Jake Is A Good Man Who Is Good At What He Does

I nod and then because I know that's not enough I moan and then because I need him to know I say it too.

"Yes."

And because I want there to be no question in his mind what I mean by that I reach for him with my free hand, the other still clutching my bra to my breasts. I run my fingers up through his hair and then I push him down, down my body as he peels my panties over my thighs and down until his head is down between those thighs, his eyes and his lips lined up perfectly with my sex.

"Taste me," I beg of him, and from the rumble I hear from down there he is only too eager to do just that.

In a lot of ways, Jake was a man of stereotypes. The stereotypical jock. The stereotypical college meathead. The stereotypical hunk. The stereotypical man.

But there was at least one way he broke the mold, one stereotype he defied.

The man clearly loved going down on women.

Not only did he launch in without hesitation, he had the skill to back it up. When his fingers rush up they slide up my thighs with confidence and when his lips connect with me his tongue is quick to follow, sliding down to the bottom and back up to the top of my slit before curling around my clit and pulling it in, his lips closing over it as he tastes me and makes my back arch.

I moan. So loud but I can't help myself. My hand on my breasts squeezes tight and my fingers shift a little, pulling the bra just far enough off of my breast that I can find my nipple and pinch to add a little salt to the sugar burning through my veins.

My eyes clench shut and my jaw tightens afterward and I spasm, shuffling to and fro on the ground as I kick my legs out and my feet struggle to find some kind of purchase and I fail.

But he doesn't.

Between my thighs Jake does something magical. His lips are closed over my clit and he's pulling on it, his cheeks hollowing as his tongue slips forth at the same time to flicker up and down and back and forth across my clit. And his finger presses forward and dips into the wetness of my sex that is dripping by now and it's been good when people have touched me like this and it's been great too but this might be one of the bests.

Oh who am I kidding. I haven't been fucked enough to know good from bad at this point.

All I know is that I like it and that it hurts a little when his thick finger pushes into me and I know that I'm making the right choice by denying him because I've seen his cock and if his finger is finding it this difficult to thrust forward and fill me I can only imagine what it'll be like for his cock.

But none of that matters because I part all the same and he pulses forward all the same and he fills me with inches, pushing and pulling and making sure that he is wet with my juices as I struggle to relax, to let him in, to let him fuck me with his fingers and rise the heat within this body that I'm only now starting to understand but that he knows so well already.

Blake. Jake. Lucas. Rachel. Hell, even that stranger from the library.

All of them and how many more to come in the next few days and they all seem to know my body better than even I do. Certainly they know how to make it bend and nearly break, how to make the heat rise within it. How to make it impossible to sit still, to keep from squirming as the passion and the pleasure rises within me and I know that I can't help myself and that I'm likely to cause a scene, but I can't stop.

My hand releases his head to fly up and clamp over my mouth and I moan deep into it, a resonance that vibrates through me as my whole body tenses and none of it makes him stop.

Jake knows what he's doing to me and I swear to god I can feel him smile.

For just a moment.

For just one single solitary moment.

Before he gets right back to making me moan.

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