I moved to straddle his leg for better friction.
My hand grabbed his and held it above him on his pillow.
His other hand reached behind me and - oh! - grabbed my hair. That's new. Hmm. I liked that. A slight tug. Oh, I really liked that. My body responded with a flood of moisture.
The more I moved against his leg the more my hip moved against his eager cock.
I looked down between our bodies.
A brighter need flashed.
I leaned higher with my body to rub my breasts in his face. His mouth knew what to do. I received another subtle hair pull as a thank you. More wetness.
Releasing his hand I told him to stroke his cock for me. With my body pressed so closely to him I had to watch over my shoulder now.
I whispered over him how wet I was, how watching him turned me on. My hair was abandoned and his fingers travelled down my back, over the curves of my ass in between my legs to check for himself.
My hips began moving again, this time against his fingers. The evidence of just how aroused I was sounded quietly in the room with his stroking and my teasing words.
"How long has it been since you've had your own hand on your cock like that?"
"I like the way it looks. I should have you put on a show for me more often."
"Does that feel good? It looks like it does. Too bad you won't get to cum right now."
All questions answered with nods or groans. He's too greedy to let his mouth go from me.
I sense his breathing change, his core tightening, and his motions faltering. He's close.
"Don't stop. I like watching you. Do what you have to do, but don't cum."
With that order his body relaxes, his breathing calms, and his hand slows. Well, one of them does.
The other hand pushes more forcefully into me as if to punish me for teasing.
After a few minutes he's had enough.
His mouth releases me, he stops stroking, and pulls his hand away, and asks me to face the other way.
I'm still leaning over his torso, but looking at his very angry, very weepy cock.
My head lolls and my eyes roll when I feel his fingers inside me again with renewed vigor and the advantage of better positioning. My pussy and my g-spot take a pounding. My hips meet his hand thrust for thrust as I rest my cheek on his thigh and watch the precum drip from his body in a continuous stream. My fingers want to play in it, so they do.
Then I hear it. He says something about my pussy, but no - he calls it my cunt. What he said doesn't register, but the use of that word from him, the first that I can recall it - that definitely registers. I feel the effects as I clench tighter onto him. His hand is relentless. It's too much really, but also just right. I take out my intense responses on his thigh, my teeth begging to sink into flesh, but settling on restrained bites while my nails leave a series of smiles on his calves. My breathing stutters and I know if it weren't for the blood rushing in my ears causes temporary deafness I could hear the sobs choking from me. The sensations that roll through me wrack my body with spasms that leave me on the verge of joyous tears and utter exhaustion. When I cum, I cum hard. My satisfaction drips down his wrist and leaves a wet spot on the sheets. Not the first time, not the last.
And we're nowhere near done.
By the end of the night he has :
- taken me bent over the edge of the bed while he restrained my arms to my sides and used my wrists as pulls
- encouraged me to ride his face as he devours me and fucks me with a dildo
- continued with the dildo as I play with a vibrator
- slid into me while he's occupied with my tit in his mouth, taking from me in both places
- tucked me into the still-damp-needs-changing-in-the-morning sheets with a goodnight kiss