Trust (Wrong 3)

“Absolutely,” I agree and walk to the foot of the bed where I wrap my hands around her ankles and tug her towards me. She yelps, not expecting it. And I think she might meow when I prop her thighs on my shoulders. It’s hard to quantify what that noise was. Could also have been coming from me. I really do enjoy having my face between her thighs.

I kiss the spot right above her mound then spread her lips apart with my thumbs and flick her clit with my tongue. But I’m just getting warmed up. Because I don’t like doing this. I fucking love it.

I can physically see the reaction of her body from this position. Watch her get wet. And wetter. Listen to her soft sighs or the little humming noise she makes in the back of her throat, depending on what I’m doing. I can feel her calf muscles flex against my shoulders and watch as her knees draw closer to her in rhythm with her pussy clenching.

I get to watch every constriction of her opening as she reacts to my tongue and my lips and teeth when I lick and kiss and nip every inch of her. And I do. Adjusting to her every sigh and stretch. Reveling in every groan and arch of her back.

And she tastes fucking fantastic.

I will never get tired of doing this with her. Of seeing her with her walls down. Of watching her come and tasting the evidence of her excitement.

I slide my finger into her and watch her body close around it, tight and hot. I stroke in and out a few times before sliding my wet fingertip to her ass and rimming her before gently applying pressure.

Her pussy clenches tightly at the first touch of my fingertip against her asshole, then immediately gets even wetter.

“You said you were curious, right?” I ask as my fingertip slides in.

“Yes,” she hisses. Her back is arched and her hair is spread wantonly between her raised arms. Her legs have fallen off my shoulders and are splayed wide on the bed before me. “But maybe just your finger,” she says on an exhale. “I really think you’re too big. And I’m not just saying that to stroke your ego. It sorta feels like you barely fit in my, you know.”

“In your pussy?” I ask between sucking on her clit and sliding my finger in deeper.

“Yeah, there.” A soft hiss comes from her direction as she nods her head against the bedspread. “But I don’t want to tell you how to do your job or anything.”

“I appreciate the confidence,” I reply with a laugh. “But I don’t mind the feedback. I want to make sure I keep earning those five stars from you.”

“Oh, you have been.”

“Glad to hear it.” God, her thighs are soft. I kiss her from her pussy to her knee before standing.

She’s quiet for a second before two small words come out of her mouth.

“Have I?”

“Have you what?”

“Have I been earning five stars from you?” She says it softly, a hint of hesitation in her voice.

“Chloe, you don’t even have to be in the room to earn five stars from me. Just the though of you when I’m jerking off in the shower earns you five stars.”

“Like in Vail?” She tilts her head to the side and watches me as I cross over to the nightstand, biting her lip to try to block the smile on her face.

“Exactly like in Vail.”

“So you were? You were jacking off in the shower thinking about me while I was in the next room?”

“Absolutely.” I’m unabashed in my admittance.

“I didn’t know,” she murmurs. “And I still wasn’t sure when you told me not to ask. I thought…” She trails off.

“You thought what?” I ask, as my pants hit the floor. I wrap a firm hand around myself without taking my eyes off of hers.

“I thought maybe you just liked long showers or maybe you were doing something in there, thinking about porn or someone who wasn’t me.”

“The first time I thought about you while touching myself was the morning after I met you in that detention room at the stadium.”

“Really?” Her eyes flare and her bottom wiggles against the bed. “You did not!”

“Of course I did. I’m a guy.”

She grins and buries her face in her arm, trying to hide her smile. “What do you think about when you do it?” She’s looking at me again, a shy smile on her face. “What am I doing when you’re thinking about me?”

“Anything. Everything. Sometimes you’re on your knees sucking me off. Sometimes you’re taking a shower while I watch.” Her chest rises. She likes that. “Sometimes I’m pulling your hair”—her eyes widen at that—“and sometimes you’re lying on my bed, asking me to come on your tits.”

“Would you do that?” Her tongue darts out and wets her lips and she’s pressed her legs together trying to get the friction she needs on her clit.

“Do what?”

“Come on me.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I want you to. I want to watch.”

Twenty-Three

Chloe

I really want to watch. I’ve never seen a guy get himself off before. Like actually jerk himself to release in front of me. I’ve given hand jobs, sure, but usually just long enough that the guy wanted to slap a condom on and get it inside of me.

Not to the point where I got to see him come. Actually see it.

The thought of Boyd doing this, touching himself while thinking of me, has me so hot and wet I think there might be a damp spot beneath me on his comforter. And I haven’t even come yet.

So heck yes to watching. Plus, my hands are restrained so this is all on him. I feel no pressure whatsoever to make this good for him. This is nothing but pure hedonistic voyeurism for me.

He pours lube from a bottle in his nightstand onto his palm and grips himself without breaking eye contact. Then he straddles me on the bed, his knees bracketing my hips as he sits back on his ankles while tugging on his dick in one long slick pull. The head disappears as his hand reaches the top before popping back out as he slides it down to the base.

Beneath him, I cross my legs. It’s almost involuntary at first. But soon I’m squeezing my thighs tighter in some vain attempt to dry-hump myself while I watch him. This was a terrible idea. I wish my hands were free so I could touch myself while I watched, because this is torture. I can’t touch him, I can’t touch myself. Saliva pools on my tongue and I wish I could take him in my mouth right now. I swallow and lick my lips, thinking about what he’d taste like, how wide I’d have to stretch to accommodate him.