But instead, it was the big man. Jake. He stepped inside, ominously looking around to make sure the restroom was clear before locking the door behind him.
“What’s your problem?” he growled, his face a mask of disgust.
“What’s my problem? What’s yours?” I hissed back, trying to right myself, pulling my dress down futilely.
He glanced around momentarily. Like any ornate ladies’ lounge, there was a front area for primping complete with cosmetics, body lotions, and three overstuffed couches upholstered in lavender. The restroom area was in the next room, the bright white walls stark and gleaming. “Pretty nice set-up, huh,” he grunted.
And in flash, he was on me. “Where the fuck have you been,” he growled into my throat as I squirmed beneath him. Not waiting for an answer, he seized my mouth in a deep kiss, thrusting his tongue between my lips, tilting my head back for some thorough penetration. I fought back at first, pummeling that hard male chest, kicking at his shins.
“Mmm, I love it when you fight,” he groaned into my mouth. “Wildcat,” he said, grinding his crotch against me.
And reader, I loved it. I loved having that big male body in my arms again, sprawled under the sofa beneath him, pinned by his massive weight. I felt my cunny begin to run, my nipples brushing his hard wall of chest as I breathed in his masculine scent, his arms crushing me, his dick an iron rod against my tummy.
And I worked it like a slut. I whimpered and squirmed against him, tantalizing that pole, the heat between my legs intense, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He pulled away a moment to unbutton my dress, chuckling at the warm flannel against my skin.
“Hmm, still plaid, huh?” he murmured before delving into my mouth again. But I didn’t give a fuck. I just needed his heat inside me, to be impaled on his fuckpole once more. When my boobs were revealed, encased in the tiniest of lace bralets, he kissed a creamy curve before lasciviously pulling down the cups to reveal deep pink, hard-as-rock nipples.
“Unnn!” I cried as he sucked one into his mouth, trailing his tongue against my sensitive areola. If anything, my nipples grew harder under his ministrations, and he rotated between the two peaks, catching one in his mouth before returning to the other, their gleaming wetness trailed with saliva, rosy and sensitized.
“I’ve gotta fuck these,” he muttered, and unzipped his pants, letting his dong pop out. I gasped. I’d been dreaming of that pole for months now, but seeing it in person again made me salivate with need. It was deep purple, rock-hard and veiny, the tip already dripping with a bit of cream, that viscous man milk virile and tantalizing. I leaned forward for a sip but he pushed me back onto the couch.
“Nuh uh, titty fuck first,” he commanded, straddling me, positioning his dick between the curves of my breasts.
“Shee-it,” he groaned, beginning a rhythm, rubbing that pole up and down as I held my breasts together, the soft flesh cushioning his ride. He began a slow rhythm, pushing his cock between my tits, his face a mask of ecstasy. He was so long and hard and big that whenever he pushed up, his glans hit my chin and I tilted my head ever so slightly to get a taste of dick on each upswing. It was marvelous, that shiny, crowning head slick with pre-cum, hitting my lips on each stroke.
“Uhhh,” he groaned again. “Unnh, unnh.” But I guess he’d had enough and wanted the real thing. “Bottoms up, little girl,” he growled as he pulled off, shedding his shirt and pants. I gasped. His dick stuck out proudly from his hips, that massive member dripping like a stream now, gooey cream falling to the floor. He flipped me over onto my stomach so that I was crouching over the edge of the sofa and lifted my dress so that my ass was exposed, the round mounds lush and tight for him to explore.#p#分页标题#e#
“Fuck little girl,” he moaned, gazing at my exposed flesh while running a finger up and down that wet string between my buttocks. I was secretly glad that I’d made a Victoria’s Secret run recently. Just because I look like a poor student doesn’t mean that I don’t splurge on panties and g-strings. I don’t know, it just makes me feel so sexy and hot even if on the outside I’m a mouse.
But Jake was one hundred percent focused on my pussy, not even acknowledging the lacy underthings. Kneeling behind me, he pressed his face into my vag, sniffing deeply of my personal scent. “Ohhh fuck,” he groaned again, his hand reaching down to stroke his member. I know I have a pretty cunt. I’ve checked it out in the mirror occasionally and it’s pink and gleaming, without those weird hanging bits some girls have.