out.
‘I give really good blow jobs,’ Petal assured him, grabbing hold of the edges of the tub, using the leverage to twist and wriggle herself further down on top of him, taking more of him inside her, feeling his hips jerking frantically as he responded to her encouragement.
He reached out and stroked her nipples, making her sigh with pleasure; her nipples were very sensitive, maybe because her breasts were so small.
‘Your tits are so pretty,’ Dan said, picking up handfuls of bubbles and rubbing them over her breasts. ‘They’re so pretty and perfect, like two little mouthfuls . . .’
He pulled her towards him, his lips closing over one of them as she writhed on top of him, so flooded with delight and so flattered by his compliments that she broke a usually iron-clad rule about her having to come first, and offered generously:‘Go on, you can come. You got me off already, and I know you want to.’
‘ Really ?’ he got out.
Petal smiled. ‘Yeah, go on then,’ she said nobly, feeling him already bucking beneath her, his thighs pumping, barely able to maintain the last remnants of his self-control.
Dan was beyond words. He threw his head back, gasping, his eyes closing, as Petal pulled up off him, wriggling her knees up the sides of the bath to get enough purchase, reaching forward to take hold of him just as he started to come, his arms draped over the sides of the bath, his hips thrusting upwards. The water was so warm that Petal, her hands wrapped around the tip of his penis, couldn’t actually sense his rush of heat as he exploded between her fingers. But she could feel his spasms, hear him groaning, as the bath bubbled all around them and his come mingled with the bubbles pumping up to the surface.
Dan’s eyelids fluttered open again, and he stared dazedly at Petal.
‘You’re amazing ,’ he mumbled blissfully.
You’re amazing, Petal thought, remembering him kissing her breasts. I just really, really hope you don’t know who my dad is. I really hope no one told you by now. I want to think you like me just for myself, flat chest and all . . .
Skye
S kye raised her head, slowly and cautiously, and squinted her eyes open a crack. It hurt as badly as if someone were squirting bleach through the chinks. Trying not to moan aloud with pain, she wriggled up into a sitting position. As she opened her eyes fully, the sunlight, flooding in because she hadn’t drawn the drapes the night before, scorched her retinas.
We did it again. We fucking went and did it again. After we promised each other we wouldn’t.
The display on her bedside clock, bright red numbers flashing mockingly at her, told her that it was just past noon. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Skye sat for a while, head down, fighting the waves of nausea that were threatening to rise dangerously up to her throat. The sunlight didn’t help. The apartment was on the fifth floor, high up enough in this low-rise part of Hell’s Kitchen so it got excellent morning light. It wasn’t ideal for a girl who worked night shifts: she’d had to buy blackout drapes.
And now my head hurts too much for me to even reach out and draw them. Fuck it.
Anyway, her priority was to get to the bathroom. Eventually, she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet.
I’m still drunk. Tequila shots till dawn, for fuck’s sake? What was I thinking? Oh, that’s right! I was letting the blow do my thinking for me! And it always makes such good decisions!
The apartment was trashed. Skye didn’t even dare to glance sideways into the kitchen as she passed down the corridor. She could tell from the sour odour in the bathroom that someone had upchucked in the toilet, but at least they’d flushed it. Skye rinsed out a discarded glass, took two Advils and washed them down with two glassfuls of water from the tap. A good five minutes later, just as she was beginning to think she was OK, which meant she wasn’t going to puke her guts up, she heard
‘I give really good blow jobs,’ Petal assured him, grabbing hold of the edges of the tub, using the leverage to twist and wriggle herself further down on top of him, taking more of him inside her, feeling his hips jerking frantically as he responded to her encouragement.
He reached out and stroked her nipples, making her sigh with pleasure; her nipples were very sensitive, maybe because her breasts were so small.
‘Your tits are so pretty,’ Dan said, picking up handfuls of bubbles and rubbing them over her breasts. ‘They’re so pretty and perfect, like two little mouthfuls . . .’
He pulled her towards him, his lips closing over one of them as she writhed on top of him, so flooded with delight and so flattered by his compliments that she broke a usually iron-clad rule about her having to come first, and offered generously:‘Go on, you can come. You got me off already, and I know you want to.’
‘ Really ?’ he got out.
Petal smiled. ‘Yeah, go on then,’ she said nobly, feeling him already bucking beneath her, his thighs pumping, barely able to maintain the last remnants of his self-control.
Dan was beyond words. He threw his head back, gasping, his eyes closing, as Petal pulled up off him, wriggling her knees up the sides of the bath to get enough purchase, reaching forward to take hold of him just as he started to come, his arms draped over the sides of the bath, his hips thrusting upwards. The water was so warm that Petal, her hands wrapped around the tip of his penis, couldn’t actually sense his rush of heat as he exploded between her fingers. But she could feel his spasms, hear him groaning, as the bath bubbled all around them and his come mingled with the bubbles pumping up to the surface.
Dan’s eyelids fluttered open again, and he stared dazedly at Petal.
‘You’re amazing ,’ he mumbled blissfully.
You’re amazing, Petal thought, remembering him kissing her breasts. I just really, really hope you don’t know who my dad is. I really hope no one told you by now. I want to think you like me just for myself, flat chest and all . . .
Skye
S kye raised her head, slowly and cautiously, and squinted her eyes open a crack. It hurt as badly as if someone were squirting bleach through the chinks. Trying not to moan aloud with pain, she wriggled up into a sitting position. As she opened her eyes fully, the sunlight, flooding in because she hadn’t drawn the drapes the night before, scorched her retinas.
We did it again. We fucking went and did it again. After we promised each other we wouldn’t.
The display on her bedside clock, bright red numbers flashing mockingly at her, told her that it was just past noon. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Skye sat for a while, head down, fighting the waves of nausea that were threatening to rise dangerously up to her throat. The sunlight didn’t help. The apartment was on the fifth floor, high up enough in this low-rise part of Hell’s Kitchen so it got excellent morning light. It wasn’t ideal for a girl who worked night shifts: she’d had to buy blackout drapes.
And now my head hurts too much for me to even reach out and draw them. Fuck it.
Anyway, her priority was to get to the bathroom. Eventually, she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet.
I’m still drunk. Tequila shots till dawn, for fuck’s sake? What was I thinking? Oh, that’s right! I was letting the blow do my thinking for me! And it always makes such good decisions!
The apartment was trashed. Skye didn’t even dare to glance sideways into the kitchen as she passed down the corridor. She could tell from the sour odour in the bathroom that someone had upchucked in the toilet, but at least they’d flushed it. Skye rinsed out a discarded glass, took two Advils and washed them down with two glassfuls of water from the tap. A good five minutes later, just as she was beginning to think she was OK, which meant she wasn’t going to puke her guts up, she heard
Similar Books
