Meeting Ran Late Age Gap, BBC, Husband Watches #2
Short ones on her clit. The tip of his tongue dipping into her hole just enough to make her hips chase it.
She could smell him and herself mixed now, cologne and cunt, and the wet noise of it filled the locked room.
Saliva and her own slick ran down toward her ass. He chased that too.
“Darius. Don’t stop. Right there.”
He stayed on her clit and slid one thick finger into her pussy.
She clenched around it on reflex. He added a second when she pushed down on him, stretching her, curling until he found the spot that made her thighs shake.
His mouth never left her. The dual pressure wrecked her sense of the room.
There was only his tongue, his fingers, the metal edge under her ass, and the ugly bright lights.
She came hard.
It rolled up from her cunt and knocked the air out of her.
She made a broken sound and soaked his mouth, pulsing around his fingers, clit throbbing against his tongue.
He stayed on her through it, licking her through the shakes, drinking what she gave him.
The taste of her own orgasm was in the air.
Her ears rang. Her thighs tried to close and he held them open until the last flutter passed.
He kissed the inside of her knee. His chin shone.
“Still yes?”
Jenna dragged in a breath. “Yes. I want your cock out. I want to feel it.”
He stood. She reached for his belt with hands that were not steady. Leather hissed. Button. Zipper. He wore black briefs. The shape of him strained the fabric, heavy, long, a wet spot already dark at the head. She hooked the waistband and pulled him free.
His cock was thick. Dark. Veined. The head was flushed and wet, and when she wrapped her fingers around him they did not meet. Heat rolled off the shaft. He was harder than the table under her. She stroked once, slow, and watched a bead of precum well and slide over her thumb.
“Jesus,” she whispered.
“You can say it.”
“It’s a big fucking cock.”
His mouth twitched. “You asked to see it.”
She spat in her palm and took him in a real grip.
Up to the head, twist, back down to the base where his balls hung full and tight.
He braced one hand on the table beside her hip.
His stomach flexed. He did not thrust into her fist.
He let her work him, jaw tight, eyes on her face like the hand job was the main event and not a preview.
She used both hands. One stroked. One weighed his balls, rolling them, feeling how heavy they were. The smell of him was stronger now, clean skin and musk. She leaned in and licked the underside of the head because she wanted the taste. Salt. Heat. He hissed through his teeth.
“Careful.”
“You going to cum?”
“Not unless you tell me to. We are not rushing this.”
She stroked him faster, just to test it. His thighs went rigid. A muscle jumped in his jaw. He still did not spill. Precum slicked her fingers until the slide turned filthy and loud. Jenna’s pussy throbbed, empty, freshly eaten and already greedy again.
She looked up at him. “I still want you inside me.”
“I know.”
“Not standing. Not yet. I want to ride you.”
Darius wrapped his hand over hers and stopped the stroke before he lost the edge. His cock twitched in their combined grip, wet, dark, too much for her fist. He kissed her mouth and she tasted herself on him.
“Chair,” he said against her lips. “You set the pace. You take what you can.”
Jenna nodded. Her jeans were still hanging off one ankle. His cock shone with her spit. The door was still locked.
She was not done.
The rolling chair by the whiteboard had a cracked vinyl seat and one wheel that stuck. Darius sat in it anyway, cock still out, still shining from her spit. Jenna kicked her jeans the rest of the way off and left them on the tile. Her blouse stayed on. She did not care how that looked.
“I want to sit on it,” she said. “I set the pace.”
“Then come set it.”
She climbed into his lap facing him. The chair groaned. His hands went to her waist and stayed there, not lifting, not pushing. The head of his cock dragged through the mess he had already made of her pussy, hot and blunt, and the size of him made her pause with her knees bracketing his hips.
“Slow,” she told him.
“I am not moving until you do.”
She reached down, lined him up, and sank.
The first inch stole her breath. Thick. Too thick. Her cunt stretched around the head and fluttered, trying to decide if it could take the rest. She felt every ridge. She felt the heat of him punch up into her belly. Darius’s jaw locked. His fingers dug into her hips and did not force her down.
“Fuck. You are stretching me.”
“Take what you want. Stop when you need to.”
She dropped another inch. The chair rolled half a foot and bumped the table.
Jenna grabbed his shoulders and breathed through the burn.
It was not pain exactly. It was occupancy.
His cock filled places Mark had never reached, and the thought landed dirty and specific in her chest.
She sank again. Halfway. Her thighs shook.
Slick ran down his shaft and onto his balls.
Darius made a sound in his throat, low, held back. He still did not thrust.
Jenna sat the rest of the way in one long, shaking slide.
Her ass met his thighs. He was in her to the root.
She could feel his cock twitch inside her pussy, a thick pulse against her walls.
The stretch made her eyes water. She stayed there, full, breathing against his neck, smelling sweat and the faint leftover marker on his shirt.
“That’s all of it,” he said, voice rough. “You good?”
“I am full of your cock. Ask me later.”
She lifted and dropped. Small at first. The chair squeaked a rhythm that would have been funny if she could have thought that far.
His hands stayed on her waist as a guide, not a driver.
She used him. Up until the head almost slipped free, down until her clit ground against the hard muscle of his pelvis.
Wet sounds filled the classroom. Her blouse stuck to her back.
Her nipples scraped the inside of her bra every time she moved.
The burn eased into a deep, filthy ache.
She rode him harder. Her tits bounced. His cock dragged against that swollen place inside her on every downstroke and she chased it, panting, using him like a seat she had paid for.
Darius’s stomach flexed under her. Sweat shone at his temple.
He watched her face like he was memorizing how she looked with a BBC splitting her open in a rec-center chair.
“You feel that?” he asked.
“All of it.”
“Then keep taking it.”
She came on his cock with her forehead against his.
No scream. A punched-out moan and a hard clench that milked him in waves.
Her pussy seized and fluttered and tried to keep him.
He held still through it, shaking with the effort of not finishing inside her.
She felt how close he was in the way his cock swelled even thicker. He did not spill.
Jenna stayed seated on him until the aftershocks thinned. Then she lifted off with a slick sound that made her flush. His cock slapped wet against his stomach, darker now, veins standing out, the head dripping her cum.
She slid to the floor between his knees.
“I want it in my mouth.”
He spread his thighs. “Then put it in your mouth.”
The tile was cold under her knees. His cock smelled like her pussy. She licked a stripe from his balls to the head and tasted herself, salt and musk and the heat of his skin. Then she opened and took him.
She could not take all of it. She knew that on the first push.
Her lips stretched around the shaft and her throat closed when the head hit the back of her tongue.
She gagged, pulled off, spit running down her chin and onto her blouse.
She went back down. Sloppier. Wetter. She used her hand on what her mouth could not cover and sucked the rest like she was starving for it.
Darius’s hand settled on the back of her head. He did not shove. He held. “Breathe. You wanted this cock in your throat. Take it how you can.”
She took it how she could. Gag. Spit. Eyes watering.
The wet choke of it was loud in the empty room.
She shoved two fingers between her own legs because her clit was swollen and neglected and she needed friction while she sucked him.
Her fingers slipped through her own cum.
She rubbed hard, messy, no rhythm except need.
She came again with his cock stretching her mouth, a smaller, meaner orgasm that made her moan around him.
The vibration pulled a curse out of Darius.
His thighs went tight. His balls drew up against her wet chin.
He still did not cum. He pulled her off by the hair just enough to keep from feeding her his load.
Spit connected her bottom lip to his cock. She looked wrecked and knew it.
He stood, lifted her like she weighed nothing, and bent her over the same desk he had eaten her on. Paper stuck to her tits. She turned her head and looked back at him. His cock, shiny with her spit and her cum, rested against the seam of her ass.
“Fuck me,” she said. “I want that cock in my pussy again. Standing. Hard. I can take it now.”
Darius dragged the head through her folds once, a threat and a promise.
“Then ask me like you mean it.”
Jenna’s fingers curled on the schedules.
“Fuck me, Darius. Put that big black cock back in my cunt and do not be gentle.”
Darius did not put it in her yet. He dragged the wet head of his cock through her pussy from behind and let her feel the size of him all over again, a thick smear of her own slick painting her folds.
Jenna’s cheek pressed a printed schedule.