Biting my lip again, I hitch my knee length skirt up and tug my black tights down, spreading my legs wide as I sit myself down on the toilet.
My whole hand covering my drenched pussy, stifling the primal groan that swells inside me.
The coolness of the basement air gives no relief though. It only proves just how wet I am, how much I need real relief.
Real instruction from the one man I know can give it.
My body shudders, and before I know it, I’m grinding my clit hard while trying to keep quiet.
The whole time thinking about Dillon just feet away.
The creak on the stair, his huge shadow looming over the sheet of dim light through the curtain barely registers.
Part of me just needs to come, right now. Another part of me knows he’s there and it’s the one thing that’s making me so fucking horny I feel like I’ll scream if he doesn’t come to finish me off himself.
The memory of his thick bulge brushing against my arm, the most recent sight of him in his tight pants and work shirt. His muscular frame underneath his shirt flexing in time with every little movement.
“Uh… Oooh… Mmm…”
I feel my badly needed climax rushing like a foaming river. A pulse of heat straight to my clit as my fingers work overtime as I’m sure I’m whimpering aloud by now. Begging him in my mind to make me come.
When I suddenly stop.
My heart freezing in my chest.
There’s a low, drawn out, and very pleased sounding growl from the other side of the curtain which takes my breath shiver. My fingers are wet and still half inside me as I feel my urgency subside.
Replaced with the adrenalin racing through me, the thought in my mind that this is actually happening.
I’m in the basement bathroom at work, fingering myself, and the hottest man alive is listening.
Watching over me while I do it.
I want to finish. I need to.
I want him to finish me off, with his hands, his mouth. With that huge bulge of his I know he has in those pants.
But something makes me stop.
The old, self-conscious me that gets embarrassed when she sees herself naked let alone does anything like this.
Panting, trembling, I stand shakily and begin to pull up my tights.
A little gasp escapes me as the fabric of my panties brushes my swollen nub, begging me to finish what I’ve started.
What he’s started.
“You haven’t finished,” Dillon says firmly. Almost annoyed, which makes me jump even though I know he’s been there the whole time.
I try to swallow, but my mouth is so dry, managing to pull my tights up and my skirt down, I finally clear my throat.
“All done,” I try for chipper. Making out like I really did just need to pee but he’s not buying it.
The curtain swishes back, and I let out a cry of disbelief.
Dillon is standing inches from me, his length at full attention, twitching with a thick line of clear liquid dripping from it.
One of his hands is gripping his shaft, squeezing himself so hard it almost looks like he’s in pain.
His other big hand shoots out and grabs mine.
He drags me closer to him with it, lifting my fingers to his face, to his nose.
A deep groan fills the space between us, his lip and nose quivering as he draws in my scent.
Inhaling deeply myself I shiver and gasp loudly. My thighs pressing together now, aching for relief as he smells me, feeling my panties fill with my own cream when he slips both my fingertips into the heat of his mouth.
The smooth warmth of his tongue on my fingers as he tastes me is too much.
“Oooohhh, Dillon. I need to… I’m gonna…” I whimper again, my knees giving out as I struggle to even stand.
“You’ll come when I tell you to. And you’ll have this make it happen,” he tells me firmly, freeing his hand from his cock to grab mine, which needs no encouragement.
I struggle to fit half of my hand around his huge, swollen head, gasping aloud at the size, the heat, and smoothness of it.
It’s perfect.
I want to fall to my knees, while I finger myself, and taste his warm dick until he squirts all over me.
But he has something else in mind, I can tell.
Leaving my hand to grip him as best I can, he pushes my pussy soaked fingers from his mouth to mine.
“This is what you taste like… for now,” he says in a commanding tone.
“Your sweet little cunt belongs to me now, Becky. I’ve tasted it, heard you playing with it. But it’s mine. Understand?” he rasps in a smoky voice.
I feel my jaw drop but there’s no use pretending anymore.
“I know what you need, Becky. I felt it as much as you did when we first met. You need this, don’t you?” he asks me gruffly, forcing my hand to his swollen member.