Grunting, Foreman twitched at the first real intrusion of Amber's fingertips. Slippery with the lotion she'd used, there wasn't any pain, but despite the insistent draw of her mouth around his cock, his attention centered on her finger as if that was all that was happening. The minute flutter of muscles alternately impeded her progress and urged her deeper, and Foreman couldn't decide which he wanted more. His abs tensed as he eased down further. The burn in his thighs from holding himself up hurt worse than her finger did. The slight penetration, going deeper with each new push, felt weirdly huge, awkward, but also satisfying--something to press against, solid and unmistakably present.
He had no idea how Amber had known--if she'd known, fuck, maybe she did this with every guy who ended up in her bed--but having her fingering him while she sucked him heightened the whole experience. More than just a blowjob. Getting sucked off was easy, he only had to lean back and let his orgasm grow until it washed over him. Amber could have him coming in five minutes, or less, the way she sucked him down so deep and still seemed able to flick her tongue across the underside just there with every bobbing stroke. But her hands, her finger--it gave him an anchor, a place to hang his thoughts, until none of this was just sex; he was involved, far more than a simple orgasm would leave him. Foreman could feel how careful she was, and he could tense up, or relax, and guide her that way. She had to know him, in order to make this work, and care, and want to take her time. The pleasure was different, too, the red flare dull at first, but growing, and deeper; more initimate.
"Uhn, more," he said, gasping a bit and looking down, aroused all over again as he watched Amber blowing him like she couldn't get enough. If you want a real good fuck, you'll have to wait til we get back home--he hadn't missed those words. Foreman had no idea what she meant, whether he should be sweating with nervous fear or nervous anticipation. He swayed a bit, starting to move against her finger instead of away. Yeah. Yeah, good. Amber was going to be so fucking smug. Foreman couldn't bring himself to care, to worry. His cock was straining, and he'd come hard, he knew, if only he got more.
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He had no idea how Amber had known--if she'd known, fuck, maybe she did this with every guy who ended up in her bed--but having her fingering him while she sucked him heightened the whole experience. More than just a blowjob. Getting sucked off was easy, he only had to lean back and let his orgasm grow until it washed over him. Amber could have him coming in five minutes, or less, the way she sucked him down so deep and still seemed able to flick her tongue across the underside just there with every bobbing stroke. But her hands, her finger--it gave him an anchor, a place to hang his thoughts, until none of this was just sex; he was involved, far more than a simple orgasm would leave him. Foreman could feel how careful she was, and he could tense up, or relax, and guide her that way. She had to know him, in order to make this work, and care, and want to take her time. The pleasure was different, too, the red flare dull at first, but growing, and deeper; more initimate.
"Uhn, more," he said, gasping a bit and looking down, aroused all over again as he watched Amber blowing him like she couldn't get enough. If you want a real good fuck, you'll have to wait til we get back home--he hadn't missed those words. Foreman had no idea what she meant, whether he should be sweating with nervous fear or nervous anticipation. He swayed a bit, starting to move against her finger instead of away. Yeah. Yeah, good. Amber was going to be so fucking smug. Foreman couldn't bring himself to care, to worry. His cock was straining, and he'd come hard, he knew, if only he got more.