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Lyric
Ian is turning more ghostly by the second, so we waste no more time. I claw at his shirt, the sound of the fabric ripping apart making my beaver drool. Ian pants as he sloppily kisses me, his teeth and lips clumsy as he tries to concentrate on removing my clothes.
My shirt falls to the floor, and he finally pulls away. A mix of our saliva coats my chin and drips down my neck as he stares down at my naked boobies. He grips the stiff peaks of my nipples, pinching and twisting them like they’re joysticks on an Xbox controller.
“You like what you see, big boy?” I say, my voice a sultry purr. He grins, his dimples showing beneath the thick coating of stubble.
“I do.”
I yank the rest of my clothing off, letting it pile up with the rest of my dirty laundry. His eyes drop to my bare sex, and he gasps.
“Where’s the hair?” he cries, reaching out and dragging his fingers through my beef curtains.
“I’m all smooth for you, snookums.” My hands drag over my body, following the dips of my curves. He shakes his head.
“I wanted to see ye dark little curlies,” he says sadly. “I was really looking forward to getting a rope burn on my face from ye riding it so hard.” He sticks his tongue out and waggles it, mimicking what he’s going to do to my love pearl soon. My lava core aches and drips with sweet juice at the thought.
“Lay back,” I instruct, and, no surprise, he does. He falls to his back on the floor, his legs spread wide. His column of flesh sticks up proudly beneath his kilt, and it takes all I have not to ride that thing home.
Instead, I crawl up his body and straddle his big head. His red curls spill out on the floor, and I reach down, gripping them in my fingers. He groans, and it vibrates my southern lips.
I don’t wait for him to give me the okay. I just lower myself on his face, dragging my hips around until my nub hits his mouth. Immediately, he wraps his lips around it and sucks like his life depends on it. He sucks so hard, I’m positive he’s giving me a hickey.
I cry out, my head falling back. My long hair tickles my asscrack, and I swing it back and forth, thankful the dry ends are giving me a bit of a breeze. Jerking my hips back and forth, I ride that man’s face for all I’m worth.
I don’t stop until my lower stomach contracts and my body seizes up. Trembling and shaking, I let my violent orgasm shoot through me. He bangs on my hips and thighs, struggling to breathe, but even if I wanted to, I can’t lift my pink palace off his face.
It’s an insane orgasm. So hard, so intense. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, yet I want it to go on forever. Finally, he shoves me backward, and my ass lands on his wide chest.
My legs splay out on either side of his head, and he stares up at me between them, his eyes wide. “Lass,” he breathes, but I just smile. His gaze drops to my watering hole, and I spread my legs even more for him, letting him see every bit of me he now owns.
“How about you stick that velvety steel rod in my tight little cavern?”
He drags his tongue along his lips, his hungry gaze eating me alive. My core aches in anticipation as he tears his kilt off and lets it fall to the floor with the rest of the discarded clothing.
My hands glide over my body as I watch his pecker sling forward and stick straight out, hard, long, and proud.
“Ye sure about this, lass?” he asks warily.
A soft chuckle leaves me. “Am I ready? The real question is, are you ready? You’re the virgin here.” A blush settles across his face, and I can’t help but smile at his shyness. My arms shake from holding myself up, watching him.
“If I need help, I’ll ask,” he says, and I smirk. Such a cocky little virgin, isn’t he? Gripping my hips, he flips me onto my stomach.
A jolt of excitement shoots through me as he hikes me up onto my knees. I glance over my shoulder at him, finding him staring down at my keester, likely at my opening—both of them. I wiggle my hips invitingly for him, and he clenches his jaw.
The muscles on his chest flex and shift as he strokes his thick hog, the smattering of chest hair circling his hardened nipples. The bulbous head of his prick rests against my entrance.
“I’m gonna breed ye like a horse,” he mutters, his voice low and raspy. My mouth falls open—he’s going to do what?
Before my mind can catch up to his words, he shoves forward, forcing his gigantic sword in my tight sheath. A scream rips from my throat and my nails dig into the carpet, the fibers sliding under my nails.
“Ye feel so good,” he groans, his voice guttural. “I canna believe this is how you feel.”
His hips piston forward, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. With every thrust, it feels like electricity is shooting through my body. Sweat drips from his face onto my back, his fluid absorbing into my skin.
He stretches me to my limits, the pain mixing with the pleasure of being possessed by him. As he drags his cock out, I feel every thick vein, every ridge, every bit of his hard shaft, and I cry out again.
“You’re so big,” I scream, and his fingers flex on my soft hips. “Harder. Plow my field harder!”
