Page 54 of Just the Tipsy
I nod. He puts his tip against my entrance and gently presses inside. Just the tip feels like a lot, and he keeps pressing forward.I’m being split in half, the fullness almost too much. Finally, he stops when he’s fully in.
“Don’t move,” he says to me.
“You don’t wantmeto move?” I ask, my voice breathy.
“No, because your pussy feels like…” He pauses, his breathing audible. “It feels really fucking good.”
We sit there for several beats, adjusting to each other. The fullness of his cock inside me turns into pleasure rather than tension. He starts moving, slowly sliding in and out of me. His pace is gentle and steady, and feels good. But just good. I let him fuck me, savoring the feeling of his hands on my hips and ass.
“Talk to me,” he says, reaching around to touch my clit. He feels where we’re joined, and slides that wetness up to my clit. “So we can make you come.”
“I-I don’t know,” I admit. “It feels good, though.”
He lets out a sound that tells me he heard me and adjusts the height of my hips. Eventually he slides some pillows underneath my stomach and pushes me forward, staying inside of me. When he thrusts again, I see stars. He’s hitting my g-spot over and over again, which I can usually only do with my best dildo, some contortion, and well-rested arms.
“Yes,” I cry out, trying to press back against him.
He tries out a few paces before he finds the one that makes me let out the roughest sound into a pillow — hard and steady, not too fast or slow. My butt is popped up high enough for me to reach around and rub my own clit. The combination makes me start to shake all over. I’m reaching that long plateau right before I come, the one that’s so pleasurable but not quitethere.
I whine, digging my fingers into the pillow and rubbing my clit. Soclose.Everything feels so fucking good but how do I get over this hurdle? Rub my clit differently? Change the angle of my hips?
“Don’t think,” he says, his hips slapping against my ass. “Just feel.”
I let out a shaky breath and try to wipe my mind clean. Everything in the world shrinks down to just his cock hitting the best spot, over and over again, my fingers on my clit, and his body against mine.
My orgasm hits me like a train, making me cry out so loudly that I should be embarrassed. But I’m not. I’m just rolling across the feelings, clenching around his thick length and shuddering through the pleasure.
I finish coming, my whole body sagging into the bed. At some point, Waylon must have come too, because he’s bracing himself above me, panting. He pulls out to dispose of the condom, leaving me in a puddle on the bed.
He comes back to the bed and slides in next to me, rubbing his hand across my back. My skin is so sensitized that every little touch makes me shiver. I roll over toward him and he keeps rubbing his hand up and down my back.
The little touch is everything, bringing me back down to reality.
“You good?” he asks. I nod. “Good.”
We aren’t quite cuddling, but we’re notnotcuddling. He has his arm extended across the pillows behind me, and with a little shift from either of us, he could be cradling me.
I close my eyes for a second, sinking into the pillows. Being next to him is way too comfortable, especially now that I’m not completely wiped out from drinks and socializing all night. I’ve known I’m an introvert for most of my life, so it’s rare that I feel like this after such a long day — relaxed.
Well, mostly.
“Did I do okay today?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” He lifts his head.
“Like when your mom was asking me questions, do you think she suspected anything? Men might have post-nut clarity, but I have post-nut anxiety, I guess.”
He rolls onto his side, facing me.
“I don’t think she suspected anything,” he says. “But either way, sorry she was grilling you.”
“It’s not your fault at all.” I turn on my side too. “I was bracing myself for it at some point.”
“Good.” He blows out a breath through his nose. “At least everything else was good. It’s been a while since I’ve actually won one of Wes’s bets.”
I smile. “I can’t believe that’s an ongoing bet.”
“It’s a little trashy but sometimes it’s nice to let go.” He smiles. “My mom’s sisters — aunt Nadine aside — are a lot less proper. I guess they get it from Nana.”
