#gildedwillow

The music’s a slow, pulsing throb under your skin, bass vibrating through the velvet walls of the VIP lounge. You’re in Emily’s lap, straddling her, arms draped lazily around her neck like this is just another dance — except your hips are moving slow, deliberate, your mouth grazing her ear as you whisper things no one else can hear.

She’s trying so hard to behave. Hands gripping the armrests like they’re her lifeline, knuckles white. Her dark eyes are locked on your face — jaw clenched, lips parted just enough for you to see the shaky exhale she can’t quite suppress. Her suit jacket’s rumpled now, tie loosened from the heat, from you. And god, you can feel it. The way she’s hard beneath you, cock straining against her slacks as you roll your hips, again and again, pretending like you're just enjoying the beat.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” you purr, voice dipped in honey as you grind down just a little harder, enough to make her flinch. “Not touching me, even though I know how badly you want to.”

Emily’s breath stutters. Her fingers twitch on the armrests, just once, and you reward her restraint with a kiss to the underside of her jaw. She moans softly, barely audible over the music — but you hear it. You feel it. Her cock is throbbing against you now, thick and hot, and she’s probably aching from the way you’ve been teasing her all night. Leaning in too close at the bar, slipping your hand into her lap under the table, whispering dirty little promises while she tried to keep it together in public.

“You’re dripping down your thigh, aren’t you?” you murmur, dragging your lips over her cheek as she shudders. “Bet your cock’s so sensitive it hurts. Poor thing.”

She whimpers, head falling back just slightly, exposing her throat in a silent, desperate plea. It’s too easy to smile, smug and cruel in the best way, as you press your hand between your bodies and cup her through her pants. She bucks instinctively and you tsk.

“No. You don’t get to touch anything tonight unless I say so. Hands stay right there. You understand?”

Emily nods fast, frantic. “Yes, ma’am,” she breathes, voice cracked open, pupils blown wide with lust and submission.

“Good girl.”

You don’t even turn on the lights when you get home — you want her squirming in the dark, want her focused only on how you touch her, how you command her. The door slams shut behind you, and Emily’s already fumbling with her jacket like she’s on the edge of breaking, but you press her back with one firm palm to her chest.

"Strip. Everything. But don’t you fucking touch your cock."

Her breath catches in her throat — a high, shaky sound that’s almost a moan — but she obeys. Her hands tremble as she works off the layers, her slacks hitting the floor with a soft sound, boxers right after, and there it is. Her cock, flushed and thick and so hard it’s bobbing slightly with each tiny movement, veins prominent, the head wet and shiny with precum. She’s dripping — like she’s been leaking for hours — and maybe she has, considering how much teasing you put her through at the club.

You let her sit on the edge of the bed, legs spread just enough to make room for you as you sink to your knees between them, still fully clothed. You rest your hands on her thighs and look up at her.

"Look at you," you murmur, voice sultry and low. "So hard it hurts, huh? I can see your cock twitching, baby. You gonna beg for it?"

Emily’s already panting, her fists clenched into the sheets behind her. “Please,” she whispers, hips twitching forward despite herself. "I—I need it so bad, I can’t—fuck, I can’t think—"

"Oh, poor thing," you coo, leaning forward, letting your lips barely brush her inner thigh. "You gonna come just from my mouth?"

She whimpers. “Please, yes—need your mouth, I can’t take it—please, I’ll be good, I’ll be so fucking good—”

That’s all you need.

You wrap one hand around the base of her cock, squeezing just enough to make her gasp, then slowly lick from the underside up to the head, tasting the precum already smeared there. She bucks slightly, immediately apologizing, breathless — “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stay still—” —and it makes you smile as you swirl your tongue around the head, teasing the slit.

"Good girl," you purr, before taking her in deeper, lips wrapping around her thick cock as she groans, ragged and raw.

She’s big. Long and heavy on your tongue, thick enough to stretch your lips wide as you slide down her length, your hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach. Her cock pulses against your tongue, the taste of her precum salty and addictive. You hollow your cheeks, suck hard — and she cries out, a soft, broken sound like she’s trying not to sob.

You know you look like sin. Your cleavage is on full display, breasts pushed up tight in your top, your pussy soaked through your panties and pressed against the floor as you rock your hips for a little friction. But it’s all for her — every moan you let out as you suck her, every time you drag your tongue along that sensitive vein on the underside of her cock, is to undo her completely.

Emily’s shaking now, thighs trembling on either side of you. “I—I can’t—fuck, I’m gonna come, please—let me, please, I need to—”

You pull off just long enough to growl, “Not until I say.” Then you take her deep again, swallowing around her as you bob your head faster, jerking the base of her cock in rhythm with your mouth. Her hips jump — she’s holding herself back with everything she’s got.

“Please—pleasepleaseplease—” she’s sobbing now, barely coherent, voice wrecked. “Let me come, let me, I can’t hold it—”

You pull back just enough to tease her tip with your tongue and whisper, “Come in my mouth.”

She shatters.

With a strangled cry, her cock jerks in your hand and she spills hot and thick down your throat. You moan around her, swallowing greedily, loving the way she whimpers as the orgasm crashes through her — hips twitching, whole body shaking under your control. You don’t stop until she’s given you every last drop, licking her clean as her thighs twitch helplessly.

When you finally look up, her eyes are glassy, lips parted, cheeks flushed deep red. She looks utterly wrecked. And you?

You just smile, wiping your mouth slowly with the back of your hand.

"Good girl. Now lie back. I'm not nearly done with you yet."

She’s still trembling when you rise to your feet, her chest heaving, cock softening slightly between her thighs but still slick, flushed, needy. You don’t speak. Not yet. You just start moving — slow, deliberate — your fingers sliding to the hem of your top as you hold her gaze.

Emily’s wide-eyed, helpless, wrecked — and starving for you.

You peel your shirt up inch by inch, giving her a slow reveal of bare skin, your stomach flexing as you stretch, then your lacy bra coming into view. Her breath catches audibly.

“God, you’re—fuck,” she whispers, eyes raking over you like she’s trying to memorize everything. “You’re so beautiful…”

You smirk as you drop the top and move your hands to the waistband of your skirt, taking your time unzipping it, hips rolling gently side to side like you’re dancing just for her. The fabric falls to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your panties and bra — both black, both sheer enough to leave little to the imagination.

Emily’s eyes darken. She leans forward instinctively, hand lifting toward your waist like she can’t help herself. You slap it away — not hard, but sharp enough to make her jolt.

“Nuh-uh,” you warn. “You don’t touch until I say. You want my body? You watch it first.”

She groans — head falling back a second, teeth clenched like she’s holding herself together by a thread. You reach behind your back and unclip your bra, letting it fall off your arms. Her eyes drop to your chest instantly, pupils blown wide.

“Fuck… your tits—” she whimpers, breathless. “You know how much I—please, I wanna touch, I wanna taste them so bad…”

You cup them in your own hands, rolling your nipples slowly between your fingers, moaning just a little as your body reacts — nipples tightening, pussy clenching in anticipation. You see the way Emily twitches — her cock starting to swell again, helpless to your show.

“You’ll get your chance,” you murmur. “But I’m going to ride you first.”

You hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties and peel them down slow, letting her see the wet string of arousal sticking to the fabric. You’re soaked — your thighs glistening, your pussy visibly aching for her — and she makes a desperate, strangled sound as she watches you step out of them and climb back into her lap.

Her cock is rock hard again, flushed dark red and slick with her own release, twitching eagerly beneath you. You position yourself over her, rubbing your folds along her shaft, spreading wetness from tip to base, teasing you both with the promise.

“Can I touch you?” she begs again, voice cracked and reverent. “Please, I’ll be so gentle, I’ll—fuck, please let me hold your tits while you ride me—”

You lean in close, your lips ghosting over hers but never kissing. “You love my tits that much?”

“Yes,” she gasps. “So fucking much—”

You take her cock in one hand and line yourself up, and as you sink down onto her, you grab her wrists and guide her palms to your chest.

“Then touch. Show me how much.”

Emily moans like she’s been given salvation. Her hands come up to cup your breasts reverently, fingers splaying across your soft skin, thumbs brushing over your aching nipples. You start to ride her slow — grinding your hips, letting her feel every tight, wet inch of you envelop her cock.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” she gasps, head falling back against the mattress as her hands knead your tits. “So tight, so wet—so fucking perfect—”

You bounce on her cock with increasing rhythm, your thighs slapping against hers, your pussy clenching around her thick length as she fills you again and again. You brace your hands on her chest, back arching as you ride her deeper, harder, your breasts bouncing into her eager palms.

“Touch me like that,” you pant, “and I might let you come inside me.”

That’s all it takes. Emily’s hips start to jerk, her cock throbbing deep inside you as she grips your breasts harder, rubbing and squeezing like they’re the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. You clench around her, moaning as you feel her swelling inside you, every vein dragging along your walls perfectly.

“I’m gonna come—please, I’m gonna come inside, let me—please, please—”

You ride her faster, leaning down to kiss her finally, your lips crashing onto hers just as her cock pulses hard inside you — thick, hot ropes of cum spilling deep into your pussy. You grind through it, milking her, moaning as her body shudders beneath you, her grip on your breasts tightening just shy of painful.

You don’t stop until you’ve wrung every drop out of her, until you feel her twitching, overstimulated, whimpering against your mouth as you finally slow.

When you sit up again, her cum is dripping out of you, thick and warm between your thighs, and her cock is still buried deep inside.

She looks up at you like she’s seen heaven.

And maybe she has.

She’s still hard inside you.

Barely. Sensitive. Twitching. But hard — and that’s all you need.

You grin, slow and wicked, as you lift your hips and let her half-soft cock slide out of your cum-dripping pussy with a filthy wet sound. You don’t give her a moment to recover. You just shift, press her back flat against the bed, and straddle her chest, your soaked cunt hovering just above her face.

“Did I say you could come?” you ask, voice low, taunting. Her eyes widen — she knows it was allowed — but you’re already smirking, grinding your wet pussy along her chest, smearing her own cum across her skin.

“I—I thought—” she starts, but you reach down and slap her cock lightly — just enough to make her whimper and twitch.

“You thought wrong, baby. I said maybe. You came like a desperate little bitch anyway. So now you’re going to make it up to me.”

You grab her by the hair and drag her face between your thighs, not gentle in the slightest. She gasps at first, but her mouth opens fast, eager, tongue darting out to lap at your folds like she’s starving for you — and maybe she is. You ride her face with no hesitation, grinding your pussy against her mouth, your slick lips parting over her nose, her chin. She moans against you like it’s a gift, and you pull her hair harder.

“Don’t just lick — eat me, Emily.”

And she does.

Tongue plunging between your folds, sloppy and desperate, licking into your dripping pussy with a devotion that’s almost pathetic. She sucks your clit when you grind down harder, and you reward her with a deep moan, grabbing the headboard with one hand while the other stays tangled in her hair, riding her face with ruthless rhythm.

She’s so fucking good like this — mouth stuffed with your cunt, cock twitching uselessly against her stomach, eyes half-lidded with overwhelmed need. You fuck yourself on her tongue until your legs start to tremble, until you're soaked and throbbing and overstimulated — then you pull away, dripping onto her lips and watching her chase your pussy with a broken whimper.

“Mm-mm,” you hum, crawling back down her body until you’re hovering over her cock again. “You don’t come again until I say. You don’t move unless I tell you. Understand?”

“Y-yes,” she pants, breathless, her lips shining with your slick. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl.”

You line her back up and sink down hard — all at once — taking her back into your pussy while she sobs, back arching like her body can’t handle the overstimulation. Her cock’s still overly sensitive, still slick with her last release and your arousal, but it slides in deep, stretching you open again, filling you in one tight, brutal thrust.

Her thighs shake. Her hands clench the sheets.

You ride her without mercy.

Fast, punishing, wet. Skin slapping, bodies colliding, your pussy sucking her back in every time she tries to squirm from the intensity. Her cock throbs with every stroke — already on the edge again, just barely holding on. You lean down and press your tits to her chest, grinding harder, your breath hot against her ear.

“Your cock’s mine,” you whisper. “This tight, aching little thing? It belongs to me. I’ll fuck you until you cry, and you’ll say thank you, won’t you?”

She nods frantically, barely able to breathe. “Thank you, thank you—fuck, I love your pussy—I love how it feels, please don’t stop—”

You grab her throat — not to choke, just to hold her still — and ride her faster. Your breasts bounce against her chest, your soaked cunt clenching, milking her cock like you want her to break.

“Touch me,” you pant finally, and she doesn’t even hesitate — her hands come up to your chest like they belong there, fingers cupping your tits, thumbs flicking your nipples as you ride her deeper.

She’s losing it. You can feel it — her cock twitching wildly inside you, her breath ragged, your name falling from her lips like a prayer.

“I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t hold it—”

You dig your nails into her chest. “You will. You’ll beg for it.”

“Please,” she sobs, “please, I need to come in you again, let me, I’ll be good, I’ll do anything—”

You clench hard around her, grinding down to take her as deep as she’ll go.

“Come for me, baby.”

She breaks again.

With a long, broken cry, her cock pulses inside you, hot cum shooting deep into your pussy, again and again, as you moan and ride through it, wringing her dry. Her hands clutch at your tits like they’re the only thing keeping her grounded, her body twitching beneath you as she fills you all over again — your slick mixed with hers dripping down her thighs.

You don’t slow until she’s begging you to stop, completely spent and wrecked beneath you.

You’re already soaking by the time you straddle her lap, hot tub water sloshing around your waist, and Melissa’s just sitting there like she owns the place—hell, owns you. That smug fucking smirk on her lips, red hair pulled up, tanned skin glistening, tits practically spilling out of a tiny black bikini top. Her eyes are locked between your legs, hungry.

And underneath the surface, you feel it—her strap, thick and hard, bumping up against your pussy, just waiting for you to sink down on it.

She raises a brow. “You gonna sit on it, or you need help like the needy little bitch I know you are?”

Your pussy clenches, already slick and aching. You reach down under the water, guiding the thick silicone head between your folds, and the second it nudges your entrance, you whimper. You're already so wet it slides in almost too easy—stretching you, thick and deep, dragging against every nerve-ending inside you until you bottom out with a desperate moan.

“Fuck,” you breathe, hands on her shoulders.

But Melissa slaps them off. “Nah. No hands. You ride it all by yourself. Show me how bad you need it.”

You bite your lip, already shaking. That strap is big—long and girthy, curved just right to hit that spot over and over—but it’s the base of it grinding against your clit while you ride that sends you reeling. You start moving, slow at first, hips circling, grinding down on her. Your pussy’s gripping it tight, walls fluttering, so full you can barely think.

“Look at that tight fuckin’ cunt,” Melissa growls, watching your tits bounce as you ride her. “So greedy for cock. You hear that?”

Slap, slap, slap—your soaked pussy smacking against her hips, water sloshing hard with every bounce, spilling over the edge of the tub.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ hear it. That wet little pussy loves me.”

You nod, jaw slack, riding faster now, ass bouncing on her lap as you fuck yourself dumb. She’s not even helping—just letting you take all of it on your own, hands behind her head like she’s enjoying the fuckin’ show. And she is.

And then she moans. Deep, low, throatier than you expected.

You blink, panting. “Are—are you…”

She bites her lip. “Yeah, baby. That harness is rubbin’ my clit just right. Keep bouncin’ like that and I’ll fuckin’ come with you.”

That snaps something in you. You fuck her harder, harder, like you need to make her come now, not just for you but for her—need to see her fall apart while you’re split open on her strap.

“Shit, just like that—ride it, baby. Fuck—grind that sloppy cunt on me, I wanna feel you squeeze.”

You're both a mess. Your pussy’s soaked, stretched around the strap, dripping down to the base and mixing with the hot tub water. Her hips start thrusting up to meet yours, chasing that pressure as the harness grinds her clit raw. Water’s crashing over the edge with every move now, the sound of your pussy squelching around the strap obscene, wet and filthy.

You grab the edge of the tub just to keep from collapsing.

“Fuckfuckfuck—Mel—”

“Yeah, come on, baby—come on that cock, show me how good this fuckin’ strap ruins you—”

You scream when it hits. Whole body going stiff, legs locking, pussy pulsing so hard around the strap it almost knocks the air outta you. Melissa’s hands slam down on your hips, dragging you down hard onto her cock just as she gasps and shudders, her thighs clenching.

“Fuuuck—yeah, yeah—fuckin’ comin’ too, baby, fuck—”

You grind through it together, gasping, whimpering, cumming so hard the water damn near boils. She holds you tight, her strap still buried deep inside your wrecked pussy while your cunt spasms around it, milking it like it’s real.

Eventually, you slump forward, forehead on her shoulder, water rippling around you both.

Melissa lets out a breathless laugh. “Hot tub’s the best fuckin’ investment I ever made.”

You can’t even speak. All you can do is whimper as the strap stays stuffed inside you, and her fingers start slowly trailing down to your clit again.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

You're still catching your breath when Melissa grips your hips under the water and growls, “Get the fuck up. Face-down. On the deck. Now.”

You don’t argue. You can’t. Your body’s buzzing, pussy still soaked and twitching around nothing now that she’s pulled the strap out. You scramble up the steps, dripping wet, legs shaking like a baby deer, and flop onto the wooden deck—cheeks flushed, hair a mess, still aching for her.

The air hits your skin like ice, goosebumps racing down your spine, but it doesn’t matter. You're on your hands and knees, thighs spread, ass high, and your pussy’s dripping—glossy and flushed, swollen from the way she fucked you in the tub. You can feel your slick mixing with the water sliding down your thighs, wetting the wood under your knees.

And then you hear it. Her footsteps behind you. Her breathing.

Click. The sound of the harness straps being tightened. Adjusted. Ready.

“Look at this pussy,” she mutters behind you, running her hand between your legs. Her fingers slide through your folds, slow and filthy. “So fuckin’ wet still. All sloppy for me.”

You arch for her, needy and whimpering.

Melissa doesn’t wait.

She slams back inside you in one deep thrust, burying the strap to the hilt, and you scream. Your hands shoot forward, bracing on the slick wood as her cock stretches you open again, filling you like she owns you.

“Fuck—fuck, Mel—”

“Shut up and take it.” Her voice is rough, low, right at your ear as she bends over you, chest to your back, one hand sliding up your throat to hold you still while she fucks you.

Her hips slap into your ass, again and again, water flying off both of you with every brutal thrust. Her strap hits deep, hard, angled just right to smash into your g-spot every time she pounds into you. The sound is obscene—wet, squelching, the smack of skin-on-skin echoing in the night.

Your pussy’s stretched wide, sucking the strap in over and over like you need it, like your body’s begging to be used. Your thighs are shaking, face shoved into the deck, drooling, moaning uncontrollably as she ruts into you like a fucking animal.

Melissa grips your hips tighter. “This what you wanted, huh? To get fucked face-down like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

You nod, but it’s pathetic—your face is mashed against the deck, lips parted, eyes rolling.

She spits on your back. Lets it run down your spine. Her hand slips between your legs, finding your clit, soaked and throbbing.

“Oh, you’re gonna come again, baby. I feel this pussy squeezing—she’s fuckin’ choking my cock.”

You sob. Your body jerks with every thrust. Her cock’s slamming into you with no rhythm now—just raw power, her own hips stuttering as the base of the strap grinds into her clit harder, rougher, soaked with your slick from earlier.

She’s panting, fucking into you like she’s chasing her own orgasm. “Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—oh my god, I’m gonna fucking come—”

You feel her shake. Her hips grind deep, and you hear her moan, real and broken, her orgasm ripping through her as the harness rubs her clit raw, her thighs clenching around you.

And that’s it—you fall over the edge with her.

Your body explodes, pussy clamping down so hard on the strap you see stars. Your vision goes white, whole body tensing, jerking, moaning into the deck like an animal as she fucks you through it.

You’re both a mess. Her cock still buried deep in your spasming pussy, your juices dripping down your thighs onto the deck. Her hand still holding your throat, possessive and gentle all at once.

You whimper, trying to breathe.

Melissa leans down, presses a kiss to your spine. “That’s my good girl.”

You can’t even answer.

You’re drooling on the wood.

And she’s still inside you.

You’re still face-down on the deck, leaking and wrecked, when Melissa finally pulls out with a slow, wet sound that makes your cunt flutter again. The thick strap is coated—your slick clings to the silicone in thick, shiny strands, still warm from your pussy.

She grabs your hair and yanks you up to your knees. “Clean it,” she growls. “Mouth open. Now.”

Your tongue’s out before she finishes the sentence.

She brings the strap to your face, tilting your chin up, and presses the tip against your lips—shiny and messy with your own cum. The taste hits instantly: salty, sweet, yourself—still warm, still soaked. You lick it clean, moaning as your tongue drags over the curve of it, mouth wrapping around the head while she watches.

“Filthy little slut,” Melissa mutters, hand still tangled in your hair. “Look at you. So hungry for your own pussy, you’ll suck it off my cock.”

You choke a little when she pushes it deeper, and she laughs. A warm, rough sound.

When the whole thing’s clean—glistening from your spit—she finally undoes the harness, lets it drop to the deck, and leans back on the edge of the hot tub with a smirk. She spreads her legs wide, her bikini bottoms already pushed aside, her cunt on full display.

And fuck, she’s gorgeous.

Her pussy’s flushed and wet, glistening with her own slick, lips full and puffy from how hard she came earlier—like her clit’s still throbbing, begging for more. She smells so good—that raw, musky sweetness that hits you right in the brain.

“Get in,” she says, nodding to the water.

You slide in, the heat swallowing your body as you move toward her. She’s perched on the edge now, legs open, and you settle between them, hands on her thighs, breath already shaky.

“Taste me,” Melissa says, voice low, almost a threat. “Don’t stop ‘til I’m fuckin’ shaking.”

You don’t waste a second.

Your tongue slides between her folds, licking a fat stripe up her slit, and she moans. Her taste floods your mouth—salty, earthy, hot, with that rich tang of her cum still fresh from earlier. You go slow at first, savoring it, sucking her clit into your mouth and flicking your tongue over it until she’s gasping.

“Fuck—yeah, baby, right there—”

You grip her thighs tighter, then move your hands up to her tits. You tug the bikini top down and start playing with her nipples—pinching and rolling them between your fingers while your mouth works her cunt like it’s your last meal.

She’s dripping down your chin, thighs twitching under your grip. You drag your tongue down to her entrance, fuck her with it, deep and filthy, then suck her clit back into your mouth while your fingers pinch both her nipples at once.

Her whole body jerks.

“Oh fuck—fuck—don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—”

You moan into her, sucking harder, faster, her clit swollen and twitching against your tongue, and that’s when it hits her.

She screams your name—hips snapping forward, cunt grinding against your face as she cums. Hard. Wet. Messy.

Her thighs clamp around your head, and you stay there, licking and sucking through it, her juices flooding your mouth—hot, slippery, and just a little sweet. You swallow every drop, tongue lapping up everything that spills out while your fingers keep tugging on her nipples.

She’s gasping, legs shaking, hand in your hair, holding you there while she rides it out.

When she finally loosens her grip, you pull back, panting, lips and chin soaked in her cum. Her chest is rising and falling, tits heaving, her pussy still glistening and twitching.

She looks down at you with that crooked grin.

You pull the fire truck up in front of the school like it’s just another community visit, but the second you see her waiting out front, arms crossed and eyes glinting beneath those tinted sunglasses, you know this day is about to take a turn.

Melissa Schemmenti is trouble in the sexiest goddamn package you've ever seen. Today, she's got her hair pinned up in that intentionally messy way that makes your fingers itch to pull it down, and she’s dressed like she’s daring every teacher in that building to break the dress code. A low-cut black top that dips just enough to show the swell of her tits — not enough to be scandalous, but enough to make your mouth dry. A fitted blazer hugs her waist, but it's the leather pants that do you in — hugging every inch of her hips and ass like they were poured on.

You’re half-hard the second you step out of the truck.

You try to focus on the task at hand. Kids are filing out, teachers chattering, and you’re supposed to be the professional, the firefighter giving a quick tour and safety demo. But when Melissa walks past you to gather the students, she brushes her fingers along the curve of your arm, subtle as hell, and gives you a look over her shoulder. You know that look. It says follow me, even if her lips don’t.

So, you do. You circle around to the back of the truck, supposedly to grab some handouts, but your pulse is already kicking up. The heavy turnout pants do nothing to hide the way your cock is pressing against the inside of them, already thickening at the thought of what she’s about to do.

You’ve got a nice cock — thick, veined, with a slight upward curve you’ve learned how to use to your advantage. The kind that drags along all the right places when you're buried inside her, the kind that makes her moan your name in that low, rough voice like she’s coming undone. Right now, it’s rock hard and twitching just from the sound of her heels clicking around the side of the truck.

“Couldn’t wait to see me in uniform, huh?” you murmur, the second she appears behind you. She doesn’t say anything at first — just gives you that smirk that says you have no idea and closes the distance between you.

Before you can blink, her fingers are at your belt, already working it open with practiced ease.

“I told myself I’d behave today,” she whispers, lips brushing your jaw, “but then you showed up lookin’ like a goddamn wet dream.”

You grunt, trying to keep your voice low, but the second she gets your cock out, it’s over. Her hand wraps around it, slow and greedy, and you swear your knees damn near buckle. She drags her palm up from the base to the head, her thumb smearing precum over the tip as she stares down at it.

“Still curved just right,” she murmurs, almost to herself, licking her lips. “Bet you’re aching to be inside something, huh, hero?”

You can barely breathe, nodding like an idiot as she sinks to her knees between the open back doors of the truck. You’re hidden just enough to be safe — maybe — but you can still hear the kids laughing at the front, a teacher asking someone to line up. They could come around any second.

Then Melissa’s lips wrap around your cock, and none of that matters.

She takes the head slow, tongue swirling over it before she sinks down further, stretching her mouth wide around you. Her lips glide over every ridge, every vein, and when she hits that slight upward curve, she moans. Moans. Like the shape of your cock alone is turning her on, and you feel it — the vibration of her voice shooting right through you.

“Jesus, Mel—fuck—” you breathe, gripping the edge of the truck as your hips twitch forward, just a little.

She doesn’t gag. She takes it like she’s done it a hundred times before — which she has — and her hands come up to hold your thighs as she works you deeper. Her mouth is hot, wet, sinful, and every time she pulls back, her tongue drags under the head just right, making you see stars. Then she’s sinking down again, eyes locked on yours like a challenge. Don’t you dare look away.

The kids are still there. The staff is still there. Any one of them could step out, take a peek behind the truck, and find the school’s most feared teacher on her knees with your cock stuffed down her throat. And somehow, that only makes you harder.

Your fingers tighten in her hair, guiding her rhythm now — short, sloppy strokes that pick up speed. You feel your balls tightening, that electric tension curling low in your gut, and you whisper her name like a warning.

She doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t flinch.

She just looks up at you, mouth full, and nods — like she wants it. Wants you to cum in her mouth, down her throat, right here, out in the open.

That’s all it takes.

You explode with a sharp gasp, your hips stuttering as hot ropes of cum spill onto her tongue. She swallows all of it — doesn’t even blink — just keeps sucking you through it, drawing every last drop until you’re trembling from head to toe.

When she finally pulls off, your cock slips from her lips with a wet pop, and she licks them like you’re her favorite goddamn dessert.

“You always taste like sin,” she murmurs, standing up like she didn’t just drain you behind a public service vehicle in the middle of a school field trip. She smooths her blazer, checks her lipstick in the reflection of the truck, then pats your cheek gently.

“Fix your pants, hero. You’ve got kids to impress.”

And just like that, she walks away, hips swaying, heels tapping, leaving you wrecked and still trying to remember how to breathe.

It’s been hours, but you’ve been hard since the moment her lips wrapped around your cock. And Melissa? She’s been fucking relentless.

You’d thought, maybe, you could hold it together for a school field trip. Be a professional. But the way she’s been working you all afternoon? She knew exactly what she was doing — brushing past you every time you turned around, flashing you those tits beneath that low-cut top, leaning in just close enough for her perfume to melt your brain.

She didn’t just want you distracted — she wanted you wrecked. And by the time the kids are back inside and you finally step behind the firetruck to breathe, you’re barely keeping it together.

But you don’t get a chance to cool off.

She’s already behind you.

You feel her before she speaks — her body presses up against yours from behind, and her hands? They’re already at your belt, fingers fast, impatient. She doesn’t even give you a warning this time. Just starts unbuckling you like she owns your cock.

“I’ve been dripping all fucking day,” she murmurs, mouth hot against your ear. “Thinking about how you filled my throat. I can still taste you.”

Your heart punches your chest, blood rushing south so fast it makes you dizzy. You spin around, grab her by the waist, and lift her like she weighs nothing. She lets out a startled gasp, then wraps her legs around you, grinning like she won. You don’t even care if someone’s watching — you’re too far gone.

You carry her straight into the back of the firetruck and slam the doors behind you, cutting off the outside world like it never existed.

Inside, it’s quiet. Dim. The faint smell of smoke and rubber hangs in the air, but all you can smell is her. That mix of perfume and sweat and raw, needy sex.

You press her against the inner wall, kissing her hard, teeth dragging over her lower lip as your hands fumble with her blazer. You rip it open, the buttons popping, and shove it off her shoulders like it offended you. Then that low-cut top is next, pushed up and over her tits until they bounce free — and fuck, your cock jumps at the sight of them.

Full, heavy, perfect. Her nipples already hard, begging to be sucked. You groan, honestly, helplessly — you’ve seen them a hundred times, but you swear they hit harder every time. You palm them both, squeezing greedily, brushing your thumbs over her nipples until she arches into you with a gasp.

“God, I’ll never get enough of these,” you mutter, dragging your mouth down her neck, licking and biting your way to one perfect breast. “You’ve got the best fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

Melissa moans as you take a nipple into your mouth, sucking slow and deep, your tongue flicking over it while your other hand works down to her pants — those tight leather ones you’ve been eye-fucking all damn day. You fumble with the zipper, impatient as hell, until she reaches down to help, shimmying them over her hips.

That’s when you realize — no panties. Just bare, wet skin and the musky, addictive scent of her arousal hitting you like a fucking drug.

“Jesus, Mel,” you breathe, hand sliding between her thighs. “You’re soaked.”

She’s dripping — her pussy slick and hot, lips swollen and glistening. Your fingers slide through it easy, parting her folds until you find her clit and draw a slow, dirty circle around it.

“All for you,” she pants, grinding down against your hand. “You gonna stop teasing me now? Or do I need to ride your cock myself?”

That’s it.

You yank your pants down just enough to free your cock — thick, veiny, already leaking. The head is flushed deep red, and that slight upward curve is damn near twitching at the sight of her. You run the tip through her wetness, letting her juices slick your shaft, and she whines, trying to push her hips forward to take you.

You grab her ass with both hands and lift her again, lining up that cock, and the second the head presses against her entrance — tight and needy — she digs her nails into your shoulders.

“Don’t you fucking tease,” she growls.

You don’t.

You thrust into her in one slow, brutal stroke — and fuck, the way she takes you. Her pussy clamps around you like she’s starving for it, every inch of her heat wrapping tight around your curve. You groan into her mouth, forehead pressed to hers, fighting to keep it together.

She’s soaked. Slick as hell. You’re sliding in and out of her with wet, obscene sounds, your cock hitting that perfect spot with every thrust thanks to that curve. And she feels so good around you — snug and warm and pulsing, like her body was made to take your dick.

“Harder,” she gasps. “Come on, baby. You’ve been aching for this all day. Fuck me.”

You slam into her harder, faster, the whole firetruck shaking with every thrust. Her tits bounce with each movement, and you can’t help but suck one into your mouth again, moaning against her skin as she cries out, head falling back.

It’s hot. Messy. Desperate. You’re both sweating, grunting, clawing at each other like animals. Her pussy’s squeezing you tighter with every stroke, and you can feel her getting close — the way her moans get higher, how her hips start to jerk in time with your thrusts.

“Gonna cum on this cock,” she pants, fingers clutching your ass to pull you in deeper. “Gonna fucking soak you, baby—don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”

You feel it the second she breaks.

Her whole body locks up, and she screams your name as she cums, soaking your cock, her pussy fluttering around you like it’s trying to milk every drop.

And fuck — you can’t hold it anymore.

You slam into her once, twice more, then bury yourself deep, cock throbbing, and unload inside her with a ragged moan. Hot ropes of cum flood her pussy as you grind in, her legs locked tight around you, her teeth on your neck, your name a broken sigh in your ear.

You stay like that for a moment — shaking, panting, her slick dripping down your shaft, your cum still leaking into her — before she lets out a breathless laugh.

“We should really do more school visits.”

You groan — partly because she’s fucking impossible, and partly because… goddamn it, she’s right. You don’t even answer. You just shift your hips back and your still-hard cock slips out of her, slick and shining with your cum and hers.

And fuck, you’re already hard again.

It’s that risk, that rush — the fact that someone could knock on that door any second, or open it and find you both naked, sweating, soaked in cum. That dangerous edge has your cock twitching, already aching for more.

Melissa notices, of course.

Her eyes drop down and she bites her lip, then slides down to her knees again, like she already knows what you need.

“I knew you weren’t done,” she purrs, hands on your thighs. “That cock’s too greedy.”

You chuckle, breathless, as she leans in to kiss the head of your cock — just once, a soft little tease — before pulling back and sitting on her heels.

“Fuck my tits,” she says.

Your brain short-circuits for a second.

She peels the rest of her top off, tossing it aside, then reaches up and grabs those perfect tits — full, heavy, flushed pink — and pushes them together around your cock like she was made for this. You groan as the head pops out between them, already smeared in slick, precum pooling on her skin.

“C’mon, baby,” she breathes, looking up at you through her lashes. “You love these tits so much, put that cock to work.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You grab the base of your shaft and line it up between them, then thrust forward, watching your cock disappear into that soft, warm heaven. It’s tight between her breasts, her skin slick from sweat and your cum, and the friction is unreal. You rock your hips, fucking your cock between her tits, groaning low and filthy as you watch your length glide in and out of her perfect cleavage.

She presses them tighter, spitting on the tip to make it even slicker, then sticks her tongue out and licks the head every time it slides forward. That little flick of wet heat sends a jolt through you, and you moan, hips snapping harder now, chasing that high all over again.

“Fuck, Mel—look at you,” you grunt. “Your tits feel so fucking good… you’re gonna make me cum again.”

“Do it,” she pants, licking the tip every time it peeks out. “Wanna see you cover me. Wanna feel it all over my face.”

That’s all it takes.

You feel your balls tighten again, the tension coiling low and hot as you fuck faster, rougher, the head of your cock now pulsing against her tongue. You grip the back of her neck with one hand, steadying yourself, and slam into that soft valley one last time—

Then you’re cumming.

Hard.

With a broken groan, your cock throbs between her tits and you explode — thick ropes of cum shooting up her chest, splattering across her collarbones, her chin, and then right across her cheek and tongue. She moans like it’s her reward, licking the mess off her lips, keeping her tits pressed together to catch every drop.

Your cum drips down the slope of her breasts, painting her skin in white streaks. She looks wrecked — and god, she’s never looked hotter.

She leans back on her heels again, grinning up at you, cum glistening on her chest, her cheeks flushed.

“Think you’ve got it out of your system now?” she asks, teasing, as she scoops some of your mess off her tits and sucks it off her finger.

You just stare at her, cock twitching again.

“…You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Your legs are still trembling when you pull back, still dazed from the way you just emptied every drop of cum between her tits and all over her face. Melissa’s still kneeling, her chest glistening, licking one last streak of white from the corner of her mouth like she enjoys being coated in you.

And fuck, maybe she does — maybe that’s what’s got her smirking like she just won a game you didn’t even realize you were playing. You’re standing there, tits rising and falling beneath your half-unzipped uniform, heart pounding, skin flushed, and your still-sensitive cock twitching in the air between you — and all you can do is stare at her. At the way she scoops another little smear of cum off her breast and pops her finger into her mouth like it’s candy.

You groan softly, then reach for a towel from the little first-aid bin at the side of the truck, swiping it across her chest, still warm from where your cock had been pressed between her tits. She shivers at your touch but doesn’t stop you, letting you clean her like you own her, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be kneeling on the floor of a firetruck after getting wrecked in every way possible.

You help her back up to her feet and the two of you start scrambling — laughing under your breath, still tipsy on lust and adrenaline. You try to wipe each other down, pulling your shirt back into place, tucking your cock away as gently as possible because fuck, she’s still that kind of sore.

Melissa’s shimmying her bare, sticky thighs back into those leather pants, sucking in her breath as the fabric presses against the mess you left behind. She doesn’t say anything, but the way her eyes flick to you while she buttons them up — slow, smug, still wrecked — says enough. You know damn well she’s going to be carrying the feel of you between her legs for the rest of the day.

You’re just pulling your jacket over your still-throbbing chest when it happens.

A knock on the door.

Three short, sharp taps — too casual to be official, too perfectly timed to not send a bolt of panic right through your spine.

You both freeze.

You choke back a laugh and slap your palm over your mouth, your other hand flying out to press your finger to Melissa’s lips before she even opens them. She’s wide-eyed, lips parted, her chest still rising and falling fast, and that look in her eyes? That’s giddy. She’s turned the hell on.

You lean in, whispering so low it’s barely sound, “Shh—don’t even breathe.”

She nods, biting down on her lip hard, holding back a laugh of her own as she tugs the zipper on her pants the rest of the way up, her hips shifting slightly like she’s still trying to tuck your cum deeper inside her.

Another knock. This one a little slower.

You call her close to midnight, tucked under your sheets, body still warm from the shower. The apartment is quiet, dim, lit only by the amber glow of the bedside lamp. You're already stretched across the mattress in just one thing: Melissa’s old shirt, soft with wear, smelling faintly like her perfume and cigarette smoke. It hangs off you oversized, sleeves to your elbows, hem just barely grazing the tops of your thighs — and nothing underneath.

She picks up after three rings. Her voice is hoarse with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say softly, lips brushing the receiver like you’re whispering into her ear. “I just… couldn’t sleep. Missed your voice.”

A beat. You can picture her — head heavy against the pillow, red hair tousled, one eye squinting open at the time. “It’s late,” she mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. Then, quieter: “What’re you wearin’?”

You smile, biting your bottom lip, heartbeat kicking up just from the question. “One of your shirts.”

There’s a pause. You hear the subtle rustle of her turning over in bed. Her voice deepens, shifts into something darker. “Yeah?”

You hum, dragging your fingers lightly along your inner thigh. “The black one. It still smells like you.”

“Jesus,” she murmurs. You don’t miss the tension behind the word.

“No panties,” you add, just to push it further.

The silence crackles between you — thick and electric.

Then she says, “Put the phone on speaker.”

Your fingers tremble slightly as you obey, setting it beside you on the pillow. Her voice comes through a little louder now, raspier, more commanding. “Good girl. Now listen to me and do exactly what I say.”

A bolt of heat shoots through you. “Yes, ma’am.”

You hear the sharp inhale she takes when you say it. “Fuck. Alright. Start slow. Show me how you touch yourself when I’m not there.”

You drag your fingertips back up your inner thighs, teasing just beneath the hem of the shirt. Your legs fall open naturally, spreading for her even though she’s not here to see it. Your fingers glide over your folds — already wet, already aching — and you let out a soft moan when you brush over your clit.

“Already wet for me?” she asks, voice low and almost smug.

You can barely speak. “Yeah. Thinking about you. Your voice. Your hands.”

“Then don’t tease yourself. I want two fingers, right now. In deep.”

You gasp as you obey, sinking two fingers inside yourself, slow at first, the stretch familiar and satisfying. Your back arches off the mattress slightly. You moan again, louder this time, not bothering to hold back. Melissa lets out a low sound on the other end, something like a groan.

“That’s it, baby. You sound so fuckin’ pretty when you take it slow like that.”

You keep moving — curling your fingers just right, the slick sound obscene in the quiet room. Your hips start to roll with every thrust, chasing the friction. Your other hand creeps up your body, slips beneath the shirt to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it’s stiff and aching.

“You playing with your tits too?” she growls.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Wish they were your hands. Wish your mouth was on me.”

There’s a strained pause. Then: “I’d suck you so slow, baby. Hold your legs open and lick you until you begged me to stop.”

“Melissa,” you gasp, your pace faltering from the sheer want in her voice.

“You close?” she asks, her tone suddenly sharp. “You better not come yet.”

“I’m trying,” you whimper. “I’m so close, fuck—”

“Harder,” she commands. “I want you to fuck yourself hard. Pretend it’s my fingers. You know how deep I go.”

You moan, loud and desperate now, pushing your fingers in harder, deeper, angling them the way she does when she’s knuckle-deep inside you and murmuring filth against your skin. You can feel it building fast, white-hot and unbearable, pressure winding tighter with every wet stroke.

“Say my name,” she growls. “Say it while you come.”

And when it hits — it hits. You cry out her name, high and broken, body convulsing, thighs shaking as the orgasm rolls through you in waves. You don’t stop until you're spent and panting, fingers still buried inside, the sound of your slick and your breath the only thing filling the room.

You lie there trembling, body buzzing, lips parted as you slowly come back to yourself.

There’s silence on the line for a moment. Then Melissa speaks again, her voice hoarse and wrecked with restraint.

“I’m gettin’ in the car.”

Your eyes flutter open. “What?”

“You think I’m gonna let you sleep like that? After that? Nah. Keep the shirt on. Leave the door unlocked. I’ll be there in ten.”

You grin as you roll onto your side, flushed and sated. “Drive safe, ma’am.”

She groans. “You say that again when I walk through that door, I swear to God—”

Click.

You barely have time to straighten the sheets before you hear the familiar sound of her keys jangling in the lock. Your heart stutters. You leave the lamp on, body still humming from earlier, Melissa’s shirt clinging to your skin in all the places it got damp when you came apart over the phone.

The door swings open. You sit up slowly, legs folded beneath you, trying not to smile too wide when you see her standing there — hair tousled, jacket thrown over sweats, that familiar scowl barely hiding the fire behind her eyes.

Her gaze drops instantly to your bare thighs. “Still wearing my shirt?”

You nod, watching the way her jaw tightens.

She shuts the door behind her without a word, then stalks toward you like she’s been thinking about this — you — the entire drive over. You don’t move. You want her to take her time, to look at you like this, flushed and ready, already ruined once tonight and aching for more.

But Melissa doesn’t take her time.

She climbs onto the bed, pushes you back without ceremony, and slots herself between your legs like she owns the space there — and fuck, she does. Her hands slide up your thighs, rough palms spreading you open, tugging the shirt up and over your hips until it’s bunched around your waist.

“Lemme see that pretty pussy,” she growls, eyes locked between your legs.

You spread them wider without hesitation. She lets out a low groan.

“Fuck, look at you. Still so wet. You dripping for me, baby?”

You nod breathlessly. “I didn’t come down. Still throbbing.”

“Oh, I’ll take care of that,” she murmurs, voice thick. “Gonna get you writhing for me all over again.”

Then she leans in.

She doesn’t ease in soft, doesn’t tease. She licks a long, slow stripe up your slit and groans into it, burying her face between your thighs like she’s starved. Her tongue is firm and unrelenting, circling your clit, then flattening over it, sucking just hard enough to make you cry out.

You fist the sheets, hips twitching. “Melissa fuck—”

She doesn’t stop. One hand comes up to press flat against your stomach, holding you down. Her other hand slips two fingers back inside you without warning — her rings cold against your heat, her thrusts deep and perfect. She crooks them just right and doesn’t stop licking your clit while she fucks you open.

“Stay still,” she rasps. “You wanna come, you take it.”

You’re already trembling, gasping, your legs trying to close around her head but she’s stronger, pinning you wide open with her forearm and moaning against your cunt like she loves the way you taste. Every flick of her tongue is fire, and her fingers don’t slow, curling deep inside you over and over again until you’re babbling her name.

“I—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“That’s right,” she growls, lips slick with you. “Come on my face, baby. I want it. Now.”

You break.

The orgasm rips through you sharp and deep, your thighs shaking, fingers tangling in her hair as your hips jerk against her mouth. She groans when you come, keeps licking, keeps fucking you through it like she wants to feel every aftershock, every spasm of your body clenching around her hand.

You can barely breathe by the time she finally pulls back, her lips glistening, her eyes heavy with want.

“You’re a fuckin’ mess,” she says, voice low and wrecked.

You laugh weakly. “That your fault.”

Melissa leans over you, palms on either side of your head, and kisses you — hard and deep, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. “You think we’re done?” she murmurs against your lips.

“I ... no,” you whisper. “God, no.”

She smirks.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m not leaving until I’ve made you come again. And again. And again.”

Before you can catch your breath, she’s already moving — pulling off her jacket, yanking her t-shirt over her head, bare underneath. Her tits bounce as she tosses the shirt to the floor. You barely get a second to admire them before she shoves her sweatpants down, no underwear there either, her toned thighs flexing as she kicks them off. She climbs back into bed like a woman possessed.

Now she’s naked above you, skin flushed, red hair wild, her eyes locked on yours like she’s daring you to look anywhere else.

You can’t. She’s gorgeous. All soft curves and heat. She settles between your legs again, but this time she doesn’t reach for your pussy. No — this time, she grabs your hips and drags you downward, lining her body up with yours until her wet heat is pressed against your own.

Your breath catches. “Melissa—”

“Shut up,” she growls. “You said you were still throbbing.”

You are. You’re soaked. And now so is she.

She shifts her hips forward, and the moment your pussies slide together, slick to slick, your back arches like you’ve been electrocuted.

“Oh my god—”

“Yeah, baby,” she groans. “Feel that? That’s me. So wet for you.”

She starts grinding. Slow at first, dragging her clit against yours with purpose, with rhythm, her hands tight on your hips guiding the motion. You fall into it easily, matching her thrust for thrust, and the wet sounds of your bodies grinding together are fucking obscene.

Your thighs burn, your stomach tightens. Her breasts bounce with every motion, her breath coming fast through clenched teeth.

“Look at you,” she hisses, eyes dropping to where you’re joined. “So fucking messy down there. Can feel how much you want it.”

You can barely reply — too overwhelmed by the pressure, the pace, the raw drag of your clits rubbing just right. Your fingers find her waist, nails digging in as you meet her thrusts, desperate for more.

She leans forward suddenly, one hand braced beside your head, the other still locked tight on your hip. The angle changes — and the second your clit hits hers just right, your mouth drops open on a broken sob of a moan.

“There it is,” she pants, sweat dripping from her chest onto yours. “Right there, huh? That’s what gets you?”

“Yesfuck, yes—don’t stop, please—”

“You come when I say,” she growls, voice gone feral.

You try to hold back, but she keeps going, grinding harder now, faster, rougher. Your wetness is smeared across both your thighs, your clits swollen and sensitive and locked together in this filthy, desperate rhythm that neither of you can break.

Your stomach tightens. Your legs start to shake.

“Melissa...”

“You come with me,” she pants. “Say it.”

“With you,” you gasp. “Please...I want to—”

“Then come.”

It’s instant. You cry out, legs clamping around her as the orgasm rips through you, sharp and electric and raw. She’s right there with you, gasping your name, riding it out with you, her hips still grinding through it until you’re both a soaking, trembling mess.

She collapses on top of you, chests heaving, your thighs still pressed together, slick and throbbing and sore.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. Just breathing. Just feeling.

Then Melissa lifts her head, looks down at you, eyes still dark and wild. “You better not be done.”

You blink up at her, dazed. “What?”

She smirks. “I said ‘again and again and again,’ didn’t I?”

You're still tangled up when your body finally stops trembling. Your skin is sticky with sweat, your thighs slick, your breath still shaky as Melissa shifts above you, propping herself up on one elbow. Her bare chest hovers over yours, and her tits—Jesus Christ, her tits—are right there. Flushed. Bouncing slightly from her breath. Untouched.

You frown, lips still swollen and sensitive. “You know,” you murmur, voice hoarse, “we’ve been doing all this, and I still haven’t had your tits in my mouth.”

Melissa laughs, low and wrecked, like you’ve just reminded her of something vitally important. “That so?”

You pout up at her, dragging your nails lightly down her ribs. “It’s a tragedy. Honestly, I feel neglected.”

She raises an eyebrow and shifts fully on top of you, straddling your hips again, thighs bracketing yours. “Poor baby,” she coos, but her tone is dripping with sarcasm. “You want my tits in your mouth, huh?”

You nod, eyes wide and hungry, because fuck yes you do. You want everything. You want to suck on her nipples until she forgets her own name. You want to tease her, bite a little, make her beg while you take your time.

Melissa leans in slow, deliberately dragging her nipples over your mouth but not letting you catch one.

“You want it,” she murmurs, brushing her breast over your lips again. “Then open that pretty mouth.”

You do. And the second you do, she presses in, lets you wrap your lips around her nipple and suck.

You moan. Loud and shameless.

She's so warm, so soft in your mouth, and you flick your tongue against the peak, sucking greedily. Her hips twitch against your stomach. You glance up — her head’s thrown back, lips parted, her breathing uneven already.

“Fuck,” she breathes. “You got a mouth made for this.”

You hum in agreement and switch sides, dragging your tongue from one nipple to the other before closing your lips around it. You suck a little harder this time, using your teeth just enough to make her gasp.

Her thighs tighten around your hips. Her cunt grinds down against your stomach.

“Keep doing that, and I’m gonna come just from your fuckin’ mouth,” she warns, voice strained.

You grin up at her, lips wet, and say, “Isn’t that the point?”

That does it. She growls low in her throat and grabs the back of your head, pressing your face into her chest, forcing you to keep sucking. You go willingly, hungrily, wrapping your arms around her back to keep her close.

She rides your stomach slowly, the mess between her legs dripping down onto your skin. Her nipples are stiff and swollen now, your spit glistening on them as she pulls back just enough to look down at you — flushed, panting, breasts red from your mouth.

“Greedy little thing,” she mutters. “You want me to come on you?”

You nod, breathless. “Please.”

She grinds again, harder, and your hands move to her ass, guiding her as she fucks herself against your body.

“Keep sucking,” she pants. “Don’t stop. Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You do as you’re told, sucking hard while she rocks against you, your stomach slick with her wetness, the pace turning frantic. She’s cursing under her breath now, fingers fisting the sheets beside your head.

And then she breaks.

Her body locks up, hips jerking wildly as she comes hard, her clit dragging over your skin, your lips still locked around her nipple. She moans long and low, voice rough and raw and so fucking hot, and you hold her close through it, swallowing every sound she makes.

When she finally collapses on top of you, she’s trembling. Sweaty. Completely wrecked.

“Holy fuck,” she mutters into your neck. “You got a mouth on you, huh?”

You smile smugly. “Told you I felt neglected.”

She chuckles, breath warm on your throat. “Well. Can’t have that.”

“Now get comfy,” she murmurs. “You’re gonna ride my thigh next. And this time, you don’t stop ‘til I say so.”

She pulls you up without warning, grabbing your hips like she owns them and dragging you across her lap. Her thigh slots perfectly between yours, firm and slick with sweat, muscles taut under your cunt as she spreads her legs wider to give you more room to ride.

You’re soaked. Absolutely fucking dripping. The second your cunt makes contact with the solid press of her thigh, you let out a needy, high-pitched sound that makes her smirk.

“Yeah,” Melissa murmurs, voice low and dangerous, “you need it, don’t you?”

You nod, already rocking your hips forward, dragging your clit along her thigh. The friction is unreal — every movement sends sparks up your spine. She’s still warm from her own orgasm, her skin damp under your knees, and the heat between your bodies is suffocating in the best way.

“You’re gonna ride it, baby,” she says, tightening her grip on your ass. “You’re gonna rub that pretty pussy all over my thigh, and you’re not stopping ‘til you’ve come three fuckin’ times.”

Your eyes go wide. “Three?”

She nods, dragging you forward harder, like you weigh nothing. “Three. And if you stop, I start the count over.”

Your stomach flips, your clit throbbing. That threat goes straight to your core.

So you move.

You grind forward, hips rolling slow at first, catching your clit just right on the firm muscle of her thigh. She flexes it for you, smirking when your mouth drops open. It’s perfect. You ride her like you’ve been waiting for this all night — wet and fast, your slick spreading over her skin, every drag of your clit against her leaving you closer, closer, closer—

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come,” you pant.

“Good. Do it. Soak me.”

You cry out when it hits. Your thighs clamp down around hers, hips jerking wildly as your orgasm crashes over you, clit pulsing hard against her thigh. You’re soaked, making a mess all over her, but she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let you.

Her hands grab your hips again, dragging you back into motion before you’ve even finished shaking.

“That’s one,” she growls. “Give me two more.”

You whimper, but you keep grinding — even though you’re already sensitive, already gasping. It hurts, a little, but it’s so good, that sweet ache as your clit rubs against her slick, flexing thigh again and again. Melissa leans up and bites your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, and the pain only drives you further.

“You’re such a fuckin’ mess,” she rasps against your neck. “Dripping all over me. This pussy don’t even know when to quit.”

Your second orgasm hits harder — sharper, more desperate. You grab her shoulders and scream when it rolls through you, your whole body trembling as you grind through it, hips stuttering. Your slick spills over her skin, sticky and hot, making it easier and dirtier and more intense.

“That’s two,” she pants. “Come on, baby. One more. I know you got it in you.”

You’re sobbing now, dizzy from the overstimulation, but you keep going because you can’t stop — you need it, need to come one more time, just to make her proud. She grabs your face, pulls you in, and kisses you — hard and messy, tongue already deep in your mouth before you can catch your breath.

It’s disgusting. It’s perfect.

Your lips slip, teeth clack. Her tongue tangles with yours, spit dripping from the corners of your mouths as she fucks your face with her mouth just as relentlessly as you fuck her thigh with your cunt. You moan into her mouth, helpless, broken open, completely hers.

And then it happens.

The third orgasm rips through you without warning — deeper than the others, drawn out and full-body, your thighs squeezing around her like a vice as you grind down frantically. You scream her name into her mouth, hips rolling uncontrollably, your clit pulsing over and over and over again until you can’t anymore.

Your body collapses against her, trembling and drenched and gasping.

Melissa pulls her lips from yours, dragging one final filthy kiss across your cheek before she speaks, her voice like gravel and smoke.

“There she is,” she whispers. “Look at my good girl.”

You laugh — breathless, overwhelmed — and let yourself melt into her chest, her arms wrapping tight around you, her thigh still soaked with you, her mouth still sticky from all the spit you shared.

She strokes your back lazily, lips brushing your temple.

“You’re stayin’ the night,” you murmur.

“Wasn’t planning on leaving.”

˗ˋˏ E.PRENTISS ˎˊ˗

the daddy files: daddy's busy, baby - emily prentiss - 18+

you only wanted a little attention. but when daddy finally gives it to you, it’s more than you ever knew you needed.

just keep sucking while i handle everything - emily prentiss - 18+

you’re beneath her desk, glossy pink lips wrapped around her cock while she speaks calmly on the phone. she strokes your hair gently and mouths, “good girl,” when you take it deep.

try it on - emily prentiss - 18+

she drags you into a high-end bridal boutique, pretending you're shopping for a dress. but as soon as you're half undressed in the changing room, she's inside you — grunting against your neck.

obedience to you - emily prentiss - 18+

emily prentiss might be in control at work, but behind closed doors, she’s yours to tease, use, and ruin. after a night of public teasing that leaves her painfully hard, you take her home and make her watch as you strip, denying her every touch.

˗ˋˏ M.SCHEMMENTI ˎˊ˗

late night phone call - melissa schemmenti - 18+

you call her late, voice all sleepy and sweet. she’s already in bed, voice rough with exhaustion, but when you start describing what you’re wearing… she’s suddenly wide awake. “put the phone on speaker,” she growls. “and don’t stop touching yourself until i say so.”

it’s too big .. i want all of it - melissa schemmenti - 18+

melissa’s already trembling before you even get inside her. she’s straddling your lap, blouse open, skirt bunched around her waist, and her soaked panties pushed to the side. your cock is thick, long, and heavy against her slit — so much bigger than anything she’s had before.

you don’t get to come ‘til you fuck yourself dumb on it - melissa schemmenti - 18+

she makes you ride her hands-free—just your hips working to take all of her, over and over again. every bounce makes the water splash, your tits bobbing in her face while she licks and sucks your nipples raw. “look at you,” she growls, grip bruising on your thighs. “stuffed full and desperate. Is that all you’re good for, huh? taking cock like a dumb little slut?”

she denies you until you're crying - melissa schemmenti - 18+

"not yet," she purrs, lips brushing your ear as her fingers slow to a stop. you’re bound with her silk scarf, writhing against the sheets, begging like it’ll change anything. it never does.

back of the fire truck - melissa schemmenti - 18+