My Power Love

Amateur

He shuffled behind me, and I became nervous. “Come on,” he said softly, a hint of his secret voice leaking into his tone.

I turned to look back at him, honestly confused. “What do you want?”

He smirked, “That’s more like it.”

He must have taken my confusion as some kind of surrender because he leaned forwards, wrapped his arms around my hips and dragged me backwards, onto him.

I didn’t take this very gracefully, but the hesitance born from my shock was enough for him to get me onto his lap, before I kicked my legs out and twisted my torso, attempting to roll away.

He reacted, and we wrestled as I tried to free myself. He was winning, bringing a leg over both of mine and holding them down, with his right arm catching me and holding me across my chest, pulling me into him. For a moment, I tried to push his arm away, but when I felt him twitch again underneath me, I froze still.

I felt his heart beat through my back, through his shirt. The white sleeve fell away from my face as he let go of my torso, sliding his leg between mine and spreading them apart somewhat. He twitched once more, beginning to press noticeably against his jeans, into me.

Awkwardly perched on top of him, I leaned forwards, sighing with disgust. His hand raised and tipped me back into him. “I can’t help it.” He said innocently. He was anything but innocent. “The sounds you make for me are so killer.”

I stayed against him, but relaxed into him, leaning into him. He exhaled down onto me, expecting my reply.

“You’re just horny,” I murmured, closing my eyes. I felt a surprising peace leaning against him, a comfort I had stopped fighting… I wasn’t over talking shit though. “I’m not sleeping with you, idiot.”

And with that, his hand shot up the front my shirt, and I jumped. He wouldn’t let me get away, again holding me to him until I stopped pressing away. I stopped, his pressure lightened and his hand moved again-under my bra and around a breast. His movement was made with haste, not accuracy, and he had to readjust under the bra’s wire. He groped me, running his index finger across my nipple. He exhaled with delight, as I was now growing accustomed to, as I squirmed against him.

I cried out and he shushed me, purring into my ear.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, embarrassed.

“I know you can’t keep it in,” he replied, still teasing. He did it again, and I bit back the cry this time, stifling it in my throat. He abandoned his precious vodka bottle and his other hand snuck up my shirt as well.

I felt so small with him wrapped around me. His head hung over my shoulder as he brought my shirt up and over my breasts, revealing tender flesh and my small black bra. I quivered, instinctively covering myself with my arms, forcing his hands away.

“Trey… Don’t…”

He replied with a frustrated sigh into my ear, making me bristle. My hair was standing on end, my skin super sensitive as his hot breath rolled across my neck. “You’re more into this than I am,” He hissed in a hushed whisper, his hands rearranging my arms.

I hooked my thumb on my shirt, bringing it back down. He let go of me again, pushing me to lean forward. His hand ran along my back, under the shirt. He pulled and pinched together the clasp of the bra until it popped open. I held my arms defensively to my chest, whining. He made a wiping motion across my back to either side as if he were trying to brush the bra away.

“D-do you want… It gone?” Words were again coming out of my mouth before I could filter them, but speaking was so hard with what he was doing to me… What was he doing to me?

He was still making frustrated sounds and he twitched underneath me again. “Yeah,” he sighed. “It’ll be better if you take it off.”

“But… Gaziantep Elden Ücret Alan Escort Let me keep my shirt.”

“Mn…You’re 18 already… How are you this uptight?”

I slipped my arm back through the hole and the bra strap fell off. I started on the other arm.

“…Nahhh. I’m taking that too. But you can have it back. I’m keeping your bra.” His words again slipped into slur. It wasn’t attractive.

I turned partially, surprised. “You can’t have that!”

“Bra. Off.”

I turned forwards again, embarrassed. “Why would you even want it?” Still, I complied, sticking my other arm back out and the bra fell uselessly to my lap. I plucked it from the inside of my shirt when he forced me back into him again. My shirt clung tightly to my chest, now without the protective armor offered by the bra.

His hands stayed over my clothing this time, to my immediate relief. Still, they were menacing, but he was more gentle than he had been with me all night, running his fingers along the creases underneath my breast.”Your tits are so fucking perfect, what’s the point of wearing one?”

I was shocked, not expecting the language or the… Compliment?

His index finger sat in the crease, the angle where the flesh of the breast met my torso at a slightly obtuse angle. His thumb slid upwards and around the side of the mound as he propped my boob up with his middle finger now too. His other hand followed suit behind the first until they were both nestled around my breasts, focused more around the outside than the ‘main attraction’ centrally. He tenderly applied pressure one at a time through his fingertips.

I sighed, realizing he was groping me in such a way that I could immensely enjoy it. He was right; I was enjoying this more than him. My pleasure now had a guilty tag to it as well. “Why did you want it?” I asked quietly, my voice sounding more breathy than I had thought.

He held my breasts in each hand, arms around me. He squeezed, bringing his thumb over my nipple, and gliding it back over it again as I squirmed, releasing another hushed whine.

“I would take those sounds of yours if I could,” he said into my hair, still teasing with a thumb, “But your tits are the next best thing.”

His teasing was advancing. I winced as he took a nipple between his fingers, but he forced a good moan from me when he tugged on it, pinching me through my shirt. He was pleased with the reaction and repeated, bringing the other side into the fun too, rewarding more moaning.

I felt waves of pleasure from every small detail, emanating from everywhere he touched me. Suddenly I wish I had given him my bra, my shirt, whatever he wanted, if it would make him do more… More of this…

He lightened up for a moment, I realised I was breathing hard, I could see my chest rise and fall in front of me, and his hands slid away. “Don’t…” My hands snapped up catching his, I pushed them back onto my boobs. He dug his fingers in and I pushed his palm inwards. “Don’…t..”

I wouldn’t have heard it if he weren’t breathing directly into my ear, under his breath he muttered, “Fuck.”

Those waves were the only thing that mattered. I put all of my energy and focus into them as they demanded it. I was moaning for him like he had wanted, I was liking it, like moaning was good for me as well as him. Ecstasy.

He pressed my tits together. They rubbed against each other, forced together, still throbbing, but the waves had subsided. His touch still felt good, still felt ‘alive’ but it was less overwhelming than it had been in the seconds before. It didn’t feel the same. I had quieted down again now, and was more still, but was still breathing hard… I was panting, I realized.

“You… ” he started, his hands falling away again. He was in disbelief. “You just came from that?”

I was still, on his lap, him pressing hard into me. He was turned on, very turned on. I had turned him on. He brushed my hair away from my neck, behind me and leaned over, biting my neck. I pulled my head away by instinct, and he kissed the same spot. He lingered, suddenly sucking hard on the spot. He didn’t pull away after a few seconds and I sat there, head tilted, bewildered by the last minute. By all of tonight.

After another 30 seconds, he pulled away, leaving a tender, wet spot towards the back side of my neck.

“Now that’s a mark. One for every time I make you come.” He whispered into my ear. He felt around beside us, finding the abandoned vodka bottle. “Here,” he said, forcing the bottle into my hand, “get up. Drink.”

I rejected the bottle, awkwardly lifting myself off of him and scooting forwards. I stared at the desk full of wooden drinkers*, once again going through the motions contained in my almost all encompassing thought ‘Trey.’

I turned myself on the spot to face him. My legs spread like an ‘M’ underneath me, arms withdrawn to my chest. I looked up at him and he stared back, but his gaze was no longer intense. In the dim light, he looked bored. He drank directly from the bottle, swallowing loudly. He huffed, blinked hard and held the bottle out for me again. “Take this from me.”

I did, taking the butt if the bottle into my hand, bringing it into my lap. I looked back to him.

He paused and then waved his hand in a circular motion. He meant for me to drink it.

I glanced down at it, maybe 1/4 left. Back at him. “I don’t like the taste.”

“Ah, don’t worry about the taste.” He mused, putting too much emphasis on ‘worry.’ “I’ll help you with that.”

“What?”

He grabbed my wrist, the one holding the vodka bottle and held it up between us. He got onto his knees and leaned forwards towards it, kneeling towards me. He undid the cap with his free hand. With his ring and pinkie fingers, he forced my hand to tilt it towards him on a fairly extreme angle. He drank from it that way, I felt the bottle become lighter, he swallowed three, then four times before tipping my hand back upright. “Ah!” He mused, flicking his tongue off of his bottom teeth. “See? Finish what’s left and it’ll be done, okay?”

He phrased it like a question, but there was no question to it. Still holding my wrist, he brought the bottle to me. I brought my lips to the rim, immediately sensing the burn. I made brave, I wanted to be brave, I wanted to impress him. I tipped the bottle down, throwing my head back, the vodka filled my mouth, penetrating every nook and crevice, and I swallowed hard. The burn was intense.

He pulled the bottle away from me by my wrist, suddenly jumping forward. I didn’t have time to react as he came at me, his face pressed to mine and suddenly he was kissing me. He forced my mouth open with his, and his tongue prodded my jaw to accept him. He was pushing me hard, following closely as he pushed me backwards and down, until he was over me, my back pressed against the bed. His hot tongue swept mine, tickling the roof of my mouth. I tasted alcohol, nothing but alcohol and hormones.

I finally came to my senses, protesting and pushing his chest away with both hands. He retreated, and I opened my eyes wide. Trey had me pinned down effectively, his arms my prison. His eyes were pure black, piercing through me. He gave a small laugh, “You’re a terrible kisser.”

“Th-that was my first kiss,” I whined. I didn’t feel the rant coming on, but by now I was somewhat used to words flying out of my mouth before I could filter them from my thoughts. He just stared down at me, surprised, frozen in place. “You shouldn’t complain. I should complain. I wasn’t expecting it at all, it wasn’t tender or loving like a first kiss should be! It wasn’t a natural kiss, born from passion like it should have been… You should have warned me. Let me get ready… That was desperate and… And forced.” By the end of it, I felt like I could cry. I couldn’t look at him, turning away. Having my first kiss be just a tongue down my throat… Trey’s tongue…

Trey was still, silent, hovering over me. I blew it, I thought, I shouldn’t have said anything.

“Hey.”

I looked up.

He lowered his head to me, gently at first, I struggled not to turn away-this time, he had given me the option. Finally, our lips met, and he was so much softer this time, so much more gentle that if it weren’t for the overwhelming wave of hormones washing over me, I could have thought it was someone else. I still felt awkward, not knowing what to do or how to do it. He sensed it through my hesitation and pulled back for a moment, just long enough to mutter, “Just follow me.” He didn’t force his way in right away, but he was starting to press down against my face harder and harder, and I let myself relax underneath him. He lead me, my mouth just following his, until I was more confident building up a rhythm, when he again tried to slip his tongue into my mouth. I didn’t take it gracefully, almost choking, and he pulled back again. “Use your tongue,” he bossed quietly, leaning back in.

I spoke quickly, interrupting him before he could kiss me again. “How?”

“Hah, just like this.” He resumed, and I was more ready for his tongue to intrude into me this time. His tongue ran over my teeth and over my own, playfully skirting around it, and running back along the side, trying to teach me. I mostly just tried to move out of the way. He lowered the rest of his body onto me, and I almost hadn’t noticed him doing it. An arm shot under my neck, his hand caressed my head and tipped it down, allowing him to drop his chest to me and at least semi-comfortably keep kissing. I was entirely encompassed by him, feeling his weight and heat on top of me. I loved it. I felt how hard and toned his body was, the body of an athlete, seducing me. His torso ran longer than mine and thus his center of gravity nestled between my legs, applying just the right pressure.

I moaned into his mouth as his free hand slid along my side, down my waist, to my hips and thigh.

“Use your hands, touch me.” he breathed, his husky voice betraying a whine-he was desperate for me to touch him, too. When I didn’t move, he pulled his hand from my thigh and tightly clutched my wrist, pulling it around him and dropping my hand on his back. My hand rested on the bottom of his shoulder blade for a moment, shocked, before I gave in. My instinct led that hand up and to his neck, where his skin met his hairline-his hair was thick, I imagined it must tickle his neck. My fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, and I ran them through his hair. He liked it, he bit down lightly on my tongue, growling quietly. I could feel the subtle movements of his head as he kissed. He pulled away again, as I raked my nails through his hair down to the collar of his shirt. My hand stayed nestled at the base of his neck, I lightly massaged my fingers into it, feeling his tense muscle underneath his skin.

“It’ll be just like this…” he said, his fingers also playing in my hair. They would become trapped in my long hair. I had to think about what he meant. “But I’ll make you come a hundred times.”

“No, I can’t…” I replied meekly.

“Ahh, why not?” He whined.

I looked up at him, trying to make him out with as much detail as possible. My fingers slipped down under the neckline of his shirt, gliding over the trapezius muscle.”This is okay though…”

He chuckled darkly. “Feels good, right?”

I squinted. “Don’t talk so much. It reminds me that you’re you.”

He shuffled behind me, and I became nervous. “Come on,” he said softly, a hint of his secret voice leaking into his tone. I turned to look back at him, honestly confused. “What do you want?” He smirked, “That’s more like it.” He must have taken my confusion as some kind of surrender because he…

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