start unbuckling his belt. He lets me slip it out of the loops, then unzip his pants and tug them halfway down his hips. Oliver hates underwear and avoids them most of the time. I’m thankful for this little quirk as I wrap my fingers around his thick cock and start to stroke it. His eyes are close as his lips part. When he starts bucking into my hand and lets out a solitary grunt, Oliver grabs my wrist and stills my hand.
Without a word, he stands up and pulls my jeans off. They go flying behind him and hit the wall with a smack. His hand is between my legs. “I like these panties.”
I start to move with his hand. The rhythm is perfect, and I’ll be able to come in another minute.
“They’re so wet though.” His smile is apparent in his voice. “Did I do that to you?”
“Of course you did.”
Oliver steps out of his pants and grabs his dick with his free hand. “I make you wet?”
I don’t answer, and he takes his hand away.
“Yes,” I say.
He rewards me by rubbing me again. “Do I make you hot?”
“Yes.”
His fingers curl around the thin fabric of my pink thong. “Do you think about me when you fuck other guys?”
“Sometimes.”
“When you’re alone and you think about me, about how we used to fuck, does it make you so hot and wet you have to get yourself off?”
I nod, but know Oliver wants me to say it when he gives my panties a tug, then brushes a knuckle over my clit. “Yes.” I breathe out.
With one quick motion, he rips my panties clean away. “Show me.”
My fingers are between the lips of my sex before my mind can even tell them to do it.
“God, you’re so sexy,” Oliver says. He slowly pulls on his cock.
I want it deep inside of me, hitting the spots that make my toes curl. The sooner I come, the sooner he’ll give it to me, so I manipulate my clitoris quickly and I feel the heat begin to rise up from my feet.
“Do it slow, Collette.” Oliver sits down, spreads my legs open wide to get a perfect view.
I slow my movements, and he gives me a treat by pushing one finger into me. He curls that finger up until he massages the flesh directly underneath my clitoris,
I roll my hips against him. Moans escape me.
“Is that it? Am I getting it?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Isn’t it nice to slow down just a little and enjoy the journey to your orgasm?”
“I want to come.” I move my hips a little faster. My fingers continue to circle. “I want you,” I say. “Please?”
“Come for me nice and slow first.”
The resulting whine I give is completely involuntary and outside of my normal behavior.
“Do you want me to help you?”
“Uh-huh.” It’s the best reply I can give.
“What do you want?”
“Your mouth.”
“Where?”
I feel starved for oxygen. I can’t breathe, but my need for his touch overpowers all else. “My pussy. Eat my pussy.” Before the words are even out of my mouth, I gasp as I feel Oliver’s hot mouth on my even hotter flesh. My toes curl right away.
He puts his finger in me again, then adds another. Oliver is true to his word. He gives me a drawn out, slow orgasm. When he straightens his back, I see his face is damp with the evidence of my climax.
He leans down and rubs his wet cheeks over my breasts, then laps at my nipples. I thread my hands in his long, dusty brown hair. I love the way he keeps it while he isn’t filming, and hope to God he fucks me soon.
I follow him up as he walks away. I’m up on my knees, one hand squeezing a breast, the other lightly grazing my swollen bundle of nerves. It’s almost too sensitive to touch.
Oliver grabs his cock again. “You still like giving head?”
It’s my turn to be dirty. “Put your cock down my throat, and I’ll show you.”
He spins me, and I lie back, my head off the mattress as he stands over me. This is somewhat of a specialty for me, but I don’t do it for just any guy.
But I trust Oliver. At least physically; I don’t trust him with my
Without a word, he stands up and pulls my jeans off. They go flying behind him and hit the wall with a smack. His hand is between my legs. “I like these panties.”
I start to move with his hand. The rhythm is perfect, and I’ll be able to come in another minute.
“They’re so wet though.” His smile is apparent in his voice. “Did I do that to you?”
“Of course you did.”
Oliver steps out of his pants and grabs his dick with his free hand. “I make you wet?”
I don’t answer, and he takes his hand away.
“Yes,” I say.
He rewards me by rubbing me again. “Do I make you hot?”
“Yes.”
His fingers curl around the thin fabric of my pink thong. “Do you think about me when you fuck other guys?”
“Sometimes.”
“When you’re alone and you think about me, about how we used to fuck, does it make you so hot and wet you have to get yourself off?”
I nod, but know Oliver wants me to say it when he gives my panties a tug, then brushes a knuckle over my clit. “Yes.” I breathe out.
With one quick motion, he rips my panties clean away. “Show me.”
My fingers are between the lips of my sex before my mind can even tell them to do it.
“God, you’re so sexy,” Oliver says. He slowly pulls on his cock.
I want it deep inside of me, hitting the spots that make my toes curl. The sooner I come, the sooner he’ll give it to me, so I manipulate my clitoris quickly and I feel the heat begin to rise up from my feet.
“Do it slow, Collette.” Oliver sits down, spreads my legs open wide to get a perfect view.
I slow my movements, and he gives me a treat by pushing one finger into me. He curls that finger up until he massages the flesh directly underneath my clitoris,
I roll my hips against him. Moans escape me.
“Is that it? Am I getting it?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Isn’t it nice to slow down just a little and enjoy the journey to your orgasm?”
“I want to come.” I move my hips a little faster. My fingers continue to circle. “I want you,” I say. “Please?”
“Come for me nice and slow first.”
The resulting whine I give is completely involuntary and outside of my normal behavior.
“Do you want me to help you?”
“Uh-huh.” It’s the best reply I can give.
“What do you want?”
“Your mouth.”
“Where?”
I feel starved for oxygen. I can’t breathe, but my need for his touch overpowers all else. “My pussy. Eat my pussy.” Before the words are even out of my mouth, I gasp as I feel Oliver’s hot mouth on my even hotter flesh. My toes curl right away.
He puts his finger in me again, then adds another. Oliver is true to his word. He gives me a drawn out, slow orgasm. When he straightens his back, I see his face is damp with the evidence of my climax.
He leans down and rubs his wet cheeks over my breasts, then laps at my nipples. I thread my hands in his long, dusty brown hair. I love the way he keeps it while he isn’t filming, and hope to God he fucks me soon.
I follow him up as he walks away. I’m up on my knees, one hand squeezing a breast, the other lightly grazing my swollen bundle of nerves. It’s almost too sensitive to touch.
Oliver grabs his cock again. “You still like giving head?”
It’s my turn to be dirty. “Put your cock down my throat, and I’ll show you.”
He spins me, and I lie back, my head off the mattress as he stands over me. This is somewhat of a specialty for me, but I don’t do it for just any guy.
But I trust Oliver. At least physically; I don’t trust him with my
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