“Spectacular, I know,” Lisa says with a smirk, curving her leg until the warmth of Dean’s neck is pressing against the tender skin behind her knee.
“I was gonna say bendy but that works,too,” Dean chokes out a laugh, slamming upwards into her as he grips her ass with both hands and grinds her down onto his dick.
Lisa leans forward to lick the sweat that’s dripping down his temple. He smells faintly of salt and gunpowder, and that makes her pussy just that much wetter. She didn’t know jack shit about this dude besides his name, his affinity for leather, and the fact that he can eat pussy like a fucking champ, but right about now, as Lisa bounces on his lap, that’s plenty.
Her other leg is tucked up tight around him, heel snug against the middle of his shoulder blades. If she leans back just right, he’ll be hitting her g-spot dead-on.
“Yoga,” she says with a grunt, as she flings her head back and slip-slides up and down a little bit faster.
“What?” he pants, dazed, biting at her calf, which is now vibrating against his face. She’s never had a hickey on her leg before, but hey, that’s what leggings are for, right?
“I’m a yoga instructor,” she clarifies, and she’s leaning back so far now that her hair is getting tangled in his fingers, and he’s starting to fist it and tug, and fuck.
“If you’re still talking, then I’m not doing this right,” he snarls, but he has an almost feral grin on his face as he wraps a handful of dark brown strands around his fist at the same time that he uses his other forearm to press her tightly to his chest. Her joints stretch and pull and her skin tingles as the vague pain of the hair-pulling wars with the punishing pleasure coming from his dick slamming against her inner walls.
“Cocky.” She gasps. “Bastard.”
“No, Dean Winchester.”
Lisa rolls her eyes just as she comes. Leather Jacket’s lucky his cock is as pretty as his face.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2012-08-07 06:22 pm (UTC)________________________________________
“You are—“
“Spectacular, I know,” Lisa says with a smirk, curving her leg until the warmth of Dean’s neck is pressing against the tender skin behind her knee.
“I was gonna say bendy but that works,too,” Dean chokes out a laugh, slamming upwards into her as he grips her ass with both hands and grinds her down onto his dick.
Lisa leans forward to lick the sweat that’s dripping down his temple. He smells faintly of salt and gunpowder, and that makes her pussy just that much wetter. She didn’t know jack shit about this dude besides his name, his affinity for leather, and the fact that he can eat pussy like a fucking champ, but right about now, as Lisa bounces on his lap, that’s plenty.
Her other leg is tucked up tight around him, heel snug against the middle of his shoulder blades. If she leans back just right, he’ll be hitting her g-spot dead-on.
“Yoga,” she says with a grunt, as she flings her head back and slip-slides up and down a little bit faster.
“What?” he pants, dazed, biting at her calf, which is now vibrating against his face. She’s never had a hickey on her leg before, but hey, that’s what leggings are for, right?
“I’m a yoga instructor,” she clarifies, and she’s leaning back so far now that her hair is getting tangled in his fingers, and he’s starting to fist it and tug, and fuck.
“If you’re still talking, then I’m not doing this right,” he snarls, but he has an almost feral grin on his face as he wraps a handful of dark brown strands around his fist at the same time that he uses his other forearm to press her tightly to his chest. Her joints stretch and pull and her skin tingles as the vague pain of the hair-pulling wars with the punishing pleasure coming from his dick slamming against her inner walls.
“Cocky.” She gasps. “Bastard.”
“No, Dean Winchester.”
Lisa rolls her eyes just as she comes. Leather Jacket’s lucky his cock is as pretty as his face.