xo, kiss me

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“You’re so wet,” he gasps, choking on air as the tip of his dick kisses your fluttering hole.

He never knew that there would be this much slick. You whine under him, humping against him as you cry, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your pupils are blown and your eyes are half lidded—he swears he sees heart in them as you pull him closer by the tie.

Fuck, you’d asked him to keep as much of his clothing on as possible this time, claiming to find him in his school uniform attractive, but he hadn’t anticipated just how jarring it would be to have your breasts pressed up against his neatly ironed shirt, and your slick rubbing against the fabric of his pants.

“It’s your fault,” you whine, wrapping the red fabric in your fist, “I’ve been thinking about you all week, but you’ve been so busy I couldn’t bother you. Wanted to have you inside me. Wanted you to fuck me.”

Ritsu chokes, face aflame. You’ve gotten so much bolder ever since he was honest about his desires to bed you.

“I—ha—can’t believe I’m doing this to you—” he babbles, popping the head of his dick into your walls, “This is so lewd—”

“You don’t understand what you do to me!” you cry out, grinding your hips against him, taking him inch by inch, “I sit in class rubbing my thighs together to the thought of you, I get so overwhelmed by how much I want you when I smell your cologne that I have to stop myself from doubling over, sometimes I feel like crying because all I can think about is how I want to touch you and feel you inside!”

“Fuck—!” Ritsu shudders, slamming his arms on either side of you as you spill all of your nasty desires to him.

His face burns with the implications of you, sitting across from him at the diner, rubbing your thighs together as he talks. Does his voice get you wet? Do you stain your underwear to the thought of him? If he were to sneak his phone under your skirt and take a dirty picture, would it show your wetness? Were there days where you didn’t wear any underwear, hoping he’d notice?

Did you want him to take you in the closet? Did you want him on your desk? Did you want to ride his thigh while he hardened and softened the flesh over and over to tease you? Did you want him to throw your legs over his shoulders and fuck his cum into you, over and over, until you were full of him? Did you want him to send voice messages of all the dirty things he thinks about you that he’s so ashamed of?

“I want you so bad—all the time!” you sob, clutching at his jacket, “I can’t help it—I just love you so much—wanna be your wife one day so I can do this forever with you!”

Ritsu’s eyes go blank as his mind stalls. His hips keep moving, gradually picking up speed, hammering into your cunt as you wail for him. He chants your name, connects it with his, tries it out over and over and loves the way it sounds.

He could do your laundry, steal your dirty underwear and lock himself in the bathroom, jerking off to your scent when you weren't home—and when you came back you’d be delighted to see your ruined undergarments, so much so that you’d strip for him and reveal the lacy white lingerie you’d been hiding this whole time, a testament to your marriage.

You two would never have to keep any dirty secrets ever again.

“I love—you!” Ritsu groans, hands gripping your hips so hard they might bruise as he cums, spurting deep inside you as you keen.

“I love you too! So much!” you scream, squirting all over the front of his pants, staining the fabric with your essence.

Ritsu anticipates that he will become tempted to take them out of his hamper to smell them later that night, when his bed is cold and he misses you dearly.