Page 87 of The Other Side of Paradise

“N-no…”

I licked my lips. “You like hearing about my dirty fantasies with you. About how I’m going to grind you into my pussy until I come.”

Her hips moved, seemingly involuntarily, as she let out a small noise. “Oh, fuck. Yes. I do.”

“Well, don’t leave me all alone. Tell me about yours.”

“But…” She hesitated, and I lowered my voice.

“Tell me, Allison. That’s your instruction.”

“G-getting to go down on you. You… tying my hair up and holding me in place by that.”

“Oh, hot.”

“And some stuff that you wouldn’t… you know.”

I laughed. “I told you to tell me.”

“You… t-touching me, too. It’s just a fantasy. I mean—”

“How do I touch you?” I said, moving my fingers on my clit. “In your fantasies, what’s it like?”

“Oh my god. Um… g-good? You know… good. You… your fingers… on my…”

“I start off with my fingers on your clit. And then?”

“Then… moving slowly from side to side…”

“Like this,” I said, doing it on my own. Her gaze followed the movement, and she bit her lip hard, nodding.

“And then… the… moving your fingers down to my entrance and just… teasing…”

I moaned softly as I demonstrated. “Like this,” I said. “You want me doing this?”

“It’s not like I’m… saying that you…”

I bit my lip. “You’d better hurry up and paint, Allison. I’m so fucking horny I’m going to ruin your couch.”

She gasped softly, going back to the painting with renewed fervor. I guess she liked the couch. That was all.

God, I couldn’t wait to fuck her face.

I kept going—playing lightly with my pussy while she painted, asking her questions about what she liked—telling her what I liked—and she gasped when, finally, she set her brush down and stepped away.

“Okay—it needs to dry before I can do the overpaints—that’s all I can do for now, is it… am I…”

I bit my lip, smiling. “Go wash your hands, Allison.”

“Uh. Yes. Right.”

“And then I want you back here immediately.”

She made a soft, needy little noise, going into the bathroom and running water, and she was shaky when she came back into the room, coming towards me with her eyes locked on the hand between my legs. I sat up, every part of my body blossoming with awareness, with need, and when she was close to me, I hooked my fingers under the band of her bra, holding her in place.

“I want you to take this off,” I said. “Take everything off.”

She didn’t hesitate this time—reached back and undid her bra hooks and tossed it aside, and she dropped her panties to the floor. She’d gone and made a sticky mess all along her thighs, to say nothing of her pussy. She’d shaved, too. Probably trying to impress me. Good, because I was.