Perv
He grabbed me a little, but his fingers just slipped from around my waist, brushing over my tats. He licked his lips and whimpered, like he thought maybe I was gonna walk away.
Who knows? Maybe I was.
Not that I didn't want to fuck him. I did; I really fucking did.
He was half naked and hard and looking up at me with hungry eyes.
But that stupid voice in the back of my head told me that maybe it wasn't such a good idea.
I don't know. Maybe it was because he said I'm perfect. That shit fucked with my mind.
Whatever. I wasn't exactly sure why. I didn't want to fucking psychoanalyze myself, like that shrink my mom sent me to in high school. That fucker didn't know what the fuck he was talking about.
Punk took one look at my thinking about not fucking face and stuck out his bottom lip.
"You don't want to fuck me?" he whispered, looking like I just kicked his fucking dog or something.
Fuck. I wished he wouldn't look at me like that. It made my stomach feel weird again.
"No lube," I said, and his face fell like I had just told him that Santa Claus doesn't exist.
He opened his mouth like he was going to whine, so I told him to shut up. He gasped as I grabbed his knees and dragged him close, then flipped him over. I pressed my cock against his ass, and he humped the cruiser.
I was still mad as fuck. I thought for sure I'd get arrested today, and that was all his fucking fault.
But I was also horny as fuck and he had a fucking point, sort of: He did get permission.
He looked over his shoulder at me, and then he shook his ass. I thought about how fucking good it was the last time. Spanking him was like some kind of high. I had been looking for another hit since that first day, and hell if I was going to walk away.
If I wasn't going to fuck him then I sure as hell was going to spank him.
I yanked at his pants, tugging them down to his knees. He groaned a little, then ground against the cruiser.
I told him to be fucking still. Goddamn it, it's like he can't fucking ever be still.
He stopped – mostly – and I was pretty sure he was holding his breath.
I stared for a while, trying to figure out how I wanted to do it. Left cheek or right? How fucking hard? How fucking many?
I ran my hand over his ass while I thought. My fingers slipped a little here, then they dipped a little there. Every touch felt so damn good.
But spanking was even better.
My hand was up and then down before I even knew it. He huffed out a breath, and then he groaned. He rested his cheek against the cruiser, and then he pushed his ass out, asking for more.
Two, three, four. I kept going, over and over. It was like I didn't ever want to stop. But I didn't want to hurt him either, so I made them softer, taking more time between each spank.
Finally, when his ass was bright red, and my hand stung, I palmed my cock.
It felt so fucking good.