She leans forward, her lips barely caressing mine, her hips rotating slightly, using the tip of my dick as a tease along her arousal. She groans into my mouth as her tongue flicks my lips.
“Fucking ride me,” I say, not wanting to do any more of this beating-around-the-bush bullshit—not that she has a bush to beat around actually.
Right on cue, she falls down on my dick, bottoming out all too quickly. There was no easing; there was no inch-by-inch movement on her end. No, she took me all in like a fucking boss. Her cry echoes through my head, making me feel drunk and hazy, like I was just knocked out by Captain Pleasure.
“Oh God,” she moans, her head resting against my chest now, her hips slowly making circles. “Cannon cock is,” she takes a deep breath, “a very accurate description.”
That gets a chuckle, but it’s quickly washed away when her head lifts and her eyes meet mine. Filled with desire, with a yearning I never thought I’d see from this intriguing girl, her arms wrap around my neck, and she starts to methodically move up and down on my hardened length. Her legs propelling her thrusts, they squeeze against mine for stability and in this moment, our eyes trained on each other, I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so intimate.
Intimate. Fuck, is that what this is? Not a quick fuck, but intimacy? Does she think of it that way? I sure as hell hope so, because for once, I will be right there with her.
Gripping her ass, I guide her up and down as well, my hips starting to thrust up when she goes down. The combination is repeated, her moan growing with each passing bout of rubbing. Her forehead presses against mine as she looks down at our connection, something I’ve always found incredibly sexy in a woman, wanting to experience it all.
Fuck, this is all too much. The way her tits bounce against my chest, the feel of her tight pussy squeezing me with each pass, her sweet, and sexy moans in my ear . . . I’m going to lose it. I’m going to blow it before she even has a chance to think about visiting O-town.
Hold the fuck back. Grandma, think of Grandma. Lipstick on the teeth, curlers in her hair until noon.
Sadie’s thighs slap against mine.
Grandma! Wrinkly and old, dentures in a drinking cup.
Sadie’s pebbled nipples rub against my chest, and they’re so fucking hard.
Grandma. Dammit! Knee-high stockings and Velcro shoes.
“Shit, Andrew. I’m going to come.”
Thank, Christ. Catch ya later, Grams.
I assist her thrusts even more, taking control of our connection as her hands fall to my shoulders, trying her best to slam as hard as she can down on my lap. Her head falls back, her nipples pebbled in the air, her tits bouncing, and the strain in her neck . . .
“Oh God!” she cries out. Her movements are so erratic. Her pussy squeezing all around me.
That’s it. Everything in me goes blank. My balls tighten and with one final thrust, white-hot pleasure envelops me. My orgasm roars through me, and my dick twitches for what seems like fucking days. I spill into her, thrusting until every last drop is drained from me, and I feel like I’ll never catch my breath.
Slowing down, our bodies slide together, our sweat mixing, our breathing simply panting, and the combination is fucking aces.
Yeah, I said it. It’s FUCKING ACES.
“Shit,” I breathe out. “That was hot.”
Chuckling, she lifts her head and kisses my lips. “That was something we will be doing again.”
Smiling at her, I thrust up again, reminding her of our connection. “I told you he wouldn’t bite.”
Pushing back on my chest, she starts clapping her hands. “And there he is, the Andrew I first met, always making things awkward.”
I laugh from the pit of my stomach. “Sorry, baby, I can’t be suave and debonair all the time. I’ve got to show some faults for mankind, or how else would it be fair to men around me?”
She rolls her eyes and climbs off me, but not quick enough. I pin her to the bed beneath us and press my chest against hers.
“Say you’re into me.”
Tilting her head to the side, a playful look in her eyes, she says, “Unfortunately, Andrew. I’m into you.” Unfortunately?
“Ha!” I fist-pump the air. “I’ll take it!”
About the Author:
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
Find me on Goodreads: