The Billionaire's CamGirl

His hand moves up my tummy and rests on my breast. He kneads me, not gently, but not too rough, not yet. His tongue is flattened over me and moves up and down. My orgasm builds slowly, but I know the barrier from my tights won’t allow me to come. It’s just not enough contact. “Mmmmm,” he moans, and I can’t help it, I pull his hair and force him to his feet, walk him backwards to the bed until he bumps up against it, and then I push him down, so he’s sitting on the edge. I take off my shoes before climbing on to the bed, and I settle myself in his lap. As soon as I sit, I feel his hard cock between us, and I grind on him, giving him a taste of his own medicine. He thrusts up into me and tries to roll me over, but I put my weight onto him, keeping him upright. It’s been years since the days of dry humping in my mother’s basement, but this tease has it coming.

I shift my hips up and down in short motions, until finally I feel his length positioned against my wet seam. I ride him slowly, enjoying the pressure from his cock and the fabric on his fly. I know I could get off life this, with me in control. I reach for my sweater and strip it off. Chris’s hands are on my breasts instantly, roughly pulling down my bra cups and latching onto my nipple.

“Don’t stop moving,” he whispers. “Just like that.” Chris’s hands are on my breasts, roughly pulling down my bra cups and latching onto my nipple. He sucks hard and I jolt up, his tongue swirling around and around until my nipple is painfully hard. He switches to the other nipple and I reach between us, trying to open the buttons of his shirt so I can feel his smooth skin. I manage to open one, and I play with his nipple, a new burst of moisture between my legs as I hear him wince and then thrust against me harder. I unbutton the rest of his shirt and push it off his shoulders, making sure to drag my nails over his smooth skin, hard enough that I see red marks blooming behind. His breath is coming faster now. His fingers are digging into my ass. When he tries to roll me over again, I let him. I want him to take control.

He pins me underneath him, hiking up my leg and settling between me. His hand is fumbling with his belt and fly. He sits up to take down his pants and boxers, and then he stops. “Remember when I said I was going to take my time?” he asks. I nod. “I changed my mind.”

He reaches down and tugs at the crotch of my tights. I hear a tear and feel his fingers, finally, sliding over my bare skin. He thrusts two fingers inside me, and I’m so wet there’s not a bit of resistance. He crooks them, sweeping against my g-spot. My eyes shut as I sink into the sensation, his fingers deftly working inside me, a thumb now applying steady pressure on my clit, moving it from side to side. I hear Chris’s bursts of breath and open my eyes to watch him. He has his rigid cock in his hand, stroking the head and looking down at me. “You’re so wet. You’re so ready for me, aren’t you?” he asks between gritted teeth, and each word he punctuates by thrusting his fingers inside me. He takes my ankle and lifts it up, kissing the side of my foot and down behind my knee over my tights. He rests it on his shoulder and takes my hips, quickly pulling me down to him. Holding his cock, he rubs it over my pussy, and I see the muscles in his chest jump. Up and down he rubs his cock, nudging my clit every time he reaches the top until I’m hungry for it, and I start to moan and beg. “Fuck me now,” I say, lifting myself on my elbows to watch between my legs. “I want to feel you inside me.”

He stops moving his cock and holds it still at my entrance. “Say it again,” he says.

“I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel you everywhere. I want you to fuck me now,” I’m practically chanting, my head is swimming with the feeling of him so close, so close to filling me up, to moving inside me. I reach up and rub my hand over the light hair on his tummy. Then I lick my finger and reach down, reaching around my torn tights and finding my clit. As soon as I touch it, I jerk, it’s so sensitive. With the softest touch, I rub, in small circles. My hips dip down and back up, and Chris’s cock is moving with my motions. His grip on my hips tightens and he hisses in a breath, shooting back his head so he looks up at the ceiling. I shift my hips again, and the head of his cock rubs against my finger. It’s the last straw; he plunges into me, filling me up with his entire length at once, stretching me exquisitely.