It’s a soft moan; sexy, too.
She tilts her neck so I can nuzzle it, mouth kissing her skin.
I have no idea who moves first or who does what, but suddenly, my hand is being pushed down between her legs; the legs that are spreading to allow me to explore there.
It’s warm inside her pajama bottoms…
…So warm.
Everything feels sexy lazy but in a good way; we’re face-to-face, mouths on each other, kissing each other as if it weren’t first thing in the morning. Hot. Wet.
My dick is pulsing, the angry little asshole, and I try to rein him in, but it’s a lost cause. He has a mind of his own, especially with her pressed against him.
Touching him.
What’s this now?
We’re really doing this?
Her head dips, buried in my chest. Lips kissing my pecs, hand wrapped around my swollen cock, stroking. Doing two things at once, I hesitate, too afraid to move, not wanting to lay my hands on her but wanting to lay my hands on her, specifically between her legs.
I haven’t had a hand job since I was a teenager, at least as far as I can recall. Maybe one or two chicks in college jerked me off, but this is an extremely nostalgic feeling. Fucking amazing. I don’t know if it’s because I’m still half asleep or because it’s completely unexpected or because someone’s touching my dick without an invitation.
Posey knows what she’s doing, and I am here for it.
Her little half moan of pleasure turns into a sigh when my thumb finds the center between her legs and goes around and around in small circles over what I am assuming is her clit. She’s not exactly bare down south, but I couldn’t give a shit whether she’s shaved or waxed or has a full bush. She’s soft and warm and sweet, and that’s all that matters.
Her little sighs turn to heavy breathing, and I know she has her eyes squeezed shut without having to look. Whether it’s because she’s embarrassed, whether it’s because she’s picturing someone else, or whether it’s because she was trying to concentrate on the way it feels, I do not know.
But she won’t look at me.
Her fingers tug at my dick, occasionally dipping below to tickle my balls. Don’t neglect the balls…
She spreads her legs a little more so I can stroke her easier and use more fingers.
She lifts her head, and we’re kissing again as if she just couldn’t stand it anymore, having her head buried in my chest and not having her lips on mine. I couldn’t even give a shit that we haven’t brushed our teeth; this lazy finger-banging session is so fucking sexy I’m going to be thinking about it all goddamn day. I just know it.
I can feel when she’s about to come; she’s giving me a few clues. Her mouth is open, and she’s breathing heavily. I can feel it on my fingers too.
Who knew this little prim and proper kindergarten teacher had this much passion hidden away.
Hidden away?Nah.
She doesn’t hide it away—she’s giving me all the clues that she’s a little tigress and not a kitten since the second I arrived. She’s yelled at me, scolded me, bossed me around. A prude doesn’t stand up to a man who looks like me. Usually, they cower—to be fair, I haven’t met any kindergarten teachers that I can recall.
Most of the people I come in contact with don’t tell me what they do for a living, ha ha.
Posey’s orgasm hits her, but she doesn’t stop jerking me off, her hand moving slower, but the point is, it’s still moving. Up and down, up and down, her middle finger pressing on my taint, two things at once, drowsy and sexy as hell.
When I come, she uses the sheet.
My fingers dig into her hips, urgent as my own hips spasm.
Things won’t be weird—of course not, it was just fooling around. It’s not like we were having sex. Besides, we’re two adults. I can handle being around her for another week, no problem.
And Posey isn’t the type of female who’s going to make a big deal of this.
She has that date tonight, in any case, with that dipshit Brian, whom I can’t confirm is an actual dipshit but assume that he is.