Grace Noel
Lez plays
Practice Session
She hears him before she sees him. Then his hands slide around her waist. Warm. Certain. His breath hits the back of her neck and the little hairs there stand up. She knows exactly what he wants because he’s hard already, thick against the small of her back, pressing into her through his jeans like he’s been thinking about this all day. Gracie turns around. Her palm meets his cock through denim. She rubs once, slow, just to hear that sound he makes when he’s fighting to stay in control. He grabs her wrist, not rough, but she feels the restraint humming under his skin. "Bedroom," he says, voice low. She likes it when he orders her around. He walks behind her, guiding with a hand on her hip. When they reach the bed he turns her, lays her down, and pushes her skirt up without asking. Lace panties. He peels them off and spreads her thighs apart with both hands, thumbs brushing the soft inside of her legs, taking his time. Gracie’s already wet. She knows he can tell. Two fingers slide through her folds. He spreads her slickness up over her clit, circles once, watches her hips jerk. Then he pushes both fingers inside her, slow and deep, curling against the front wall until her mouth falls open. He fucks her like that until she’s gripping the sheets, until she’s clenching around him. He pulls his fingers out, brings them to his mouth, licks them clean. She reaches for his belt. He lets her. She frees his cock, heavy and hot in her hand. She strokes him once, twice, feels him throb. He climbs over her, lines up, pushes in until she’s full. The stretch burns sweet. He doesn’t start gentle. He sets a rhythm that makes the headboard tap the wall, each thrust hitting exactly where she needs it. Gracie comes first. She locks her legs around him and shakes through it. He keeps fucking her through the aftershocks, chases his own release, grunts once against her neck when he spills inside her. They stay like that for a moment, breathing hard, skin slick. Then he rolls off and pulls her against his chest.
She hears him before she sees him. Then his hands slide around her waist. Warm. Certain. His breath hits the back of her neck and the little hairs there stand up. She knows exactly what he wants because he’s hard already, thick against the small of her back, pressing into her through his jeans like he’s been thinking about this all day. Gracie turns around. Her palm meets his cock through denim. She rubs once, slow, just to hear that sound he makes when he’s fighting to stay in control. He grabs her wrist, not rough, but she feels the restraint humming under his skin. "Bedroom," he says, voice low. She likes it when he orders her around. He walks behind her, guiding with a hand on her hip. When they reach the bed he turns her, lays her down, and pushes her skirt up without asking. Lace panties. He peels them off and spreads her thighs apart with both hands, thumbs brushing the soft inside of her legs, taking his time. Gracie’s already wet. She knows he can tell. Two fingers slide through her folds. He spreads her slickness up over her clit, circles once, watches her hips jerk. Then he pushes both fingers inside her, slow and deep, curling against the front wall until her mouth falls open. He fucks her like that until she’s gripping the sheets, until she’s clenching around him. He pulls his fingers out, brings them to his mouth, licks them clean. She reaches for his belt. He lets her. She frees his cock, heavy and hot in her hand. She strokes him once, twice, feels him throb. He climbs over her, lines up, pushes in until she’s full. The stretch burns sweet. He doesn’t start gentle. He sets a rhythm that makes the headboard tap the wall, each thrust hitting exactly where she needs it. Gracie comes first. She locks her legs around him and shakes through it. He keeps fucking her through the aftershocks, chases his own release, grunts once against her neck when he spills inside her. They stay like that for a moment, breathing hard, skin slick. Then he rolls off and pulls her against his chest.