Welcome to My Sexy Saturday which this week is all about sexy bosses and they don’t get much sexier than Travis Connolly who is not only master of the tennis court, but also master in the bedroom!
Grand Slam – previously published with different cover art – is available NOW from all good ebook retailers but be warned, you’ll never watch Wimbledon the same again!
I moved in behind him, not caring when the thin cotton of my dress pressed against his back and buttocks and became instantly soaked. I squeezed closer still, my breasts squashing against his solid body, my mound pushing at the base of his buttocks. All I could think of was hearing that rumbling groan he made when he came, of feeling his cock pulse in my hand, of making him fall to his knees again when an intense orgasm ripped through his body.
Reaching ’round him, I curled my hand around his cock, absorbed the appreciative moan that erupted from his chest and started a slow pumping movement, up and down, slowly, so slowly.
He rocked his hips a little, canting them forward and backward. I took the hint, increased the speed, stretched with my other hand and cupped his balls, cool, wet sacs that were heavy in my palms.
“Use your nails,” he gasped, widening his stance. “On my balls. Please, scratch me.”
I did as he asked, pressing my cheek on his sopping shoulder blade as I drew little scrapes over his sac.
“Ah, yes, like that,” he said breathily.
His shaft was thick and hot, swollen and stiff. I wished I could see it from where I stood but I couldn’t, I was embracing him from behind.
“That looks so incredibly sexy,” he gasped. “To see your tiny hands on my dick like that.”
“You should come soon in case someone interrupts us.”
“No one will… But don’t worry… I’m not far,” he moaned. “Ah yeah, faster now, harder.”
His balls were packing in tight to his body, the pulse in his cock was throbbing against my palm and he was rocking into me and away, setting the pace.
“Ah, Marie, yeah…”
I stretched my index finger back as far as it would go behind his balls and stroked over his anus like I had before. Just applying a bit of pressure to the clenched pucker.
“Fucking hell, Marie…Marie… You…” His words turned into a long, low grunt and then he froze. He was coming hard. Waves of pleasure were shooting up his cock and throbbing against my hand. A rope of slippery cum caught over my palm then served as lube as I jacked him harder, firmer, my movements barely controlled, the heat and friction building.
“Crap, that’s too good,” he groaned, suddenly spinning, forcing me to release him. “You want me on my knees again?”
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