Treason and Plot's Stories

  “Jesus,” says Roy. His voice is hushed in wonderment, his hands lightly cradling her breasts. “I forgot how soft they were.“ Saoirse stares too, hypnotised by his thumb circling her areola. “I want to spend the next half hour licking and kissing them,” he whispers. “And when I’ve finished I want to suck your nipples, as hard as you’ll let me, for as long as you’ll let me. Then I want to slide my hand between your thighs, and nudge your pussy with my cock, just a little bit, just teasing, and I want to hear you moaning and see your legs spread wide, wide open, and then I want to slowly run my tongue around the inside of your knees, and kiss every single freckle on your inner thighs.”

  Now, Roy, no touching my breasts while we're fucking. Only I'm allowed to touch them, and you are only allowed to watch. When I have had my fill of your cock, and at least two orgasms,  I might let you run your tongue over my nipples, and bury your face in my breasts' scented warmth. And then I might let you slide your aching cock between them, inch by rock-hard inch into that soft freckled valley, but only if you beg, and only if I can lick the glistening tip of your cock when you thrust in the direction of my open mouth.