Page 29 of Sin Bin
Thoughts of Fallon feel personal, intimate, eventhough I know I have no right to claim them. Still, I stay rooted to my bed as I pull off my t-shirt and slip my hand beneath the waistband of my shorts. My eyes roll back in my head because it feels so damn good to begin to relieve the pressure that’s been building, even if I feel like an asshole for getting off to visions of my roommate when she’s downstairs studying, totally unaware of the filthy thoughts running through my mind.
But this is my fantasy, dammit, so I’m going to let it play out. I’m going to pretend I wasn’t a total idiot all those years ago and that I have every fucking right to imagine what it feels like to touch her, to kiss her, to lose myself in her body, and let her play with mine like it’s a theme park and she just got an all-day pass.
I let my mind wander back to the kitchen and play out a reel where I leave the food on the counter as I walk over to her stool and stand behind it. She’s so lost in her phone that she doesn’t notice me at first, so when I wrap my hands around her waist, she gasps at the sudden contact before melting back into me.
The view in my self-directed porno is un-fucking real. I’ve got my lips pressed to the curve of her neck and her tits are on display. They’re so damn tempting that I can’t stop my hands from wandering up the soft plane of her stomach so I can cup them in my palms. Lazily, my thumbs track back and forth over her hardening nipples and the hitch in her breath goes right to my dick.
It’s only lunchtime. Just a break in the middle of the day to fuel up and maybe relax a little. But in the parallel universe my dirty mind has created—one where Fallon and I are together—is all the invitation we need to act on the desires we both have.
Tugging my shorts so they’re low enough on my hips to set my cock free, I wrap my hand around the base andsqueeze tightly. I’m a guy who likes a firm touch, especially when I’m so damn worked up that I’m about ten seconds from letting loose.
My hand stays choked around my dick as I immerse myself back into the scene again. I watch in awe as she covers my large hands with her smaller ones so that we’re both squeezing her tits. I pay attention to everything—I’m hungry to know exactly what she likes and how she likes it.
Our fingers work her soft flesh over the smooth material of her sports bra and when she leans her head back on my chest, her mouth open on a sigh, I feel fucking powerful. There’s heat coming off her in waves as she writhes on the chair in front me. I’m dying to satisfy her in every way possible but teasing her is almost as much fun.
Reaching my fingers into her water bottle, I pick up a piece of ice and trace it slowly over her lips. Her eyes flutter open as her tongue darts out to chase the cool liquid. When I hear the word, “More,” escape from her mouth, I don’t hesitate. I trust my instincts and start to play.
Holding the ice cube with the tip of my fingers, I trail it down her neck before dipping it into the valley between her breasts.
“Ollie,” she pants, my name a plea and a command as it crosses her lips. “Yes, please,” she says, responding to a question I haven’t even asked yet, and that’s all the encouragement I need.
I hold the ice so that my thumb is positioned on the long flat end of it and my pointer and index fingers stretch over the curved side. Then I dip it in and out of the valley of her cleavage, plunging my fingers deep before dragging them back up and repeating the process over and over.
The ice is melting quickly and it’s making a mess, but we don’t fucking care. My cock is rock hard even though ithasn’t touched anything but the mesh of my shorts, and Fallon’s clenching her thighs together in a futile effort to relieve the ache. The noises she’s making turn me the fuck on, as does the thought that someone might walk in any second and catch us in the act.
I could do this for fucking ever, but fantasy-Fallon isn’t nearly as patient. She reaches for my left hand and guides it to the waistband of her tight little bike shorts. My vision blurs at the thought of what it might feel like to touch her, so it’s no surprise that in my filthy dream, she slides her thumb into her waistband, granting me access. My hand glides across the soft flesh of her lower belly and over her mound. Fuck. In my fantasy she’s wet and ready for me, her legs spread wide. I don’t stop what I’m doing to her tits, though. Hell no. It feels too good, and she likes it too much, so I reach for another piece of ice and start all over again. Only this time, I’m fucking her cleavage with the fingers on my right hand and diving into her hot, tight pussy with the fingers on my left hand. Jesus. The visual alone is enough to send me over the edge before I’m ready.
I rewind a bit in my mind and oh, hell yes. In this new and improved version of my fantasy, I’m plunging the ice into the valley of her breasts until she stops me, her hand covering mine. She takes control and guides my fingers down the front of her body so that the ice is leaving a cool trail on her stomach. I let it dip into her bellybutton for a second, pausing so she can feel the pleasurable sting of the cold ice against her warm, soft skin. We’ve already got her bike shorts and panties down around her hips, so she can take this exactly as far as she wants it to go. My eyes are trained on her hand, and hers are, too. I can’t fucking wait to see what she’ll do with it. Proving that she’s the adventurous sort, she widens her legs a bit and drags the ice cubeslowly over the neatly-trimmed hair that covers her mound. When she reaches her opening, my hand is waiting. I’ve been thrusting my fingers deep inside her, so when she slips the melting piece of ice into my hand, I take it.
The ice is slippery, and my fingers are dripping with her arousal, but that doesn’t stop me from gliding it over her folds. She gasps, her eyes fluttering closed as her hand reaches up to grip my shoulder. She digs her nails in and holds on tight as I slide it between my fingers and get right back to fucking her with them. The chill of the ice mixed with the heat we’re giving off is a heady combination. I can feel her walls clenching, and I can tell she’s right on the edge, so I don’t stop or even pause. But I do use my other hand to stroke and tease her clit. I rub tight little circles that have her biting her lip and whimpering.
“You like this?” I ask, making sure to turn my head so she can hear my words and read my lips.
Her answer to my question is the hottest orgasm I’ve ever seen or imagined. Fallon’s whole body shakes with the force of it, her inner walls gripping my fingers in a chokehold as she wrings out every ounce of pleasure. I’m powerless to stop her name as it falls from my lips.
But I’m not done yet.
Withdrawing my hand, I move the piece of ice so I’m holding it in my fingertips. My lips wrap around it as I suck it into my mouth and savor the taste of her.
Fuck, it’s good—so damn good I have to share.
My fingers take hold of it once again as I slide it back into her slick, wet folds. She shivers as I cover it in her arousal. She grabs my wrist and brings the ice to her own lips, lapping at it like it’s a hundred degrees outside and I’ve just handed her a popsicle. Watching her paint her mouth and taste herself is fucking intoxicating.
I want to last but it’s too damn good. Too fucking hot.
Back in my bedroom, spurts of cum shoot all over my stomach as I pump myself raw. Goddamn. The fantasy of Fallon is so perfect that it’s probably a good thing I’ll never get a chance to taste the reality.
I have no doubt it would ruin me for anyone else for the rest of my life.
12
Fallon
After Ollie heads upstairs, I find it hard to concentrate. Okay, it’s difficult to focus when he’s in the room, too. I can’t explain it, but there’s something magnetic that draws me into his orbit when he’s anywhere near me.
And even when he’s miles away.
At least then, when we didn’t live in the same house, it was easier to ignore the pull between us. But now that we’re under the same roof and there are reminders of him in every freaking room, it’s not so easy.
