Sitting on the dresser

If this little vixen wants to be fucked like Rowan, I should introduce her to one of Rowan’s favorite positions. I point to a low, heavy dresser standing against the wall and tell Scarlett to go sit on it. She does so with a big grin, sitting right on the edge with her legs spread, leaning back so her shoulders rest against the wall. The dresser has a textured top which makes it very secure to sit on; when Rowan was healthy, I used to have to refinish it fairly regularly because she wanted to be fucked on it so often.

I seat my knob in Scarlett’s fuckhole, then put my arms around her, cupping the back of her head with one hand, and kiss her deeply and thoroughly. She kisses me back with interest, then mewls into my mouth as I slowly drive my shaft into her well. We kiss hungrily, our tongues dancing and playing with each other; I run my fingers through her hair and caress her back. She grabs my ass with both hands, kneading and massaging my cheeks, and pulls hard, trying to get me to thrust faster. I can feel myself trembling with need as we make out, but I resist her efforts and hold onto my self-control—I want this time to at least start off slow and sensual. I moan into her mouth as I slowly, slowly push deeper into her tight, wet heat.

Once I’m all the way in, I bring my hands around to Scarlett’s tits and pussy. I wrap one hand all the way around the front of one of her heavy breasts, with the turgid pink tip sitting on the webbing between the middle and ring fingers, and massage it gently. The other goes in quest of her pink pearl, teasing and lightly flicking it. Her kisses get more and more demanding until finally she breaks off and begs, “Please fuck me, Mr. Harrison, please . . . play with my boobs, rub my little button, so fucking good, but please take me now—take me fast and hard—pound my tight little pussy—please . . .”

I lick and suck my way down Scarlett’s jawline to her ear. I probe her earhole with my tongue, making her giggle, then murmur, “Not so fast, baby girl. We have all night.” She moans in frustration, and I continue, “I think I see a naughty little minx who needs to learn a little patience.” I begin fucking her with long, slow strokes, pulling almost all the way out each time, and plant soft kisses all over her face. I pull and twist her nipple and increase the stimulation on her clit, rubbing her harder and faster, now up and down, now in circles.

“Don’t tease me, Mr. Harrison,” Scarlett pleads, “don’t tease me, please don’t tease me . . . Your big cock feels so good, it’s so good in my teeny little cunt, please give it to me harder—harder—” I capture her button with two fingers and tweak it lightly, then start working it between them; she mewls and falls silent. I keep diddling her clit and pulling, pinching, twisting and rolling her nipple as I pump her well with long, steady thrusts. She keeps moaning and begging for more, her voice rising in pitch and volume; then, suddenly, she breaks with a feral shriek, writhing and quaking on the desk. Her cunt roils and throbs around my big piston as I keep fucking her like a metronome.

I look Scarlett in the eyes and say, “See, baby girl? Getting fucked within an inch of your life is great, but it’s not the only way to cum. Gentle and tender is good, too, and important; and it makes it easier for sex to be about your whole body, not just about the part where the guy’s sticking his dick.”

“Fuuuuuck,” Scarlett breathes after several long moments. “I’ve never had anyone play with my boobs or rub with my button while they’re fucking me . . . I rub my button myself sometimes—why does it feel better when you do it?” I lift her breast and bend my head to suckle its stiff pink nub; it’s not a comfortable position, but I can do it long enough. I suckle her hard and fast, scraping the nipple with my teeth and teasing it with my tongue. I pinch her clit gently and wiggle it a little.

“Ohhh, fuck, Mr. Harrison,” Scarlett bursts out, “just like that on my button—more—more—harder—more . . . suckle my nipple—so good—so good—so close—I’m—cumming—again—” She does, hard, with a wild howl.

I wrap my arms around her again, holding her close and cupping the back of her head, and reclaim her lips with a hard, demanding kiss. She embraces my neck and kisses me back with equal passion. With Scarlett in my arms, I cut loose, pounding her pussy hard and fast. She moans and mewls into my mouth; her hands explore my back, sometimes clenching and digging in. The dresser is solid and phlegmatic, making no more noise as I hammer Scarlett’s cunt than it ever did when I was pounding Rowan’s. I plant kisses all over her face—her eyelids, her cheeks, her jawline, her ears. “So good—so good,” she murmurs. “Your cock fucks me so good . . . Hold me, Mr. Harrison—fuck me hard and hold me harder—hold me close . . . just don’t stop . . .”

I suckle Scarlett’s ear and murmur, “Cum for me, baby girl. Cum all over my cock. Cum all wrapped up in me. Let me feel your sweet little pussy cum.” I tongue-fuck her ear then and make her squeal.

“Yes—yes—yes—” she pants. “I’m close—so close—you feel so good—making love to me . . . Make me cum, Mr. Harrison—cum in me—cum in my hot teen pussy—fill me with your seed—cum hard in me and make me cum . . .”

I reclaim Scarlett’s lips and kiss her with bruising intensity; I can feel the hunger in her response. I moan into her mouth as my climax floods me like the ocean, deep and powerful and vast. I hold myself deep inside her, feeling my balls unload into her tight, wet heat in a fountain of ecstasy. She clenches me tightly and kisses me hard; a high, wild sound is muffled by my mouth, and she cums, shaking, in my arms. Her creampot milks my cock for every drop it can get.

I straighten up after some time and look at Scarlett. Her hair has fallen across her face; I gently brush it away and kiss her forehead. She looks at me with wonder in her eyes and murmurs, “Thank you, Mr. Harrison. That felt—special. You made me feel special.”

“I should,” I say tenderly. “You are special.”