all sons of old gods, die!

cupcakesandcum:

“Get these jeans off.” 

She pulled her own shirt over her head as she barked commands from her knees.  He swung his belt backward through the buckle and tried not to fumble with his button in the race to remove his pants.  The denim had barely passed his knees when she cried out.

“What are those?”

She pointed at the tent rising in his briefs and he looked at her confused.  Surely she’d seen an erection before.  She’d done a bang up job of causing this one.

“What?”

“Your briefs!” 

He blushed under her pointed gaze.  He was confident they were clean.  He’d pulled them from the dryer that morning.  If the offense was his underpants, not their contents, he couldn’t imagine what her objection was. 

“What’s wrong with them?”

She gave him a look of disbelief. 

“Throw them away.”

He couldn’t help but laugh.  His fingers were caught in the elastic band, frozen in time while their conversation played itself out. 

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s anarchy!”

“Anarchy?”

“Testicular anarchy!”

She ran her finger up and down his shaft through the ribbed cotton of his briefs.  It was enough to keep him hard and pulsing, despite the ridiculous conversation. 

“I like keeping them tight and close.  Don’t you like them that way, too?  Certainly it’s more impressive.”

At that he went to pull them down and let his erection spring forward.  She gave him a look that let him know he shouldn’t dare and so he didn’t.  Instead he let his arms hang to his sides as she expertly stroked his length as it strained through the fabric. 

“I’m a proud testicle fascist.  I’m going to rule with an iron fist.”

At that, her hand snaked underneath the thick seam and her hand wrapped around his girth.  She pressed it against the fabric, her hand straddling the white cotton like a jockey would a horse.  

She brought her other hand to her own panties.  Her fingers snuck around the gusset and plunged into her cunt, fast and furious.  He could only watch, his mouth agape.  She removed her hand, which shimmered like it had been dipped in glitter, and brought it to her mouth.  With her tongue she bathed each digit, suckling the juice from her fingers and taunting him with her eyes, which she had locked on his.  When her hand was soaked with spit, she brought it to his balls, cupping them and massaging them with her shiny fingers. 

At his moan, she brought her lush lips to his head and leaned in, bulldozing the cotton to the mushroom head of his cock.  Her breath was warm and wet and her saliva soaked through the fabric, mixing with his pre-cum in the threads.  She swirled her tongue and lips around the constrained cock, sucking him roughly.

She pulled back, watching the ecstasy on his face.  Her hand tightened its grip and she began to stroke him.  Each pump was tight and fast but the wet cotton stayed molded to his head. 

With a loud “Fuck!” he erupted, his seed pushing through the fabric to drip like melted ice cream down her hand. 

She laughed.

“I warned you.  An iron grip.  Now throw them away.”

-=C&C=-