The Mating Game

by Lana Ferguson

“It’s been a long time for me too,” I manage. “I mean, not that I’ve ever touched a woman, but—Ah.” My hips cant upward when he pushes as deep as his finger will reach, twisting a little as he withdraws, only to do it all over again. “You’re so slick for me,” he practically hums. “Tell me how to touch you. I want you to feel good.” “I mean, you’re off to a stellar start,” I pant. “Oh. Keep doing that.” He presses the heel of his hand against my clit again, rubbing it slightly as his finger continues to pump in and out of me. When he adds a second, I think I actually shout a little. I can’t be sure, since Hunter chooses then to slant his mouth across mine, swallowing down the sound. I can feel his cock pressing on my stomach, hard and positively throbbing through the soft flannel of his pants, his hips tilting back and forth a little so he can rub himself against my skin. It’s a little clumsy, the way I grab at his waistband to try to pull him free, and it definitely takes a second longer than it probably would if his tongue weren’t occupying my mouth and his fingers weren’t occupying…other places, but somehow I manage to wrestle him out of the confines of his pants to feel the hot, velvety length of his cock as it thumps (yes, I said thumps) against my belly.