The Pool Boy - Page 13

“Show me, Layla,” he growls. “Now.”

It’s demanding, but I fucking love it. I crave it, actually, without even ever realizing I did. The way Mason just takes charge and tells me what he wants is as thrilling as it is hot as fuck. And before I know it, I’m nodding.

“Show me that pretty pussy,” he husks, and I moan softly.

What am I doing?

But before I can second guess it, I’m slowly pulling at the bottom edge of my towel. I tug it higher, and higher, and my face burns hot. I pull it even higher, until with a final tug, he can see my pussy. Mason groans, and his hand starts to pump his huge cock even faster.

“More,” he growls. “Show me more, beautiful.”

I don’t think, I just do. With a flick of my wrist, the towel loosens around me and drops to the floor. And then, blushing wildly, I’m standing naked and utterly exposed to the boy next door while he strokes his big cock.

“Oh fuck, Layla,” he groans.

I blush shyly and start to go for my towel, but he shakes his head.

“Uh-uh, no fucking way. Don’t you dare cover up from me.” He groans deeply. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot, Layla.” His eyes lock with mine, and fire blazes in his gaze.

“Touch yourself,” he whispers into the phone. “Touch your fucking pussy for me.”

My hand pushes over my tummy, my mind reeling. I’ve never done anything remotely even close to this, much less with a guy nine fucking years younger than me. But I want this. I know it’s so fucking wrong, and scandalously twisted, but I want it. My hand pushes lower and lower, until suddenly I gasp as my finger brushes over my clit.

“Oh shit,” Mason groans. He grunts roughly, and his muscled arm ripples as he pumps his cock. “Fuck, that’s so fucking sexy.”

“Like this?” I whimper, rubbing my clit.

“Just like that,” he growls. “Make that pussy nice and fucking wet for me.” He glances over and then reaches down to pluck something off the floor. I realize it’s my blue panties, and when Mason wraps them around his swollen cock, I moan.

“That’s so naughty,” I whisper, panting.

“What,” he grunts. “Your hot little panties wrapped around my big dick?”

“Yes,” I moan. My fingers rub my clit faster, and I pant heavily as the pleasure washes over me.

“So is rubbing your pretty pussy for me like this,” he growls. “So is rubbing that hot, wet little cunt while I jerk my cock, like you’re my own private little show.”

I whimper, and he groans.

“You like being naughty for me, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Be my naughty girl,” he growls. “Play with that hot little pussy and show me how you come. Show me how you come, Layla.”

The pleasure overtakes me, and I moan as I sag against the window. My forehead presses to the glass, and my breath fogs it as I shamelessly rub my clit. Mason hisses in pleasure, and I look over to see him pumping his cock in powerful, rapid strokes. Jesus he’s so fucking big, and his head is just dribbling precum all over his shaft and hand. His whole swollen cock glistens wetly, and I grind my clit even harder.

I start to tremble and shake, and I can feel myself clenching and tumbling towards that edge. My toes curl against the tiled floor, and my breath fogs the window. I moan, my nipples dragging like points across the glass, and my hand rubbing furiously between my thighs.

“Come for me, Layla,” Mason’s voice purrs into my ear as I start to fall. “Come so fucking hard for me, and I want you to come right fucking now.”

The snarl in his voice does it. I gasp, and my entire body stiffens and wrenches as the orgasm slams into me. I gasp when I come, tumbling into my climax as the pleasure swallows me whole.

I hear a groan, and I look up just in time to see Mason’s huge cock swelling and then suddenly pulsing. Thick white jets of his cum splash against his window and run down. More and more pumps out of his head and drips down his thick shaft, soaking my blue thong. I cry out as a second orgasm hits me out of nowhere, and then I’m gasping for air and almost collapsing.

I pant heavily, my cheek to the glass as my body shivers. I look up, and when his eyes burn hotly into mine, I gasp quietly.

“Mason,” I whisper.

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