to be fair, this was kind of out of his hands

Her legs are wrapped tightly around his pelvis as he thrusts into her, hard, fast. She breathes out sharp, as though she is in pain, every time his cock drives all the way in. Her breaths have filled the air between them with electric humidity.

“Oh,” he starts to say from deep in his throat but she uncrosses her legs and pushes him away at his shoulders: “Don’t just yet,” she asks him. “Hold on a minute.”

They freeze there in shaking silence, as though he has crept into her and does not want her to notice. A hair blows into her face and she slowly reaches to push it away, then a ripple runs through her ribcage and she sneezes hard all over his chest. His body clenches.

“I’m sorry,” he says not many seconds later.

“No, it’s fine. It’s my fault.”

yet another reason i’m happy i won’t have to meet your family

He pins her ankles against the wall and raises himself on his knees to thrust slightly downward, hard, crashing his whole body into the backs of her legs. She moans soft and serrated, a breathy purr. Every time he drives his cock into her, the purr is cut with an impatient yelp. He pulls one hand close to her face, dragging his finger over her lip, and when he thrusts, she pulls her ankles down and crosses her legs behind his pelvis, drawing him into her, deep deep deep. He leans against the wall and pumps viciously.

“Jesus,” she moans, “fuck me” pant “until I’m” oh “blind!”

She clenches around his cock and he cums like a train crash.

Afterwards, still panting, she looks up at him. “I don’t know why that’s what popped into my head to say.”

“I liked it,” he says, rubbing his hand absent-mindedly over her stomach. “My uncle’s blind, though.”

“Oh jeez, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. We’re not close or anything.”

that’s my special message to you, slutty teens

He lays on top of her, braced upward with one arm, his chest radiating a bullish warmth that heats her skin into thick ripples like imperfect medieval glass. Her lips are bruised and taste metallic as she licks and bites his neck, smearing her face into his sweaty skin. And then. And then all of it melts into the keening awareness of his cock entering her, slowly. She moans low, driving her head back into the pillow.

“We don’t have a condom,” she breathes when she can find words through the mental haze.

“It feels better this way.”

He thrusts again and she is so wet it feels like his cock is stirring her. She digs her nails into his back and runs them across him while he enters her again.

“So,” he moans, “we’re committed to doing this anyway?”

She pushes his shoulders down and away from her. “I mean, no,” she says, “of course we’re not. I’m not stupid.”

spit it out

He is holding her legs up over his shoulders, plowing her in earnest. As she nears orgasm, her chest rises and falls in tense little jumps. The accumulated sweat from hours of sex has pooled slightly in her gravity-flattened belly. Every time he thrusts, her red O of a mouth quivers.

“You look so—“ he starts, but she clenches herself around his cock and the sentence ends with a gasp. They continue this way for the last fifteen or twenty seconds, falling into an escalating rhythm.

“You look so—“ squeeze. “You look so—“ pulse. “You look so—“ oh jesus oh god oh fuck.

Afterwards, they collapse into the damp sheets, his arm around her. “You look so – familiar. Have we met before?”