Black Magic (nsfw)

Ravenswood 
#1
Immediately following this thread


 A seven hundred fifty milliliter bottle of Patron was forty bucks. It was a little more than she'd anticipated, but not so bad - worth it, she was sure. Lora spent much of the Uber ride internally pulling herself together, and there was some relief on the cool night air when they could finally step out in front of her apartment. It might as well have been a hundred degrees.

 Lora would smile just so at Mateo as she led him to her front door, mindful of her own breath. Easy, girl. She unlocked it without a struggle, and would step in first, stepping on a little button that would turn the lamp just inside on. Further in, the apartment was simple - couch, coffee table, television - boxes and a glass-door hutch full of miscellaneous robotics parts. A kitchen partially walled off from the living room, all very bad tones of beige and white.

 "Make yourself comfortable," she said to him, gesturing around. "I'll find some glasses."


Hey look at this neat apartment

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#2
He was a gentleman and would carry in the bottle. The apartment was nothing special, not that he'd expected much based on the exterior he'd seen before. Nothing worse than what he had with Iago now. Honestly a little better, given there was an actually separate bedroom. Not that he went around looking, but the lack of bed in the front room clued him in. He'd been eyeing her as they took the ride home, noting how she seemed to be acting. Nervous, he decided, which he guessed he could understand considering she was inviting an almost stranger into her house to drink liquor. Still, she was clearly trying to keep a cool head about it, which he was going to take as her wanting to do this. He wasn't forcing her into any of this, this was her idea.

Still, the situation lent itself to some unholy thoughts, which he was trying not to immediately act upon as soon as they stepped inside. Take it easy, hombre. Just go along for the ride, and see where it ended up. At the instruction, he'd nod and pause to remove his boots at the door before heading toward the couch. He settled down heavily onto it, in the center, and would reach forward to set the bottle down on the coffee table before reclining back, head on a swivel as he took the place in. "You lived here since you moved out here?" He questioned her, glancing over his shoulder after her.
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#3
 The glasses she could find were not exactly shot glasses, but they would do. "Yep," she confirmed. Lora even had limes - one of the few items of fresh produce in her house - and would cut them quickly and pile them on a paper plate, with the little bottle of beer salt she'd bought with the bottle of Patron.

 She walked carefully back to him, one hand under the paper plate, the other holding the pair of glasses by three fingers. She lowered herself onto the couch and set everything down near the bottle, before prying off her boots, and her jacket to drape over the arm of the couch. "It's not the best place. Water pressure sucks, but." She shrugged, smiled, turning herself on her cushion slightly to face him. "Better than being a... what'd you call it? Vago?" Heh.
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#4
Of all the things to complain about, he wouldn’t have picked water pressure. But he guessed it mattered for showers. He had the gym for that, thankfully. But she was on the same mentality of anything being better than living on the street. ”Yeah, what’s the word here? Hobo or something?” He guessed with a scoffed laugh, head shaking.

He’d look to what she’d gathered, and leaned forward to grab the bottle and work on opening it. While he did, he spotted the salt, “You like it with salt?” He’d been impartial, really. Kind of didn’t feel like it changed anything. Maybe it made it easier to take.
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#5
 "Yeah," she confirmed with a giggle. It was not the most respectful word to use, from what she understood, but it got the point across.

 Mateo reached for the bottle, and she tucked her feet under herself as she watched him, purposefully but gently resting the edge of her knee against his thigh. Subtle! "Don’t care. Got it just in case." She drew a breath, steadying, and added with a grin, "I mean. Unless we’re doing body shots. Then yes."
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#6
Just in case, how- Mateo paused where he’d been moving to grab a glass when she mentioned body shots. He would turn to glance at her with an incredulous grin, his eyes falling from her face and over her body, to the knee on his thigh, “You didn’t even have that much to drink,” He noted, bordering on a playful chiding. “You just trying to see me naked?” He’d turn back to pouring about a half inch of the clear liquid into each glass, not minding that they weren’t the correct size. Honestly he’d drank from the bottle before, so he didn’t have all that high of standards.
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#7
 Had she surprised him? She reflected his grin with one of her own, a little more sheepish, and chuffed at his remark. See, Mateo, you weren’t the only one with rough pickup lines.

 "Maybe," she said, suggestive and noncommittal. Maybe it would have been better to say nothing at all, she thought, as she prepared to take her glass from him. She considered trying to go for it without a lime.
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#8
”Oh, okay. I see.” He said causally, as if she were clarifying a simple equation, his head nodding as he handed over her drink to her, then grabbed a lime for her.

“I’m still cold, maybe if I get warmed up.” He said, and without much ceremony, would sink the drink, then wedge the lime into his teeth.
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#9
 Dancing around it this way was alright with Lorena for now - she had some urge to press further, but lacked the courage just yet. She took the glass and lime, grinning at his remark, and trying to shoot the liquor down in tandem with him. She would, in the end, be grateful for the lime.

 The drinks from the bar had worn away already - they hadn't impacted her too much that she'd noticed in the first place. She was glad for it, in the sense that she could rest assured she had done all this on purpose, of her own intent. Glad there would be no question of how this had gone down.

 Any clever lines fell short of making it to her in a decent time. She could only grin down at the glass in her hand, certain that these silly words impacted each of them differently - or, at least, it seemed unlikely that she was going to make him flustered with anything she could say. "I could get you a blanket. But I guess that would be the opposite of my goal."
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#10
She took the shot a bit better than she had at the bar, and Mateo would smirk around the lime before pulling it away, and setting the crumpled rind onto one side of the plate. At her offer, he’d glance at her once more, specifically at her legs that he decided would look better without the tights. “Other ways to warm me up.” He acknowledged as his eyes roved up to her lips, “If you want.” This was escalating, even if it was at a slower pace that he was accustomed to. And while he wanted to rush it along, he wasn’t gonna disrespect her by doing so. It was her choice to come out, and her choice to be with him; something that turned him on more than just chasing some girl and hounding her to fuck him.
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#11
 She watched him look at her - being eyed was not so special in itself, but it was exciting right now. Other ways. If she wanted. She could feel the blood warm in her face, wet her lip and bit it. What was her hang up here, really? She was the one who instigated all this, had roped him in to a game of pool and a bottle of expensive tequila on her couch. Right? She had his permission. Get it in gear, Lora.

 The glass would be set on the coffee table, and gathering up her courage, she'd shift her weight toward him rather than sinking back into her chosen couch cushion. A hand fell to his shoulder, a leg over his lap to settle her on his thighs. Her heart pounded against her lungs, but she gripped at some sense of composure. It was alright if it was moving fast. It was good.

 Lora bent slightly to kiss the side of his throat, hands on his chest, and she breathed a quiet laugh just below his ear. "Pretty sure this is supposed to happen after you drink liquor off someone's stomach." Which was such a weird concept, really, for all it was very sexual.
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#12
It seemed like she wanted to, then. Mateo would let her guide him into leaning back onto the couch, his own heart rate finding an uptick in its pattern as her warm thighs enclosed over his lap. Her skirt pushed up a ways, and he took stock of the newly revealed real estate with his hands as she pressed a surprising kiss into the side of his neck. At her words, he'd shift his weight some so that he was as flush with her as he could be through the fabrics of their respective clothing, and would peel his eyes from her thighs around his waist, glancing up as she spoke, his chin tucking so he could pull away some and look at her. "Dunno, I think I like this for now." He'd say, and would move one hand to place his fingers against her chin, and guide her lips toward his, if she didn't protest.
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#13
 Straddling a man's lap was no simple task - or at least, not so easy as it looked. Still, the stretch of her hips and the press of the secondhand couch against her knees was no great problem, not like this. Big hands on her thighs, warm body. She'd take the cue to lean away a little, grinning while she could as he spoke. Being well-received was always a pleasure.

 She yielded to him, finding his lips for a kiss, one hand at his neck. Almost cautious at first, but quickly emboldened, she'd slip her tongue against his lower lip, or further.
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#14
Well, if you asked him if he imagined he'd ever be here when he saw this girl step out of a smoking car that put a dent into the back of his, he may have laughed. Still, he was in no position to complain. Her lips tasted like tequila, which he was sure his did as well. He let her determine the kiss, only moving his hand so that his fingers would push into the nape of her red hair, while the other hand explored the texture of her tights. When she deepened, and grew more adventurous, he'd make some sort of short and deep noise in the back of his throat, and engage enough to encourage her. Despite the liquor, he wasn't having too much of a problem getting hard, though it'd be difficult to tell through the jeans. He was, in fact, heating up very quickly. Enough that after a few moments, he'd pull away so that he could start on shrugging off his jacket, not opposed to her helping, "Working already." He'd breathe out.
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#15
 Damn. This was nice. She liked his fingers in her hair, catching on the finely webbed material on her leg - the noise he made when she pried for more, tequila and lime. Her whole body felt borderline tense with anticipation, excitement flashing under her skin in tingles. She felt a little fuzzy-headed when he pulled away, and she wasn't sure if it was the hearty shot settling in or the kissing, or both.

 "Good." Unable to help but grinning still, she would indeed help him pry out of his jacket. She was definitely warm, too, in this damn long sleeve shirt and tights, but her hands would move for the hem of his shirt instead. Another kiss, and she'd bite at his bottom lip - not too hard, but testing her limits - before meaning to help him get the shirt off over his head.
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#16
He’d feel immediately freer without the heavy jacket, and would have it tossed over the back of the couch by the time her hands were prying at the edge of the shirt. He half a mind to slow her down, tease her about being so eager, but why would he do that? Plus, he had leverage when he was bare chested. When the shirt fell away, leaving his top half only with a silver cross necklace to speak of, he’d move his hands to the waist of her skirt. “Gotta play fair.” He insisted, and would tug at the stretchy fabric of her shirt to start untucking it.
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#17
 The cross was laughable - or it would have been, if that wasn't fucking rude. She was a little more invested in touching his skin, anyway - but not for long. "Of course." She huffed a quiet laugh for his insistence and obliged, eventually getting it up high enough to pull it over her head and peel it off her arms. The bra beneath, for whom it might concern, was simple and black. It was hard to justify anything real fancy on a budget and a long dry spell.

 Briefly, she'd comb her fingers back through her hair, some haphazard attempt to tame whatever had happened to it in the shirt's removal. Probably pointless by this time. Then, she'd sit up slightly, enough to guide his hand to the zipper in the back of her skirt. Surprise, the buttons on the front were fake.
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#18
Look, the necklace was one of those ones that was just part of him now. He didn’t even notice it anymore. He did notice her hands roving his chest, and he would gladly accept more of that once she was shirtless. She got the message, and he’d enjoy the reveal of her pale skin and little black bra. Boobs weren’t his whole thing, really, but they were appreciated nevertheless.

The help with the zipper was also something he was thankful for, because he’d sort of been on the way to trying to figure out the button situation. There were so many, how did it work? A zipper was easier, and he found himself splitting into a smile despite the kisses he was trying to trail against her bare collar bone as his clumsy fingers felt around for the tiny little zipper that was laid between the two seams.

“Agh, what?” He abandoned his efforts at her shoulder, and placed more focus in getting it done right, considering briefly how much he wouldn’t mind just shoving it up around her waist, ripping through the tights, and pushing her underwear to the side. Fantasies that wouldn’t happen, since she seemed half way serious about the body shots thing. He’d have to see about that. For now; he was celebrating getting the zipper down with a gruff laugh and an search for another heated kiss.
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#19
 The kisses were nice, too, garnering a little sigh that would wash into an amused chuckle for his zipper fumbling. She dropped her arms around his neck for the time being, grinning to herself as he tried to focus. Cheering him on, but silently. There would be a shared sense of relief when he finally managed it, another deep kiss sufficing as a momentary reward for his diligent work, pressing herself into him.

 Clothing she'd put so much thought into, with the intent to go through all this work of getting rid of it. She broke the kiss with a little smile, touching a hand to his scruffy jaw. A silent bid for a moment to work again, rocking back to step off his lap and drop the skirt, and to pry off these god forsaken tights. It took longer than she would have liked, but probably not by much, and then she'd be aiming to settle on his lap again, her hands moving to pry free the fastenings on his jeans.
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#20
His hands would take their liberties with the loosened fabric of her skirt as they kissed, toying with the curve of her ass in his lap. When she broke away, he found himself wanting to pull her back to him, having enjoyed what they’d been doing right there for the moment. But she was getting more naked in front of him, so who was he to stop her?

When she crawled back to him, he would offer a soft chuckle at her tugging at his pants, and would suddenly move to brace a forearm across her lower back, and shift his weight to flip her to the side, onto her back on the sofa. He would maneuver to place his knees on either side of her hips, his hands guiding her legs over either thigh. From here, sitting above her, he had to take a second breathe and steady himself. He filled the time with running his hands back down her thighs, and across the planes of her stomach. Which, reminded him.

He’d lean to grab the bottle from the table, first eyeing it as if he were inspecting a fine jewel. Then down to her, specifically her exposed stomach. He’d done body shots before, of course. He’d also done a line of coke off a chick’s tit. He’d done a lot of things. But never in a setting like this, where it was just two people fucking around for the sake of it.

“Gonna be cold.” He informed her, and wouldn’t move to pour the liquid into her navel until it was clear she wasn’t going to stop him.
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#21
 Needless to say, she didn't get very far in her venture of unzipping him. She grabbed onto him as he flipped them, rigid enough to not just rag doll flop with his movements. Wow, this was very hot. Her breath came a bit shallow as his hands coasted along her body, calves curling against his hips as best they could with couch limitations.

 Then, he was going for the bottle, and she couldn't help but laugh. She'd almost forgotten, and so quickly. Her arms laced over her head, to stay out of the way, and she held her breath with a small grin for his warning. It absolutely was pretty cold! And very important to stay still, for all she could feel a stray trickle of tequila roll down the curve of her waist. Lora couldn't deny some eagerness to have his mouth on her skin, though, and watched him through half-lidded eyes, biting her lip with a little more intention.
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#22
This was stupidly exciting. A random thing that didn't make sense outside of a bar, but here they were. He poured a bit too much, the liquid spreading across the plane of her stomach and rolling to the side. He'd hurriedly move to set the bottle down, admiring briefly how still she was being, then would shimmy down to, well, get in there. The alcohol stung at the back of his throat, and wasn't great at the front of his tongue, but he made sure to get most of it. Instead of moving away, he'd follow after the stray bead that had slipped over her side, pressing kisses that devolved into gentle nipping as he neared the ridge of her hip.

A soft laugh at how dumb this was made its way from this throat. His hands would move along side her thighs, then reach to start pulling down against her underwear as he paused his venturing and moved to place a single kiss against the space below her navel.
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#23
 It wasn't exactly a foreign concept to her, just nearly forgotten, in a way. Mostly, she'd forgotten that it would tickle, and she would close her eyes and hold her breath a little more sternly to keep from laughing or scrunching up her face against the sensation. There would be some relief when it was over, really, and she'd sigh out the held breath as he chased the trail of tequila where it had strayed. Teeth set on her skin had her sighing again, and she'd open her eyes when he laughed. It was silly, wasn't it.

 He was back to work elsewhere then, fingers rolling her underwear down. Her heart leapt again, the kiss on her skin fanning the flame. Another sigh, and she'd lift her hips, to help and encourage him, her hands lowering to run her fingers through his hair.
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#24
The sounds he was receiving were good, all positive and seemingly like reluctant. The lift of her hips and the fingers in his hair were really all he needed as a green light to keep going, he was doing good. Where he'd been freezing earlier in the night, he was warm enough to wish he'd at least kicked his jeans off before this. They were getting uncomfortable anyway. But, he was focused on a goal for now, so he would move so that he could ease the underwear to her ankles, then leave them for her to do away with as he pushed against the backs of her knees in encouragement for her to bend her legs backward, knees toward her chest. He'd press a few kisses to the undersides of her thighs, but for all of his wanting to linger on one singular thing before, he didn't fuck around with moving to run his tongue over her once, then a second time before locking down around the area, his tongue on the search for her clit.
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#25
 Underwear away! Her living room was a scene of discarded clothing and all the evidence of drinking alcohol. The couch itself wasn't the biggest thing, but it would afford enough room for what Mateo was after. Lora yielded to the press of his hands, even pulling herself back a few inches so that he didn't have to literally pretzel up for this endeavor.

 "God," she breathed for the first contact, anticipatory. Oral sex was another level of intimate. Then again, he'd just sucked tequila off her body, so, you know. He pressed on, and she shut her eyes, fingernails finding his scalp with a groan. It was hard to imagine that Mateo didn't know what he was doing with his mouth - all the adventures fame and fortune must have taken him on. If nothing else, she liked to think she was easy to please, and she'd do well to express either sentiment with quiet, earnest sounds and the act of disheveling his hair.
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#26
He liked to think he knew what he was doing, too. He'd had time to learn, and he was receiving all the right sounds and signals as a result of doing what he'd gathered was the right thing to do. She was quieter than some women, than Naomi, but not the quietest he'd been with. It helped when they made noise, otherwise he felt like he was just tonguing a blow up doll. That said, he wasn't sure if this was something she just wasn't used to, or if she was just being mindful of the neighbors.

He'd find a pattern with his tongue after a few moments, one arm pressed up across the backs of her thighs to keep her legs pinned back, while the other trailed down along her ass, squeezing at what he could, but abandoning that quickly so that he could tuck the arm beneath himself, and reach to press his thumb in between her labia while he worked against her clit. For now, he stayed there, running it vertically across her, not yet devling far enough to penetrate. He wondered if she liked being teased like that, and also wondered if he had the patience for it. That he was even doing this was a surprise to him, really, but he'd figured he would given he was already in the neighborhood, and he was sort of absently aware that he probably wasn't going to last impressively long.
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#27
 It was a very intense sensation, a rhythmic tongue on her clit - all her nerves were just a chorus of ringing alarms. Her breath was a ragged, uneven pattern - sharp inhales through her teeth, held for a moment or two, before coming out in some little inevitable sound. One hand abandoned his scalp for her own instead, her arm curling over her head, legs pressing back against his arm, everything tense. But in a good way!

 He teased with a finger, and she let out an exasperated sigh after a while, back arching with a cross of pleasure and greediness, trying to press herself closer. She wanted more, and there would be no question as to whether or not she was wet by this point. Maybe he could get her to come before he even fucked her.
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#28
Hey, that was the goal! Mateo sighed against her wetness, enjoying the feeling of her nails against his scalp, and her wriggling beneath him. He wanted to pull away and look at her. So, he'd switch from his thumb, to his middle finger, and actually press further now, finding no resistance in pushing into her. He'd ease into a gentle stroke there, before adding a second finger, and abandoning his station on her clit, mouth damp and breathing deeply for a fresh bit of air. He'd push one of her legs further open for a better view of her as he sat up a bit, his lips parting as he peered down at her, his fingers still pumping inside her, the pace picking up in speed. His cock by now was all but throbbing against the restraints of his pants, and he really wanted nothing more than to pull out of them and fuck her, but patience was apparently a theme he was going for. He'd curl his finger some on the upstroke, hooking slightly in search of a spot that triggered more than just her whimpers.
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#29
 The finger offered some sort of relief, and she released another held breath for it, still just short of satisfied. The second finger was an improvement, garnering a soft hiss from her, some of the tension in her body releasing as he eased off with that incessant mouth. Her leg fell aside, hand dropping from his scalp to his upper arm, eyes falling from the ceiling to his face. There was that canary smile again, and she huffed a little at him, unable to make a full laugh.

 It was a little different being looked at like this, but it was just a part of the package, and she'd be better off for not thinking about it too much. Mateo picked up the pace, and there would be a specific touch that suddenly changed things a little - a chill spiked up the back of her head, piercing the heat, and she gaped, crushing her eyes closed. There it was!

 Her hand moved from his bicep to his forearm, gripping onto him as he got a bit of what he wanted - bigger moans, impossible to keep in. Her other hand held onto her own thigh, just needing to press back against something, rigidity keeping her from melting into the couch. Her other leg strained against him, everything in her body trying to grip onto that repetitive motion, piling each stroke on top of the last in pursuit of the peak.

 "Fuck!" The word came out in a hiss, hips jerking against his hand as she finally struck gold. Her head dug back against the couch cushion beneath, moaning raggedly as she came, her brain devoid of anything except a cobweb of electrical currents firing off.
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#30
God, that was fucking hot. His own breathing would hitch and unhinge into a struggled pattern as he worked to stay steady against her body seemingly fighting against it; though he’d learned by now to read that as a good thing. It wouldn’t be too long before she was coming against his fingers, and he bit at his lip as he watched her unravel, his fingers pulling away instead to just circle across her pussy as she settled.

After a moment, Mateo would exhale out something like a laugh as he settled back; reclining back, his hands resting on her thighs, “Okay?”
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#31
 The ecstasy of it all was short-lived, naturally, but left her in a slightly euphoric haze for the moments that followed. She'd release his wrist, and relax, breathing deeply while she could. She was grateful he gave her a moment to come down, and would laugh softly as he checked in. "Terrible," she said, joking, still flushed and trying to draw the life back into herself.

 Gingerly, she withdrew her legs from his lap once she'd caught her breath and hauled herself into an upright position. "Why you still wearing pants?" she teased lowly. While she was up, she figured she might as well take another drink - and she'd just forgo the glass, and the idea of a body shot on his time, and take a drink out of the bottle. He couldn't really be upset about sharing germs at this point.

 It burned all the same, no matter the vessel, and she cleared her throat as she set it down. Fuck the lime. Her attention moved back to Mateo then, and if he hadn't gotten his pants off yet, she would mean to assist him. Get it off! Just as soon as they were out of the way, she'd reach to touch his dick, strokes soft, and lean to kiss him again, still just as eager.
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#32
Har har. At the question, he'd glance down at the pants as if he just realized they were there, "Good question." He'd say with a nod, and would start on leaning back into the arm of the couch for leverage as he pushed away his partly undone jeans. Her drinking drew his attention, noting that he found it strangely sexy, a girl in just her bra sinking a drink from a bottle. Really, anything she did right now was pretty sexy, said the cock that was pushing against the fabric of his boxers. She returned to his aid as he was pulling them off, and he'd pause to peel his socks away, as well, because who kept socks on during sex?

With that, he'd settle back as her hand game right for his cock, and it was his turn to let out a soft sigh, his hands reaching for her, to pull her toward him. Except, wait, he'd kiss her back for a moment before tilting away, "Gimme the bottle." He'd ask, quiet in the moment. His hands would touch whatever part of her they could reach as he waited for her to twist back around to grab it, his eyes shamelessly roving her body.
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#33
 His pause was sudden, but too quickly resolved for her to worry. She smiled a little, and obliged, leaning slightly to grab it and then handing it over. So selfish, Lora! In the interest of not making him choke or anything when he did take a drink, she'd busy herself with bending an arm behind her back to unclip her bra and get rid of it, her other hand low on his stomach.
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#34
He'd make quick work of taking a swig, finding that it hit his stomach just right to send warmth exploding across his chest and insides. It helped that he hand was so near his cock, and her tits were out. Mateo would reach to set the bottle on the floor with a brief cough, squinting some as he looked back to her. Then, he'd go back to the matter at hand, which was pulling her naked body against his, encouraging her to straddle his lap, not yet pushing to get his dick in her, despite how much that sounded great. He'd let her make that call, and would move to grasp her hair in a hand, and pull her back to his lips.
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#35
 Down went the drink, and down went the bottle. Mateo pulled her back in, and she obeyed, propping herself on his lap. It was a little tricky to really grasp his dick from this angle, but she'd make the best of it - she couldn't get too crazy without some lubrication on it, anyway. So she'd be careful, a little teasing, groaning for the way his hand tugged her hair against her scalp. Her other hand held him by the jaw, kissing him a little rough, exchanging tongue for teeth occasionally. She meant to give him a little taste of his own medicine, if he wasn't immune, and if she could bear it herself.
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#36
Feeling something of a buzz, he was eager to find more pleasure to accompany it. It came in the form of her hand on his cock, which he would sigh heavily into her kiss for, biting at her lip as she paced her strokes, but didn't make a move to guide him anywhere. His grip on her hair tightened, bordering rough, but he was aware that he didn't know if she liked that stuff, so he'd mind himself. A little jerk at the nape of her neck spoke for his anticipation, along with a buck of his hips in which he managed to catch the base of his cock against some of that slickness. "Cogerme." He'd breathe out when he got the chance, sure she wouldn't fully understand the word, but would get the picture.
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#37
 It would seem Mateo was not made of steel, after all. She gasped a little for his short, sudden surge of pent up energy, the jerk of his hand and hips, his grumbled request. He would be correct - the words made no sense, but the tone did. She couldn't deny him. Her hands released him, bracing herself on one to sit up, the other reach behind herself to grab the length of his cock and steady it to lower herself against it.

 Slowly, so as not to hurt either of them, she'd lower herself to the hilt with held breath. It came out shuddering, nearly a groan, heart bumping what felt like a fresh shot of tequila to her head. "God." She lowered a hand to the bottom of his throat, where his collarbones met, and began to move her hips, adjusting her legs just so to find a good angle to ride him.
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#38
His request would be abided by, and he would swallow heavily as she positioned herself over him. She was still plenty wet, and gloriously warm, enough that the thought of a condom or anything was miles away from him. He planned to pull out. But for now his entire brain was wired to focus on the feeling of her settling around his dick. “Ah, fuck.” He’d mirror her words. The hand that had been resting on her waist move to gather as much of her ass as he could in his palm, grip tight as he moved tilted some to help her adjust into a rhythm. For now, he’d stay still and let her fuck him.
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#39
 Lora's brain was, irresponsibly, only about one thing right now. Whoops. Her other hand would rest where his shoulder met his chest muscles, bracing herself as she found a rhythm. It was a definitely a bit of work, but so fucking worth it. Her breath fell shallow almost immediately, finding the right stroke that made it nearly impossible to exhale without some sort of moan or whine. One hand lifted off of him, touching the arm that ended in a hand in her hair. "Pull," she demanded, watching him from under heavy eyelids.
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#40
Each downward stroke would earn her a heavy exhale from him, his lips parting some as his eyes roved over her, indecisive of where to linger. He shifted some to offer her more room to work, though the couch was not the best place for this kind of position. Maybe he’d move them, or maybe he’d let her do the work since he’d gotten her off first. Either way, she was demanding he pull, and he didn’t need to be told twice.

His grip loosened only briefly so he could collect more hair into his fingers, then he wound it tightly, roughly, enough to force her head backward. A rough grunt forced itself from between gritted teeth, and he took in a hissed inhale as he moved to place those teeth at the base of her throat.
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#41
 He did as she asked, garnering a ragged gasp with his delivery, craning her head back forcibly. It served to make breathing a little tight, which was not exactly bothersome, and she'd make a strained sound of pleasure for it, give it to him a little harder. He bit her, another improvement, and she groaned a note of encouragement. One arm wound around his neck, and the other sought the couch blindly to grip. "Fuck, Mateo." Her heart felt like it was trying to lift away from her rib cage, chasing the next big bang.
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#42
‘Fuck’ was right. His breath caught in the back of his throat as she rode him harder, and it was fairly clear he was slipping up on his control of the sounds he made. Admittedly, it been a few months. And even longer than something like this, where a girl was moaning his name. His lips curled into a smirk against his nipping at her collar bone, and he chuckled gruffly into her soft skin. “Still terrible?” He questioned.

The hand on her ass pulled away, but would come back sharply with some attempt at measuring the force of it. It was hard to juggle it all at once, when he just wanted to focus on her tight little pussy around him. If he did, though, he was sure this would be over as quickly as it had started. Embarrassing. He’d start on shifting his weight back, giving himself that leverage once more to find some space in which he could begin to rock his hips up to meet her.
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#43
 God. It was good when a man made sounds like that. It was rewarding. Her eyes rolled open for his question against her shoulder, and she could only pull enough air between her movements to huff a short sound at him. And then, an ass slap! She yelped, surprised but not disappointed, and hissed, releasing her hold on his neck as he leaned back again.

 He was bucking to meet her, and she struggled not to falter. Building pleasure and intensity notched her sound up a little bit, and she couldn't even think enough to hope her neighbors were deaf or something. Her fingers would curl against his chest, where her nails would have bitten into his skin if they could have. She thought she might come again, jaw clenched as she bucked against him with greater intention - her only ounce of mindfulness beyond that was to pull her other hand away from the couch. There was only one kind of explosiveness that would be appreciated here.
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#44
His pace picked up as his arm moved to brace across her lower back, locking her there and pausing her movement so he could trade out doing the work. The friction, the sounds of both her moaning and her wetness, the simple pleasure of being in some control, it all sort of cranked the intensity of the moment up. So much so that he felt himself surging closer to a climax that he anticipated so quickly. His teeth would grit, and after a few more hurried thrusts, he would still himself, and move to smack her once on the ass as his hand felt from her hair and onto her waist. "Here, up." He'd instruct, urging her up and off of him.

If she didn't protest, he'd lift himself up, and wordlessly coax her to place her knees where he'd just been, bending over with her head in the direction of the arm of the couch. It was up to her if she wanted to actually bend fully over it, whatever she wanted to do, he was moving to position himself behind her, one knee on the couch still while the other foot stayed on the ground. He'd wait for it to be clear that he was fine where she was, in the meantime resting his cock against her tailbone, greedy for more of what they'd been doing, but aware that this position was sometimes not the best to just rush into. If he was in the clear, he'd grab himself by the base of the cock, and ease back into her, sighing from the depths of his chest how much he preferred this.
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#45
 It was probably for the best that he stilled her some in order to carry on himself - almost immediately, her body would lock up again, riding through another brief orgasm, cut all the shorter for Mateo suddenly stopping and intending to press her into a new shape. She obliged, feeling absolutely buzzed, scalp sore and legs almost feeling too heavy to operate properly.

 Her forearms rested on the arm of the couch, letting her head bow for a moment to stretch out her neck before she peered over her shoulder at him. She was pretty sure she'd let him fuck her any way he wanted to at this point. When he did slide back in, she'd echo his sigh with one of her own, back arching as her hips pressed back against him. Everything just felt real nice right now!
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#46
He was done for like this, but at least he'd enjoy what he could. It was about pacing, and he wasn't much in the mindset to do that. Still, he had some time left, and he spent it by grabbing a hand full of her ass to squeeze while he sought to cup his hand beneath her chin, pulling her head backward and guiding her to arch her back further. There, he'd pick up into a heavier, quicker pace, thrusting with a force that was audible, each impact accompanied by a moan or grunt that were heightening in volume as he chased pleasure in the form of an orgasm. He had to remember to pull out.
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#47
 It was a mild act of contortionism to bow to his hand, but she did it, careful to keep her tongue away from her teeth if she could manage to think beyond how hard he was going. She braced herself into her points of contact with the couch, trying to lock herself in place, as physically thrilled as she was nearly spent. Her brain hooked on his moans and how deep it felt like he was striking, incredibly pleasing and bordering on painful. She felt like a match that was out of sulfur but still burning furiously, groaning in ragged strings of sound and breath, content to be a means to the end.
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#48
As much as he'd have liked to keep going, possibly for the rest of the night, into the morning, all week.. he was spent. The sight of this cock disappearing into her, and the way she seemed to fit herself to cater to him, it was too much to try and focus on something else and prolong it. He'd already made her come, so he didn't feel bad when it call came to a crescendo, the final bell ringing as he hurried to pull away from her, and grab his cock to direct it toward her lower back. A groan coursed through him as his body ignited into a heavy, pulsating warmth, and he came onto her pale skin. His breath hitched, then released into a husky sigh, then a sharp inhale once more as he rode the orgasm, finishing after a few long moments of stroking himself.

Mateo would curse beneath his breath, feeling lightheaded as he steadied himself, and released her from his hold. He just. Needed a second. He'd slump backward onto the couch, chest heaving and crotch all sorts of a mess. His hands came up to run through his hair. For the moment, he was unaware of the compromising position he'd left her in, bent over with his semen on her back. Whoops.
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#49
 A pull-out was woefully unexpected, but very good. Very smart. Christ, Lorena. It was another not-first time thing, honestly. She pulled in deep breaths, able to breathe unrestricted now, and lowered her head once again as he fell away from her and flopped back onto the couch. Semen on the back was not a great feeling, but it was what it was, really.

 With a groan, she'd pull herself to standing, mostly wanting to not smear any more bodily fluids on the old sofa than whatever was already on it. Her hips protested as she stood, head floating between alcohol and sex. She brushed her fingers back through her tangled hair, glanced at Mateo, and grinned crookedly down at him. "You want a shower?" She sure fucking did!!!
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#50
He'd glance to her as she stood, realizing he probably should have offered to get a towel or something. That being the case, she was offering a shower, and he would smile in a somewhat sheepish smirk up at her before shifting his weight heavily with a grunt. "You use shit that smells like flowers?" He questioned as he stood, for the first time sort of taking stock of the mess they'd made in the living room. Well, that'd been fun. He'd let her lead to the bathroom.
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