Lazy Weekend - Book 1 - Sex Stories

Lazy Weekend - Book 1

... Imperfect perfection. He felt a slight bump at his finger tips and knew he had reached her clitoris’ hood. She whimpered again and let out a soft moan. “You’re hard,” she whispered. He was now hugging her, not tightly, firmly, and had his manhood between her bottom cheeks. Her body heat was warm against his chest and belly, comforting to hold. “No sex,” he whispered back. “Just pleasure.” “I never told you this but you are a confusing philosopher.” He reached further down and moved his fingers in a slow circle. She moaned again, smiled then breathed, “I like the intellectual challenge, though.” “You’re intellectually challenging, too.” He smiled, their dark brown eyes, almost black, connecting. He massaged in a slightly faster circle, making her moan as thousands of receptors were stimulated in her clitoris. He sped up and slowed down, faster and slower, in circles and in lines. He could feel the slight difference between the fluids at his finger tips. The water had washed away the soap and what was left was the water that flowed down her body and the slow release of excitement from her womanhood. Her whimpers and gentle moans filled the bathroom, echoing gently around and filling their ears. The fingers on his right hand continued while his left hand traced back up to her firm breasts and slowly massaged them, occasionally rubbing her nipples between his thumb and index finger. The sensations that she was immersed in could not be described. Comfort from his hug, ...

... relaxation from the massage and pleasure from his foreplay. It coursed through her body, down her spine, a heightened amount of biological electric current that filled her head. She let out an involuntary gasp and moans as his finger entered her. One. Then two. She was wet on the inside too. Between moist and wet, not dripping. There was a difference. Her hymen had been torn already from all the exercise they had been doing. Running, sprinting, and cycling. She was a sports girl, a casual one, but she loved it especially when they spent time with their friends. His fingers sped up and slowed down the way they had when massaging her clitoris. His fingers were slightly curled and pressure was applied to the walls of her inner womanhood. Her back was arched slightly and her head was tilted back, their cheeks touching, her mouth slightly gaping. He planted slow and gentle kisses on her neck, letting his lips linger sometimes a little longer, sometimes not. Moving his index and middle fingers with varying speeds, he massaged her clitoris hood gently with his thumb, stimulating her clitoris beneath, and sending waves of pleasure through her entire being. Her breath was quick and sharp, with occasional moans. She had her right arm up and around his neck, bringing him in closer as if wanting him to experience all that she felt. “Kiss me,” she said somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. “French?” “Doesn’t matter.” His heart thumped harder than he’d expected it to, making part of him hope it ...