Masturbation Monday: Lasshole fucker 2

Ngaire had just said, “Come in,” to Freddie, or more specifically to his thumb, well coated in lubricant and tapping lightly at her asshole. 

He said, “Thank you,” gravely, and pushed forward. Because she was already slippery from his first insertion, and his thumb hadn’t hurt her even a little bit, she could keep herself relaxed. He slipped inside, the length of his thumb, so that the edge of his palm pressed against soft skin between her buttocks and her thighs. 

She held still, her ass in the air, slightly penetrated. He held still as well. He said, “Are you ok? How does it feel?”

She considered her sensations. “It doesn’t hurt at all. That kind of surprised me. It feels kind of strange, though. I was taught this is really unnatural, what we’re doing. I guess I’m getting used to it. Could you … move your thumb back and forth, like you’re fucking me? Please?”

“As you wish.” He was quoting some film, she knew, though she couldn’t remember which. But his thumb seemed to press deeper – she hadn’t thought it was possible – then withdrew a little, and moved back. The movements were tiny at first, maybe a centimetre forwards and back, but slowly each withdrawal was a little further.

She realised she missed that thumb when it was absent, and was relieved when, slowly, easily, it was back. She sighed, pleasured.

Then she felt herself blushing. That sigh had told him she was enjoying this. He must know she’s a pervert. She thought, Shut up, Mum. Fuck off, Steve. Anyway, Freddie obviously liked perverted girls. And he wasn’t exactly unkinky himself.

The thumb stopped moving then. “Now you,” Freddie said. “When it’s my cock, I’ll expect you to move. So. Now it’s your turn: fuck my thumb.”

She knew that if he were with Daphne, or the mysterious, missing, Shar, he’d have reinforced that order with a hard slap across her ass. Well, she thought, he’ll just have to make do with obedience. She raised her ass a little higher, and carefully moved forward, tightening her muscle on the thumb.

Then she rocked back, still slowly, letting her muscle relax as he entered deeper. She sighed again, but did not blush.

Then she moved again, taking him and almost-releasing him, and taking him again, fucking him. She knew, almost if she had a cock herself, how good that would feel for him. And then that the pleasure she felt wasn’t just in her imagination. That thumb, and her movements on it, felt good.

She said, “So, are you going to fuck my ass, or what?” 

She looked back over her shoulder, to catch delight – there was no other word – in his eyes. But he tried to look serious. “You can never have too much lube. So you have to lube my cock, too.”

He hadn’t moved. Ngaire waited. She said, “Well?”

“No, I mean you have to lube my cock.” 


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