That’s just playing dirty.
Before I can even halfway parse my lap being full with the weight of her suddenly straddling my thighs, she’s pressing our mouths together.
Truthfully, a punch would have probably been less violent.
Gwen kisses like a freight train, all teeth and tongue and unstoppable momentum. I don’t even have time to brace myself for one attack before the next comes—a suck at my lip, fingernails digging into my shoulders. It’s a sharp, hot hurt that makes my dick swell until it’s a throbbing ache trapped between us.
Her kiss is warm, disturbingly familiar. I didn’t even know I craved the taste of her until her tongue pushed against mine—that hard pang of wanting and having and feeling drunk on the taste of it. Her body is lean and strong, soft and hard in all the right places. I run my hands down her exposed back, fingers tripping over the crisscrossed straps of her swimsuit. I yank at the end, loosening the tie, and somewhere buried deep in my hindbrain is a sort of warning—that I should prepare for another slap.
Instead, she arches her back, letting the straps fall from her shoulders.
It’s possible something in my brain breaks because I have to be delirious to think I have Gwendolyn Adams' bare tits pressing into me.
I break from the kiss just long enough to look, and fuck. There they are. Her tits are absolute perfection. I cup them in my hands while she tugs at my bottom lip with her teeth, grinding down against my erection. The friction is good, ridiculously good, and my mind goes to that special, fuzzy place where I momentarily forget anything that isn’t my aching dick or the tits in my hand.
It all comes back in a snap when Gwendolyn rolls her hips, forcing the damp, narrow section of her bathing suit—the one barely covering her pussy—to slide eagerly against my cock. She drops her face into my neck and I suck the soft skin beneath her ear, groaning into it.
I run my hand down her smooth back before tugging on her long mane of hair, forcing her to look at me.
“Does that feel good?”
She looks at me with glazed eyes for a beat, cheeks aflame, lips puffy and red, before nodding. Her eyes dart to the side but she says, “Y-yes.”
“Do you want more?”
She doesn’t answer, face hardening as she keeps rocking against me.
I still her hips, grinding us both to a painful halt. She exhales in a shudder. “Tell me you want it, Adams, and I’ll let you have it.”
Her eyes clear, then narrow, and I figure....
That may have been a step too far.
Except, apparently not. With her nose pressed against mine, her eyes drop closed and she breathes, “I want it.”
I release my grip, and she resumes the motion of humping against my cock, tits bouncing just below eye level, and for all semblance of control, I am completely and thoroughly enraptured. It takes everything I have not to yank off the rest of that suit—and it’d be so fucking easy—and bury myself inside of her. But even I know that’s too much, too far.
“Fuck,” she moans against my lips, and I kiss her again, wanting that ragged edge of sound inside of me. With every rock of her hips, her breath grows shorter and shorter against my mouth, until eventually we’re just panting into one another, hips driving us mindlessly forward.
Suddenly, her head falls back, and I want to suck my mark into the long, pale column of her throat—God, I really do—but more than that, I just need to see. I need to see what she looks like when she finally lets go of all that self-righteous control and comes on my dick. Her nails dig into my back and my balls tighten, making my own breathing grow ragged.
“Come on,” I grunt, feeling the sharp swell of my own release rapidly approaching. “Come on, Adams. Let it fucking go, come on.”
Her teeth bite down into her lip, muffling her cry as she suddenly seizes, shuddering hard against me. I pull her face to mine in a kiss, swallowing her moan, and then follow her directly over the edge. It feels like it goes on forever, spilling into my shorts, grinding up into her a little more roughly than intended. She doesn’t seem to mind. She just keeps rocking into me, letting us ride it out together, panting hot and wet against my mouth.
Soon we both still, nothing but the harsh sounds of our breath filling the room, and I don’t know what to do with the hand tangled in her hair or the one clutching her hip. I know the second one of us flinches, it’s over.
The sound of my swallow is apparently all it takes for reality to come crashing back.
“Oh my god,” she gasps, clambering off of me with shaky legs. She hastily wraps her arms around her bare chest. “That—oh my god.”
I shift, wincing. “Tell me about it.” My Speedo is filled with cum, and the tip of my dick is chafed raw. I try to sort out my situation while Gwendolyn darts around the locker room, throwing on her clothes and gathering her things.
She pauses and looks at me, eyes raking over the length of my body. I’m pretty sure she left marks on my back. Just like I’m pretty sure I see a hickey under her ear.
“That,” she begins, but I hold up my hand.
“Never happened.”