[ Now, because of your request, one of your boy's arms is wound tight about your body, and his other hand has crawled up into your hair, fingers pressing against your scalp. His legs have also wrapped themselves around your waist, locking you in so close that it might be difficult to tell not just where either of you begin or end, but whether it's him who's shuddering, or you.
He's giving a little more with each passing second, and his lips are right against one side of your face, crying out/whining/whimpering into your ear.
Every time with you is much like the first: overwhelming and wrecking, equal parts nervous energy and crushing certainty. It never fails to leave him hotter and dizzier the further you press into him. ]
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He's giving a little more with each passing second, and his lips are right against one side of your face, crying out/whining/whimpering into your ear.
Every time with you is much like the first: overwhelming and wrecking, equal parts nervous energy and crushing certainty. It never fails to leave him hotter and dizzier the further you press into him. ]