Prosecco and Pigtails

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I meet him at the door wearing just what he had asked for: thigh-high sports socks, complete with blue stripes. Little bitty plaid skirt. White tank top with my black bra showing through. Pigtails. The room is a bit cold so I am glad for the socks.

I thought I would feel ridiculous—a grown-ass woman playing dress-up? But no, his smile tells me he appreciates the effort.

We catch up over a glass of prosecco, which he had brought and I had poured into Solo cups. They seemed appropriate. I am in the middle of telling him about my work-week when he takes the cup from my hand and places it on the bedside table.

“Can you get on the bed for me?” he asks. “And kneel? I want to get a better look at your outfit.” Good girl that I am, I comply, looking over my shoulder at him as I take my position on the bed. I run my hands up my thighs, and gave him a glimpse of my panties by flipping up the edge of my skirt, just a bit. It’s fun to tease. Especially when he responds with that little growl of appreciation.

“Lean up against the headboard, with your hands on the wall,” he instructs. I do so, and feel him join me on the bed. He’s bigger than I am, taller, and the bed moves as he kneels behind me. I close my eyes and sigh as he runs his hands down my outstretched arms, along my shoulder blades and then my hips. He brushes his lips along the side of my neck, and I swoon a little bit. He reaches down the front of my skirt and his fingers just graze my pubic hair, making me shiver.

“Does that feel good?” he asks.

“Yes, very good.”

“I love touching you as much as you love being touched. Your skin is so soft.” His fingers are under my tank top, running along the underside of my bra, seeking access. I raise my arms so he can tug my top off. I reach back to unhook my bra, but he stops me. “Let me do this.”

It’s so good when he takes control.

Nothing feels as sensual as a man’s hands cupping my breasts from behind, the feeling of his thumbs tweaking my nipples and his breath warming the back of my neck. I can feel his erection as he leans against me, and I arch my back a bit more.

“Stay right there,” he says. Next thing I know, he’s wriggling between my thighs on his back and positioning himself nose-to-pussy. I giggle a bit as he takes an exaggerated inhale, with his face buried in the crotch of my panties. His breath is warm as he exhales, and I respond with a sigh. He pulls my panties çankaya escort out of the way and starts to tease me with his tongue—he licks at the soft skin of my mons, and runs his fingertips along that sensitive crease at my inner thigh. I can feel myself getting wet. I am impatient for him to lick and suck my clit, and I grind my pussy against his mouth. But he’s in charge even when he’s beneath me. He grabs hold of my ass to keep me still, and doesn’t let go until he’s teased me thoroughly.

He senses when I need more intense attention, and he flips me onto my back. Panties fully removed and skirt bunched up at my waist, I buck my hips up so he can feast on me. This is what I need from him right now. His firm lapping tongue. Two fingers pushed deep into my pussy. My hands in his hair as I guide his mouth to where I want it. I want to say porn-worthy dirty things as he licks me, but all that comes out of my mouth are moans and squeals. He’s got me fully primed and writhing in the middle of the bed. When he latches his mouth onto my clit, he’s not teasing anymore. I go from primed to orgasm in under 10 seconds.

When my thighs stop quivering and my ears stop ringing, I open my eyes to see him standing at the end of the bed with his camera. He’s got me-juice all over his face but that doesn’t stop him from snapping a few photos.

“That was beautiful,” he says from behind the lens. He’s still got his t-shirt and briefs on. I smile—the outline of his hard cock is clearly visible, and a drop of pre-cum has made a damp spot on his shorts.

Very, very tempting.

“Gimme,” I say.

He ponders this for a moment, snapping a few more photos as I recover. He hands me my cup of wine. I’m still shaking slightly. I watch as he pulls off his t-shirt and briefs in quick, efficient movements, his cock bouncing energetically as it emerges. Lying on the bed, with my head hanging slightly off the edge, I am perfectly positioned to take him in my mouth.

He slips the head of his cock between my lips, which I open wide to take him all in. I feel him almost buckle at the sensation, and he sets his hands on either side of my body to steady himself. I reach back and grab his hips, but there’s not much else I can do with my hands. I am trapped there, but I am so not complaining.

He moves one hand to my pussy, gripping me hard, and starts to fuck my mouth as if it was my pussy. Each stroke takes him escort etlik deeper down my throat, and all I can do is relax and take it. His dick fills my mouth and throat, making my eyes water. I feel my pigtails flopping against the edge of the bed with each drive forward.

He isn’t saying much—I hear “Jesus fuck…” and “oh my fucking lord” a few times. I wonder if I am making him see god.

He slows slightly, his breathing hard and ragged, and I feel him take back control. He reaches for his camera again, with his cock still lodged in my throat.

“Squeeze your tits together,” he says, his voice soft but strong. I do it for him, arching my back and pinching my nipples at the same time. My hips undulate gently. I love giving him wants he wants, and knowing he is holding himself back as he draws the scene out. “Oh yeah,” he says appreciatively. I hear the shutter of the camera snap a few times, and wonder how these shots will turn out.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks. I nod yes, and he withdraws from my mouth. My face is flushed and I am sure my makeup is ridiculously smeared, and I take a sip of wine gratefully. My throat definitely feels like it has been used.

He kisses me and gives my pigtails a few playful tugs. “That was intense,” he says. “I could fuck your mouth forever.” I run my fingertips along his hard shaft, and smile when he shivers.

“Hold that thought. I think I need more wine.” I am still ridiculously wet, and my honey drips slowly down my inner thighs as I make my way to the mini-fridge. He stashed a second bottle of prosecco there earlier, and I am craving more cold bubbles. I bend from the waist and expose myself to him, looking back over my shoulder with a grin, feeling wanton and decadent. I struggle a bit with the cork.

“Can you open this for me?” He is up in a flash, easing the cork out of the bottle with no trouble. He hands the bottle back to me. But instead of looking for a glass, I take a sip directly from the bottle, and give it to him. We pass it back and forth a bit, each taking a refreshing sip and luxuriating in the bubbles. We kiss between sips, sharing the tingles from the drink. I keep one hand on his cock, just because.

“That’s enough of a break, don’t you think?” I say, and walk the few steps it takes to reach the couch by the window. Instead of sitting down, I lean over, and rest my elbows on the arm of the couch, presenting ankara demetevler escort myself to him. I am his for the taking.

It takes just five seconds for him to position himself just so, and to drive his cock inside me. He bottoms out, and he has to stop for a minute and breathe in my scent. In that moment, he holds my hips still to stop me from rocking back and forth. The feeling of him inside me is exquisite.

But I can’t hold still. I have to feel him moving inside me. My hips start up again despite his hands, back and forth, round in circles, just trying to pull him in deeper, to feel the drag and pull of him inside me. His hands move to my breasts. He squeezes them and pushes them together, his fingers pulling with delicious intensity on my nipples.

He takes one hand away and catches my pigtails so the red strands wrap around his wrist. In one move, he pulls my head up and back so he can run his lips up the side of my neck. His tongue senses the speed of my pulse, just seconds before he starts to fuck me in earnest.

I am overwhelmed with sensations. My breasts are swaying with each thrust, my back is arched, his cock is buried deep inside me… I go up on my tip-toes ever so slightly and lean forward so he can get even deeper.

We get into a primal rhythm. The couch is starting to bang against the wall, but I am past caring if the people in the next room can hear. I can’t get enough of him, of this. I have one hand rubbing my clit, and come with a yelp.

His pace quickens, and his breath comes faster. I know he can’t hold out much longer.

“I’m going to come,” he says breathlessly.

Without warning, I slide away from him on the out stroke and kneel on the floor at his feet. I tuck my left arm under my breasts and present them to him, while stroking him with my other hand. It only takes a few pulls and he begins to come. I push my breasts up to his pulsing cock and envelop it, just letting the head poke up between, and he spills his come on the swell of my tits. He groans, and another spurt lands on my chin, which makes us both laugh.

He pulls away from me, and watches as I take my hands and smear his come over my breasts. I am still on my knees looking up at him with a wicked-girl smile.

He passes me my glass of prosecco, which I gulp thirstily. Some prosecco spills out and splashes on my breasts. Sweaty and spent and covered with fluid, I sit back on my haunches. One sock has slipped down to my ankle, and I lost my school-girl skirt at some point. I am laughing for no reason, except that I am fuck-drunk and happy.

“Oh god, that looks so good,” he says. He reaches for his camera again to capture the moment.

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