She ran a comb through her hair, her mind lost in thoughts of what was about to happen. God, it was going to be good. She couldn't remember the last time she'd wanted a good, hard fuck so badly, and her reflection in the candlelight only made it worse. After some deliberation, she had decided to wear a Catholic schoolgirl uniform, and now here she sat. Her white Oxford shirt was opened at the top to expose most of her chest and much of her black lace bra, and tied into a knot at the bottom to reveal her taught midriff. A tiny plaid kilt barely hid her damp pussy, and she had decided no panties would be necessary. The black stilettos were perhaps not a standard part of this particular costume, but she decided the effect was still quite sexy. After a moment's thought, she put on her reading glasses, deciding they contrasted the crimson lipstick nicely. She sent him a text, inviting him to come over, and then put on the finishing touch: a pair of handcuffs held her arms behind her back. She grinned at herself in the mirror: she looked like a total slut. Perfect.
After ten minutes alone with the hungry throbbing in her clit, she finally heard him at the front door. A few minutes later, her door opened, and he walked in. "Hey.." he started, surprise at her predicament suddenly cutting him off.
She tilted her head down and looked directly into his eyes. "Own me?" she requested, with a little pout.
He grinned his agreement. Already, a bulge was becoming obvious in his pants. He approached briskly. She leaned back, spread her legs, and bit her bottom lip. He arrived, and ran his hands over her: rough, possessive, making her body his. His hands moved over her tight stomach and down her smooth legs. He cupped her firm little breasts, and reached under her skirt to feel the dripping that this treatment was causing. He smiled, grasped the back of her head, and gently guided her to her feet.
They kissed. She felt goosebumps spread over her at the contact. Kissing him was one of those things that cannot be remembered, only experienced, and the way it totally encapsulated her senses was always a bit of a surprise. This time was different, though; they were not sharing each other. He was taking her with his lips: it was hungry and almost frantic. When she wanted to pull back, he pushed forward just slightly, tugged her hair, bit her lip; when she wanted to kiss harder, he stopped briefly and held her forehead back with one hand. She shuddered with pleasure as his mouth moved to the nape of her neck, switching sides, moving down to her collarbone, drawing her earlobes into his mouth. He lifted her and pressed her back into the wall. She was feather-light, swept away, helpless, subjected. For now at least, she was his.
He stopped and let her down. She stood in front of him, panting. He undid her shirt, reaching in to feel her exposed breasts. Anticipation filled her; she loved having her breasts touched and sucked on.
"
My
breasts," he told her, seeming to read her mind. She nodded slightly, knowing that refusal to comply would delay her pleasure. He smiled and bent down, kissing her chest gently but passionately. A gasp escaped her lips. He slowly worked his mouth around each breast, just avoiding the nipple, fondling the one not being touched with his free hand. Her nipples grew hard; the anticipation of their being sucked on mounted. Finally, he wrapped his mouth around a nipple and drew it in. She moaned; it felt amazing. She wanted to grab the back of his head and pull him closer, but was foiled by the handcuffs. He flicked his tongue over the tips and moved from breast to breast, sometimes sucking, sometimes nibbling.
"Ohhhhh," she groaned.
Then he changed his tactics. His tongue flattened, he ran it slowly but firmly over the nipple. Then he circled around and drew it into his mouth a few times. He repeated the process, alternating randomly between licks and sucks. After a few moments she caught on: he was playing his tongue over her breasts in the same way he would later over her clit. She could almost feel his tongue between her legs as she squirmed in pleasure and frustration.
"I want you, I want you, oh God I want you," she managed to say between gasps.
He stopped and stood up. "Kneel."
She obeyed and looked up at him. He held out his hand with two fingers outstretched. "Suck."
She sucked. Her tongue played gently over the tips of his fingers as her lips wrapped around. She shifted a bit in the handcuffs, and he reached his other hand around to grasp the back of her head. She closed her eyes, imagining she was sucking a cock. He pulled her head forward, forcing her slightly. She felt like a toy, and loved it.
This too stopped. "Keep your eyes shut." She heard a zipper being undone, and opened her mouth slightly for what she knew was coming. His cock, rock hard and moist with precum, pushed its way through her lips and stopped.
"Lick."
She licked, swirling around the sensitive tip of his cock, paying extra attention to the ridge and the bottom. He groaned and pushed in further. Soon, he was fucking her mouth, and she struggled to provide suction as his cock moved in and out.
"Ahhhhhhhβ¦"
She began to moan a bit herself, knowing that the sound and the vibration would stimulate him further. His thrusts grew more frantic and she licked faster
"You slut, you slut, ahhhhh oh God that feels good, oh suck my cock you fucking
whore
, oh god oh god you're mine I'm gonna come oh I'm coming I'm coming AHHH!"
He pulled out of her mouth at the last moment, and she watched he exploded onto her face. He pushed his cock back in: she licked gently, being sure to clean him of every drop.
"Turn around. Look at yourself."
She turned around and looked at herself in the mirror: tiny skirt on, face flushed, hair a mess, semen on her face.
"What do you look like?"
She didn't answer. He pulled her hair back, causing her to gasp.