What the hell is wrong with me?
I should be horrified. But not a word of protest slides from my lips. How can it when I’m all but reveling in his touch?
Depraved.
I must be as depraved as he is.
His fingers are splayed wide as his thumbs sweep dangerously close to the most private part of me. I shudder out a breath as his tongue strokes my pussy with unhurried laps. The pad of his thumb grazes over my anus and my eyes fly open in alarm. When I wiggle, attempting to escape the intimate touch, his fingers bite into my flesh, anchoring me to the lounger. His mouth slides up a few inches before his teeth sink into my cheek and his thumb deliberately settles over the puckered muscle where it stubbornly remains.
It’s as if he’s waiting for me to protest his claim of ownership. There is no fooling myself into believing that he isn’t deliberately touching me in such a taboo place. The puffs of air that leave my mouth are harsh and labored. My heart jackhammers a painful staccato under my breast, feeling like it might explode.
Why aren’t I screaming bloody murder or trying to roll away?
The truth of the matter is if I wanted to, I could easily escape. I choose to remain still. Folded in submission, with my ass in the air, and the side of my face pressed against the cushion while he explores my body.
Never in my life have I felt so vulnerable.
This feeling of being on display, with the hot sun stroking over my sensitive bits of flesh is one of the most humbling and yet strangely empowering sensations I have ever experienced. It makes little sense. Uncertainty swirls through me, creating havoc inside my brain, as my teeth sink into my lower lip.
What is this boy doing to me?
When his finger vanishes, I release a pent-up breath that is tinged at the edges with disappointment. He runs his thumb along the lips of my soaked pussy before sliding it deep inside and pumping it a few times. My inner muscles clench around the intrusion. When he drags the digit from my body, a sense of emptiness takes its place.
He brushes a kiss meant to comfort along my flank before the same thumb that had been buried inside me returns to my backside. I gulp at the slickness now coating his digit as he rubs soft circles against the tight muscle. When I try to wiggle away, his teeth sink into my cheek until my movements cease. He caresses me with unhurried strokes until my body surrenders, accepting this intimate touch. My muscles loosen incrementally, one at a time.
Now that I’m no longer mentally fighting the contact, unexpected pleasure rushes in from all sides, filling every bit of space. Unwilling to inspect the confusion hovering at the outer recesses of my brain, telling me this foreign touch shouldn’t feel so enjoyable, I can’t help but absorb the wonder of this new experience.
When the blunt tip of his thumb prods the tight ring of muscle seeking entrance, I stiffen beneath his touch. His movement stills, but the digit does not retreat. It stays pressed against me. A reminder that he is not going anywhere. The application of pressure feels both scary and strangely erotic. I’m tempted to give in and relax my body, but I can’t mentally let go. I’m clenched against further invasion.
The fingers of his other hand sink deep into my pussy. He repeats the movement until it becomes rhythmic. Delirium floods through me as I’m pushed relentlessly toward climax. As my body tightens, orgasm imminent, he backs off. His fingers slide from my sheath to dance around the drenched entrance.
My core pulses with an awareness that makes everything else seem irrelevant. All I care about is coming. I need his fingers back inside me, stroking me to completion. I squirm beneath him as a whimper of frustration slides from my lips. He knows exactly what I seek but refuses to give it to me. With my hands pressed into the lounger at my chest, I strain toward him.
What I fail to realize is that as I shift in his direction, the blunt tip of his thumb prodding the ring of muscle becomes more insistent. A wave of intensity washes over me as I pause. What becomes clear is that I can not have one touch without the other. His devilish fingers continue to rim me until I want to scream.
I squeeze my eyes tightly closed and make a decision. Actually, there isn’t a choice to be made. I need this. I’m much too aroused to retreat now. As I carefully sink into his touch, his thumb breeches the entrance of my anus.
I hiss out a breath when a burning sensation fills me. As if to reward the action, his fingers slide into my pussy, caressing the walls. His teeth scrape against my backside before he bites down, all the while continuing to press further into the tight space. A strange, but not entirely unpleasant, pressure fills me. The urge to lock my muscles against him pounds through me. When I clench, he nips me again before slipping the tip of his thumb out, but not completely. The sting dissipates as his other hand continues to glide over my heat.