He lets out his short, sharp laugh, only slightly breathless. "Edging as a tenet of Catholicism? Makes sense. Ah, fuck."
He's always been slower to harden so was about halfway there himself, but that gets him the rest of the way. Yes, he has noted that about her, the way she hardly needs to touch herself before it's literally dripping down her pussy. His own body tends to guard his arousal more closely. The reason he doesn't like to fuck in the water is because it makes a shitty lubricant, but sitting together this shallowly with Marta this wet seems to be working fine. So fine.
But Ransom doesn't care if she touches him with her hands or her cunt. There's no part of her body he hasn't been allowed, so he wants it all.
His hands are still on her tits as she arches against him and so he pinches her nipples on her downward sweep, pulling them taut before releasing, the touch less synchronous than staggered, preoccupied with each one in turn. He wants to get his mouth on them, anywhere on her, but not just yet; first he wants to watch her reacting to these deliberate touches of his versus whatever she imagines of him in her own mind when she's touching herself. So he uses his hands for now, slipping from her tits to her ass, squeezes where it meets her thighs, fingers digging in, dragging her open. If there's any more open she can be for him without just taking him inside, Ransom is going to find it. He keeps this as leverage to hold her tight to him to force a repeat of her own motion, catching her clit against the ridge of his cock.
no subject
He's always been slower to harden so was about halfway there himself, but that gets him the rest of the way. Yes, he has noted that about her, the way she hardly needs to touch herself before it's literally dripping down her pussy. His own body tends to guard his arousal more closely. The reason he doesn't like to fuck in the water is because it makes a shitty lubricant, but sitting together this shallowly with Marta this wet seems to be working fine. So fine.
But Ransom doesn't care if she touches him with her hands or her cunt. There's no part of her body he hasn't been allowed, so he wants it all.
His hands are still on her tits as she arches against him and so he pinches her nipples on her downward sweep, pulling them taut before releasing, the touch less synchronous than staggered, preoccupied with each one in turn. He wants to get his mouth on them, anywhere on her, but not just yet; first he wants to watch her reacting to these deliberate touches of his versus whatever she imagines of him in her own mind when she's touching herself. So he uses his hands for now, slipping from her tits to her ass, squeezes where it meets her thighs, fingers digging in, dragging her open. If there's any more open she can be for him without just taking him inside, Ransom is going to find it. He keeps this as leverage to hold her tight to him to force a repeat of her own motion, catching her clit against the ridge of his cock.