The year is 1994. The Artist finds himself in a situation no one ever thought could happen. How does he get out of it, or perhaps more importantly, how did he get there in the first place?
The trailer, courtesy of @QueenofDisco ...https://youtu.b...
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August 21, 1994
**Iolani POV**
With the slam of the door, I'm determined to take control of this entire encounter. Unfortunately, it seems he has other ideas and a battle for dominance ensues.
As I start to unbutton his pants and slowly drag his zipper down, my hands teasing him all the while, his hands decide to rid me of my t-shirt, quickly breaking our kiss to do so.
Regardless, it seems the advantage is mine as my breasts are still encased within my padded bra, but it seems he decided to pick today of all days to skip out on the boxers. Advantage Lani...
I meet his fiery amber eyes with a devious grin as his erection slowly makes an appearance.
Using this situation to my advantage, I gently guide him to the wall on the other side of the door as I move to tease him, slowly dragging the nails of my right hand along him from base to tip. My heated gaze locks firmly on his, as with a hiss I feel him grow even harder as my fingers encircle his length.
However, he's not quite ready to give up this game so easily. His knuckles teasingly make their way to my heated but still clothed core, bringing a moan to my lips which I quickly cover by nibbling on my lower lip.
This only serves to cause his already heated golden gaze to erupt into flames as his fingers move to unzip me. Not so fast there, mister....this round is mine...
I'm adamant in my intention to remain in control this time, slowly moving his wandering hand back to his side with my free one as my lips recapture his. My other hand continues its exploration of his hardness, slowly making its way to his heated tip which causes his hips to find themselves involuntarily moving further into my grasp. My actions are met with a strangled groan, which I quickly swallow into our hungry kiss.
I decide this would be the time to ramp things up, and I start to play around with the speed and strength of my strokes, hard and fast, soft and slow, hard and slow, soft and fast, testing what rewards me with the best reaction.
His hips move eagerly into my touch in a vain attempt to increase the speed of my strokes. He groans in frustration and in that moment, I realize his sounds of pleasure are feeding into my own reactions as my womanhood begins to throb in response, and telltale wetness begins to form. Seems victory comes at a price....
Despite this, our battle of wills continues as I move my attention to his tip, my index finger making contact with a newly developing drop of pearly fluid I find there as my eyes meet his. Gazes locked I give him a wicked grin as my coated finger makes its way to my lips, eager for a taste of him.
As my tongue comes out to lick my finger clean, my other hand resumes stroking him as I become even more determined than before to emerge victorious. This time, it doesn't take long for my actions to be rewarded as his breathing starts to become labored, hips straining even more than before...until as his voice hoarsely chokes out my name, his warm sticky substance coats my fingers.
