His Sugar Baby

“I am relaxed!” he ground out.

Behind the blindfold, she rolled her eyes. “O-kay. Good.” She held out her palms. “Lotion.” When her hands were full, she concentrated on backing away slowly, using one of her legs to brush the hairy inside of his thigh for a guide. “You know, this isn’t really that easy,” she remarked. She knelt between his parted knees. He gave some sort of strangled grunt.

She massaged both of his feet before working up his muscular calves. Out of lotion again, she laid one hand casually on a hard thigh. It jumped and twitched under her fingers. She raised her other hand. “Lotion, please.” There wasn’t a sound or movement from him. She tilted her head, listening. “Michael? Have you fallen asleep?” She reached up for the blindfold.

The hard thigh muscles bunched. Her hand was snatched down before it could reach the blindfold. “No! No, here, sorry.” Thick liquid squirted into her palm.

Winter shook her head, almost laughing. It was fun and sexy working on him. She worked up his inner thighs with the heels of her hands. Her breasts bobbed, at times bumping against his legs, and he twitched each time. She could hear his labored breathing. She ducked her head, biting the inside of her lip. She was thoroughly enjoying returning the torture. It wasn’t long before she discovered that he was not wearing his trunks. She curled her fingers around his thick rigid shaft. She touched her tongue to suddenly dry lips. Slowly, lightly, she explored the hard velvet length.

“More—more lotion?” Michael’s voice sounded strangled.

She held up her hands. A very generous portion overfilled her palms. Greasing his length, she curled her fingers more tightly around his flesh. She squeezed then began to move both hands up and down in a corkscrew. The dark behind the blindfold accentuated her senses. His male scent was strong. He was big and hot and stiff.

One of Michael’s hands wrapped over hers, tightening her grip and adjusting the rhythm. It sounded as though he spoke through clenched teeth. “That’s it. Like that. A little harder—God, yes!”

Hot fluid erupted between her flexing fingers, and his shaft jerked convulsively. His thighs were rock-hard under her elbows. Winter gasped at the blind erotic feel of his slippery pumping cock, the heat radiating off his body. The potent musk of him was overpowering. Her belly clenched on swift arousal.

Michael’s hands slid under her shoulders, and he lifted her up into his arms. He pulled her into his naked lap, where his still-hard cock pressed hot and sticky against the curve of her ass. His muscular arms wrapped around her. He touched his sweaty forehead to hers. His breathing was ragged in her ears, his breath warm on her face. “That was good, sweetheart. Really good.”

Winter’s heart raced, and the blood sang through her veins. She touched his face and whispered, “Touch me. Please touch me. I want you, Michael.”

He put her off of his lap and stood up. Then he pulled her close until her naked breasts were crushed against his bare chest. His hands slipped down to her bikini-clad butt, squeezing almost painfully, before he set her aside. “Why don’t you get cleaned up first while I do a few laps in the pool? That way you don’t have to wait on me. You can take off any time you want.” He patted her on the backside and brushed past her.

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