( It's only a few steps into the room to put a door between them and the apartment, and she realizes she has her work cut out for her, trying to read a face that never moves. She'll have to take cues from his voice, his actions— it's exciting, to figure out something new and intimate.
Then his arm's about her and he's pulling her in against him, chest flattening to steel and surely no way he can feel the way her nipples stiffen to the cool press of his body, her hands slipping around an impossibly tiny "waist" to tease up along that red cord central to his functions. She walks them backwards, until the mattress bumps to the backs of her legs and she can sit if she wants to, if she needs to, come time to see what it is he'll reveal to her. The contrast is delectable, between them. )
I know.
( It's spoken with a promise heavy on the palate. That she'd tell him if it came to it. It won't. The gentle press of his face to her temple is enough to say as much, a sweet and chaste gesture of affection that has her smiling and nuzzling down against his chin, nearly of a height and on her way to sit as he draws back from her.
Angela catches the waist of his bottoms as he shucks them off his hips, easing them down with the slide of her palms to the outer sides of his legs. Her fingertips are holding on by threads as the weight of the fabric slips from her hands at his knees, eyes fixated on the smooth panel sliding away to reveal silvery silicone already dripping and begging for her touch well before his cock slides free. She's already raising the curve of her palm to cup his sex, feeling just how soft and swollen he is, heated through—
She's biting her lip already to the twitch of his cock inches from her face, watching the tremor in his hand as he works on something— else. She rubs up against him, dragging the length of her fingers up from the base of swollen lips, along the sensitive underside glowing in sweet little pulse points, other hand coming up to explore. The penis is clear in its design, but this other bit...
The tip's different. A double, and yet. Is there something lodged in the shaft...? Her fingertips run along the lump, remembering it for what it was. One of the eggs, she presumes. She wants to see that, too, so she nudges his hand away if he'll allow her to, sandwiching both phalluses between her palms for the gentlest pressure, stroking down towards her. He's already so slick it has her lips parting, cheeks flushed high. )
no subject
Then his arm's about her and he's pulling her in against him, chest flattening to steel and surely no way he can feel the way her nipples stiffen to the cool press of his body, her hands slipping around an impossibly tiny "waist" to tease up along that red cord central to his functions. She walks them backwards, until the mattress bumps to the backs of her legs and she can sit if she wants to, if she needs to, come time to see what it is he'll reveal to her. The contrast is delectable, between them. )
I know.
( It's spoken with a promise heavy on the palate. That she'd tell him if it came to it. It won't. The gentle press of his face to her temple is enough to say as much, a sweet and chaste gesture of affection that has her smiling and nuzzling down against his chin, nearly of a height and on her way to sit as he draws back from her.
Angela catches the waist of his bottoms as he shucks them off his hips, easing them down with the slide of her palms to the outer sides of his legs. Her fingertips are holding on by threads as the weight of the fabric slips from her hands at his knees, eyes fixated on the smooth panel sliding away to reveal silvery silicone already dripping and begging for her touch well before his cock slides free. She's already raising the curve of her palm to cup his sex, feeling just how soft and swollen he is, heated through—
She's biting her lip already to the twitch of his cock inches from her face, watching the tremor in his hand as he works on something— else. She rubs up against him, dragging the length of her fingers up from the base of swollen lips, along the sensitive underside glowing in sweet little pulse points, other hand coming up to explore. The penis is clear in its design, but this other bit...
The tip's different. A double, and yet. Is there something lodged in the shaft...? Her fingertips run along the lump, remembering it for what it was. One of the eggs, she presumes. She wants to see that, too, so she nudges his hand away if he'll allow her to, sandwiching both phalluses between her palms for the gentlest pressure, stroking down towards her. He's already so slick it has her lips parting, cheeks flushed high. )