I leaned back, propping my hands on his long thighs. Tristan watched his cock slip in and out of my wetness, his lips parted and his eyes dark. My body begged for me to take him hard and fast, to reach orgasm. His groans of, “Beautiful, Brandilynn. So beautiful to see you like this,” stayed my selfish urges.
It was beautiful. His swollen cock, blushing slightly darker than his golden-brown skin, gleamed from my moisture when I let it slide almost all the way out of me. And watching as well as feeling it slip back in … oh, it was so good. Despite my desire clamoring for release, I thought I could have done this forever.
We’d had amazing sex that had given me climaxes so intense that I was rendered blind and deaf while I orgasmed. Tristan had put me in positions to give the most talented contortionist nightmares. But until today, I thought perhaps we’d never made love before.
His hands were all over me as I moved on him, rubbing my breasts, ribs, belly, and mound. After awhile, he settled his thumb over my clit, rubbing around and all over in intricate patterns. I groaned and lost my rhythm as lightning flashes of sensation bolted through me.
“God, Tristan! What are you doing?”
“Practicing my A-B-Cs.” He grinned as he played with the swollen nub.
“Are you kidding me?” I laughed between gasps.
“Nope. See? A…” he drew the capital letter over my clit with his thumb. “B…”
Hilarity warred with intense arousal. “You lunatic. I don’t know whether to laugh or scream.” I was working on both, breathless chuckles mingling with little shrieks of sensual delight.
“C … D…”
“I swear if you start singing it, I’ll strangle you.”
“E … F…”
“Gold stars for penmanship,” I moaned. Arousal was winning out over amusement. I heated up to a boil fast. Climax would soon bubble over. I didn’t think I’d make it to Z.
“G … H … I…”
Oh boy. The pressure built higher. A slow spasm started from my clit, rippled up my passage, clenched my womb. Warning shot number one. Tristan sighed in reaction.
“J … K … L … M…”
Everything below flexed, tightening like a fist. Warning shot number two. Tristan’s eyes rolled a little then he grinned pure deviltry at me. He knew I was about to lose it.
“N … O … P…”
Pure heat billowed from my nether regions. I was at the cusp now, so close to climax I could taste it. Tristan groaned. Final warning.
“Q … R…”
I flung myself forward, planting my hands on his chest and digging my toes into the couch beneath us. I rode him furiously, pistoning my sex over his, ending his schoolboy recitation in a flurry of pounding flesh. His hands closed over my hips, helping me by driving me up and down.
Igniting. Detonating. Exploding. Flinging wide into space in a billion burning pieces. Oh God, yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes.