In Need Of Contact

“Joel—“ your voice was a whisper, hushed but urgent as you reached to grab his hand as it crept up your thigh beneath the blanket over both your laps.

You were at his parents house for dinner which turned into a movie night, Mary and Sarah on the loveseat, Paul in his lazy boy, Tommy and you on either side of Joel on the main couch.

The volume was up loud enough for no one to hear your whispers, and while they did seemed consumed with Jurassic Park, you weren’t sure you wanted to risk Joel’s parents, brother, and sister finding the two of you fooling around.

Joel clearly didn’t share the same worries.

His hand crept higher, inching towards the hem of your sundress that had been teasing him all spring. Your hand remained over his, though you weren’t stopping him anymore, the warmth of his fingertips through the cotton covering your center impairing your judgement.

You turned your head to look at him, finding him convincingly lost in the movie, though you knew he was distracted. You bit your lip and faced forward, determined to prove you were just as good of an actor as your partner.

Joel’s fingers worked up and down your seam, pressing against you until you were nearly bucking to meet his fingers. In your peripheral, you caught him smirking, seemingly pleased by your neediness.

He teased you like that the entire movie, alternating between firm circles over your clit and long stroked up and down your seam, never letting you cum but giving you just enough attention to keep you on the edge the entire time.

By the time you arrived at Joel’s place and waited for Sarah to go to bed for the night, you were nearly aching from the build up. You yanked Joel down onto the sofa as he tried to lean down and give you a teasing kiss, your legs bracketing his hips as you straddled his lap, your lips on his neck.

“I need you so bad,” you whined in a whisper, your hands undoing his belt buckle and pulling him out. You stroked him in your palm until his brows were furrowed, his lips parted and plump as he watched you work him.

“Baby—“ He was cut off by you moving your panties to the side and sinking down onto him, his hands squeezing your hips as he watched his length disappear into you. “God damn.”

“Need you so bad,” you repeated, drunk on him. He wrapped both arms around your waist and hugged your body against his as he started thrusting you into you. One hand rested between your shoulder blades while the other rested over your tailbone, guiding you to meet his thrusts. You gripped onto his shirt, burying your face against his neck so that your moans would be muffled. Joel’s lips remained against the shell of your ear, whispering sinful praises that had your body humming for him.

“Did so good for me,” he purred, sending chills down your spine. “Lettin’ me work you up…here you go, baby. Take what you want.”

“Fuck,” you whined, your hips rocking furiously against his as you sought your own pleasure.

The head of Joel’s cock brushed and nudged against that spot inside you that had your thighs shaking, but the cherry on top was the way your clit grinded against the curls at the base of his shaft, the friction lighting you on fire. Your fists were balled in the cotton of his shirt as you got yourself off, Joel’s groans getting dangerously loud as he neared his own relief.

“Go on, baby,” he urged, his voice now just as desperate as yours. “Use me. Make yourself cum on my cock. Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

“Joel,” you gasped, crumbling against him as your high hit you like a punch, turning you into putty in his arms. Joel held you close, rocking his cock into you slower until he spilled inside of you with a soft whine of your name. “Fuck,” you sighed as you regained your consciousness. “That was good.”

“So you’re not mad at me for bein’ a little shit?” he mumbled against your cheek as he kissed it. You smiled and shook your head against his chest.

“Not if it ends like that.”

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It’s been so close you could almost grasp it. Each time your orgasm was within reach, the swell of arousal blooming through your abdomen, your hips would stutter, or you’d lose your balance slightly.

His worn denim is stained midnight blue by the slick you had smeared across the fabric in your desperate attempts to cum. Joel appears unphased by the filth; his illegible gaze focused on your face instead.

He pushes off the sofa with his elbows, sitting forward ever so slowly and watching your lip tremble. It feels so good, the friction of the cotton against your throbbing clit. Burning white-hot at the base of your spine, each roll of your hips surges it forward and it’s almost painful. You’re suffocating.

Joel’s expression is entirely blank, but his tawny eyes are hawk-like, observing each tremor of your legs as you struggle to support yourself while chasing your orgasm. Your pussy clenches as you gaze right back at him, eyelids heavy and chest heaving from your exertions.

It’s there again- it’s melting through you, squeezing around nothing as your slick leaks down the inside of your own thighs. You whimper, mouth hanging open as you uptick the speed of your sloppy grinds- he can surely hear how wet you are, and you’d be mortified if it wasn’t for the bright flare that bursts forward. It’s there- it’s the-

Joel raises his thigh up cruelly, and your balance slips. You cry out, toes on your left foot bumping the floorboards as your hands fly out to stabilise yourself. The fabric of his T-shirt wrinkles under your tight grip, and you let out a pained gasp of his name.

A tear drips from your lashes as your impending climax plummets away from you. You’re breathing hard, lungs practically vibrating from the burn of needing oxygen, and a panting breath bleeds into a wail of despair at how quickly your hard-worked flame dissipates into dull embers.

”Are you cryin’? Hmm?” Joel speaks evenly, as though a naked, pretty girl isn’t using his fucking thigh to get off. His question has a lilt of a mocking tone, teasing you and the degrading position you’re in. “Needy thing.”

Embarrassing. It’s humiliating the way your eyes roll back at the sound of his gruff Texan accent. It’s gravelly, and it rolls down your spine like warm honey.

Joel stares back at you, awaiting an answer with an expectant curve of his brow. Synapses in your brain misfire, and you can’t seem to work your dry mouth into the shape of the word ‘yes’, so you offer him a meek nod of your head. More tears stream down your cheeks, collecting at your chin and dripping down onto his lap—another wet stain to add to his collection.

“You poor thing,” he hums, brushing his knuckles over your cheekbone to wipe away the wetness. Absolutely wrecked, you lean into his touch in search of any affection. A quiet, submissive noise bubbles in your throat, and his top lip pulls up ever so slightly at the sight of you chasing any form of caress.

Twisting his wrist, he grabs ahold of your chin with his palm. You gasp as he pushes his fingertips into the soft flesh of your cheeks, smushing them together so your lips purse comically. “There’s no shame in askin’ for help.”

This time it’s playful, the tone of his drawl. He’s hinting, alluding to taking over and putting you out of your misery. He’s known this whole time that you’d need him. He ruined you, rewired your brain-body connection, so it was forever missing a final piece.

You couldn’t cum without him anymore.

His suggestion sparks your dying embers alight once more, the heat bursting through you when his eyes flick down to the naked junction of your thighs. They spasm beneath his intense gaze, like the look alone was enough to stimulate your poor, abused clit.

You open your mouth to beg, to fucking prostrate yourself in front of him and plead for mercy, but he drowns your words with the shocked moan he rips from you when he begins bouncing his heel off the floor.

Joel’s vigorously bobbing thigh feels like a vibration against your sensitive clit, and you practically crumple inwards at the sensation. Mind-numbing bliss rocks through you, and you let out a filthy, disgusting groan.

”Oh, just look at that,” He taunts you, knowing damn well he could have gifted this to you before you had exhausted yourself. “That’s it, ain’t it?”

Slamming so hard across your ribs that it almost bursts out of the gap between the bones, your heart somersaults when he works his palms onto your thighs. Joel’s fingers squeeze at the flesh that creases at the junction of your hips, and the image of his vaguely amused expression blurs when tears sting your eyes once more.

“Uh-Oh fuck, oh Joel pl-please… Please! Please, I ca-aha- I can’t-“ you babble, the pitch in your voice rising to a squeak as he continues to bounce against your tortured cunt.

“You can,” is all he prompts, gazing at you with this look he reserved only for the victims of his brutal survival instinct. Twisting the knife, going in for the kill. Your orgasm flares so hot between your thighs that you swear it burns a hole through you.

“You can, you’ll feel so much better. Go on, sweetheart. Cum for me and I’ll give you another.”

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“You can, and you’ll feel so much better. Go on, sweetheart. Cum for me, and I’ll give you another.”

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