“Why don’t you sit next to me,” I suggested, scrunching toward the wall, making room.
I pressed my thigh against his when he settled himself, and I huddled close, burrowing myself into the crook of his shoulder when he draped his arm around my back. The fabric of the skirt had ridden up when I sat. I brought my legs open in invitation. The skirt lifted more as I straightened my posture. I tugged the hem up my thigh so that the cloth bowed and draped over my pussy, hiding it just.
His right hand sat over the joining of my legs. Fingers on top of the skirt touched my pubis below. They gently tapped at the skin and descended the short distance to my cunt. Fingertips traced the outline of my lips through the thin fabric.
There was a buzz of conversation all around us. Our movements didn’t go unnoticed in this. There were other couples present, but we were the only ones making out. There was as well the obvious age difference between us. The people in the bar saw us hunched together, whispering conspiratorially. They saw tongues flicking at earlobes, kisses that trailed down the run of the neck, across the collar, down the shoulder. I didn’t care that we were witnessed, and neither did he. He licked the sweat that had beaded over my breasts. His big hand pawed at my tits while we kissed. Eyes closed, our faces turned and repositioned as we prolonged the contact of lips. His tongue spilled into my mouth. My teeth nipped at its tip. I fluttered my tongue against his.
He applied pressure to the back of my neck and combed his fingers through my hair. We breathed together.
The lights were dim but the table was glass. Looking down, I saw his hand working me by candlelight. The back of it made a visible bulge under the cloth. He gripped my lips. Fingers softly stroked the slit. The wetness inside me was flowing. It made his hand slick. He smeared the viscous fluids over my pubis, which I keep waxed and bare, like a little girl. The kisses deepened as he insinuated two fingers — the index and middle — into my cunt. I tightened the muscles at the entrance. My thighs gripped his forearm between them. He wiggled his fingers, scissored them inside. He also rotated them within my folds. Gently, he fucked me. The touch pistoned in and out, so, so, so slowly. After a moment, he brought his hand out to examine in the light, then wiped the wetness that coated his skin over my thigh.
Bu iş için 22 freelancer ortalamada $864 teklif veriyor
If you're looking for someone that could easily come up with more for that breath taking story, I would love to help, definitely my kinda of writing.