Lesbian Tutors - Private Lessons

She'd been waiting since the 19th. September 19th, 2013, to be exact. That wasn't the release date. That was when I first made her wait. She stands in the doorway now, legs apart, soaking black lace pulled to the side. Pussy open. Swollen. Glinting. The clock on the nightstand still reads the same goddamn numbers—9/19/13—and I haven't touched the thing since. Haven't reset it. Haven't moved it. It's ours now. Part of this. Part of what we're doing. I sink two fingers into her without asking. She takes them like she's been starving for ten years. Her hips snap forward. Muscles clench, wet and tight, sucking at the intrusion. She moans—short, cracked, broken open at the edges. My cock strains against denim. She watches the bulge like prey. I unzip slow, deliberate, let it spring out heavy, flushed dark at the tip, already leaking. I stroke once. She licks her lips without thinking. "On your knees," I tell her. She drops fast. Carpet burns her shins, but she doesn't flinch. Her mouth finds the head like muscle memory. Tongue flat. Lips stretching. She takes the full length in one long push until the head bumps the back of her throat. No gag. Just heat. Pressure. Her eyes watering as she holds it, then pulls back with a wet sound, spit stringing from her chin to my cock. I grab a fistful of hair at the crown and slam back in. Face-fucking her while she chokes and moans around me. The hand on her pussy never stops moving. Three fingers now, knuckle-deep, twisting, scissoring. Her slick runs down my wrist. The sound is filthy—obscene sucking, wet slapping. She's close. I know the signs. The tremble in her thighs. The way her shoulders jerk. I yank out. Drag her up. Spin her. Bend her over the edge of the bed. Her cunt's dripping down her thighs. I slap the head against her clit once. Twice. Then drive in to the hilt. She screams into the mattress. Her walls grip me like they want to trap me. I fuck her hard enough the bedframe slams the wall. One hand around her throat, the other pinning her wrists behind her back. The lace of her garter belt bites red into her hips with every thrust. Her ass jiggles. Her nipples drag across the sheets, raw and tight. "Harder," she gasps. "Please—fuck—" I give it. Angle deeper. Grind the head against the spot that makes her whole body seize. She comes around me—tight, pulsing, screaming. I follow right after, buried to the root, pumping thick and hot until it leaks back out around my cock. Neither of us moves for a full minute. Outside, the world keeps turning. Inside this room, time stopped on September 19th, 2013. And tonight? It's still there.