Her Hand at the Wheel

Emily rises from the mattress like a predator, eyes dark with intent, climbing into my lap the second my pants hit the floor. She straddles me, her slick, swollen pussy sliding along my cock, coating me in her wetness. The sheets beneath us are already soaked from earlier, the scent of her arousal thick in the air.

She leans in, kissing me deep and filthy, tasting herself on my tongue; salty-sweet, intoxicating. Her hands grip my shoulders and neck, nails digging in just enough to sting. I feel her shift, pressing forward until I take the hint and fall back onto the pillows. She smirks down at me, hair wild around her flushed face.

“I was supposed to make you cum buckets,” she teases, voice husky, “not the other way around.”

I grin up at her, cock throbbing against her thigh. “Think you’ve got the energy to try me, baby?”

Her expression twists into playful shock, then pure smug determination. “Oh, you’re going down.”

Except she does; slowly, deliberately. Her lips trail fire down my chest, tongue flicking over my nipples, teeth grazing skin. She shifts lower, kneeling between my legs, facing me, her small hand wrapping around my shaft. The grip is firm, possessive, and I groan as she gives a slow, teasing stroke.

She looks up, eyes locked on mine, and drags her tongue along the underside of my cock; slow, flat, from base to tip, swirling around the head like she’s savoring me. She licks my cock head with a moan.

“You like when I suck your cock, baby?” she asks, voice low and dirty, knowing exactly what it does to me.

I don’t get a chance to answer. Her lips part and she takes me in; hot, wet, perfect. The head slides past her lips, her tongue pressing against the sensitive underside as her cheeks hollow with suction. She pulls back slowly, lips sealed tight, then sinks down again, taking more. Her hand twists at the base in rhythm, the other raking light nails across my abs, sending sparks up my spine.

She works me deeper, determined, eyes watering but never breaking contact. Saliva coats me, dripping down to her fingers as she pumps what she can’t yet swallow. She moans around me; the vibration shooting straight to my balls; and I feel her throat relax as she pushes further, nose brushing my pelvis before pulling back with a gasp, strings of spit connecting us.

“Fuck, Emmy…” I groan, hips twitching.

She pops off just long enough to grin, stroking me fast and slick. “You taste so good,” she whispers, then dives back down, bobbing faster, sucking harder, hand twisting in perfect sync.

I thread my fingers through her hair; not guiding, just holding; as she sets a relentless pace. She knows every trick: tongue flicking the frenulum, lips sealed tight on the upstroke, hand following her mouth like she’s trying to milk me dry. My balls tighten, pleasure coiling hot and fast.

She feels it, hums around me in approval, and doubles down; sucking, stroking, moaning like my cock is the best thing she’s ever tasted.

I’m in heaven, but she doesn’t know the gift the Voyeurs gave me: endless release, volume without limit... total control. So tonight, I’m going to give her exactly what she promised herself.

Buckets.