Good Girls Do What They're Told, But Bad Girls Have More Fun

"That's right," he snarled, pulling back before thrusting his hips forward once more against me, "Me and mine. You had your fun last night. Now it's my turn."

I slowly draw my finger out of myself, feeling the tightness of my sex around me. Biting my bottom lip I push forward once more, filling myself with a little more.

"You do," I cooed, "You deserve it. You made me cum so fucking hard yesterday, Blak/e. You deserve some all for you."

"Oh fuck," he grunts, his grip tightening on the back of my head a little as he almost drags me forward as he thrusts against me, "You're so fucking sexy."

"You like it?" I laughed, "You like the feel of my soft tits around your hard cock? You like the way I let you use my body? All for you?"

Above me he nods, grunting as he thrusts into me more and more.

"Oh fuck," I moaned, "And the way you're just using me, it turns me on. Fuck, Blake. I love it when you fuck my tits like this. I love the way your cock feels against me."

He starts to grow more frantic, more erratic. His thrusts almost become uneven as he plunges his cock between my breasts and his eyes go glassy and unfocused while he uses me.

Blake, for all his bragging, is still new to this. Hell, we're all so new to this.

Freshman. Fresh.

Sure Blake and Rachel probably had fun before they got here, had experiences that the rest of us didn't quite get to. But in actual fact I was the only one here with real life experience, with actual years under my belt.

And in a way, in this moment, it showed.

Blake was just a guy getting off on a fantasy. Sure he had the youthful appeal of zest and zeal, the kind of stamina that I would have dreamed about possessing again even two days ago.

But he had none of the subtelty that came with age. Nor did he have any of the wisdom that came with real life experience, that made a moment like this almost blase and made a man like him almost jaded.

No, Blake was living a fantasy here. Hell, this might have even been the first time that he'd ever had a girl offer her breasts for him to use like this. And that glassy look in his eyes and the way the sweat was breaking out on his forehead, the wildness in his body, showed that really he was almost overcome by it.

Like he couldn't believe his luck.

Sex is power, power made manifest. It's a balancing act and a pressure, back and forth. It's pleasure, sure, but it's about more than that.

Sex is about control. And right now I was the one in charge.

"God Blake," I moaned for him, "I just can't help myself around you. You drive me wild."

His lip curled back and his fingers dug into the back of my head and his breathing went ragged, his thrusts becoming somehow harder and more uneven at the very same time.

"Oh fuck," I mewled, practically panting as I pushed even more of my finger into myself, "Oh god. I can't help it..."

I moan louder, almost loud enough to draw attention but it's loud enough to make his eyes widen that little bit more, as he recognizes in me all the signals I want him to see.

That flush in my cheeks and the glassiness in my eyes. The strain in my body and the way I was trembling.

Aching.

Ready.

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