Jock Road (Jock Hard) - Sara Ney Page 0,74
toward her panties. They match her bra—white lace, a bit see-through. I glimpse the dark hair between her legs.
Slowly hitch the waistband and raise it to peek at what lies underneath.
Charlie grips the bedspread, breath catching with every movement I make inside her drawers.
She has hair down there.
It’s dim inside the bedroom, but I can still see it. Neatly trimmed but still—hair.
“Is that okay?” she timidly asks.
“It’s not my body,” I gruffly reply, not caring that she isn’t bare.
“I know, but still. Does it bother y-you?”
“Why would it bother me?”
I catch her shrug. “You know—if you put your mouth down there?”
Oh, I’m definitely putting my mouth down there…
She pushes the point. “If you want me to shave it, I will.”
“Darlin’, I don’t think I mind a little grass on the playin’ field.”
She giggles, a nervous laugh made prominent by the mood.
“And I don’t need ya to shave it.” I slide my palm over the soft patch of fuzz between her legs. “It’s sexy.”
It’s the first pussy I’ve had my hand on, and I’m insatiably curious, index finger running up and down the hot, slick slit heating up her thighs. My thumb begins a steady rotation at that spot right at the top—exactly the same spot I see actors in porn rub. My hands are so huge, that thumb covers a lot of ground, digging a bit deeper as it parts her the smallest bit.
The friction has Charlie moaning.
Her thighs squirm.
Spreading her legs, I wedge myself between her thighs, elbows nudging her wider. Resting on my arms, I take two thumbs and gently spread her pussy. Stare, fascinated, at the parts of Charlie that make her a woman: clit, vulva. The spot above her asshole that I’m tempted to touch.
Using my right thumb, I run it over her labia.
“Jesus, Jackson, would you stop staring at it!”
“I can’t help it—I’ve never seen one up close.”
She throws an arm over her eyes and groans miserably. “It’s so embarrassing.”
“Why? Your clit is fuckin’ sexy.”
“Oh my god, shut up. Clits are not sexy.”
“Fuckin’ yes they are.”
If I looked up, I know I’d catch her rolling those pretty blue eyes. “You’re only saying that because you’ve never had sex with one,” she grumbles.
“Why do you have to rub it in?”
“Because, if you don’t stop staring at it, I’m going to make you rub one out instead.”
Rub one out. Jerk off. Masturbate.
My girl is clever.
Say your prayers, Charlie Edmonds. I might be a virgin, but I’m about to make up for lost time, starting with worshiping at the altar of your delicious pussy.
“You better give your heart to Jesus, ’cause your ass is about to be mine.”
She raises her head and looks down at me. “Huh?”
I lower my mouth and make contact, flattening my tongue and dragging it straight down the center. Give my head a shake, like I’ve seen them do in pornos. I dig in deeper. Everything I learned I learned from porn…
“Oh. My. God.”
Just like everything I do, I put every last bit of effort into going down on Charlie, relying on her sounds for feedback, knowing I’m doing a damn good job when she loudly gasps and pulls at my shoulders.
Spreads her legs wider, bending at the knees.
I grab an ankle and prop it on my shoulder.
“Oh J-Jesus.”
That’s right, darlin’. Pray to Jesus.
Charlie’s hips rise off the mattress and I seize the opportunity, sliding my hands under her ass. Bury my face and go to town. My mission: make her moan and beg for it.
It doesn’t even take two minutes; the sounds coming from Charlie’s throat—from her mouth—are loud, almost tortured. I shush her, not wanting to lift my head and ruin the moment, but fuck, she’s noisy.
I don’t have time to worry about it or be embarrassed, because when I start sucking on her clit, Charlie makes the tell-tale sound of a girl who’s about to orgasm. Thrashes her head on the pillow and grasps for my head, giving my hair a tug. Pushes at me, trying to inch away.
I know better—I’ve seen the movie.
I know how this ends, have envisioned it so many times in my mind the past few weeks since I met her—how’d she’d look when I made her come. Yeah, I’ve thought about it. I’m a virgin, not dead below the waist.
“Jackson, oh my god Jackson.”
My tongue swirls. Dips. Licks.
“Oh shit.” She groans, guttural—a sound I wouldn’t imagine a girl making. “Fuck.”
I love the dirty talk—it’s erotic and unexpected. I’ve never heard Charlie curse, let alone talk dirty,