black lace and frilly patterns.
Now what the fuck is he going to do about his boner?
He can well visualize his hand reaching out to her warm body to wake her. Then he would roll himself to straddle her, and he would kiss her madly and get her worked up into an aroused state. And he would close his mouth around her nipples, and press his erection against her wet, wet pussy.
And enter her oh-so-slowly.
He can almost feel her sweet, velvety walls closing around his shaft.
But of course, they had made it clear that they were never going to fuck each other.
He groans. Now what is he going to do about his stiffy?
The only thing he can, of course. Under the blanket, he grasps his diamond hard column of flesh. It is so hard as to be almost painful. He takes a deep breath and starts to polish it with firm, deep strokes. He concentrates on the head, oscillating and jerking his hand back and forth. His arm rapidly gains momentum. He starts to pant with the furious effort.
Ahhhhh.
He arches his back and tips his head against the pillow. His mind is filled with visuals of him stabbing Sam with his prick. Grinding his hips against hers while his mouth explores everywhere else within reach.
Sammie, oh, Sammie. You have no idea. Absolutely fucking no clue of how hot you’re making me.
His hand is a blur of movement. Back, forth, back, forth. God, how he misses jerking himself off. He used to do plenty of it when he was fourteen. Back when he was still this pudgy little kid who hadn’t gotten laid. After he was yanked out of school and put into a stricter missionary one – where the boys practically had to shave their heads and do a punishing hundred pushups before they start their lessons – he developed a body that he could be proud of and which caught many an eye.