Sex Scene Championship 2017 : Cailin Briste Vs Samantha Ann King #SSceneC2017 @cailinbriste @samanthaannking

She bent over, covered his lips with hers, and claimed his mouth in a long, sultry kiss. His tongue tangled with hers, thrusting in rhythmic penetration. Perfect. When she broke the kiss, he groaned. She gave a low chuckle. “I have another use for that mouth of yours.”“Your pussy?” His voice had grown dark and heavy, plucking at the cords of arousal deep inside her.

“If you ask nicely.”

“Please, may I lick your sweet pussy, Lasair?”

Instead of verbally assenting, she toggled the foot pedal that lowered the bench, and when it had reached the desired height, she threw her leg over him. She’d trimmed her hair with this moment in mind. Now, positioned a scant inch above where he licked his lips, she swiped down, dragging her labia across his mouth. His tongue immediately darted out to lap up the slickness of her arousal while he moaned his pleasure. Each time the tip touched her clit, she savored the flash of blissful sensation. She ground against him, and he began sucking.

“Shit yes. Just like that.” She collapsed forward, grasping the sides of the bench by the top of his head. The upward spiral toward orgasm came hard and fast until the peak hit, and she shuddered, her pussy squeezing tight in a climax that thrust deep through her core. When clarity returned, Maon was moaning beneath her, using his tongue to stroke her clit, sending zinging pulses through her that made her twitch. Then he chuckled.

She panted and with a huff of air said, “Sweet man, you do that very well.”

When she swung her leg over and away, Maon licked his lips. “That was fun.”

“I have just the reward.” Her inner cat was purring but showed its teeth in a wicked grin.

Desire blazed from his eyes. “Please use your pretty mouth on me.”

“On no. Not this time,” she said while prying the green bottle from his hand. When she brought it up, Maon’s stomach tightened.

“This is a gift from Randolph. He’s thinking of calling it Ecstasy in a Bottle.” She unscrewed the cap and set the slim container next to Maon’s hip. With the attached brush, she painted his cock with short strokes, starting at the base just above where her fingers firmly gripped him. Fizzing. Swirling. Churning. The bubbling stuff had an immediate effect. Unable to lie still, Maon writhed to the extent the leather straps allowed. His jaw clenched, he sucked in air between his teeth.

She continued to paint his penis, finally reaching the top and twirling a large blob in the hole at the tip. His eyes rolled back in his head.

She put the bottle in the cupboard.

“Lights off.”

With the bottle hidden away, his glowing green cock was the only thing visible in the pitch-black. The slime moved with a life of its own. She stroked his body. Lax muscles had tightened, stiffening until his body was as rigid as the table beneath him. In the mirror, his erection was rippling fluorescent green. The scent of the spicy oil she used on his skin wafted around him. With a whisper in his ear, she said, “Breathe.” She chuckled at his attempt to suck air into a chest tight with tension.

His hips undulated in a rhythm of their own, thrusting up, pushing to attain some impossible pinnacle. With her fingers, she shared in his erratic twitches, watching while the goo assaulted every nerve fiber in his long cock. He was incredibly beautiful in his ecstasy, control shattered, voicing his abandon in gasps and moans, until with a long undulation he cried, “Lasair.”

When she caressed his balls with her finger, they pulled up hard.

“Lights on low.”

The point of no return arrived when hundreds of tiny bubbles burst at the base of his cock. The pinprick pops moved up his erection, reaching the tip, and he came in an exquisite rush of overwhelming pleasure. Cum shot in long streams, falling in warm stickiness on his chest and stomach. It was the most erotic sight she’d ever seen. His breath coming in quick pants, he lay undone and unmoving, unable to relax the upward thrust of his pelvis. She stroked his side, restoring his grip on reality, allowing him to settle against the table.

Dylan murmured in her ear. “He wants to fuck you.”

He was giving her to his roommate? She had to be missing something. Her heart thudded in her ears, and she tried to swallow past her suddenly dry mouth.

“He can’t have you alone. You’re my girl.”

She loved it when he said that. He loved her, wanted her. But still… “Are you sure?”

His fingers slipped beneath her shirt, where he cupped her breast and teased her nipple. She became light-headed. Blaine watched, didn’t even pretend to avert his gaze. They’d never done anything this blatant in front of him, not where he could actually see them.

“I mean, wouldn’t it—” as sensation shot to her swollen and wet pussy, she bit back a moan, “—bother you?”

“My best bud and my best girl? Fuckin’ hot. And I’ll be with you. It’s not like you’ll be doing it behind my back. It’ll be the three of us together. Both of us inside you.”

She tried to think. It was difficult with his hand on her breast and Blaine’s hot gaze taking in everything.

“He’s only imagined these,” he said, dipping his head and taking a puckered nipple between his teeth. The moist heat of his mouth seeped through her shirt. “I want him to see them.” His hand slid out and he teased the edge of her cami. “Can I show him?” He tugged the stretchy fabric down to the edge of her nipple, and cool air washed over the fleshy top of her breast. “Just a little preview.”

She arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward, desperate for Dylan to expose her. A whimper escaped before she could clamp it off. Now they’d know how much she wanted this. There was no mistaking her hunger.

“You wanna do it, baby? You wanna show him?”

Her head rolled back and forth. She wanted him to do it. She wanted him to bare her. If she had to do it herself, she’d die of embarrassment. She couldn’t.

The fabric caught on the hardened nipple. He jerked, and it was suddenly free to Blaine’s hot gaze.

“Touch yourself. Show him what you like.”

The good girl played tug of war with her desires as her hand crept over her belly, her ribs. She cupped her breast in her palm and lightly pinched her nipple, sending pulses of pleasure to her pussy.

Dylan’s hand skimmed down her belly until he reached the waist of her jeans, where he paused as if waiting for permission. Blaine froze. He didn’t even breathe. His gaze was duct-taped to Dylan’s hand.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, and her hips twitched against his hand. This was it. The breasts were nothing. A peep show. But if she bared her pussy, she was RSVPing yes to their invitation.

She wanted this. Both of them. Had even fantasized about it while Blaine listened from that top bunk. She’d imagined him joining them. Not just watching, although that thought had always been enough to make her come. But touching her, licking her, fucking her.

Dylan unsnapped and unzipped her jeans.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting for his touch, knowing Blaine was watching and hoping that tonight he could join them. Dylan’s hand slipped under her panties and touched her pussy. She drank in the air she’d been withholding in anticipation. Her head dropped back, and her hips arched into his fingers. He rolled her clit, and she held her breath again as she teetered on the edge, stretching, grasping for the full, nova-like climax that was just—

He stopped, abandoning her clit and leaving her so frustrated she whimpered. But he wasn’t done torturing her. He shifted her until her back rested against his chest. Both hands free, he grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it, inch by agonizing inch. “What do you say, baby? Are you in?”