Dreams of 18

He groans when I do that. When I lick him and twist him at the base.

It’s so guttural and if I didn’t know better, I’d think I’m hurting him. But I’m not. His lust-laden words and the jerks of his hips prove that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he slurs. “Fucking me so good with your cock-sucking lips… Calling me honey… Driving me crazy…”

I preen at that.

I preen and flush with pride and happiness and possession. He is my honey. I called him that. I claimed him in front of someone like he claimed me.

God, that was amazing. I didn’t know I had it in me to do something like that.

It fills me with so much lust and all these crashing and swelling emotions that I stretch my neck up so he can go deeper. I jack off his base, all sticky and slippery, and lick him with the flat of my tongue, tasting his musk and salt.

I do all of that so he can come in my throat and fill my stomach.

But he doesn’t.

He drives in and out for a couple of seconds more before he rips my mouth away. His cock comes out and it’s all red and slippery and throbbing.

I’m panting, confused. My jaw is wet with my saliva and his pre-cum and my lungs are bursting with breaths that I’ve suddenly gotten back when he released my throat.

“What…”

He bends down and pulls me up by my arms. Then he puts his hands around my waist and hauls me off the ground. As usual, my legs go around his hips but they don’t stay there. They inch up and up.

They have to because he doesn’t stop when I’m eye-level to him. He keeps going until his mouth is on my tits and my legs are somewhere around his ribs.

My pussy gushes cream at the sheer display of his strength.

He makes me feel so feminine and fragile and tiny when he does things like this.

When I’m situated as I’m supposed to be, he stares up and into my eyes. His hands knead the soft flesh of my waist and I bite my lip, looking down at him.

“Why’d you make me stop?” I whisper.

He kisses the slope of my breast, just above my neckline. “Because I don’t want to come on your face or your neck or your tongue. I want to be inside of you when I blow.”

He puts a period on his sentence with another kiss on my breast before he reaches up with one hand, while still keeping me all plastered and secure against his torso, and jerks the bodice of my dress down.

He makes my tits bounce, and looking into my eyes, closes his mouth over my tender flesh and sucks. Arching up into his mouth, feeling his teeth digging into my skin, his beard scraping it, I reach back and unzip my dress so the neck goes down easily.

And it does.

It bares my tits and my nipples. Like panties, I’m not wearing a bra either. I don’t have to, not here, when it’s just him and me. And he latches on to my puffy nipple while I hug him and rub up against his body.

I’m so turned on that it doesn’t even register until he’s started to move. He’s striding toward something but I can barely care when he’s got his mouth on my skin and he’s laving his tongue like that and slurping in my swollen nipple.

He breaks away from me when we reach where he was trying to go. It was his truck.

We’re at his truck, still out in the open and in the driveway, when he lowers me and drops me on the leather seat, through the passenger side door.

I slide back so he can climb inside before closing the door with a bang and going for my waist again. He pulls me over and makes me straddle his lap.

Only then do I get a good look at his face.

At his lust-slashed cheeks, his moist lips, his drugged-up eyes. Bull of a man, my Graham.

He looks so messy and sexy and masculine with his jeans half-undone and that shaft I was sucking on peeking through the waistband.

“You like dancing, yeah?” he rasps.

Squirming, I nod. “Yeah.”

He gets his hand under the hem of my dress that he bought me, making the skin of my thighs coarse with goosebumps. He inches the hem up until my pantyless pussy is all bare and exposed. He does it all while staring into my eyes, but when my swollen, pink cunt comes into view, he gazes down.

He lasers his eyes at my core and licks his lips. My clit jerks and tightens at the peek of his tongue, the tongue that’s given it so much pleasure over the past few weeks.

Glancing back at me, he commands, “Dance for me, then. Dance where anyone can see you. Where anyone can see that you’re on my lap. That you’re giving me a lap dance and shaking those tits for me. But here’s the twist, baby.”