Page 27 of College Boy

She shook her head. “Not in the least.”

“But you liked it, right?”

“Fuck, yes,” she conceded, gently slithering lower as the heat of his breath washed across the folds of her overeager sex.

“Well, this is going to be the same, trust me.”

She nodded and sank gently lower. He hadn’t been wrong yet, Emma had to admit as, before she could smother him completely, Mitch rose to the occasion—quite literally—and pressed a fat, wet kiss against her already weeping labia.

She froze in place, hands gripping the headboard, body seizing from the sheer, utter pleasure of a man’s lips against her own. So warm, so wet, so thick and plump against her own. “Damn, kid, you weren’t kidding!”

Mitch ignored her, tongue slithering through those same, creamy lips to press atop her desperate mound and slather it with an intense, otherworldly heat. “Oh. My!”

Like his skinny fingers or banana cock, Mitch’s long tongue proved adept at turning Emma into a whimpering, weeping, gasping, cursing little tramp, sinking ever lower until at last his mouth could caress and suck, kiss and lather her pussy with sweet, tender, persistent affection.

Her thighs burned with the effort of hovering just above her lover’s face, even as Mitch murmured and moaned for more. She sank gently lower, until there was no distance between them, her lover’s mouth mining the pink, shimmering folds of her sex for every ounce of pleasure it could provide.

Her curses grew more profane, her throat tight with desire as her ecstasy mounted and, feeling the intense heat and pressure of Mitch’s lips pressed tight against her bud, her first orgasm approached. “Baby, I... I...” Her words died away on desperately parted lips, overshadowed by squeals of sheer delight as she came at last. Hard, fast, loud and shameless, as if she wanted the whole damn town to hear or, at the very last, couldn’t care less if they did.

The tremors were as intense as the foreplay that preceded them, unleashing in her a tidal wave of desire untapped despite all those years spent lying next to another man, night after sexless night. Mitch moaned in reply, the warmth and vibration of his expression teasing her into a second climax so fresh on the cusp of the first she struggled to decipher where one ended and the next began.

All the same, she slid from atop him to await the tremors and aftershocks of desire. Her record could wait, Emma realized, deadly afraid of smothering her poor, eager, expert lover with her own greedy, insatiable desire. But Mitch was persistent, rolling over onto his belly between her legs and taking up where he’d just left off, cheeks blushing, lips iced with her liquor and tongue greedily lapping at the excess as she wriggled onto her back to meet them as greedily as she had while, well ... while sitting on his face!

“Baby, Jesus,” she protested, weakly of course, even as Mitch slid those big hands beneath her still tender flanks to hoist them gently into his palms. Gulping and reaching up to cling to the headboard and hold on tight, she gasped, “Who? Thefuck? Are you?”

Mitch merely winked in reply, mouth full of her sex as he feasted on her desire as if he was a starving man finally invited to table. She came untold times, pressed against his lips, his tongue and, more than once, the gritty rows of his perfect white teeth, hard and unyielding against her throbbing clit. Her pussy wriggled and wept, its folds glossy with excess as Mitch’s tongue ringed them with an expert’s touch and soft, thick, wet kisses that grew wet, thirsty and louder with every orgasm. As if reading her mind, her sweet, sexy College Boy ramped down instead of up, the more gentle he grew, the more patient and observant, tender and eager, the more powerfully—and copiously—she came.

At last she crept away, shivering, trembling, sweating and in fear of overexerting herself before their week really began. The last thing she needed, Emma knew, her mind reeling with the endless possibilities her fake spring break held, was to literally sprain her pussy before she could wear it out the good, old-fashioned way.

Gradually, drawing herself higher, Emma sank with her back against the headboard, folded at the waist as Mitch knelt before her, admiring her naked body, flushed and sticky and spent.

“Lay your pretty ass down, College Boy,” she teased, patting the bed beside her as her mind grew wicked and wanton with pure, pent-up desire.

“You’re done already?” he teased, stretching those long, sinewy arms overhead as if ready to take a nap. “I mean, I was just getting started.”

“Silly boy,” she murmured as Mitch did as he was told, sprawling across the bed like a canvas about to be turned into a masterpiece of swollen desire. “If you pleased me anymore, I might not be able to get out of this damn bed.”

His surprised chuckle shook the bed beneath them. Then again, it might have been the way she wriggled herself atop him, kneeling on either side of his lean, narrow waist. “Would that be such a bad thing?” he asked quietly, peering hungrily up into her sated eyes.

“I mean, this place has a whole lot of rooms,” she teased, gently sliding her still quivering body down atop his washboard hard flesh. “Can’t consummate them all if we’re stuck in here now, can we?”

His chuckle belied the nervousness just beneath, but she heard it just the same. Felt it, too, his body aquiver beneath her own, rock hard in more ways than one. She kissed him quietly, softly, slowly, wriggling atop his torso as she let the soft, sticky warmth of her suffuse him from head to toe. Her lips slid from his, peppering his jawline, then his chin, then his Adam’s apple, bobbing beneath her lips as he swallowed hard in desperate anticipation.

She took her time, knowing full well the effect her slow drift down the length of his taffy-stretched body was having on his stiff, straining cock, hot like welded steel and just as hard beneath her panting belly.

The night grew quiet around them, Emma turning her ear to listen to Mitch’s racing heart as it all but pounded against his chest, the sound so flattering she could hardly put off his pleasure for another moment. The sound of her body came next, slick and slithering across his own, Emma’s lips making no secret of her appreciation as they lapped and slathered at his young, taut flesh beneath them, a kiss here, a lick there, a nibble and a peck before at last the bulk of her body slid atop the mattress, leaving her face to face with the pulsing tip of his manhood and the pre-cum drizzled belly beneath it.

“Poor baby,” she teased, addressing the cock, if not the man attached to it. “What have you been doing down here all by your lonesome this whole time while your daddy was pleasuring me, huh?”

Mitch squirmed and chuckled. “What’s so funny?” she teased between laboring kisses up and down its veiny girth, covering it in lust and appreciation until it all but glowed with hot, wet lust.

“You called me Daddy,” Mitch murmured as Emma’s tongue drifted to the ridges and rind of his twitching sac.

“I didn’t callyou‘Daddy,’ Mitch,” she murmured, nibbling at the musky thatch that covered his throbbing balls. She took him in hand, admiring the statuesque beauty of her lover’s prick. “I called you this guy’s Daddy.”

“Is that ... the proper terminology, though?”

Her breath washed across his balls, then his shaft as she propped herself up on twin elbows as if dishing with her bestie over late-night pizza, legs bent at the knee and ankles crossed, slumber party style. “Is that really what you want to talk about right now? Grammar?”

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