Page 65 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

Honey pushes herself back into me with each of my thrusts, meeting the movements in a way that has me near the edge. It’s too soon. I can’t finish already.

“Wait,” I whimper. I slow my movements, but Honey doesn’t let up. “Please, Honey.”

“You begged me to use you,” she reminds me fucking herself on my cock. “You wanted to be my good boy.”

“Fuck.” My voice has risen in pitch, my breathing ragged. I’m desperate, holding on by a thin thread.

Baseball.

Grandma.

The feeling when your Uber is way more expensive than it should be after a concert.

“You don’t get to come until I’ve gotten what I want.” Honey’s voice is husky, deep, commanding.

“What-” I swallow. “What do you want?” I know the answer, but I can’t think straight.

Football.

Broadway musicals.

That pothos plant in the kitchen I somehow killed. What idiot can kill a pothos plant?

“I want you to make me scream.”

Leaning forward, I roll my hips into her. I reach around, my chest pressed against her back, and my fingers just barely brush her clit. I continue to play, my cock deep inside her. A high-pitched whimper escapes her, but I can’t focus on that, still trying to hold my own release back. My lips trail kisses over her shoulder and up to her neck. When I pull her soft earlobe into my mouth and bite down gently, Honey shudders. Her walls spasm, fluttering around my length. Honey’s head falls to the couch while she emits moans like I’ve never heard. Deep and guttural, I don’t know if this means it’s more intense or less, but I talk her through it.

“That’s it,” I whisper. “Fucking use me. Come all over this cock, Honey. Take what you want, I’m yours.”

Honey hangs her head as her body relaxes.

“Sit on the couch,” she orders. Her breathing is heavy, her voice weak, but the excitement for what comes next is unmistakable.

Pulling myself from her now feels illegal, but I follow her command. Before getting into position, Honey moves the tripod that was behind us so it can get a side view. The tripod on the other side of the couch has just enough height to capture what we need.

Honey kneels before me and that grin on her full, swollen lips makes me shudder. I’m going to hate this.

“Who knew you were so good at this.” She reaches for my aching cock.

“And what isthis?” I ask. It’s hard to focus on her words when her fingers find me, using her arousal as lube.

“Being used,” she replies, “being a good boy.”

Her words send another jolt through me.

“Please. Please let me come now.” I squeeze my eyes shut at the same time Honey’s fingers tighten around my cock. “Please.”

“I like hearing you beg.” She lets go and I whimper, letting my head fall back on the couch. Honey traces one finger up my thigh. “I like hearing you desperate.”

“Damn it, woman,” I growl, trying to reach for her hand to bring it to where I need her touch the most. Honey bats my hand away and my head snaps up, eyes on her.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she scolds. “Hands beneath your ass. I don’t want you reaching for things you shouldn’t.”

I glare, but do as she says, rocking on the couch cushion to shove my hands beneath my bare ass. Honey grabs a bottle of lube from the floor and squeezes some into her hands to warm it up. When her fingers brush my cock again, I moan.

“Is this what you want?” she asks.

“I want your mouth.”

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