I know what I want for Christmas. My very own personal Mr. O :)
I grow even harder as she thrusts. Then harder still as I reach the top of the stockings. They’re thigh-highs, and I want to look at them, gawk at them, stare at them. But I’m not moving her off me. No chance of that. Not when she breathes this rapidly, each one coming faster than the next. Not as she grinds against my dick. And not as I move my hands to her delicious ass, sliding them over the sheer lacy fabric.
She cries out, and her face falls into my neck. She buries it there, moaning as I squeeze those luscious cheeks.
“Oh God,” she whispers, her voice strained as she rocks into me, her breathing wildly erratic.
“So you like this,” I ask rhetorically as I grip her ass. I can tell she likes it. I can tell she loves it.
“So much.” Her voice breaks, her pitch rises, and this moment crystallizes to its pure, wicked possibilities.
I grab her skirt in the front, gather the material in a flash, and yank it up to her waist. She still straddles me, still riding, still thrusting against me. My hands return to her ass again as if I’m steering her, moving her sweet hot body against the outline of my rock-hard cock. It’s just Harper in her wet panties, rubbing on me.
“Ride me, princess,” I whisper harshly in her ear. “Ride me like that ’til you come.”
I’m rewarded with another oh God, as she moves faster, rocks harder, picks up the pace. She grabs my face, grips my jaw, and holds me as she dry-humps me. Every single thing about her turns me on— her need, her want, her wild lust, her sounds, and this ass. It’s spectacular— firm and so damn soft at the same time. I grip the flesh hard, how she likes it, and she lets out a sexy squeak.
“I fucking adore your ass,” I say roughly.
She moans something unintelligible. I dig my fingers inside the lace on her rear, guiding her moves, making her ride my erection faster and wilder. “You’re so close, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she cries out. “Oh God, Nick. Oh my God.”