King of Crime ✔️

Taking Control

I moved my hips unconsciously to his fingers, so they got deeper inside of me. His stubble rubbed against my cheek before he brought his lips to my mouth. 

I enjoyed kissing him so much. His taste, his tongue, his lips, everything was so perfect. It almost distracted from the magic he was doing between my legs. But not quite.

I had to gasp for air when the rough skin of his thumb almost pushed me over the edge again. He was doing it on purpose, I realized. He was playing me like some instrument. His lips moved where mine went, hungry for action, but I was too occupied.

Eventually, he gave up, and got up a bit to really plunge his fingers into me and repeatedly turn circles around the sensitive bud. I bit harshly on my fingers at the crazy good friction, my body-temperature rising with at least five degrees per second. 

It was building. It was building. I wanted to tell him that it was, but nothing came out of my mouth but cryptic moans.

"What's that?" he panted, the huge package pressing against his grey boxers betraying that he too, was getting quite aroused. By me? Was he getting aroused by me?

"Don't stop," I brought myself to say, my legs starting to tremble.

"No, no." His fingers held the switch to a climax, and it was freaking me out. I never entrusted anyone with my orgasms before. My breaths started to sound more and more like a last wish for life, as I squeezed my eyes shut, ready to succumb to the wave of pleasure.

And it came. It came like it never did before. Like a bliss I never experienced before, it rolled through me, over his fingers, to the outside world, in the form of...

Wait a minute.

Wait a fucking minute.

"Fuck." Samuel laughed, and as soon as my vision was sharp again, I saw something dripping off his hands and tights. No, no, no...

"You can squirt, amazing." He moved up his fingers to taste me. 

No, no, no. 

My ejaculation had tainted his skin, and it was a lot. Too fucking much. My body fell down from the arched position and I immediately crawled into a ball, away from the man who made such a mess of me. I used a pillow to shield him from the vision of my red-flushed expression.

"Hey, hey," he said, trying but failing to control the laughter in his voice. "There's nothing wrong with it. It's great." 

From under my pillow, I saw him reach for tissues to wipe off all that had shamelessly gushed out of me. 

I wanted to cry. I was mortified. Who knew I was capable of such things? I thought only women in porn could do it, not that I would suffer from having no choice but to squirt. Could one control it? Was this my faith from now on?

"Sam." His tone was sterner, as he brushed over my thigh and made me shudder. 

I still felt like I was on fire from the experience. It had felt so damn liberating, but now all I felt was shame. He removed the pillow and fell down next to me, kissing my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," I put forth, with a trembling tone.

"Shut up, you. I love women who squirt. How dare you apologize." At his stupid words, I couldn't help but let out a stupid giggle as well. 

I reached behind me, for his boxers. Well, I already had the fright of my life now. Surely, his dick had to be manageable now. I got over myself and got up, meeting his loving, thoroughly enjoying, grey eyes. Taking in a deep sigh in order to try and stabilize my breathing, I reached behind my back to undo my bralette. Samuel was following every move.