seemed uncommonly neat and she wondered whether he trimmed it.
Up close, Jack was so much bigger than she imagined and the first stab of panic rushed through Sandrine. The fear that swept across her had a strange and immediate side-effect, paradoxically heightening her excitement. Can I handle him? God, I hope so . She couldn’t think straight. While the wine had quietened the doubts that would ordinarily have crowded her reasoning, she was too caught up in the moment, in her own needs, to feel anything but the pressing urgency of her passion. Jack filled her senses. Soon, she was determined, very soon, he’d fill her body as well.
As she knelt in front of him, she brought her face close to his body, her nose buried in the dark juncture of his pubic hair. Breathing deeply, the smell was intoxicating, earthy and spicy and sharp with deep, penetratingly masculine notes.
She caressed her breasts, giving a gentle squeeze to her pebble-hard nipples in such a way that sent fireworks exploding behind her closed eyelids.
She leaned back and looked up at him. He was smiling, his eyes dancing with delight. She didn’t want to disappoint him. She’d crossed yet another line and there was no turning back.
“Watch me, Jack.”
With that, she kissed the head of his cock once, twice, then plunged her mouth lingeringly down on him, drawing as much into her as she could. It tasted delicious, salty and a little tangy; it was something she could grow very happy with. She moved her mouth rhythmically, each time trying to get more in but it was just too big, too wide and she wished she was more skilled.
Jack didn’t seem to mind her inexperience, though. He started to groan, grabbing a handful of her hair, adjusting the angle of her mouth and guiding her to a slightly faster rhythm. She allowed herself to be pliable and soon found his cock swelling, the head growing against the back of her mouth.
Then, just as she thought he would start to come, he pulled her face from him, leaving it dangling enticingly close, maddeningly so, rigid and straining, slick from her mouth, bobbing with the pulse of his blood drumming through his veins.
“Not yet. I’m not ready,” he said. Jack guided her to the couch. In the window across the road, the man was standing now, his attention completely focused on them. He was straining to see them in the dim light of the living room.
Jack kissed her deeply, hungrily. She grabbed his erection and moved it towards her but he pulled away, standing up to tower above her. In the pale yellow light, his body was moulded from stone, like a classical statue. His shoulders were wide and muscles rippled along his upper arms. His chest was dark with a scattering of curly hair, his waist was slim and his legs well defined and sturdy. From the pocket of his discarded jacket he pulled a small square foil.
She knew it was important so early in their relationship but she felt a disappointment nonetheless. To sheath such a raging, beautiful thing in rubber seemed a shame. She wanted to feel the heat searing into her, skin on skin, every fold and contour and ridge.
The condom eased onto his aching hardness, he ripped her panties open roughly, positioned himself between her legs and thrust forward with a determination that expelled the breath out of her. In one smooth movement, he was buried deep inside her. She was so aroused there was no hesitation. His erection, as thick and solid as it was, filled her with a heavenly finality.
They had no time for finesse. The long evening had served to tease them both and her mouth had sharpened his desire to the very edge of breaking point. He was beyond any thought but his need to pound her intoxicating tightness until he emptied himself inside her. And that was precisely what she wanted as well. She longed to feel his pleasure, his satisfaction. She needed to know that she was attractive, beautiful, desired. And she wanted to feel his flood.
There was no way this could be
Up close, Jack was so much bigger than she imagined and the first stab of panic rushed through Sandrine. The fear that swept across her had a strange and immediate side-effect, paradoxically heightening her excitement. Can I handle him? God, I hope so . She couldn’t think straight. While the wine had quietened the doubts that would ordinarily have crowded her reasoning, she was too caught up in the moment, in her own needs, to feel anything but the pressing urgency of her passion. Jack filled her senses. Soon, she was determined, very soon, he’d fill her body as well.
As she knelt in front of him, she brought her face close to his body, her nose buried in the dark juncture of his pubic hair. Breathing deeply, the smell was intoxicating, earthy and spicy and sharp with deep, penetratingly masculine notes.
She caressed her breasts, giving a gentle squeeze to her pebble-hard nipples in such a way that sent fireworks exploding behind her closed eyelids.
She leaned back and looked up at him. He was smiling, his eyes dancing with delight. She didn’t want to disappoint him. She’d crossed yet another line and there was no turning back.
“Watch me, Jack.”
With that, she kissed the head of his cock once, twice, then plunged her mouth lingeringly down on him, drawing as much into her as she could. It tasted delicious, salty and a little tangy; it was something she could grow very happy with. She moved her mouth rhythmically, each time trying to get more in but it was just too big, too wide and she wished she was more skilled.
Jack didn’t seem to mind her inexperience, though. He started to groan, grabbing a handful of her hair, adjusting the angle of her mouth and guiding her to a slightly faster rhythm. She allowed herself to be pliable and soon found his cock swelling, the head growing against the back of her mouth.
Then, just as she thought he would start to come, he pulled her face from him, leaving it dangling enticingly close, maddeningly so, rigid and straining, slick from her mouth, bobbing with the pulse of his blood drumming through his veins.
“Not yet. I’m not ready,” he said. Jack guided her to the couch. In the window across the road, the man was standing now, his attention completely focused on them. He was straining to see them in the dim light of the living room.
Jack kissed her deeply, hungrily. She grabbed his erection and moved it towards her but he pulled away, standing up to tower above her. In the pale yellow light, his body was moulded from stone, like a classical statue. His shoulders were wide and muscles rippled along his upper arms. His chest was dark with a scattering of curly hair, his waist was slim and his legs well defined and sturdy. From the pocket of his discarded jacket he pulled a small square foil.
She knew it was important so early in their relationship but she felt a disappointment nonetheless. To sheath such a raging, beautiful thing in rubber seemed a shame. She wanted to feel the heat searing into her, skin on skin, every fold and contour and ridge.
The condom eased onto his aching hardness, he ripped her panties open roughly, positioned himself between her legs and thrust forward with a determination that expelled the breath out of her. In one smooth movement, he was buried deep inside her. She was so aroused there was no hesitation. His erection, as thick and solid as it was, filled her with a heavenly finality.
They had no time for finesse. The long evening had served to tease them both and her mouth had sharpened his desire to the very edge of breaking point. He was beyond any thought but his need to pound her intoxicating tightness until he emptied himself inside her. And that was precisely what she wanted as well. She longed to feel his pleasure, his satisfaction. She needed to know that she was attractive, beautiful, desired. And she wanted to feel his flood.
There was no way this could be
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