S

You know this. So you really don’t know what possessed you to leave a cooler full of sandwiches on your neighbour’s doormat before turning in for the night. 

He wakes up preternaturally early and leaves every morning around four-thirty or five o’clock on the dot. Sometimes in the fog of sleep, you wake to hear the door to the apartment beside yours crack open and slam shut, and then the sound of lumbering footsteps down the hall towards the staircase before that door opens and slams shut too. 

He never comes home before four o’clock at the earliest. That’s around when you come home from work as well, meaning that you sometimes catch him at the door, him covered in grime and reeking of old sweat while you come flouncing down the hall in whatever colourful dress you’d donned that morning, inevitably paint-splattered by the end of the day. Always something appropriate to wear at an elementary school but colourful enough to keep the kids’ eyes and attention on you. 

You’ve caught his name in half-whispered conversations with the property manager, but aside from that, all you know about Simon Riley is that he works in construction. He certainly looks the part: big, calloused hands with blunt, dirt-caked nails and cut up fingers, knuckles always swollen and thick. Body all strength and brawn. Hard hat tucked under his armpit and decorated with countless stickers from old job sites, the same way his forearm is covered in tattoos. 

You’ve even passed by his current job site once or twice—some new condo complex going up by the canal that’s forced you and hundreds of other commuters to leave an extra thirty minutes early to account for the road closures. You pointedly don’t bring that up in conversation though. That would just be rude. 

At least it would be something to talk about though.

It’s not like the two of you talk. You’re not close by any means. Though you moved in a few months ago, you haven’t had much luck mustering up the confidence to squeak out more than a hi to him in passing. When he grunts back something approximating a hello, it’s all you can do not to break your key in the lock when you hurry into your apartment and slam the door shut behind you, heart beating frantically in your chest. 

It’s humiliating. You’re a grown woman and you’ve talked to plenty of men before. You’ve dated plenty of men before. Just because this one speaks in monosyllables and stares at you with an intensity that makes your stomach churn and your palms grow sweaty doesn’t change anything. Just because this one is built like a redwood with wrists thick enough that you’d need both hands to wrap around doesn’t make him any different than any other person.

And yet, when Simon asks you for your name on a rainy June afternoon after you’ve come in after him for a change only to find him sifting through letters at the mailbox, you garble out something that sounds nothing like your name before scurrying up the stairs to your flat.

It’s humiliating. It’s humid outside and your dress is sticking to all the wrong places (namely, your nipples and the inside of your thighs when the skirt swishes between your legs with each stride) and now you’ve made an ass of yourself in front of the only hot guy in your building. There are serial arsonists with more charm than you. 

So maybe the sandwiches are an apology letter or an olive branch. Or maybe it just makes your heart race to think of Simon opening up the cooler and finding four wax paper-wrapped sandwiches tucked neatly over ice packs. 

All you know is that when you step out of your apartment the next morning, the cooler is empty on your doormat, the lid propped open. He must have taken them with him. 

You smile. A job well done. Apology served fresh, with cucumber slices in the middle. 

The problem starts when you don’t leave him another cooler full of sandwiches on his doormat the next day. 

You didn’t consider that he might think you’d make it a habit. Perhaps that’s partially on you for not leaving a note on the cooler the first time to explain that it was just a one-off; just a way to apologize for being less than chipper around him. But instead of shrugging it off, you come home after a long day to find him standing right outside your apartment, arms crossed over his chest, thick biceps straining against his sweat-stained shirt. 

“Open the door,” Simon commands, nostrils flaring as he glares down at you. He jerks his head towards your door when you just frown, not following. “Been starving here waiting for you to show up.”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You’re at a loss for words, never mind that your whole job involves talking. He leaves you speechless though. 

Simon doesn’t move when you step close enough to unlock the door. You try to keep your body angled away so as not to brush up against him, but it’s inevitable. He doesn’t move when the door opens either, forcing you to squeeze by him. 

He goes straight to the kitchen and drags a chair out, letting it scrape across the floor like men always do before taking a seat. You follow after him nervously, apprehensive at having a man in your space. Not just a man, but Simon Riley. It feels sacrilege—not like he has no right being in your space, but you can’t imagine him here, sitting at your tiny dining room table like he comes over for dinner every Sunday. 

When he catches you standing under the archway to the kitchen just staring at him, he barks, “Well?”

That has you scurrying over to the fridge to pull out the cold cuts and pickled red onions. There’s a loaf of bread already on the counter, the bag twisted and tucked underneath because you had to leave in a rush this morning. You don’t know half of what you pile on the sandwiches, but whatever you serve him must satisfy him because Simon digs in with gusto, finishing the plate off in only a few bites while you wash the cutlery in the sink. You watch him out of the corner of your eye the whole while.

He leaves not too long after that, only a light warning for you to not miss tomorrow’s lunch before heading back over to his own apartment. You don’t even get a word in edgewise. 

It becomes something of a routine after that and not one you have any control over. Every night before bed, you leave him a cooler full of sandwiches and other things like cut up fruit or slices of cheese on his doormat, and every afternoon you rock up to him waiting on your doorstep, demanding to be let in. 

He takes to giving you a wet kiss before he leaves, all tongue and his fingers curled around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. When you try to cover his mouth with your hand, he nips at your fingers until you move them and let him slip you some tongue. 

The day you make him a casserole for supper, he bends you over the back of your couch and eats you out. Simon eats like a man starving, glutting himself on the wetness between your legs, licking even over the furl of your asshole and chuckling under his breath when you squeal and flail, your toes just brushing against the floor. 

In the aftermath, you sit panting in his lap while he eats. He gets up only briefly to get the bowl of strawberries and cream you left chilling in the fridge before lifting you up and putting you right back in his lap. You stare bleary-eyed when he holds a finger covered in cream up to your lips.

“Clean me up, pet,” he says, then watches you with half-lidded eyes while you lick his finger clean. 

He makes you suck his fingers too, to keep things even. He does it when you’re angled half off the bed, thick digits stuffed down your throat until your eyes leak big, fat tears that he licks away, hungry for those too. The man is always hungry, always keen to fill his belly. 

The arrangement continues on long enough to become normal, even routine. Simon shows up at your door every day after work waiting to be fed, and then makes you come a couple times before he leaves, a little thank you to repay you for the food. He never really says all that much when he comes around, not a conversationalist of a man. His preference is to eat, fuck, and leave, which you’re happy to accommodate, still too tongue-tied yourself to broach a real conversation. 

That’s all before he starts helping himself to your bed for a quick nap after a big supper. Then for naps that turn into a full night’s sleep, snoring like a chainsaw under the covers with you tucked under his arm, naked breasts pressed against his side, keeping you awake most of the night until you pass out somewhere around one A.M. 

Just as you suspected, Simon gets up at around four or five to be at the jobsite on time, but at your place, he gets up a bit earlier to help himself to breakfast. He doesn't even bother waking you up, just turns you over onto your tummy and spreads your legs before sinking his dick into where you're still stretched out from the night before. If you wake up or squirm, he just leans down and murmurs, “S'alright, pet…just need a pick me up before work. Go back to sleep, you’re okay,” and ruts between your thighs until he comes inside you and leaves you all wet in bed with one last messy kiss to your temple. 

The door slams shut on his way out. 

Because you feed him, he keeps coming back. The workday passes in a blur: attendance, a spelling test, recess, maths in the afternoon, and then you’re driving home in the same daze that has you slamming on the brakes before rear ending an old woman who stopped two cars behind the truck at the redlight ahead. 

You’re home earlier than him for a change, so you unlock the door quickly while there’s still a chance to avoid him. No such luck. When Simon turns up, he pounds on the door until you let him in. And you do. 

It’s a wonder you haven’t come apart at the seams, horny and pent up after this morning. You were too sleepy to come after all, rode hard and put away wet. Still, you flit nervously around the apartment, looking everywhere but at him. 

He always smells rich after working all day in the sun, like sweat and dirt. It's not a particularly nice smell, but it still kind of gets you going. He goes for a shower and then collapses on the couch after, beckoning you over to you crawl into his lap and grind yourself on his thigh because he knows of course. Simon can probably smell it on you, the ache. He shushes you when you whine about it, big hands fitting around your hips and pressing you down until your clit rubs deliciously against the muscle of his thigh and your head goes cloudy, cheek mushed against the pillow of his chest. 

When you come, Simon tips your chin up with his knuckle and murmurs, “Knickers off, love. Haven’t got my fill.”

He feeds you your own slick from his fingers when he kneels on the floor in front of the couch, your legs draped over his shoulders. Your fingers scratch helplessly over shorn blond hair, buzzed almost to the scalp. It’s prickly under your fingertips. 

Simon’s a messy eater. Your slick dribbles down his lips and glistens on his chin. It makes the blood roar under your skin, feverishly hot. 

“Please, Simon,” you whine, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It hurts.”

You feel his lips quirk up against the folds of your pussy, the flat of his tongue running up the seam and flicking over your clit. He chuckles when your hips jerk. “Greedy aren’t you, pet? Didn’t even say thank you for getting on my knees.”

“You didn’t make me come!”

His voice borders on mocking when he coos, “Poor little thing. It’s gonna be a lot longer ‘til she gets to come if you don’t say thank you.”

Your brain goes staticy, fingers twitching on his scalp. His words echo back in your head. It’s rubbish, is what it is. All this time and he’s never said thank you once for the countless meals you’ve fed him. Indignation bubbles up in you, rising to the surface like fat on the cream, and you raise a hand to rub the tears from your eyes, a harsh rebuke on the tip of your tongue.

The protest dies on your lips when he meets your gaze. It’s hungrier than anything you’ve ever seen. Whatever animal lives under his skin stares back at you with black eyes, drool leaking from its jowls. It’s mindless, intent only on slaking its hunger. Filling its empty belly. And it is not afraid of you anymore. It knows you’ll feed it until it’s full. It knows you won’t let it go hungry anymore. 

So, always leery of the bigger animal in the room, you mumble out a chest-thick, “Thank you,” and shiver when he grins. 

simon coos at you when your tears spill, telling you how beautiful you look with his cock in you. “you gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock again?”

of course you’ll be a good girl. you’re always good for simon when he’s got his cock dragging against your spongy walls.

“yes, i’ll be good. i promise,” you manage to gasp out as simon continues to hit that little bundle of nerves inside your cunt.

“my good fuckin’ girl,” simon croons as he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and rocks into you.

this new angle and pace that simon’s set has you singing as you dig your nails into his back. he brings his lips to yours and kisses you sloppily, his tongue slipping in your mouth as you gasp. you reach up and grip the back of simon’s head when he nips at your jaw then drags his tongue across your skin to soothe the bite. your grip on his hair tightens when a thrust knocks the air from your lungs. when you finally catch your breath you beg him to do it again and again until you’re a crying and shaking mess. simon’s honey brown eyes are watching you as you fall apart under him. he smiles smugly when you start moaning his name. he’s so fucking proud of himself.

“c’mon, c’mon, give it to me,” you hear him say through gritted teeth as he ruts into you. he’s close and he can tell you’re not far behind by the way you clench and flutter around his cock. “c’mon lovie, you promised to be a good girl.”

and then simon’s fingers find your clit and all you can do is wail as he strokes at your sensitive bud. the feeling of his cock slamming in and out of your cunt and him toying with your clit sends you tumbling over the edge. simon fucks you right through your orgasm, and all you can do is whimper, until he’s moaning and his hips are stuttering as he paints the walls of your cunt white with his cum.

-

> a bunch of snapshots of simon and his pretty little sweetheart’s adventures.

!! suggestive - minors dni; canon divergence; no chronological order (basically a bunch of loosely-tied worldbuilding); subtle and hinted age difference; reader gets princess treatment because she deserves it so!!

: im the one who’s the most confused as to how my obsession with biker!simon started but im stringing u along anyway so pls have fun!! my inbox is open for brainworms <33

for all posts, pls click on biker!simon tag <33

part 01 - intro post; headcanons

part 02 - simon can’t wait to come home to you

part 03 - getting over your fear of riding a bike

part 04 - lap sitting (a visual); ask

part 05 - simon and your first meeting; ask // extra 01

part 06 - little donuts at the park <3

part 07 - simon’s instagram account (includes visuals); ask

part 08 - teasin’ each other on their way home; ask; suggestive

part 09 - body worship (a visual); ask; suggestive

part 10 - getting over your fear of riding a bike sequel! (a visual); ask

part 11 - mutual desperation spilling over; smut

part 12 - burning from all these messages; smut

part 13 - scary mask!! (a visual); ask

part 14 - of prince charming and care packages

part 15 - scary ghost? yes. protective ghost? yes <3; ask

part 16 - safe drive!; ask | recent!

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extra 02 - your nephew’s new favourite adult (a visual); ask

extra 03 - biker!konig makes an appearance!!! (a visual); ask

extra 04 - smack! smack! smack! (a visual); ask

extra 05 - picking up the backpack (a visual); ask

extra 06 - you don’t use it, you lose it; ask

extra 07 - price on a harley; ask

extra 08 - helmet kiss (a visual); ask

extra 09 - ‘girls cum first’ sweater (a visual); ask; smut

extra 10 - tf141 and their shared backpack princess; ask

extra 11 - period cramps and cuddling; ask

extra 12 - of checkpoint videos & dashing men (a visual); ask | recent!

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subset 01 - best friend n biker!simon au; ask

subset 02 - toxic dad’s best friend biker!simon au; ask; angst + smut

subset 03 - ‘dear john’: cont. of toxic dad’s best friend biker!simon au; ask; angst + suggestive

subset 04 - mini cont of dear john; ask

subset 05 - dear john (but it’s john price); ask

subset 06 - dear john (how he fucks); smut

unofficial extra - baker!simon

you begged him to take off his balaclava, wanting so desperately to see more than the piercing eyes that glared down at you as he filled you with his girthy cock, time and time again.

but with every time you begged he gave you the same response, a hard no.

but this was different, you had been whining in his lap for the past hour, accommodating to his every need with unwavering obedience. he hated the way you looked at him as you obliged to his every mean demand, you should be glaring at him and biting back — but you didn’t. to make things worse you looked up at him with awe and desire, no malicious intent behind those wide eyes.

he was a hungry man and you fed him, letting him use you to relieve some stress and forget about the tasks that he still had to complete or the problems that he had to solve. those were issues for another time, all he had to do right now was focus on the pretty thing that sat on his throbbing cock.

he was grateful that you dropped whatever you were doing to come and follow him into his office, happy that he had chosen you over anyone else to help him with the ache between his legs.

you never asked for much, you’d allow him to do whatever with you as long as he cleaned you up afterwards. simple, and low maintenance.

so how could he not when the only other thing you asked for was to see his face. you were grinding so eagerly, your juices dripping from your little cunt and soaking the front of his camo pants. he scowled slightly at the mess but didn’t say anything, the feeling of your tight, gummy walls wrapped around him making the large hand he had on your hip squeeze you tightly.

he knew that he would never show his face to you, it was a painful reminder that you were no more than a fuck buddy — if you could even call yourself that. but he found no harm in showing a little less, you weren’t a threat to him and you knew the consequences that would take place if you ran around blab mouthing.

simon finds his eye rolling in annoyance when you ask him again, just for a little peek, your fingers playing with the hem of his mask. a pout on your lips as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

simon couldn’t take it anymore, if giving you a little something more would finally make you stop asking, he would do it.

so when he brings his thick fingers to the bottom of his mask, your hips stutter against his. excitement and curiosity building up in your mind, arousal and euphoria beginning to painfully swell in your tummy.

you beg him shamelessly, quiet pleas leaving your puffy lips, lips that you had been chewing at in anticipation.

simon feels his eyes roll back again at your pleas. he slowly, pulls the black mask over his nose to reveal his jaw and lips.

you clenched around his veiny cock at the sight, instantly sitting up in his lap and cradling his face in your small hands. simon turns away with a scoff but you pull him back, your eyes never once leaving his plush, pink lips.

simon’s hands find their way back to your hips, his calloused fingers rough against your skin as he guided you back along his dick. he holds you up, watching his girth stretch you out, a white ring forming around his base when he slowly pushes himself back in.

your moans go unnoticed as the large man under you is too immersed in watching his cock disappear into your clenching cunt, wondering how such a tiny thing could take all of him.

he drops his head back with a deep groan, his eyes never leaving the spot where the two of you connect. he’s completely entranced in the way you feel, how your soft thighs squeeze his hips, and the way you jolt slightly when your clit nudges at his pelvis.

simon eyes snap up to your face in surprise, the warmth of your fingers dancing along his jaw. his breath hitches when your thumb drags along the bottom on his lip, smearing his saliva down his chin.

he almost misses the way you shyly ask if you can kiss him, your words quiet and embarrassed. truthfully, simon thinks about it for a second, his gaze fluttering from your pink cheeks to your puffy lips.

he wonders what they’ll feel like against his, if they’re really as soft as they look. you watched his adams apple bob, as he swallows thickly, his grip on your hips tightening for a moment.

then, his deep voice cuts through the silence, his stern tone making you frown. no. he shakes his head too making sure that you understand.

before you can even think about asking why, he’s pulled his mask back down and has you flipped over, your face pressed into his couch cushion with your ass in the air for him.

he’s fucking into you roughly, the sound of your pussy squelching drowned out your thoughts, quickly helping you forget about the disappointment that ate at your stomach.

the way you look up at him with such sweet, innocent eyes has simon's heart aching. you poor thing, don't know what you're in for. but he keeps your mind off of it with the way he continues to kiss up and down your body.

you've totally entrusted yourself to simon. he thinks it's dangerous with the way you've opened yourself up so willingly for him. because although he's a trained soldier who has endured some of the worst. the biggest challenge yet as to be refraining from ravaging you with when he hones in on the damp spot on your panties.

it's the only guard you have against him right now. otherwise stripped bare for his hands to touch and his lips to press into. he starts mapping out your body so it can be prepared to fully claim it as his. wants so badly to be your first and your last. knows he can make it so, because he plans on wrecking you tonight.

"simon, when are you going to-" he cuts off your sweet voice by kissing your breast, nipping at it playfully and smirking when you whine. he pulls back to stroke your hair back and look you in the eyes with a teasing grin.

"going to wha'?" it makes you blush to even think of trying to get out the words properly. it'd already been enough to work up the courage to tell him that you were ready tonight. made you blush even harder by the way he bared his teeth in a feral grin when you said so.

"to... to f-"

"fuck you?" he interjects. "no, no, baby. not going to fuck you silly. not tonight. can't handle that yet, no matter how badly i want this pussy t'be mine." he grins down at you and softly cups your cheek. "i gotta introduce myself to her first, get her used to me and give her a proper welcome."

"her?" you ask timidly and he shuffles again between your thighs so that his boxers press up against your clothed pussy. makes you look at the size of him between your legs, and then at the size of his bulge.

"your pussy, baby. my pussy." he hums and strokes your thighs lovingly. he enjoys that little panicked look in your eyes, because he knows it's not because you want to back out. he can sense you're still okay with this. he just wants to coax you out a little bit, help you gain more confidence in this setting. because it would be further than the truth to say that he isn't so sexually attracted to you right now.

"how are you going to do that, simon?" you ask and hold your legs back for him. oh, so obedient. didn't need to ask. he awards you with a squeeze on your thigh and a pat to the knee.

"can i take these off, princess?" he asks while holding his hands at your hips. they're resting just above your underwear so he's not actually touching them, just barely above the hem of them. when you nod, he gives you a reassuring smile and slowly slips it off of you. he lets out a breath when he sees your pretty pussy underneath him, spread open from the position your legs are in since he's already so wide and you have to accommodate. "such a pretty pussy. can i touch?"

"yes, please." you look at him with hands by your chin, brought up since you weren't sure what to do with yourself. simon can't help but hum at the way you're so good for him, so polite. your breath hitches when you feel his fingers prod at your pussy lips, spreading them out even more.

he takes a gentle finger to slowly feel at your slit. there's enough of a sticky mess down there from all the kissing and licking he did at your neck and nipples. the way he was whispering promises of how good he was going to treat you and your "princess cunt" made you excited to experience what he wanted to give you.

"gonna put a finger in, yeah?" he confirms with you. you nod again and then he gives your hip a squeeze. "need you to use your words, baby. gotta make sure you tell me yes or no."

"please put a finger in me, simon," you beg him. he has no choice but to oblige. and then he's slowly pushing in a digit, his fingers already thicker than what you might expect and the stretch is a lot. your walls squeeze tightly down on the foreign feeling and he gently shushes you with a thumb to rub at your clit.

"i gotcha. need to prep you good if y'wanna take my cock. y'wanna take my cock, baby?" he asks while gently massaging your walls. it feels a little weird at first but the way he circles your clit is too good. you squeeze down on his finger again and he curses in his head. oh, how tight you were. just a wonder of how you'd feel wrapped around him. but he knew patience. he could wait just a little longer.

"i do. i want to feel your cock, simon. please make me cum," you watch him as he kisses your tummy. he tells you that he promises to. tells you that he was sure he was put on this earth to please you, to make you cum so good around him. he adds another finger when he feels that you're ready, and then another after that one. he has you stretched on three fingers with him rubbing little circles on your clit to help ease the pressure from him.

but when you're close, he stops the slow thrusting of his fingers and takes his thumb off. doesn't miss the way your thighs twitch and how you whimper when he pulls his fingers out. "hush, love. you'll get to cum soon enough. don't want you coming from anything but my cock first, though."

with that, he settles with his hips between your thighs again and slowly thrusts his cock against your folds. you feel for the first time just how thick he is, how far he spreads your pussy lips already as he smooths out a path between them. and you watch how far his tip goes up your tummy when he thrusts forward all the way.

"simon," you nervously call out, gripping onto his wrist. he's quick to pause and cups your face again.

"talk to me, love."

the concern in his eyes that lets you know no matter how bad he wants it, that he's willing to drop everything for you tonight if you tell him to stop. it has you making up your mind, trying to squish down the nervous butterflies in your tummy.

"go gentle, okay?"

he smiles, eyes crinkling as he gives you a nod. brings your hand up so he can kiss it and then intertwines his fingers with yours. "always."

he checks to make sure you're still good by playing with your pussy a little more, continuing to rub against you and ensure that your clit is getting the attention it needs. when he asks if it's okay to put it in, you tell him yes. but as he begins to push in, your body locks up and your hand squeezes so tightly on his.

"simon!" you yelp out as your back arches off the bed. he stops immediately, tip barely pushing past your entrance.

"shit, s'fucking tight. thought i stretched you out enough, princess," he says while locking his eyes with the way his cock splits you open at just the barest intrusion. he can see your cream slathering the tip of his dick. "wan' me to stop?"

you take in a deep breath and collect yourself. you're brave enough to try. you want it that badly. "n-no."

"don't think i can keep going without hurting you, baby." he prods his dick at your slit again and thinks of what to do. doesn't think you really want to be fingered again, not when you got this far. he doesn't want to squash your confidence either so he opts for the next best thing. "how 'bout just the tip?"

"just the tip?" you huff out. you look down and see the dripping head of his dick, hiding the full length of his meaty cock at the angle you're looking at. you look back at simon and nod. "okay."

"s'my good girl." he praises you and slowly pushes the tip in again. he bites in a loud groan at the way you squeeze down on him. what a tiny pussy. he feels the head pop in and huffs out a breath, watching to see the way you're reacting. your face is scrunched up in discomfort but you take deep breaths to work through it. deciding to help you, he starts working your clit again. "atta girl. look at you. tip's in this tight fuckin' pussy."

you look down and see that yes, his tip did go into your hole. can feel it too, how it stretches you so widely. you whimper at him when you realize that, unconsciously clenching down around his tip as you focus on the feeling of it. he hisses and grips your hip a little tighter. "move, please, simon?"

and he takes your words as if it were a holy order. allows himself shallow thrusts as he watches his tip pop in and out of your wet pussy. he pants as he watches it and feels the way you squeeze on him so nicely.

"hear tha', sweet girl?" he asks. you focus your ears onto what he might be talking about. and then you moan because you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy every time his cockhead slaps against your slit and stirs your juices around your pussy lips. "mm, s'right. s'all you. pussy so tight, so messy. and it's all mine."

he pinches your clit and it makes your legs squeeze around his hips now. the sensation of him stretching you out with just the tip and how it barely enters you combined with him rolling your clit between his fingers is too much. your eyes roll back and you moan, enjoying the way he plays with your pussy. although it's only the tip, his cock is so long and wide that it feels like it hits you so deep.

every time he pulls the tip back, he can see the messy strings of your juices still connecting him to your pussy. drives him absolutely mad.

"c'mon, baby. feel you clampin' down on me. you gonna cum?" he grunts out as his shallow thrusting becomes faster. you silently praise him for having the self control he does to not go any deeper. but you don't realize that he's become so addicted to just his tip dipping in and out of you. loves the way your pussy engulfs his tip and makes him so slippery.

"mhm," you hum as you look at him with lovesick eyes. "i... i think i'm going to cum." you aren't sure, never having cum around anything before. was it supposed to feel like this? you pant and squeal when he starts abusing your clit, swiping it back and forth. goes between squeezing on it and swiping the underside of your clit with his thumb and using his three fingers to move it back and forth.

and then you're cut off as you gush around him. you cum so much and shut your eyes as he continues to rapidly thrust in and out while you cum. takes a second for you both to realize that your juices has spurted all over your thighs and simon's stomach. he slows himself down as he takes his dick out and starts slapping the head on your clit, making you squirt even more.

you wiggle your hips to try to run from the sensation, but he keeps going and gives himself a couple more shallow thrusts into your pussy before finally pulling out and cumming all over your stomach. you catch your breath as simon slowly pumps his cock.

"i came a lot," you comment as you look at the mess that's slathered over his hips and probably darkening the sheets below you. he hums and looks at you questioningly.

"you ever cum before?" you shake your head no and he has to clear his throat so he can focus on hiding the way his eyes darkened at that. "you didn't just cum, love. you squirted."

your face turns red and you sink back into the pillows behind you. you let out a sheepish, "oh." and simon can't help but chuckle. he shifts his hips and his cock bounces up, letting you know that he's still hard.