"All Over Her Tits" with Madelaine Petsch

[TheLW]

All Over Her Tits
With Madelaine Petsch
Written by TheLW
Codes: Cumshot, Public, Tittyfuck
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

The sun hung high, unforgiving in the cloudless sky, but the space beneath the wide green canopy felt thick with something heavier than heat. It wasn’t just the humidity clinging to skin or the way the air barely moved, it was her, Madelaine.

Madelaine lay stretched across the lounge chair, utterly at ease, as if the space had arranged itself around her rather than the other way around. The black bikini she wore cut sharply against her pale skin, every strap and grommet too precise to be accidental. Nothing about it was careless. It was designed, meant to guide the eye exactly where she intended it to go.

She didn’t need jewelry. She didn’t need to speak. The smirk beneath her cat-eye sunglasses did all the work for her, confident and knowing, as though she were fully aware of the effect she was having and found it quietly amusing.

I sat nearby, close, but not nearly close enough. I hadn’t said a word. I wasn’t sure I could. From the moment I stepped into her orbit, I was reduced to something less than myself. Smaller. Slower. Watching her had become involuntary, a reflex I couldn’t control even if I tried. And she knew. Of course she knew.

Madelaine shifted, stretching one leg out, the other bent just enough to draw attention without appearing posed. Her red hair spilled over one shoulder, glowing like fire where the sun caught it. She turned her head toward me, slowly, letting the pause lingered until the silence was screaming.

She reached out, not suddenly, nor hesitantly, but like time had slowed to match her pace. Her fingers brushed my arm, then curled gently around my wrist. Her touch wasn’t soft. She pulled my hand toward her, placing it just beneath her navel. The touch of her skin beneath my fingers made the air vanish from my lungs.

For a moment, she said nothing. Letting the tension stretch tight and fragile between them.

Then her voice cut through it all, low and calm, with just enough edge to make it dangerous.

“You’ve been staring all morning.”

A beat passed, her smirk deepening.

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

She let the question hang there, not out of doubt, but because she already knew the answer. She could feel it in the way my hand trembled slightly against her stomach, in the way my lips parted but failed to speak. She didn’t need me to respond. She only needed me to act.

She leaned forward, her breasts brushing my knuckles, and spat neatly into her palm. The gesture short-circuited every thought in my head. She made a show of it, rubbing her hands together, then sliding one beneath the tight, elastic line of my swim trunks. The saliva was a shock of cool, then warmth again, as her fingers wrapped around me, spreading the wetness with slow, devastating strokes.

Madelaine kept her sunglasses on, never breaking eye contact, not even when she dragged the head of my cock against the crevice between her breasts. I felt myself quake, just barely, the kind of tremor that started at the base of the spine and radiated outward. Madelaine caught it, of course. She always caught it, every half-flinched signal I tried and failed to hide.

Her hands worked me over with a rhythmic pace that felt engineered to destroy. Deliberate. Madelaine pressed my cock hard between her breasts, pinning me in heat between her tits, and started a steady slide, up, down, the pressure increasing. The muscles in her jaw twitched, the only sign she was even aware of me as more than something to be wrung out and discarded.

I realized, at some point, I was breathing in gasps. Embarrassing, but so hard to care, watching her set the pace so cold and perfect. While Madelaine’s sunglasses made a shield, I could feel her watching me behind the glasses. A smirk formed at the corner of her mouth, the only break in her performance.

Madelaine spat again, into her palm, but this time she let the saliva drip directly onto the waiting tip. A thin, glistening trail, gliding over my cock and down into the valley between her breasts. She pressed them tight with both hands, and I couldn’t look away from the canyon she made for me.

The next couple of thrust felt so damn good, her skin was cool near the top, but nearer her chest it was fever-warm, slick with sweat and sun. I was hyper-aware of the pressure, the way she squeezed and let up at random, how every time she squeezed, it threatened to make me lose it right there. I tried to hold back, to draw the moment out, but control kept slipping away, half an inch at a time.

From behind the sunglasses, Madelaine said, “Don’t even think about finishing yet.”

She pressed her thighs together, trapping my hand against her stomach. I felt the twitch of her muscles, heard the creak of vinyl under her shifting weight, felt her heartbeat where my wrist bone pressed the softest skin. With her free hand, Madelaine clamped my cock between her breasts, squeezed, and twisted just slightly, just enough to make my hips jerk against the lounge chair. My brain screamed for me to move, to rut, to do something, but she held me in place, everything at her pace.

Madelaine adjusted her grip, letting my cock slide higher between her breasts, until the tip was almost in her mouth, almost, but not quite. She hovered there. Waiting? Daring me? I couldn’t tell. Her lips parted, tongue sliding out, close enough for me to feel the warmth of her breath, but she didn’t touch my cock. Not yet. Madelaine was patient, infuriatingly so. I could feel the smile in her jaw, a smug flex as she watched my need ratchet even higher.

"You want it?" she said.

Her hands did not loosen, if anything, the grip grew tighter, skin slick and frictionless. I nodded, tried to form a word, but nothing useful came out. She used my compliance to reposition me. Madelaine scraped her teeth across the seam of her lip, then, with clinical precision, tilted her chin and ran the tip of her tongue across the head of my cock. She held me in place with a fistful of swim trunks, and when she spat again, it landed exactly where she wanted it, gliding down the shaft, pooling at the base.

Madelaine drew back, sunglasses sliding to the tip of her nose so her eyes were suddenly, devastatingly visible, Madelaine stared up at me, her eyes green and bright as the water in the pool. The hint of hunger there was almost enough to send me over the egde, but she seemed to sense it and, mouth quivering, turned her gaze away in feigned boredom.

My head swam with nothing but the sensation of her breasts clamped tight around me, her spit slick and cooling in the breeze, and her tongue's impossible, surgical precision. I watched her tongue snake out again, impossibly pink, impossibly wet, just grazing the lip of my cock, and then Madelaine flashed a flat, inhumanly cool smile and pulled her sunglasses the rest of the way off, tossing them behind her without looking.

"Give it to me," Madelaine said to me.

Her hands shifted, sliding beneath her breasts to mash them tighter, wet with drool and ludicrously soft. The pressure was building, folding me between pillows of living heat and sweat and the bitter tang of sunblock and spit. Every time I thought I’d gotten used to the pace, she’d shift her grip, twisting wrists so the new friction ran molten up and down my shaft.

I felt it, the inevitability, a sudden, threatening tightness at the base, like a coiled spring ground too far. Madelaine must have sensed it, her hand shifting to stroke precisely where it nearly hurt. I tried my best to warn her, hissed through my teeth, but the safeties were all off. I was going to explode any second now.

I lost it with a gasp, hips bucking once, then again, as the first white arc of cum cut through the air. It smeared itself along her collarbone, the second hitting squarely on her chin before a glob slid down to her neck. Madelaine kept me crushed against her skin, her hands locked, as the last spasms wrung out another streak over her chest and the black band of her bikini.

The End