I spent many nights thinking about Kate and that uniform.
I sit up, kissing the side of her neck, listening to her breath get shorter as she is more turned on. When I pull her down onto my lap, she glides easily on the length of my bare cock, making a satisfied sound once I'm inside. I pull her against my, my hands on her breasts, and let her rock gently on me. She likes it slow at first, and then harder, but I remind myself to be careful with her.
"Caulter," she whispers.
"God, you feel fucking fantastic," I say into her ear, my voice low. I pull her tighter against me, my lips trailing down the top of her shoulder, my teeth dragging across her skin the way she likes.
"You realize…" Her voice drifts off, replaced by a soft moan when she rocks onto me deeply.
"Yes…"
"We're in my old room," she whispers.
"I know." That is something I definitely noticed. Even now, the thought makes my cock jump, as memories of that summer flooding my head.
"I felt that," Kate whispers, riding me faster now, her back arched and her hips pressing down. The bed makes a little squeaking sound and she pauses. Her not moving is excruciating. "The bed is squeaking, Caulter. Did it squeak on us that summer?"
"I can't remember," I say. "It's a miracle we weren't caught if it was making this much noise back then."
"Are you thinking about that summer?" she asks. She rides me faster, as if she's remembering one of the times we very nearly got caught in this house.
"I'm thinking about how wet you are right now," I say, slapping the fleshy part of her ass lightly as she brings herself down on me.
"Liar," she says, tightening her * muscles around me on purpose. I reach around her and squeeze her breasts.
Turnabout is fair play.
Her breath becomes shallower, and she presses herself hard against me, the tip of my cock against her inside. Then she grinds slowly against me.
"What memory are you thinking of?" I whisper, my lips close to her ear. "What was your favorite?"
She moans softly. "The hallway," she whispers.
The hallway.
I push against her, my momentum matching hers. The hallway was dirty. It was filthy. "Tell me," I say, forcing myself to not picture the morning of the Senator's photo opportunity pancake breakfast. Or the way I pressed Kate's hands above her head, holding her palms against the door frame as I flicked open the button of her pants. "What did I do in the hallway, again?"
She whimpers as she rides me faster now, the bed squeaking louder but we both pretending we don't hear it. "You slid your fingers down my panties," she whispers softly, "While our parents were right downstairs. Anyone could have looked upstairs and seen us."
"Is that what you like, Kate?" I ask, even though I already know it's true. It's not the being-seen part that turns her on; it's the fear of getting caught. She likes the thrill of doing something naughty and the potential of being discovered.
"Yes," she moans. Her * is so swollen around me, tightening even more as she gets closer, that I have to concentrate on not coming inside her right this very second.
"Tell me, Princess," I say. "Did you like my fingers inside you, bringing you to the edge of orgasm even though you despised me?"
"Oh God, yes," she says, her voice louder. She clasps her hand over her mouth. "I hated you. You were so arrogant, so cocky, reaching your hands into my panties like I wanted you."
"I heard you call out my name that summer," I say, my movements faster. Kate rides me with abandon, moving up and down on my cock, giving me a perfect view of her gorgeous round ass. I slap her ass cheek again, then spread them to push a fingertip against that perfect pink puckered asshole. "You masturbated while you thought about me."
"You fingered me," she says, her words punctuated by short breaths. I think about the expression on her face back then as I rolled my finger over her clit, about the way she couldn't help but let out a moan when I slid my finger inside her.
"I'd never felt anything better," I say.
"Oh, fuck, Caulter," she moans, her muscles tightening harder around me. "I'm going to come."
"And then I licked my fingers," I tell her. "Because I wanted to taste you."
She comes. She clasps her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound, and I let go, my orgasm so strong it's nearly blinding as she continues to ride me until she's satisfied.
And then we come crashing down.
Literally.
The fucking bed breaks. The footboard actually falls off the end of the bed, and the bed pitches forward, dropping to the floor with a jolt.
"Shit," I say, pulling Kate against me. "Are you okay? That didn't hurt you, did it?"
"Yes," she says, and for a second I think she's crying but she's not.