God, he's going to explode. His eyes are rolling back in his head, he can barely breathe, every muscle is tense.
It's nothing like masturbating.
As Cassie rocks beneath him, her lips open in a smile of pleasure, her hands stroking down his trembling back, he pushes deeper into her, and feels her muscles squeeze around him.
His eyes cross as they roll.
Her legs wrap around his hips and her pelvis rises to meet his and then they're moving together. He's so glad he quickly finds the right rhythm, so glad she's showing every sign of enjoying this, because, despite plenty of research, he really doesn't know what he's doing. Her kisses are enthusiastic and the little sounds she's making are playing havoc with his hormones.
As are those muscles squeezing so tightly yet so delicately around him and...oh god...he really is going to explode.
The only part of his brain still functioning remembers the importance of giving her an orgasm first, and he fumbles but when she arches against his finger and cries, "yes," he figures he's at the right spot, and he strokes until she shudders and tightens around him even more and then everything goes white and his chest heaves for breath and his hips buck and...
Tim rouses at the sound of Cassie giggling--not a taunting, 'you're an idiot and that sucked' sound but a laugh of pleasure and joy, and he blinks his eyes open to smile dumbly down at her.
Smiling, Cassie rolls him off of her and curls against him. "And it only gets better."
He really is going to explode.
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