Four writers for the price of one blog
“You have such beautiful hair.” She raked her fingers through his light brown ponytail. He nearly dropped his paper cup of punch. “Oops, I’m sorry! I’ve been told I have an issue with impulse control.”
“People touch my hair all the time.” He tugged on the beaded leather thong that tied it back. “It’s okay.” He didn’t dare have direct eye contact with her. Most everyone had migrated back to the game table, so they were alone. She took a better look at him, but she still couldn’t figure out his age. He could be 22…or he could be a well-grown sixteen. The fact she couldn’t figure it out aroused her.
“How long have you been into gaming?” She sucked on a juicy wedge of melon.
“Um…since I was 12. My best friend said it was better than video games. He was partly right.” He took a sneaky look at her. “What interested you?”
“The punch and pie.” She gave him an intense look. “How many years ago was 12?”
Someone whistled behind them. “Get your butts over here. We’re about to start!”
He took a couple of steps toward the table, then stopped. “I’m 20. Just turned.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked. He was sitting stiffly on a futon that doubled as his sofa. There was a shelf of gaming books suspended dubiously over their heads. His coffee table was a mess of textbooks and papers…socioanthropology.
“I don’t drink coffee this late. My head would pop clean off.” She made the sound with wet lips and it echoed in his empty apartment.
“I also have water and soda.”
“Do you have liquor?”
“Um, just an old bottle of Goldschlager I never bothered opening.”
She made a face, then shrugged. “Alright. That’ll do.”
He sat there tracing the seams in the pockets of his cargo shorts. The sharp snap of her fingers made him jump up. “Sorry. ADD.” His blushing made her bones creak.
He brought back a dusty bottle with a pair of shot glasses. Mardi Gras and Myrtle Beach. He poured carefully.
“Been to New Orleans?” She shot down the cloyingly sweet liquor and cocked her head for another.
“Nah,” he said. “I’m kinda trepidatious about flying.”
She walked around his small loft, poking at the miniatures and trinkets that covered every surface. “They’re so tiny.” She poked at a miniscule femme fatale. “How do you have the patience to paint this?”
“It relaxes me…helps me focus,” he said.
She took off her sweater and threw it as she walked to a huge cabinet filled with figurines. Each one was meticulously painted – every detail was taken into account. They were so amazing she didn’t notice him trembling behind her. She had nothing on underneath.
“Beautiful.” She wiggled out of her jeans and kicked them aside. His Adam’s apple clicked audibly. She pulled her chin-length hair out of its ponytail and ran back to the coffee table for another drink, naked flesh glowing. His face was crimson. “Have you ever had a woman up here?”
“Yes, of course. My sisters, that girl you met at the game…”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” She drummed the half empty bottle between her breasts.
“If you’re asking whether I’ve entertained lady friends, I have. A couple of times.”
She turned her back on him and struck a contrapposto pose. “That’s nice.” She bent over to get a closer look at a complex map pinned to the wall. The air around her bottom warmed with his intense gaze. She waited for him to make a move but he sat on the damn futon, transfixed and red as Newton’s apple. She walked slowly back to him, making sure her tits bounced with each step. His lips were glossy with drool. She lay back on the futon and pinched a fly button with her toes. The hardness underneath made her smile.
He touched her ankle, then caressed. He looked like he was holding his breath, so she pressed down on his chest with her foot, then pinched his scruffy chin. His breath came out in a long, whistly sigh. His eyes darted to her pussy. She was very, very wet. He held his breath again.
She straddled him. His thick hair cascaded over his shoulders and on her breasts as he she pulled off the leather strip that held it. She tickled the tip of her nose with a tendril.
“Prell?” She licked the tip of the tendril and brushed her hard nipple with it.
“How’d you know?” His eyes followed every stroke.
“Good nose.” She pulled his shirt over his head and sighed at his perfect expanse of skin. She slid off his lap and got on her knees in front of him, already fiddling with his fly buttons. He obligingly lifted his butt when she pulled his pants down, the lifted his legs as she removed his sneakers. His whitey-tighties were blue, stretched tight and wet over the tip of his cock. She was tempted to suck at the wetness.
“A matching set,” she said as she stuck her finger in the seam to caress him. His thigh muscles tightened on her breasts, but he didn’t touch. It irked her. She thought of something crazy and popped up before sense could stop her. She struck a pose, chest out, back arched. “Where would you start?”
He stared, mouth agape. “What?”
“If I were one of those figurines, where would you paint first?”
“You want me to paint you?”
“Sort of. Use your hands, or your mouth…” she looked between his legs.”You get the picture.”
He shook his head, but he was amused. “Hmmm. I might start here.” He put a shy hand on her breast. He wanted her, but he was afraid it was a subtle trap – that she’d just burst into a feminist manifesto on objectification or something. College girls were dicey.
She just wiggled beautifully in his grasp. “Shh. Don’t say a word. I just want to watch you work.” He nodded solemnly although his face remained flushed. “Take off your underwear first. Fair is fair.” He kicked them off and his cock slid wetly on the wing of her hip. He traced her areolas gently, then squeezed each nipple a dark rose. He cupped her breasts in his hands, weighted them, then licked the nipples glossy. The edge of his teeth on a taut bud mad her toes curl.
Her knees shook, but she cleared her throat. “There’s still plenty unpainted.”
His hands moved to the flare of her hips and squeezed. The muscles underneath tightened as he kept caressing down her thighs to her ankles. He pressed into her bare toenail to get her attention, then licked it. He licked each one until they all shone, then his hot mouth moved to her ankle and up her calf. His bristly chin gave her goose bumps that he caressed away. She spread her legs to give him access, but he stood up and walked behind her.
He squeezed her shoulders, then caressed his way up her arms to her hands. She gasped as he sucked the skin of her neck, then lightly licked her earlobe. He ground against her, slippery against the crack of her ass. He pulled back his hips and his cock slid between her thighs. She nearly fell. He held her up by the hips and looked into her eyes. His gaze had changed – he was in his element. The head of his cock slid against her netherlips again, then parted them. He traced the v of her mound with both hands, a slow up and down that barely brushed her labia, then plucked at her clit. Her hand turned to a claw on his hip.
“I need a little detail work.” Her voice was lusciously thick to his ears.
“Huh?” He pinched her swollen clit and rubbed.
“Lick my pussy.”
He pushed her against a table covered in little figures and got on his knees. He traced her labia with short, wet licks, then poked her clit with the tip of his tongue. He licked a slow, wavy line from her asshole to her clit. The practiced movement of his tongue made her look down in surprise. He winked at her and sucked her clit into his mouth. His sucking matched the rhythm of the two fingers moving deep inside her. Both fingers and mouth were firm and quick, and she went from excited to coming in no time.
She pulled him up mid-lick. “My turn.” She tried to kneel but he held her up, turned her around and bent her over the table.
“Yes. Still your turn,” he said and sank into her. He rubbed her clit as he fucked her just deep enough to brush her swollen g-spot. She wanted to bear down and piss come all over him.
He stopped moving.”What did you say?” The tip of his cock stretched her opening.
“I’m saying a lot of things.”
“Something about pissing…?”
“Come.” She backed into him until he was completely inside her. “Fuck me.” He jabbed at her womb and she put a restraining hand on his hip. “That’s hot, but…” She backed into him then twisted her hip until the crown of his cock caught at her opening. She turned toward him so he could see her face. Her eyelids dropped to half mast and her smile disappeared. His cock had an interesting curve that kneaded her g-spot better with every thrust. She couldn’t believe her good fortune – she’d only experienced such pleasure by herself.
She felt swollen around him, swollen and pulsing, and he wondered whether that’s how he felt to her. Her heat made him sweat onto her back, made her jiggling ass slide on his hips but he looked at the game map, trying with all his might not to come before her. The pleasure began to creep up his chest and climb up his neck, so he closed his eyes tightly and tried to keep the rhythm. Her thighs began to tremble against his, and she went from slippery to downright wet.
“I want to see your eyes,” she said and reached back to caress him. Just as soon as he opened them, she bore down on him. She pulsed hard around his cock but her hips didn’t stop grinding the rhythm. He thought she was coming, so he fucked her so deep his balls slapped on her clit. She felt tighter and tighter around him but she was up on her tippy toes, curled into herself like an angry cat. Her eyes were on him, but she was in her own personal paradise. His balls tightened in warning, so he stopped moving.
“Nooo…” She ground hard on him, holding on to his hips almost painfully. This quiet, unassuming geek boy had the sweetest dick she’d ever fucked. He was so much thicker than her toys, alive and throbbing, and he was going to milk her dry.
She let out an unladylike groan and spurted hot liquid on his balls and thighs. She hiccupped and her eyes were wet as if she was about to cry but she was smiling too, laughing and caressing his chest with a trembling hand. He’d only seen such things on the internet and the fact that he’d caused a woman – a beautiful woman – to do it made him pull out of her, cock already twitching and spitting semen. He painted her dripping ass and the small of her back with it. She turned on wobbly legs and took him into her mouth.
“Fucking punch and pie,” he said softly as she sucked every last bit of come out of his cock.