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Or because I want to eat every little piece of candy in that box?
Her teeth drag over my shaft, all the way from the pink tip to the sensitive nook where my balls dangle under the wide base that she can barely lace her clasped hands around.
“You ever touch yourself, thinking about me?”
I blush. Is it wrong to tell her I did, even before I met her? “Yes. Once or twice. Imagining that you might want me, too.”
“You have a great imagination. Show me what you did?” Libby keeps one hand on my sack and catches the feathery tip of my tail with the other, kneading it between her thumb and forefinger. It’s like someone rubbing an erogenous zone I never knew I had.
I’m too far gone, too under her spell to worry if I look like an ass, jerking my cock in front of her, inches from her perfect breasts, her perfect mouth.
Libby lets go of me and stands back, her hair falling free from her messy bun. With a twist of her hips, she rests on one foot, then the other, working that sinful scrap of black fabric away from her ripe, juicy pussy. I can smell how wet she is. How ready. I let out a strangled lowing that comes from deep in my chest. My hips jerk forward, seeking her, aching to bury myself inside of her.
“Follow me. I think we’re going to need something for leverage.”
I obey in a trance, hooves clopping on the thin carpeting as Libby takes me to her bedroom. She plops two pillows against the wall at the head of the bed. “Sit there.”
I sit. Libby stands over me, on the bed.
I lick my lips, unable to resist. This is one of my favorite things about Libby. She’s going to latch onto my horns and ride my tongue like it’s her personal roller coaster.
Only this time, Libby huffs and grunts until she has my knees bent, and she sits her cute little ass on top of them, letting me catch a forbidden glimpse of the wet luscious pink petals she’s hiding from me, denying me.
“What’s this game?” I grunt.
“I told you. Grab me by the hips and slide me up and down, just like you did with your hand.” Libby smirks, daring me.
My mouth won’t work. My girlfriend, who is this incredibly kind, lovely soul—is the stuff sexual fantasies are made out of. “Just...?”
“Use me. My pussy feels good on you, doesn’t it?”
“You have no idea.” This shouldn’t even be a question!
Libby leans back and licks two fingers before she trails them down to her pouting slit. With a soft moan, she opens herself to my gaze, showing me a tiny opening that used to be even tinier. What’s amazing is that I fit. What’s more amazing is that she wants me to fit. What’s most amazing is that she’s finger-fucking herself right in front of me, building up some ancient, possessive lust. “I thought you’d love to use my little pussy on your big, thick cock. Can’t you imagine sliding me up and down, as fast and hard as you want, my silky pussy wrapped around your meat instead of your fist?”
“Where the fuck did you learn to talk like that?” I snarl, hands locking around her hips. Libby gets what Libby wants.
She squeezes my wrist to stop me from pulling her down onto my leaking cock. “I-I don’t know. I never have with anyone but you. I just... I love you. I feel safe. Am I being—”
“You’re being perfect.” I pull her down onto my cock as her grip relaxes, pulling her head to meet mine as well, kissing her with all of my heart. “It’s perfect. So good. I was only wondering how I got so lucky to have a girl like you, that’s all.”
“You like me this way?” There’s a faint worry in her tone that breaks my heart in half.
“I love you this way. I love you every way. Any way.”
I feel her relax and the heat cranks up another notch, more than I thought could be possible. I lock both hands around her hips and press my crown into her, feeding the spongy tip inside inch by inch until it pops in completely. I can see Libby’s opening stretched wide around me, see the way her clit is erect and pushed forward by the massive pressure inside her.
I’m going to get squirted. Maybe right in my mouth if I’m lucky.
“Ohh. Milo, fuuuck.” The word is drawn out, sighing from her lips as I do what she asks, lifting her up gently, pushing her back down slowly, her juice and my pre-cum giving her an easy, slippery ride. Libby sucks her fingers, eyes closed, head back in bliss. In a second, those pretty fingers are rubbing her clit in a circle, mesmerizing me. It was a bright, almost girlish pink, and now her clit is dark red, flushed with blood.
My nostrils flex and flare, inhaling the scent of her. My hips thrust up and my hands push down, faster and faster. I want to fuck that pussy until she’s overflowing with my cream, until she’s squirting helplessly on me, just like I was this morning, suddenly, irrevocably orgasmic.
“Yeah, baby,” I encourage, working my hands against her hips, rolling her up and down, a solid eight inches in her, and yes, there are plenty more to go. I don’t need her to try to take all of me. She’s got the most sensitive parts, and today, trying to keep her balance, her heels and the arch of her foot occasionally presses into the base of my shaft or slides up my chest. There’s Libby on me everywhere. I don’t think I have a foot fetish or anything, but I have hooves, so the sight of Libby’s toes (or any of her uniquely human parts) enchant me because of their differences. I admit that I think her little round toes, arching in pleasure against my skin, are delightful and make me smile.
“You’re so perfect. Every little inch. Your toes. Your lips. Your smile. How come—” I pause to find words over the pleasure that’s boiling inside of me, “you’re so sexy, huh?”
“Only sexy for my Milo,” she gasps, slipping down hard, arching back up. She bounces on me, whimpering in pleasure. “Harder, baby.”
