Page 33 of Manhattan Tormentor

I squeeze his shaft, and he grunts in reply, rewarding me by sucking on my top lip.

Finn is a serious kiss slut. Who knew?

I somehow make the confined space work when I pump his cock, the sounds that wheeze out of Finn nearly have me coming inside my pants.

I’m so hard and I don’t mind admitting that I need it bad. Need his hands on me more than I’ve needed anything else.

I hear a hot gasp from him when I drag my blunt thumb nail over his dripping crown.

Ah, fuck yeah, man. I’m breathing steam, I’m about to combust.

“Fucking hell,” he hisses again, “god, yes.” His gravel-like voice vibrates through me. I shiver and reach to grab his hand, bringing it to my crotch.

He stalls like I’ve shot him.

And then he tears into my jeans too.

“Ughn,shit.” It’s my turn to curse into his lips, he pulls away so he can see what he’s doing. He’s kind of rubbing my crotch as he opens the zipper.

Am I the first dick he’s touched besides his own? I’d bet my life savings I am. I’m perversely more turned on at the thought of being his first.

“Get me out,” I instruct, giving him a hard jerk. Hard enough, he grunts.

We’re contorted sideways on the bucket seats. I need space to explore his body, but if this is all we have, then I’m enjoying every second of ripping pleasured groans out of him. “Please,” I finish with a grunt. I’m so desperate, I’ll probably embarrass myself by shooting my load into his fingers the second he touches skin.

“Bossy little fucker,” he tells me, but thank god he reaches in and grasps me tight. So tight I see stars popping behind my closed lids.

We lock eyes, his are heavy lidded when we start to jerk each other off.

I’ve no decorum when I pant. I’m seconds from spurting my load in his hand and I can’t seem to slow it down. The faster he pumps me in his fist, the harder I go on his cock, which makes him groan and fist-fuck me harder.

It’s a vicious erotic circle that we’re caught in.

I’ve dreamed of seeing his lust-filled eyes, and now they’re in front of me.

“Mouth,” he groans. “Fierro, your fucking mouth.”

I give it like I’m paying a ransom, falling onto his face with my ever-ready tongue for him to suck around.

As deep as we’re kissing, there’s also a hesitancy in the back of my head.

How fast will he regret this once I make him come? How much harder will he hate me soon as the lust moves from his body?

Because chances are he will.

His M.O. until this point has been to make me miserable and annoyed as much as he can.

Straight guys are great at bending while they’re horny, but fuck do they ping back to that ruler when the fun is over.

“What do you want?” I ask into his mouth, biting a little for his taste. He’s spicy as ever and I can’t get enough, but I need him to be clear.

“Get me off,” he rasps in a low-indistinct voice, so deep it shudders through me and touches the tip of my already wet dick. “Is that what you want too?”

I’m floored by his question and when I falter, he makes me die a little when he fucks my cock through his hand. Only another guy would know how hard you can fist-fuck. I’ve seen straight porn and the women do the gentlest hand jobs.

I like it hard.

Tighter.

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