27. Oliver

TWENTY-SEVEN

Oliver

I’m tracking Georgia’s every movement, feeling impossibly hard under my pants. She takes off the rest of her clothes. This time, I get to fully appreciate her from afar. She is slender, yet impossibly curvy, tits perfect teardrops, punctuated at the ends with small, rosy nipples. Her waist dips in and hips flare out, and I remember the feel of the plumpness of her ass under my hands.

I press down on my pants, seeking some relief.

Her skin is flushed, hair everywhere, limbs loose and trembling slightly after her orgasm.

She turns around to walk over to her backpack, bending in half dramatically to retrieve her lipstick. I find that I don’t mind that at all, because now I can see the plump, flushed lips of her pussy, wet with her arousal. “Hurry up,” I say.

“You can’t rush these things,” she tells me with her smart mouth, not fully aware of how I’m about to punish it. “I need a mirror; it gets everywhere?—”

“That’s the point, princess.”

She looks into a mirror in her foyer, next to the front door. She applies it slowly, knowing that I’m watching. Finally, she smacks her lips together with a popping sound and caps the lipstick, throwing it somewhere behind her.

She glides towards me like a siren, each step exaggerated with the swing of her hips.

I unbutton my shirt, leaving it on but draped open.

This woman crawls, crawls the rest of the way, ass tilted high in the air. She gets on her knees and rubs my thighs with her hands. Her small, nimble fingers trace the grooves on my stomach, my chest, nails scratching the nipple. Her hands feel impossibly soft.

She unbuttons the top of my pants, slowly unzips, tooth by tooth, trying to play coy. “Let’s see if the arrogance is worth it, then,” she purrs.

I smirk.

She grips my pants and my boxers by the sides, and I lift enough to allow her to pull it down. She only manages to get it just under my balls before becoming distracted. “Nooo,” she whispers.

“Five out of five?” I ask, wrapping my hand around my girth and pumping once, twice, groaning at the relief.

“I—there’s no way that’ll—what the fuck , Oliver,” she is still whispering, a tad hysterical. “It’s not fair—you look like that,” she says, waving her hand at my abs, “ and your—your” waving her hand towards my crotch, rambling incoherent nonsense.

I want nothing more than to shut her up with my cock. I point it towards her mouth. “Suck my dick, Georgia.”

Chest heaving, she glares at me. She licks her blood-red lips, and I memorize the image. Finally, she puts the tip in her mouth, the part not currently covered by my hand.

I almost lose it immediately. It’s heaven, the feeling, the warmth of her mouth. I move my hand away and she replaces it with her own. Now this is the sight I’ve been waiting for.

She’s a vision. Her red lips wrapped around my thickness, bobbing up and down, red painted everywhere, smudged all over the base of my dick, smeared all over her face. The way she stares up at me, eyes bright and blue and soul-crushingly beautiful. She maps me with her tongue and scrapes me with her teeth.

I flex my hips, wrapping her hair in my hands and gently moving her head up and down. I nearly die at the feeling of hitting the back of her throat, but she only makes it halfway down my dick. That won’t do . “I need you to take it all, angel. Can you do that for me?” I ask her, gently, not wanting to scare her.

She nods with her mouth full of me, and I smirk. “Tap my leg if it’s too much, and I’ll stop,” I tell her. I grab her hair once more, adjusting her head so she’s at a better angle, and slowly, slowly make my way down her throat. “Relax your throat. There you go. Good girl. Look at you, look how beautiful you look taking me down.” I am consumed by the feeling, the tight squeeze. I reach down and collar her neck, lightly, feeling myself move in and out.

Georgia gives us after a while, instead taking her hand and wraps it around my dick, just in front of her mouth, and starts moving both in tandem, sucking hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” I wrench myself out of her mouth, squeezing the base, so incredibly close to blowing. I collapse back onto the couch, out of breath, and I glare at her. “That was unacceptable, princess, trying to make me come before I was ready.”

She climbs on top of me, both knees on either side of my hips. “My turn,” she croons.

I grip her waist as she places her hands on my shoulders.

We both watch as she traps my cock between my body and hers, not letting me in yet. It’s an obscene sight, watching her slide her wetness up and down my length, pressing down when it reaches her clit. Her warmth, her wetness, it’s too much and yet not enough, so close to the real thing. I help myself to her tits, which are bouncing directly in front of my mouth, catching a nipple and sucking in the way I’ve learned she likes best.

I grit my teeth when I slip inside, just the tip.

We both curse, identical “fuck”s, and look down at the sight.

I sputter. “Georgia. Stop. Stop.” I lift her off of me. She wails. “I need to know if we need a condom. Tell me immediately. I have one in my wallet, just over there. I’m clean; I just got tested last month?—”

She pants. “I’m clean, too, and I have an IUD?—”

“What are you saying, Georgia? I need to hear you say it out loud?—”

“Fuck me bare, Oliver; fuck, just put it in.”

I groan. Unbelievable . I lift her up and angle my dick towards her entrance, holding the base. We both hold our breath, it seems, and I am immediately consumed by her soaking warmth. I alternate between checking her face and looking down at where we are connected, watching her brow furrow as she adjusts to my size, watching my dick sink into her body, stretching her obscenely, inch by inch.

She’s whining now, muttering unintelligibly, sawing her hips back and forth. “Holy shit, Oliver—I can’t—are you all in yet?”

I clench my jaw, my hands so tight on her hips I’m sure they’ll leave bruises. I restrain myself from both slamming her down and coming immediately. I want to laugh and burst into tears simultaneously when I look down and I’m not even halfway there. “Not yet, baby, almost there,” I say, as she shifts on top of me. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re doing so well.”

Finally, fucking finally, she takes me to the hilt. She’s resting her head on my shoulder, panting, and I’m biting her shoulder, still trying to hold back. The feeling of my bare skin in her wet heat is killing me.

“Move, Georgia. Please,” I practically beg.

She lifts her head and looks at me. We stare at one another for a moment, and I notice the little details of her face, the angle of her nose, the freckles sprinkled across, the thickness of her eyelashes surrounding the blue of her eyes. The red of her lipstick, the fullness of her lips.

She smirks at me, then tightens her inner muscles surrounding my dick.

I lose control, then.

I pick her body up, then slam it down as I thrust up. She screams.

We’re fucking now, really and truly fucking, as I work her hips back and forth on top of me, making sure her clit hits my pelvic bone with every pass. I mutter pure filth into her ear, “take it, princess”, “feels so good, fucking you bare”, taking my thumbs and pressing down on her nipples, hard.

I need more control than this position offers me, so I flip us over, laying her horizontally on the couch and getting on top, lifting one of her legs onto my shoulder, putting one foot down on the floor for better leverage. She is babbling, eyes squeezed shut, “so good”, “don’t stop”, “right there”.

She moves a hand down to her clit, but I slap it away. “This is my body to use, remember?”. I spit on her clit and start working the moisture in tight circles with my thumb and adjust my angle so I hit her favorite spot.

“Yes, yes, there, there, there , Oliver.”

Release builds at the base of my spine. I feel her inner muscles, watch her body tighten, familiar now with her tells. “Give it to me, Georgia.”

I feel her come apart this time, and it’s officially my new favorite thing. She’s screaming, moaning, and I’m close, so close, but I let her grind on my dick to ride out her aftershocks.

“Georgia, where?” I ask her, teeth clenched.

She opens her eyes and blinks at me. “Come on my tits,” and with those words, I pull out and finish myself off with my hand, painting her beautiful body with a groan.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” as it scissors up through my belly and explodes up my chest, and I’m dying from what is possibly the strongest orgasm ever experienced by humanity.

I collapse next to Georgia, lying between her body and the back of the couch. I rest an arm over my eyes, trying like hell to catch my breath. “Fuck.”

She is silent, body loose and relaxed next to me. She wraps her arm around my head and runs my fingers through my hair instead, petting me like a cat.

I open my eyes and turn my head, surprised at her tenderness. We look at one another for a moment, and I can’t help but kiss her, our tongues meeting softly, so at odds with the way we were mauling each other’s faces a moment ago.

I look down at her perfect body. Unable to resist, I smear my come all over her chest, rubbing it in circles around her nipple, slowly, gently. Her nipple gets hard and tight again, and she shivers.

I nip her ear. “I think I like the sight of this a little too much,” I whisper.

“How am I still turned on right now?” she asks me, outraged. “How does that still feel good?”

I laugh, genuinely amused. Then I’m silent, replaying everything in my head. “Are you okay?” I ask her.

She pulls away, looking at me incredulously. “Of course I’m okay, Oliver—fuck you. That was the most insane… Outrageous… Best sex I’ve ever had entire life, fuck you very much.”

I chuckle, incredibly relieved. I resume my rubbing all over her body, around her tits, into her center. “I loved being able to finally teach you a lesson,” I tell her, with a slap to her clit.

She yelps, giving me a full body shudder.

I nuzzle the side of her face, unable to resist. “You’re just so beautiful. Your body is fucking perfect. Like it was made to take me…” Her hips start moving on their own accord, in tune with the way I rub tight circles around her clit. “Look at you. You’re a mess, gorgeous. Wearing my come, lipstick all over your face, all over me.”

Her body is responding again, and I feel myself getting harder against her thigh. I grind it into her. “Are you for real right now, Oliver?”

I grin. “We have to make this night count, Georgia. Let’s get in the shower and get cleaned up.”

The shower is a blur of senses, the scent of her shampoo, the glide of her body wash against my fingers, working her body; her hands working mine. The taste of her core, the weight of a leg draped over my shoulder, the sharp pull of her tugging my hair. The sounds of her moans. The sight of her skin, clean, flushed pink from my ministrations and the heat of the shower. The coolness of the air as we vacate the shower, and I carry her into her bedroom, throwing her on her bed.

I like that she doesn’t apologize for the mess in her room.

I like a lot of things; I realize. Like how she lets me take control. Like that when I climb over her, straddling her stomach, pushing her breasts together to fuck them, that she leans over to her bedside table and hands me a bottle of lube. Like the feeling of her tongue meeting each thrust I make between her slippery tits.

I like the way she screams into her pillow after I force her on all fours, pressing her head down as I go to town. I like the way her ass ripples when I spank it. I die over the feeling of her orgasm around my dick. I like when she holds onto the slats of her headboard, meeting every single one of my thrusts. I like the way her ass looks, splattered with my come.

I like the way her warm body feels under the heat of another shower. I like when she gives me advanced consent to wake her up with morning sex, with a knowing grin on her face. I like that she knows that I’m staying. I like a little too much, I think, the way her soft body feels when she falls asleep in my arms.