"E-ex--" 101 shudders and moans when his experienced fingers strike just so, and she grinds down onto his hand, "--exactly." It comes out as a plea, and that does more for him than leather straps and short skirts ever could.
She strokes up and down his shaft, slowly and firmly, once, twice, then returns to lavish attention on his tip once more with nimble fingers. He leans back, eyes closing, mouth open in a choked groan.
Three Dog manages, after a minute or two of just letting her explore him, letting her go at it, to close his free hand around her wrist (the one not working her cunt to the point of drawing rivulets of fluid down her smooth thighs), and slows her, opening his eyes again.
"Last chance," he murmurs, and she's smiling when she leans down to kiss him between the syllables, already knowing where he's going with this. "You sure?"
The Lone Wanderer meets Three Dog's eyes, and the glint he finds there has his cock twitching in her smooth hand. "Am I ever not?" She pushes past the grip holding her hand in place and pumps him one more time, then it's her turn to push his hands away.
Three Dog transfers them obediently to her hips, steadying her as she lowers herself enough to press his head against her entrance. He draws a deep breath, caught up in the press of warmth and wet before she, satisfied with the positioning, slides herself down his length in one heart-stoppingly smooth movement.
A beat goes by, then two, then three. They stay locked like that, neither daring to breathe as the new connection hits and washes over.
She adjusts more quickly than him, and before he's even managed to fully resurface from that one moment of drowing in sensation, he's being pulled back under by the sudden rocking slide of her rising up almost to his tip and grinding back down again. No sooner do her hips settle against his, sheathing him to the hilt, than she's up again, repeating the movement. It takes a minute for her loud cries to hit his ears, mingled with sounds he hadn't realized he was making, low groans, crooning variants of the names he's given her - "One-Ooooh-One," he gasps, "ah, fuck, kiddo, I--ah!"
Three Dog grips her hips, still determined to improve upon this where he can. She's done this before, that much is obvious, but there's still a jerkiness, an unrefined and inexperienced desperation to her movements and while he's not sure he can hold on long enough to make this the quite luxurious affair he'd love it to be, fuck no not after all this time, he can definitely show her a thing or two.
He slows her pace, angles his hips, and meets her halfway on the next thrust, ripping something nearing a scream out of her that's shaped like his name, and, encouraged, he repeats the movement. They settle into the new rhythm, rocking into each other, her cries rising sharply and his low utterances of encouragement and a dozen variant names growing increasingly incomprehensible.
Three Dog's worried he'll finish first, ruin it, but then her mouth descends on his desperately and he drinks down the sudden scream as she slams her hips down with a force to rattle his bones -- once, twice, three times, and she seizes up, whole body tightening like a string and trembling as her orgasm crashes through her, his continued thrusting helping her along. When it's over, she slumps against him, panting, and he settles and stills, holding her close and running a hand distractedly through her sweat-damp hair.
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timeasmymeasure
Since When, 3g/3
Date: 2012-06-18 07:27 pm (UTC)"E-ex--" 101 shudders and moans when his experienced fingers strike just so, and she grinds down onto his hand, "--exactly." It comes out as a plea, and that does more for him than leather straps and short skirts ever could.
She strokes up and down his shaft, slowly and firmly, once, twice, then returns to lavish attention on his tip once more with nimble fingers. He leans back, eyes closing, mouth open in a choked groan.
Three Dog manages, after a minute or two of just letting her explore him, letting her go at it, to close his free hand around her wrist (the one not working her cunt to the point of drawing rivulets of fluid down her smooth thighs), and slows her, opening his eyes again.
"Last chance," he murmurs, and she's smiling when she leans down to kiss him between the syllables, already knowing where he's going with this. "You sure?"
The Lone Wanderer meets Three Dog's eyes, and the glint he finds there has his cock twitching in her smooth hand. "Am I ever not?" She pushes past the grip holding her hand in place and pumps him one more time, then it's her turn to push his hands away.
Three Dog transfers them obediently to her hips, steadying her as she lowers herself enough to press his head against her entrance. He draws a deep breath, caught up in the press of warmth and wet before she, satisfied with the positioning, slides herself down his length in one heart-stoppingly smooth movement.
A beat goes by, then two, then three. They stay locked like that, neither daring to breathe as the new connection hits and washes over.
She adjusts more quickly than him, and before he's even managed to fully resurface from that one moment of drowing in sensation, he's being pulled back under by the sudden rocking slide of her rising up almost to his tip and grinding back down again. No sooner do her hips settle against his, sheathing him to the hilt, than she's up again, repeating the movement. It takes a minute for her loud cries to hit his ears, mingled with sounds he hadn't realized he was making, low groans, crooning variants of the names he's given her - "One-Ooooh-One," he gasps, "ah, fuck, kiddo, I--ah!"
Three Dog grips her hips, still determined to improve upon this where he can. She's done this before, that much is obvious, but there's still a jerkiness, an unrefined and inexperienced desperation to her movements and while he's not sure he can hold on long enough to make this the quite luxurious affair he'd love it to be, fuck no not after all this time, he can definitely show her a thing or two.
He slows her pace, angles his hips, and meets her halfway on the next thrust, ripping something nearing a scream out of her that's shaped like his name, and, encouraged, he repeats the movement. They settle into the new rhythm, rocking into each other, her cries rising sharply and his low utterances of encouragement and a dozen variant names growing increasingly incomprehensible.
Three Dog's worried he'll finish first, ruin it, but then her mouth descends on his desperately and he drinks down the sudden scream as she slams her hips down with a force to rattle his bones -- once, twice, three times, and she seizes up, whole body tightening like a string and trembling as her orgasm crashes through her, his continued thrusting helping her along. When it's over, she slumps against him, panting, and he settles and stills, holding her close and running a hand distractedly through her sweat-damp hair.