16
I stared at her, my heart swollen with love and gratitude. “Ofure ...”
“Never thank me again.”
When our laughter ended, our eyes meeting and locking, something in the air between us shifted. We began to move almost at the same time, and at the same speed: slow—excruciatingly, deliciously slow. So slow it made me feel like time itself was decelerating, holding its breath just for this moment.
For some reason, it felt different than all the others.
With the others, there’d been that subconscious knowledge that it wasn’t real, even though every single thing we’d done had felt real.
But, unlike the others, this moment didn’t feel like a buildup to anything; it didn’t feel like a precursor to having that “perfect first time”.
It felt like a moment we wanted ... just because.
Our eyelids gradually lowered, our heads tilting, and when our lips finally met, we both exhaled shakily. We pushed closer to each other, our lips parting, breaths mingling.
She moaned softly between the erotic sounds of our lips meeting and parting, and I groaned in response, my hand going up into the depths of her braids, which she’d tied up into a ponytail.
I stroked my fingers through the tresses, loosening the band holding her hair up so it fell in its bouncy curls to her shoulders.
Then I sank my hand in properly, cradling her skull, tilting her face even more to deepen the kiss.
The kisses were deep, drugging—as those romance books described, books Fiona had made us read once upon a time, back when we’d taken our book club more seriously.
I only understood the description now. Each kiss made me feel slightly unmoored; my pulse felt like it was thudding too fast, my blood rushing too hot and too quick, and with the way Ofure was gasping into my mouth, she probably felt the same.
Despite it, we didn’t stop exploring each other’s mouths until we were practically melting into the bed.
My hand left her hair so I could wrap my arm around her waist, effortlessly pulling her up against my chest, then using the bulk of my body to encourage her to lie properly on her back with me halfway on top of her. She made a low, sexy noise into my mouth at the manhandling.
I slid my thigh between hers, kissing her like I’d find the answers to all of life’s mysteries in the depths of her mouth. She kissed me back just as passionately, tangling her tongue with mine, sucking and biting on my lips the way I did hers.
Eventually, the need for air won, and I pulled back, chest heaving.
But I didn’t want to stop kissing her, so I began trailing kisses down the left side of her jaw, slowly making my way to her throat.
She tilted her head back and to the side with a soft sound, baring her neck for me.
Her right hand found its way to my hair, her left gripping my shoulder, her press-ons adding an extra bite of sensation when they dug into my skin through the thin material of my shirt.
I mouthed and sucked on a spot I found on her neck that made her whine and squirm, her nails digging even harder into my arm.
My right hand slid up from her waist, my dick stiffening to full mast when I gently cupped her left tit in my palm. It filled my hand. Overfilled it.
“Uzi.” She groaned, which—impossibly, because I was already so hard—made me even harder.
“Yeah?” I whispered into her throat, giving her breast a gentle squeeze. Even through her clothes, her tit felt soft as fuck. “That all right? Feel good?”
“Yes. Please. Don’t stop.”
I leaned up to join our mouths again, hungrily massaging her breast with my palm. I stroked my thumb searchingly over the plump curve until—
She cried out into my mouth, her back arching, pushing into my touch. Her bra was a bit padded, but I could feel that small, sensitive bud underneath, hard and straining for my caresses.
“Uzi.” She groaned again, her hips rolling.
“Yeah?” I stroked harder. Firmer. “Does that feel good?”
“Feels so good,” she said, her voice almost a sob. “Don’t stop.”
She pulled me up by the hair to kiss me again, the action making my dick jerk in my pants. I pressed my erection into her hip, groaning into the kiss, squeezing her breast and massaging her nipple, swallowing all the sexy, sinful sounds she was making.
Fuck, I wanted to feel her naked in my hand. I slid my hand down her body until my fingers were trailing along the hem of her shirt.
“Can I?” I whispered.
She pushed gently on my chest so she could sit up, in the process forcing me to sit up as well, both of us resting on our knees. I watched with dark hungry eyes as she reached for the hem of her top, then took it off in one swift movement, letting it fall to the carpeted floor beside the bed.
“Goddamn,” I whispered, staring at her fat tits, held up by a black bra covered in pretty, flowery black lace.
She stared boldly into my eyes, even though I could see her blush in her soft, curved mouth—in her pretty, lowered lashes. She reached behind her, and her bra was loosening, sliding down her soft, thick arms.
“Fuck.” I groaned, automatically kneeling up straighter, staring unabashedly. From the way she had her back slightly arched, chest pushed forward—she wanted me to stare.
Her tits were full and droopy, with wide, dark areolas covering almost the entire peak. “Goddamn, Ofure.” Her nipples were hard little points, her soft belly curving over her thick, clothed thighs.
“Yeah?” she encouraged, but it sounded more like a moan. She crawled forward until she was straddling my lap, wrapping her hands around my neck. I was uncomfortably hard. “Touch me,” she said, both a plea and a command.
We both moaned as I did as I was told, cupping both breasts in my hands, rubbing my thumbs over her small, pebbled nipples.
Damn, her tits were so fucking soft, softer than I’d thought.
She whimpered with each stroke over her nipples, rocking her hips down, her back arching, head tilting back. Fuck, she was so fucking sexy.
I was frankly obsessed with her breasts, squeezing and rolling her nipples underneath my thumbs, every sound of pleasure she made like a stroke against my throbbing dick.
She knelt up until her tits were practically eye level, then tugged pointedly at the back of my head.
“Uzi,” she whispered, “I want your mouth.”
My dick ached at the command. “Whatever you want, Fure, baby.”
I lifted one breast, sucking it into my mouth, my tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. She lurched forward with a sexy cry, her hips rolling.
“Yes,” she hissed, as I swirled my tongue around the tip.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck—” I squeezed her other breast, massaging both in tandem until she was practically shaking in my lap.
I experimented with the suction, teasing soft and easy, then pulling hard, trying to find which strength she liked more.
She seemed to like it firm and rhythmical, my tongue swirling over the stiff, sensitive tip—almost the same way she liked her pussy to be sucked, I noticed. So goddamn hot.
She tugged pointedly on my hair with a low whine, and I dutifully switched my attention, taking her other breast into my mouth and replacing the other with my hand.
“Yes, yes, yes. Oh fuck. That feels so good, Uzi. Don’t stop—don’t stop—”
I tried not to squirm underneath her. My dick was pounding between my legs, begging for friction.
Ofure grabbed my wrist, pushing my hand against the seam of her jeans.
When it seemed my fingers wouldn’t fit, she pulled back slightly, quickly fumbling with the button and zipper.
Jesus, why was that so hot? She took my hand again when she was done, pressing it to the opening.
I obediently pushed it down her pants, into her underwear, awkwardly twisting my wrist until I could get my pointer and middle fingers on the lips of her pussy.
“Uzi,” she cried, burying her face in my neck, her hips rocking into my hand.
My free hand gripped one ass cheek, holding her firmly to my body, the other hungrily exploring her swollen pussy.
Jesus, she was so soft here, too. Hot, and so fucking wet.
I humped my hips up helplessly, futilely, my dick leaking.
I sucked at that sensitive spot on her neck, stroking searchingly between her pussy lips until I found the right spot, remembering to circle her clit the way she liked, firm and with a steady rhythm until she began to quake in my arms. My hips humped up again.
Fuck. God. I wanted to come. I’d never wanted to come so badly in my life.
“Uzi.” Her nickname for me had never sounded so sexy. “Uzi, Uzi—”
I groaned, helplessly, jerking my hips up into nothing. “Yeah, fuck. Is that good?”
“Just like that, just like that.” She mouthed at my neck, the quivering in her thighs intensifying. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. I’m coming.” She fisted my hair tight. “I’m coming, I’m coming—”
My dick lurched almost painfully. “Yeah, fuck, come on, come on. Come for me, Fure.”
She cried out and I groaned as she came, gushing hot and wet onto my hand.
I remembered how she liked it last time, so I didn’t stop even as her hips bucked, and she made a high-pitched whimpering noise.
I kept going, circling firmly, over and over until she was curling in on herself, shifting her thighs like she didn’t know if she wanted to close them or open them wider.
Her nails dug harshly into my scalp, her mouth pressed open and wet into my neck as she came again, silent and hard, her body vibrating.
She grabbed my wrist to stop my movements, whimpering, trembling. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
My briefs felt practically soaked with pre-come, each desperate, jerky movement of my hips making the material shift, dragging slick and sinful against the sensitive swollen head of my dick until I felt like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t get a hand on myself, right fucking now.