"Handle" Ritter

Ritter presses his lips against your neck. His hand moves from your knee up your leg and to your thigh. He slides his fingers between your legs and you don't resist as he cups your crotch through the sturdy fabric of your cargo pants. His hand is strong and it takes every bit of willpower not to start pushing against his palm as he grind it into your hungry pussy.

"Come on," Ritter whispers urgently into your ear. "She's asleep. Let's fuck."

Your body says yes, you want this powerful thug above you, thrusting into you with his hard cock. But you look out at the rain swept parking lot, swallowed up in shadows. Every noise lost in the rumble of the storm. You know that it's too great a risk.

"Not now," you say to him and push his hand away. "This is stupid."

"Don't fight it," he coos, but you shove his hands away more forcefully.

He gives you a wounded look.

"I'm not going to get us killed so you can get your rocks off," you scold him.

"I can keep an eye out," he argues.

"No," you say.

Ritter looks away and then takes hold of your hand. He guides it to the front of his jeans. You can feel his hard cock straining the denim.

"You can't leave me like this," he says.

"You did it to yourself," you counter.

"Come on...," he says.

You crane your head back to make sure Cassie is asleep. She's snoring softly, curled up next to her comatose brother. You turn back to Ritter and look him in the eye.

"Get it out," you say.

He grins and quickly unbuttons his bluejeans. He slides them down his legs and rolls down his underwear. His cock sticks straight up from his lap as he settles in next to you on the rough conveyor belt.

You hold your hand against your lips and drool into your palm. Ritter watches with anticipation as your glistening fingers wrap around his shaft. You give his prick a squeeze.

"Oh fuck," he groans.

"You like that?" You ask, your eyes flicking from his face back to the stormy night.

"Hell yeah," Ritter says. "Jack that dick for me."

You begin to stroke up and down his hard cock with your spit-covered palm. You keep most of your attention focused on your environment, but you occasionally steal a glance of Ritter's fat cockhead popping out of your fist as you pound your hand down his shaft. His head is tilted back and his eyes are closed as he enjoys the handjob.

When Ritter reaches over to your chest and slides his fingers down the neck of your tanktop you don't protest. His fingers find their way into the cup of your bra and he pinches your nipple and rolls it between his thumb and finger. You let him have his fun, squeezing and playing with your soft breast as you jerk him off.

"Oh, that's good," he says as you smear his precum over his sensitive cockhead. "Keep doing that with your thumb. You'll make me cum in no time."

Your arm is sore and you're sweating from the effort, but you carry on. You rub his slippery juices over his cockhead and down his shaft, your fist pounds up and down his rigid pole. Ritter's fingers begin to dig into your breast a little painfully. You stifle a moan at the sensation when he pinches your nipple roughly in his fingers.

"You like that don't you?" Ritter laughs. "You should have let me fuck you."

"Shut up and cum for me," you warn him, but with a smile.

"I'm real close, baby," he laughs. "Keep jerking it. Ohhh, yeah, I'm almost there."

"Let me see you squirt that jizz," you encourage him.

Ritter looks over at you and tugs at the neck of your tanktop. He pulls your shirt roughly below your breasts, exposing your bra and the creamy white flesh of your tits.

"Oh, let me cum on them," Ritter moans. "I'm really close. Let me shoot my load on them."