Their Corruption Brews

Dillon wasn't content to idly sit and wait for Sandra to text. His cock ached with desire, and his mind was drowning in heated thoughts and images. Glancing out at his balcony he thought about Sandra being bent over on the railing, her large breasts swinging back and forth as he hammered into her, their sounds and pleasure echoing out from the building to call perverse audiences to their spectacle.

He sat at the computer rubbing the head of his cock through his jeans as he looked through porn on the internet, trying to find something to wet his appetite just right as he awaited the call to go ravage his girlfriend.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, a quick ctrl-tab concealed the true object of his attention on the computer as Emi sat down on the couch behind him innocently. She hummed happily going through things on her phone before suddenly going silent. Her usually content complacent face suddenly drained of colour as it overflowed with dread.

“How…” She mumbled as Dillon came over and sat down.

“What is it?” He asked her considerately.

Emi had gone through a strenuous break up before moving to the city for college. Her ex didn't get the clue even though restraining orders were issued and police heavily involved. Yet here was a text on her new phone number, from an unknown number in her hometown's area code.

I’m sorry for anything I might have done to upset you.

“It is my ex. I don't know how he got my number but…”

“Email screen caps to the officer in charge of the restraining order. Don't reply.” Dillon quickly instructed.

“I'm going to block the number too,” Emi responded tapping away at her phone anxiously.

“No! You need to know and report if he keeps violating the order.” Dillon quickly responded looking at the visibly shaken girl. “Need a hug?”

Emi nodded yes, putting her phone down and snuggling up to Dillon intimately. She felt warm and comforted and oddly aroused. She couldn't understand the last one, entirely brought on by the subtle corruption and pheromones passively circling the building as Dion merged with it.

As the two sat on the couched Emi's hands began to wander. She didn't know why or think anything of it, it just felt right circling the restricted fabric of his jeans over… It must be huge.

Shrugging the embrace a bit looser Emi turned to face Dillon palming the bulge more, and more. Dillon just sort of kept quiet, wondering just what was on her mind. His mind already thinking of just how far he’d love to go.

Looking at Emi Dillon couldn’t help but notice the hard nipples, pressing through her bra and shit, her wide brown eyes, amplified in their innocent and exploratory gaze by the glasses, trimmed by her short bangs hanging over them.

Brushing her bangs out of her gaze for a moment she turned to Dillon, “I'm sorry it just… it feels so… hard and big…” Emi sheepishly murmured, growing ever more fascinated as she felt the bulge harder and harder. “Mind if I…”