Dazzling the Dazzlings

Dazzling the Dazzlings
In Flagrante Delicto
Mister Coffee

Your pants and underwear are still tangled around your ankles, and your awkward struggle to remove them only makes it obvious that they won't clear your boots.

The next few seconds take an eternity to pass, although at the end of it, it's quite likely that you've set a new personal record for unlacing and removing your boots. You toss them behind you, and your jeans and boxers follow.

Sonata's still waiting for you when you turn back around, lying spread-eagled on the bench, one finger deep inside her pussy, while her other hand gropes a boob. It's completely unfair to leave her alone like this, and you eagerly kneel down at the base of the bench, resting your hands on her thighs.

You can't help yourself from pausing long enough to take a good look at her nude body. Your cock twitches in eager anticipation as you lean forward, resting your head against the inside of her thigh.

At this range, the smell of her arousal is powerful, intoxicating. You watch mesmerized as her finger dips into her vagina before sliding languidly out, caressing her swollen clit.

You can wait no longer. You kiss your way up her thigh, leaving a small trail of pecks up to her crotch.

You bury your face into her, your tongue reaching between her lips for her tender love-button.

When you find it, you reach your hands up her sides, from the sharp curve of her hips up to the swell of her breasts. You slip the heel of your hand across them, your fingers exploring her perky mounds.

Meanwhile, she grabs onto your head and presses it into her. Your tongue darts across her clit as your fingers squeeze her nipples.

“Oh, God, yes,” she cries. “Keep doing that. Oh God, right there.”

Even if she weren't holding you tightly, you wouldn't move. She's twitching under you, rocking her hips against the bench. Her arctic-blue pubes are tickling you nose, and for an instant you think you're going to sneeze, but you distract yourself by ever so gently biting her.

“Ah . . . ah . . . mmmmm.”

Her fingers yank against your hair, painfully tugging as she comes. You glance up—her eyes are half-closed, and her mouth is agape. You let go of her other breast and place your hand flat on her stomach, working your tongue in rhythm with the clenching of her abdominal muscles. Your eyes are drawn to the quivering of her boobs as she pants in pleasure.

“Was that—“ you begin.

“I need you inside,” she insists. She tilts your head up and gives you a smoking look. “Don't leave me like this.”

You shuffle forward, the cold tiles grating against your knees. Not that you'd ever fantasized having sex in the girl's locker room before, but if you had, knee pain wouldn't have been a consideration.

You could probably look around and find a towel. Surely there are towels in here, maybe hanging behind the half-wall between the lockers and the showers. Even a used, damp towel would be something.

But the look on her face tells you that she's not going to be there when you get back, if you leave to search for a towel, and to be honest, a few knee abrasions are a small price to pay.

You move up her crotch, kissing your way up past her pubic hair, across her belly, around her navel, and up to her breasts, taking each in turn, your mouth and tongue moving across her sensitive flesh as you crawl over the bench.

Your cock is already twitching in anticipation as you lean down and take a breast in one hand, kissing and licking up the underside, circling her dark areola, before flicking her nipple with your tongue.

She shifts underneath you, and you feel her hand brush up against your dick. She grabs it and pushes it down, brushing the head against hair before it slips down her slit and pokes into her pussy.

Any final thoughts about the fact you'er between two ranks of lockers in the girl's locker room where the door into the hallway is still unlocked, and anybody could just walk in and see you like this vanish as she scooches down the bench, unwilling to wait for you to put it in.

Her hand releases your length, allowing you to take one final shuffle-step towards the bench and deep into her. You move slowly, not wanting to rush the moment. She's warm and engulfing, comfortably tight, and you really don't want to move at all.

You lean forward and give her a kiss on the chin, mindful of where your mouth has been. Sonata has no concern; she grabs your head and mashes her lips against yours, her tongue once again pressing into your mouth, and then she begins to rock her hips under you.

The momentary impulse to just stay hilted in her, unmoving, was premature. The sensation of tugging and sliding and squeezing as she pulls away from you, while her vagina is trying to keep you in, is almost indescribable.

You slowly pull out of her, reveling in the pleasure rocketing through your memory. Mouths and tongues still intertwined, you slam back into her.

After a few experimental thrusts, you pick up speed, rocking her lightly back and forth on the bench, her breasts bouncing lightly against your chest in rhythm with your lovemaking.

You open your eyes, and find yourself staring at her beautiful face. Her cheeks are flushed, and now that your mouth isn't over hers, you can hear her cute little pants every time you bottom out.

You reach up and brush her bangs off her forehead, running your finger lightly across her ear and down her neck, putting your other hand on the bench to prop yourself up a little bit. The last thing you want to do is hurt her.

Sonata reaches up and traces your jawline, before pressing her finger up against your lips. You obligingly let her in, biting just below her knuckle while you explore it with your tongue.

You plant your other hand on the bench, anchoring yourself just inside her armpits. The bench is barely wide enough to accommodate this, and there's a real risk that if you get overly enthusiastic, you'll slip and fall on top of her, but it's the best you can manage.

She withdraws her finger and grabs your back, her fingernails raking lightly against your sweat-soaked skin. You notice that her breaths have gotten short and shallow, and figure she's getting close again.

You slow your tempo, letting her thrust into you at her own pace as she reaches her orgasm. Now that you don't have to hold on as tightly, you grope a boob again, reflexively squeezing hard as she rakes across your back hard enough to draw blood.

Her walls squeeze and clench against your length, and you grit your teeth, holding your seed in. You don't want to stop—not yet.

You lean in and kiss her as she stiffens under you again, finally letting out a long shaky breath. Her hands relax, and you feel them slip off your back.

You give her a bit of time to recover, sitting upright while staying interlocked. Sonata's eyes are closed, and one hand's resting on her breast, while the other is trailed limply across the floor. In the harsh fluorescent light, you can see a glittering trail of sweat on her belly.

Now that you don't need either hand to support yourself, you grab onto her waist, holding her steady, before you let your right hand wander across her hip and into her silky-smooth neat-trimmed pubic hair.

You look down your chest, watching your dick slide in and out as you begin to thrust. It's glossy with her juices, and you can't help but wonder if she tastes different now that you're inside her. Without even a moment's consideration, you slip your hand down, lightly brushing her clit, and resting right on top of your hard-on. You let your pelvic thrusts coat your fingers, before you bring them back up to your mouth.

Sonata's just as sweet and desirable as she was before.

She squeezes her breast as you thrust back into her. You move your hand back down, your fingers splayed across her pubic mound, and your thumb lightly touching her clit, stroking side-to-side in time with your thrusts.

You feel the rough soles of her boots pressing against your calves, and then the leather uppers are sliding against your bare legs as she wraps herself around you. She's stronger than you'd have imagined, fighting against you each time you pull back, crushing against your waist, almost as if she's afraid you'll leave if she lets go. Not that there's much chance of that. You have to change the length of your stroke, but it's no less pleasurable.

She arches her back, trapping your thumb briefly between your bodies, and you feel her clench again. Apparently she's got a hair trigger—you'd never have guessed.

This time, you keep thrusting as she squeezes down on your dick, her mouth hanging open. You're getting close, and this time you're not going to hold back. Maybe a minute more, tops.

Sonata opens her eyes and gives you a seductive smile, before her focus shifts over and behind you.

Just then you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Ain't what it looks like,” you say defensively.