After the Cool Down A Run Club Hookup Erotica #2
“I’m going to cum on your cock,” Riley said, almost laughing at how flat it came out. “Don’t you stop. Don’t you change anything.”
He didn’t. She came with her heel slipping on the back of his thigh and her other hand fisting the comforter.
Pussy locking down on him in pulls he had to breathe through.
She heard herself, raw, and let it happen.
Nate kept that same deep rhythm while she shook, 24 years old and doing exactly what he had been told, cock throbbing inside her and going nowhere near done.
Riley dropped onto her back all the way and dragged him with her so he had to plant a knee on the mattress. The new angle shoved him higher. She hissed.
“That’s—fuck. That’s the spot. Stay on it.”
He stayed on it. Shorter strokes now, grinding the head of his cock against her from the inside while her clit dragged his body.
Sweat from the run had dried and been replaced by this sweat.
The sheets stuck to her shoulders. She could hear how wet she was, a slick filthy beat under the creak of the frame.
She came again before she meant to, sharper, almost a flinch, nails in his back. He groaned into her throat and still did not finish. Riley felt him pulse and felt him hold it. She kissed the corner of his mouth, messy.
“You’re shaking.”
“You’re tight when you do that.” His voice had gone wrecked. “I’m all right.”
“I know you are.” She locked her legs higher on his waist. “Keep fucking me. I want it sloppy. I want to hear it.”
He gave her sloppy. Wet. The kind of rhythm that made her tits bounce and the headboard tap the wall in an uneven knock.
Riley watched his face when he went deep.
Open mouth. Dark eyes. The specific strain of a man who could have come ten minutes ago and hadn’t.
She reached between them again and felt where he stretched her, fingers in the mess, and that alone almost set off a third.
“Wait,” she said suddenly, palm to his stomach.
He stopped buried. Instant. Breathing like he had sprinted the last mile again.
Riley laughed once, wrecked and pleased with him.
“Not stop-stop. Stop so I can get on top. I want to ride you. I want to decide the pace for a while.” She squeezed around his cock so he would feel the next sentence. “You stay hard. You don’t finish. You put your hands on my hips when I tell you to.”
“Yes.”
She pushed at his chest. He went back onto the bed without slipping out if he could help it, and when he did slip free she made an unhappy sound at the empty and climbed after him.
Straddled his hips. Took his cock in her fist, wet to the root, and rubbed the head through her folds once, twice, mean, not putting him back in yet.
Nate’s hands hovered.
“Not yet,” Riley said, looking down at him, 26 years old, pussy dripping on his stomach, nipples tight, hair wrecked from his fists. “You ask me from down there.”
His throat worked.
“Can I be inside you while you ride me.”
She smiled, small and filthy, and started to sink onto him as the answer.
Riley sank onto him in one slow drop.
Nate’s breath left him in a punched sound.
She took every inch because she wanted the stretch from this angle, heavier, deeper, her own weight doing what his hips had been doing.
Twenty-six years old, knees in her own sheets, palms on a 24 year old’s chest, and she did not move yet.
She sat on his cock and let both of them feel it.
“Hands on my hips,” she said. “Don’t lift me. Just hold.”
His hands settled. Warm. A little shaky.
Riley rolled forward a degree and her clit dragged his body.
Heat licked up her spine. She did it again, small, testing the slide, and watched his face from above.
Open mouth. Eyes dark. The specific wrecked patience of a man who had already been in her mouth and in her pussy and still had not been allowed to finish.
“Talk,” she said. “I don’t want quiet. Tell me what this feels like.”
“Tight.” His voice was wrecked. “Hot. You’re dripping on me. I can feel you clench when you breathe.”
“Good.” She lifted until the head of his cock almost slipped free and dropped back down, slow enough that they both watched it. “You don’t cum. You last. If you get close you say it.”
“I’ll say it.”
She started to ride him.
Not bouncing. A long grind that kept him buried and rubbed her clit on him at the bottom of every pass. The wet sound was obscene in the small room. Her tits moved with it. Nate’s gaze dropped to them and she took one of his wrists and put his hand there.
“Yes. That. Squeeze.”
He squeezed. Thumb on her nipple. The pinch landed between her legs and she swore and picked up the pace a fraction.
Thighs burning already from the 5K and from holding herself over him.
She liked the burn. She used it. Sweat started again at her hairline, down the line of her throat, into the hollow between her breasts.
She smelled sex and clean sheets and the salt they had walked in with.
“Can I sit up,” he asked.
“Yes.”
Nate folded up beneath her so her chest hit his, cock shoved even higher, and Riley’s forehead dropped to his.
Different like this. Closer. She could kiss him if she wanted and she did, messy, more breath than skill, while she kept rolling her hips.
His hands slid to her ass and stayed there without taking over the rhythm.
“You’re doing that thing,” he said against her mouth.
“What thing.”
“Getting tighter. You’re close.”
She was. She did not dress it up. She reached between them and rubbed her clit with two wet fingers while she rode him, no shame, and the extra pressure snapped the first orgasm of this position through her in a long shake.
She sat down hard on his cock and came around him, pulsing, a raw sound into his throat.
He held her through it and did not thrust up. She had not told him he could.
Riley laughed once when she could breathe, wrecked and pleased.
“You felt that.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to do it again. You still don’t get to.”
“I know.”
She pushed him flat. Hands on his stomach.
She changed the motion on purpose so it would not be the same grind — higher lifts now, slapping down, her ass meeting his thighs, the filthy wet beat of it filling the room.
The headboard tapped the wall. Her hair came out of what was left of the knot and stuck to her mouth and she left it.
Nate watched where they joined like he was trying to memorize it.
“You can thrust up,” she said. “Short. I still set the pace.”
He did. Small punches from below that met her on the way down. The combination made her swear and brace on his chest. Full. Stretched. Her pussy making a mess of his stomach. She could hear how wet she was and it only made her meaner on him.
“Nate.”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me you want me to cum again.”
“I want you to cum on my cock again.”
She did, faster than the first, almost angry at how easy he had made it by saying it.
Knees slipping in the sheets. Head tipped back.
She clenched so hard he groaned through his teeth and his hands flexed on her hips and still he did not spill.
Riley felt the throb of him fighting it and rolled through the aftershocks just to be cruel and kind at the same time.
She slowed. Did not get off him. Sat full and shaking, sweat dripping from her throat onto his chest.
“Close?” she asked.
“Yes.” Honest. Tight.
“Then we stay like this until it backs off. You don’t pull out. I like you in me.”
He nodded, jaw locked. Riley stroked his hair back and breathed with him, tiny circles of her hips that were almost comfort and almost not.
The lamp-less room, the hall light cutting a stripe across his stomach, her 26 year old body still working around a 24 year old she had picked up off a curb after a 5K.
When his breathing evened she started moving again, slower than before, deep and lazy, tits heavy in his hands when she put them there.
“I’m not done with this,” she said. “I’m going to ride until my legs give out and then you’re going to do the work. From behind. I want to watch if I can.”
“Can I fuck you from behind when you say.”
“Yes. When I say. Not before.”
She dropped forward onto his chest, still speared on him, and let her thighs quit for a minute. His cock twitched inside her. Her pussy answered. She kissed the damp skin over his heart.
“Don’t you dare be done,” she murmured.
“I’m not done.”
Riley smiled against him, filthy and tired and nowhere near finished, and rolled her hips once more just to hear him lose a breath.
Riley lifted off him with a wet sound she felt in her teeth.
The empty made her hiss. Nate’s cock shone against his stomach, still hard, still unfinished, the way she had ordered it. She turned on her knees and put her chest down into the comforter, ass up, cheek on her own wrinkled sheet.
“Ask.”
“Can I fuck you from behind.”
“Yes. Edge of the bed. I want my feet on the floor. Don’t you go soft on me.”
He got off the mattress and pulled her back by the hips until her toes found the rug. The height landed right. Riley looked over her shoulder once to watch him line up, then faced the headboard and braced.
Nate pushed in on a single stroke.
Deeper like this. Meaner. She felt him drag along the front wall and her mouth fell open into cotton. He held when his hips met her ass, giving her the full thick stretch, and she pushed back onto him so he would know it was wanted.
“Move. I want to hear it.”
He fucked her. The slap started immediately — skin on skin, wet, shameless.
Twenty-six years old with her face in her own sheets and a 24 year old from run club buried in her pussy from behind, and the room filled with the sound of it.
His hands gripped the places he had only held before.
She told him harder and he gave her harder.
The frame knocked the wall in a rhythm the neighbors could have counted.
Riley reached under herself and found her clit, two fingers in the mess, and rubbed in time. The angle made every thrust shove her onto her own hand. She came faster than she expected, a sharp clench that locked around his cock and pulled a groan out of him. He did not stop. She had not told him to.
“Stay in. Keep going. I didn’t say rest.”