Sex Stories

She kept her thumb on my clitoris, stroking it up and down, massaging my clit with my own sheath. I turned my head, still on her shoulder, to face her. To look at her expression, you’d think she was just enjoying a regular meal. Her face was…not just blank. Smug. Sinister. This diabolical bitch was going to make me spill all over her hand without breaking a sweat. God, yes. I wasn’t ashamed. Not at being masturbated in public, not for lubricating all over these fine cushions. If I was a slut, I was her slut. I held onto her shoulder with my right hand, my left around her waist.