No sooner than Foreman's body gave away just how turned on he was getting than Amber's smile turned sly. She rubbed back against him, but tauntingly, appearing to offer what she knew he wanted without committing to anything in the slightest. She wasn't going to make this easy. Foreman could glance down and see the curve of her ass nudging against the front of his pants, feel the tease and friction through cotton against his dick as Amber pretended to fuck herself back against him. Looking up into the mirror, Foreman could see the full length of her naked body, from the dark blonde pubic hair brushing against his hand to the tight pink tips of her nipples. The sight, as he rocked against Amber's thigh, was exciting him beyond measure.
She slipped around in his arms, as if to prove how impossible it was for him to hold her in any position she didn't want. Her hands wrapped up, over his shoulders and then to the back of his neck. Foreman knew he smelled, sweaty and pungent, but he could still catch a whiff of spice from Amber's favourite shampoo, rising from the damp strands of her hair. His eyes closed when she kissed him, and a slow, shaky breath worked its way out of him. He felt lightheaded, the simple give-and-take of the kiss capturing his attention and heightening his arousal. His hands kneaded Amber's ass, trying to mould her against him again, forgetting any care for her clean skin. He knew she was appeasing him with the slow, deliberate kiss; that was part of the tease.
When she pulled away, her eyes dancing with mischievous pleasure at telling him she was going down on him, Foreman's eyes widened. "Amber--" He didn't know if it was a plea, or a thank you. She lowered herself to the white bath towel that she might have dropped expressly for the purpose of cushioning her knees, and Foreman felt another surge of excitement at seeing her there. God, she knew what she could do to him. The evidence was there, in her eyes; part of her was laughing at him for being so easy, the rest taking pleasure in her ability to reduce him to a begging, weak-kneed jelly, desperately seeking more and more sensation. In her, always.
As Amber tugged down the waistband of his sweats, taking his shorts with them, she kept her gaze on his face, even as she was careful of the head of his dick. In one fluid gesture, Foreman pulled his sweater and t-shirt over his head, tossing them unthinkingly towards the bed. Whatever Amber did, he wanted to see, not have half-obscured below the folds of cloth. He was already erect, not straining, but clearly and obviously hard, and he couldn't help a deep, appreciative sound as he watched Amber release his dick from his pants. With one hand, Foreman touched Amber's cheek gently, before taking his dick in his hand and giving himself a few anticipatory strokes. Rocking forward, he could drag the head of his dick across her lips, but no more; he was, quite literally, in her hands.
no subject
She slipped around in his arms, as if to prove how impossible it was for him to hold her in any position she didn't want. Her hands wrapped up, over his shoulders and then to the back of his neck. Foreman knew he smelled, sweaty and pungent, but he could still catch a whiff of spice from Amber's favourite shampoo, rising from the damp strands of her hair. His eyes closed when she kissed him, and a slow, shaky breath worked its way out of him. He felt lightheaded, the simple give-and-take of the kiss capturing his attention and heightening his arousal. His hands kneaded Amber's ass, trying to mould her against him again, forgetting any care for her clean skin. He knew she was appeasing him with the slow, deliberate kiss; that was part of the tease.
When she pulled away, her eyes dancing with mischievous pleasure at telling him she was going down on him, Foreman's eyes widened. "Amber--" He didn't know if it was a plea, or a thank you. She lowered herself to the white bath towel that she might have dropped expressly for the purpose of cushioning her knees, and Foreman felt another surge of excitement at seeing her there. God, she knew what she could do to him. The evidence was there, in her eyes; part of her was laughing at him for being so easy, the rest taking pleasure in her ability to reduce him to a begging, weak-kneed jelly, desperately seeking more and more sensation. In her, always.
As Amber tugged down the waistband of his sweats, taking his shorts with them, she kept her gaze on his face, even as she was careful of the head of his dick. In one fluid gesture, Foreman pulled his sweater and t-shirt over his head, tossing them unthinkingly towards the bed. Whatever Amber did, he wanted to see, not have half-obscured below the folds of cloth. He was already erect, not straining, but clearly and obviously hard, and he couldn't help a deep, appreciative sound as he watched Amber release his dick from his pants. With one hand, Foreman touched Amber's cheek gently, before taking his dick in his hand and giving himself a few anticipatory strokes. Rocking forward, he could drag the head of his dick across her lips, but no more; he was, quite literally, in her hands.