Page 57 of Welker

Welk seemed to be barely breathing.

Moira’s heart-rate sped up as she parted the plackets.

Ahh. Boxer briefs.

She caressed up and down the smooth material that covered his assets until she found the opening she knew would let Welker’s cock loose. Moira nudged the material apart, then reached in, and found—yes—Welk’s hot, hard flesh.

“Moira.” This time Welker’s voice came out thick, lustful, dark. More of a rasp than a name, and it spurred her to free the length of him, drawing him out so she could feel the pulsing of his ardor beneath his tight sheath of skin.

Without hesitation, she unfastened her seatbelt and slid close, lowering her head toward his lap.

“You don’t have to do this,” Welker rasped. “We’re almost home.”

“Where’s the fun in being predictable?”

She’d always played things carefully, and it had gotten her…nothing. She was through with that version of herself.

Moira bent and breathed all over the tip of him, which proceeded to leak out several beads of pleasure. She reached out her tongue and captured his essence.

Mmm. Pure Welker.

Going down on a guy had never been Moira’s favorite thing, but she was quickly amending her inclinations. Going down on any of the guys in her past had been a chore, but with Welker… She couldn’t wait to take him into her mouth; glide down over all his lusciousness, and suck him until he was screaming her name.

Moira felt Welk’s breathing speed up. If there had been any spare room in his jeans, she would have reached lower and cupped his balls; seeing if they grew tight with excitement. But since they were confined, she’d have to make the best of her skills to enchant his cock, alone.

Placing her lips around the fat crown of his prick, she exerted a modicum of pressure, while at the same time exploring his slit with her tongue.

Welker’s ass surged upward, urging her on.

She slowly slid her open mouth down his impressive length, easing up, then increasing her pressure, repeating the motion over and over, taking him deeper on every pass.

Welker groaned, and she glanced upward to see that luckily, he was still in control of the car. She drew her lips up his shaft until she had her mouth barely resting on his cap.

“Fist my hair,” she hissed. It was something she’d never experienced, but when pleasuring herself, she’d always imagined it; the man taking charge, guiding her to give them what they needed.

A hand went to the back of her head, and Welker twisted his fingers into her tresses.

She could feel him holding back, and it was the last thing she wanted.

“Harder,” she told him, then impishly added, “or I won’t swallow you again.”

Welker growled, but gave up on his self-imposed control and gave Moira what she craved; winding his digits tighter, pushing her down.

Moira thought she might lose consciousness with the pleasure she was experiencing. But instead, she refocused, sucking and swallowing as Welker thrust. Her eyes watered and she gagged each time he bottomed out, but she loved every minute of it, and was wetter and more turned on than she’d ever been in her entire life.

Moira groaned around his girth as he set a steady pace, shivering with anticipation of him shooting down her throat.

Just as she sensed him reaching his peak, he yanked her off, breathing hard.

“Don’t want to come in your mouth,” he grunted. “My first time will be in your pussy.”

Moira sat up, her nipples pulsing, hard and painful beneath her dress; her body more than ready to accommodate him. “Then maybe…”

She sat up and reached beneath her dress, swiftly drawing the panties down her trembling legs.

Welker let out an expletive as they came off, and grabbed the scrap of lace from her, putting it to his face and inhaling deeply. It was carnal. It was naughty, and it was mind-blowing.

“Mine,” he told her, caveman style, and Moira shivered as he stuffed the scrap into his gaping jeans’ pocket.

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