Finish

The pressure builds past the point of control under her steady gaze. You tighten your fist and work the thick length harder, shorter strokes, the wet sound of it loud in the quiet living room. Natasha’s eyes stay locked on the head of your cock as it swells and darkens in your grip. Her breathing has turned shallow. One hand has slipped fully under the open robe now, moving between her soft thighs in small, secret circles she no longer bothers to hide.

“Do it,” she whispers, voice rough. “I want to see it. Finish for me.”

The command pushes you over. Your hips jerk. Thick ropes of cum pulse out in heavy spurts, striping your knuckles, your stomach, the front of your open trousers. You keep stroking through every wave, letting her see the full messy release, the way the cock twitches and keeps spilling even after the first few pulses. The sound is wet and unmistakable.

Natasha’s reaction is immediate and visible. Her thighs clamp together around her own hand. A sharp, broken sound leaves her throat. Her short curvy body quivers hard on the sofa, back arching slightly, free hand gripping the cushion as the orgasm takes her. She cums right there while watching you finish, the flush deep across her cheeks and chest, soft stomach tightening, soft broken moans spilling out as the pleasure rolls through her in clear, uncontrolled waves.

You stay where you are, fist still wrapped around the slowly softening length, breathing hard, the mess cooling on your skin. Natasha remains reclined on the sofa, thighs still pressed together around her hand, eyes half-lidded and dark, the residual tremors still flickering through her as the quiet house holds the aftermath of both of you finishing at the same time without ever touching.