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After he closes over your cock you begin a deliberate and steady fucking motion - in and out, deeper, deeper still, the tip of your cock entering his throat time and again. You feel his fingertips pressing into your still damp asshole, and you shudder and let out a groan as he slides his middle and index finger into you as your arousal scale goes off the chart.You are holding on to the headboard as you fuck your lover's willing mouth. You pull your cock out and take hold of the base, slapping the shaft against his chin and needy lips before slipping back into the warm confines of his mouth. You pull out a few more times, slapping your dick harder on his lips and chin. You are quick to notice that he is wildly turned on by harder slaps of your cock on his face. And to you are enjoying wickedly dominant role that you are suddenly now playing. In just a few short minutes you reach the point of no return. You feel your sperm rapidly making its way from the confines of your testicles and. Instead I started massaging my own breasts. I know some porn-movie whores do that to excite the men who are watching, but I had never done that before. Though I was doing it now, I was doing it for me. Robert did not complain.I felt myself boiling up to the edge and thrust my hips into Robert’s face as the first wave of orgasm hit me. I don’t remember making a conscious decision to do so, but I remember pinching my nipples, something else I never would have considered before, and that magnified my pleasure ten-fold. I rocked, and bucked, and thrashed. I wrapped my ankles together and squeezed Robert’s head between my thighs, and I’m sorry to say I didn’t care if it hurt him. I squeezed with all the strength my legs had to offer, and I continued to buck and twist. Throughout all that, I was remarkably quiet, unintentionally holding my breath, gasping, then holding my breath again. Since I hadn’t told Robert to stop, he kept his tongue going. Perhaps because of how much I had been.
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I want you to feel like you were there with us. I want to feel your eyes on my body as you read my story. Ron was his name; he and I were juniors in high school. We had been dating for six months and we were already falling in love. The look in his eyes every time he said my name; it was that look that made me fall deeper and deeper in love. We had been told many times, “You are in high school, you do not know what love is,” by our families. But to tell you the truth, we didn’t care. Ron had wild red-brown curls to his shoulders that were soft and voluptuous. I loved running my fingers through them. His eyes were dark brown, almost black. They were hidden by thick-rimmed bright red and black glasses. Oh how I could get lost in the abyss of his eyes. He was never thin or boney, but was thicker and with healthy muscles from growing up working on cars with his father. He had a deep voice for his age with a burly laugh that could make even the most depressed children in our school.

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