Dust dances in the attic sunlight. Small window frames the garden, trees swaying in September breeze. Creaky floorboards crunch underfoot. Cobwebs sway lazily. We’re alone, finally. Your email lured me here, to your father’s empty house. I knew I’d cave. Always do.
Eyes lock. Tension crackles. Hands find excuses to touch. Hugs linger too long. Now, you’re behind me. Red dress straps slip down my arms, bra follows. Your palms cup my breasts. Firm, warm. Nipples harden instantly. Reflection in the grimy pane: my neck exposed, dress pooling at my waist, your broad shoulders looming. Sun rays kiss my bare skin through the dust motes. Heart pounds. Pulse races in my throat.
The Fever
‘Pleasant and reasonable end the same, but isn’t it incompatible?’ you murmur, squeezing my tits. ‘Rarely,’ I gasp. You sigh, ‘But…’ Discussion dies. Desire surges. I press back against you. Your scent envelops me—musky, intoxicating. No thinking. Just feel.
Your left hand trails my flank, belly. Fingers spider-walk my thigh, hiking the dress. I tilt my head to yours, eyes closing, begging for a kiss. None comes. Tease. Your hand dives under fabric, nudges panties aside without grazing my mound. How? A whimper escapes. You’re memorizing my curves, thumbs circling nipples. Right hand mirrors, slipping inside. Palm cups so close to my pussy. Inches away. My clit throbs, slickness builds. Heart hammers. Breath quickens.
I grip your hips, squeeze your ass. You grind harder. Delicious bulge presses my crack. Erect, rigid. Humps my cheeks. Vertical thrusts. Heat radiates through cloth. My left hand snakes into your pocket. Fingers probe. Find your swollen cock. Stroke the head. Velvety. Lips wetten. Craving it on my tongue.
Your hands yank panties down. I cling to your arm. Fingers claim me. Press clit. Two slide in, pumping my wetness. Right hand trails my spine, gathers juice, circles my asshole. Probes. Enters. Double penetration. Legs quake. Guttural moan rips free. Breath ragged. Heart thunders. Urgency builds—faster, deeper.
The Blaze
Fingers withdraw. I spin, palms flat on your chest. Feel the heat, the muscle. Hand drops: abs, belt, zipper. Jeans pool. Boxer briefs next. Kneel. Grip shaft. Kiss the tip. Tongue laps pre-cum from slit. Swallow you whole. Slow, languid sucks. Then hungry. Gagging deep. Your hand sweeps hair back. Watch me. I avoid your eyes—too submissive.
You swell. Thighs tense. Hips buck. I pause, tease. Groan of frustration. Resume. Gland hits throat. You erupt. Hot spurts flood my mouth. Swallow every drop. Salty, thick.
Hands frame my face. Pull me up. Panties back on. Crush into your arms. Bodies slick with sweat. You dress. Lead me down creaky stairs.
‘That ass… fuck, you’re built.’ Skin still burns. Pulse slows. Embers glow. Unique high. Addicted already.