Status: active, while hoping for comments.
I Can Taste the Failure
we're all going to hell.
My hand on his upper thigh made the ride to his house impossible, and before I knew what was happening, he was swinging into an abandoned parking lot and pulling me into his lap. He had never been more turned on around me as he was now, with my body right on top of his, my knees besides his hips in a straddle. He pulled the yellow top over my head, lips kissing the top of my breasts, hands pulling at my bra straps.
“Back seat,” I gasped.
“No.” Oliver growled low in his throat.
My hands worked at the hem of his shirt and I let out a groan of annoyance as it remained stubborn. Oliver arched his back, pressing my back into the steering wheel as he yanked his shirt over his head. I ran my hands over his tattoos, bringing my lips to his neck as his hands undid my bra clasp.
“But what if someone sees?” I said, just as his hands dropped to the buttons of my jeans.
“Fuck it, let them watch.”
My breasts spilled out into his hands as I tugged at his pant zipper. His lips captured mine and his arms circled around my lower back. He turned my body under his; he was on top of me now.
Oliver finally found the seat controls, dropping us into a more vertical position without warning. I exploded out into loud laughter and Oliver smirked at me cutely. He tried to pull down my pants to no avail and I wiggled them down my legs, kicking them off somewhere. His fingers trailed the outskirts of my underwear for a second, little black boy shorts with a gray tree curling up the side, and he muttered “fuck” to no one in particular as I yanked his pants down, revealing his blue boxers. I enclosed my arms around his neck, curling my fingers in the ends of his hair and wrapping my legs around his waist.
“Hard, Oliver.”
I gasped, suddenly and loudly, as he entered me. His smirked hovered over me, shining in his golden brown eyes. I dug my nails deep into the top of his back and his hands, firm on my hips, tightened, and I knew I’d have bruises lingering on my skin tomorrow.
Oliver collapsed above me after the final orgasm shuddered through both of us, kissing my forehead before gently reaching down and adjusting my underpants back into place and then his own. He yanked up his pants, buttoning them with one hand as he reached down with the other, bringing up and holding my gray bra by the strap. He looked down at me; my body was still tingling.
He smirked, “Tired out?”
“Ha-ha,” I muttered, snatching my bra out of his hand.
“You’re good, love,” Oliver said, tracing the marks I had scratched into his back with my nails absentmindedly. “I’ll give you that.”
“Back seat,” I gasped.
“No.” Oliver growled low in his throat.
My hands worked at the hem of his shirt and I let out a groan of annoyance as it remained stubborn. Oliver arched his back, pressing my back into the steering wheel as he yanked his shirt over his head. I ran my hands over his tattoos, bringing my lips to his neck as his hands undid my bra clasp.
“But what if someone sees?” I said, just as his hands dropped to the buttons of my jeans.
“Fuck it, let them watch.”
My breasts spilled out into his hands as I tugged at his pant zipper. His lips captured mine and his arms circled around my lower back. He turned my body under his; he was on top of me now.
Oliver finally found the seat controls, dropping us into a more vertical position without warning. I exploded out into loud laughter and Oliver smirked at me cutely. He tried to pull down my pants to no avail and I wiggled them down my legs, kicking them off somewhere. His fingers trailed the outskirts of my underwear for a second, little black boy shorts with a gray tree curling up the side, and he muttered “fuck” to no one in particular as I yanked his pants down, revealing his blue boxers. I enclosed my arms around his neck, curling my fingers in the ends of his hair and wrapping my legs around his waist.
“Hard, Oliver.”
I gasped, suddenly and loudly, as he entered me. His smirked hovered over me, shining in his golden brown eyes. I dug my nails deep into the top of his back and his hands, firm on my hips, tightened, and I knew I’d have bruises lingering on my skin tomorrow.
Oliver collapsed above me after the final orgasm shuddered through both of us, kissing my forehead before gently reaching down and adjusting my underpants back into place and then his own. He yanked up his pants, buttoning them with one hand as he reached down with the other, bringing up and holding my gray bra by the strap. He looked down at me; my body was still tingling.
He smirked, “Tired out?”
“Ha-ha,” I muttered, snatching my bra out of his hand.
“You’re good, love,” Oliver said, tracing the marks I had scratched into his back with my nails absentmindedly. “I’ll give you that.”
♠ ♠ ♠
;) Oliiiiver.