Handjob and Nipple Play
she reached out. Slowly. Cautiously.
Unbuckled my belt.
“Leya…” I growled, voice gravel and pain.
But she looked so focused. So soft.
Like she just wanted to help.
Like she thought… she could kiss it better too.
And when she pulled down the zip and saw me, her lips parted.
“You’re bigger and beautiful than the one I saw in that movie.”
I stopped breathing.
“WHAT. MOVIE.”
What. Fucking. Movie.
But before I could fully spiral—her hand touched me.
Just a soft little brush of her fingertips against my tip.
I groaned. Loud. Unfiltered.
She flinched at first, then looked up.
“Does that feel better…?”
“Fuck yes,” I hissed, my head tipping back, hand clutching the couch like I needed oxygen.
Her tiny, paint-smudged fingers wrapped around my lenght.
And stroked. Tentatively. Unsure. But so fucking warm.
“I—I want to help,” she whispered, stroking my lenght again.
My hips jerked into her touch.
I was not okay.
“You’re helping, baby. Too much. I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come if you keep—”
She touched my tip again, tracing the precum beads that were forming on my tip and dripping down my lenght making her hand slippery and she let her fingers explore down till my lenght base.
I looked down at her—her face, flushed and focused, lips parted like she was trying to understand it all.
And fuck, I lost the battle.
I cupped her right breast gently over the pink-painted frock.
She shivered as I traced my thumb softly over her hard nipples pressing through the fabric and then circled around it.
“Neel…” she whispered moaned.
“Just touching back, sweetheart,” I said hoarsely. “Just a little. You’re making me feel so good… you don’t even know.”
I pressed my other palm to her left breast. She whimpered.
I was dying. Melting. Exploding.
She watched me like I was unraveling in front of her.
And I was.
Because when I finally came in her hand—hot, throbbing, undone—she gasped at the way I moaned her name.
And then whispered,
“Can I… do this again if you’re hurting next time?”
I think I passed out.
My eyes flickered down to her hand—soft, small fingers lightly tracing my skin. I noticed my cum on her hand, but she quickly wiped it away with such innocent care. Clean. Pure.
But then… my gaze went shamelessly back to her tits.
Her frock, thin and clinging, pressed tightly against her chest, and I saw it—her nipples, hard and standing out like delicate little flames beneath the fabric.
Heat flared inside me again, a dangerous fire that burned through every rational thought. I couldn’t resist.
Slowly, reverently, I pulled her closer to me.
My lips found the soft curve of her neck, trailing featherlight kisses that sent shivers through her body.
My hands moved hesitantly, trembling with something between reverence and hunger.
They were so soft. So perfectly tender.
I traced the outline gently, circling, learning.
Her breath hitched.
A soft, sweet moan escaped her lips—her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Neel…”
She said my name like it was a prayer, a wonder.
Her body pressed closer as she melted into the touch, eyes fluttering shut.
My innocent little petal, discovering pleasure for the first time, right there in my arms.
My heart clenched tight and raw.
Because this moment—this first touch—was ours.
And it was sacred.
She was still trembling softly in my arms, that sweet little body pressed flush against me, her warmth seeping through every fiber of my being.
My cock was practically screaming for another release, but I wasn’t about to let her bear the weight of my desire alone—not when she gave me so much without even knowing.
The way her tits fit perfectly beneath my palms—soft, warm, fragile—and yet so fucking perfect.
My fingers traced the curves lightly through the fabric, teasing, worshipping, as if I could somehow give back all the pleasure she’d made me feel just by existing here, right now.
Her breath hitched again when my thumb circled her left nipple gently, slow and sure, like I was promising her a world where she would never be hurt again.
“Neel…” she whispered, voice barely steady.
I didn’t need to say a word.
I moved closer, my lips brushing against the side of her neck, down to her collarbone, my breath hot and steady.
“I want to give you everything you gave me,” I murmured, voice low and rough. “Every little touch, every shiver, every sigh…”
She closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation, to me—trusting me like I was the only thing solid in her storm.
My hands tightened just a little, holding her as if I’d never let go.
Because I wouldn’t.
Because she was mine.
And I was hers.
Her breath—those soft little gasps—weren’t from fear.
Not anymore.
Not when she was straddling me, hands clinging to my shoulders like I was the only goddamn lifeline she had.
She didn’t even realize what she was doing.
The way she moved just a little, shifting on my lap, those plush thighs gripping me—sending shockwaves of molten fuck me straight to my cock.
But I wasn’t going to fuck her.
Not yet.
This wasn’t about that.
“Easy, petal,” I whispered, cupping her tits again. “Let me take care of you.”
She whimpered when I brushed my thumbs again over her hard nipples through the fabric.
That oversized frock she wore—was thin enough that I could feel every soft, sensitive inch of her underneath.
And fuck, her nipples—
so hard.
So responsive.
My thumbs circled over both of them again.
She jolted.
“N-Neel—what is that—what are you doing—”
“Shh. Just feel, baby,” I breathed against her jaw. “Let me show you how to feel safe… and wanted.”
I leaned forward.
Mouth brushing the thin fabric covering her left breast.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
Froze.
And then I sucked.
Right over her nipple. Through the cloth.
Hard and slow.
She cried out.
“Neel—!”
Her back arched, legs tensing around me.
My hands slid beneath the frock—still not touching skin, just holding her waist—while my mouth moved over her tits with purpose.
Circling over the nipples.
Sucking and streching them through the fabric.
Flicking my tongue over the little buds until she was writhing in my lap, panting, eyes glassy.
And she didn’t even know what was happening to her.
But her body did.
It fucking knew.
I felt her press harder against me, hips jerking, chest heaving, her fingers clenching in my hair.
“Neel… wh-what is that feeling—why does it feel… t-tight inside me?”
“That’s your body getting ready for me, sweetheart. You’re about to cum… without me even touching your pretty little pussy.”
“But I… I don’t understand, Neel… I didn’t—”
“Shhh, baby. Let it happen. Let me show you how good you can feel. Just from this—”
I moved to the other breast, lips locking around the fabric-covered peak, sucking harder now. My hand lightly pinched the other through the fabric and streching it making her breast jiggle and my cock throbbed at the site.
She whimpered.
Cried out again.
And then—
“Neel—! Something’s—ahhh—happening—”
Her body convulsed against mine.
She came.
Fucking shattered from nipple play.
Her wet pussy throbbed against my again hard cock.
Her breath was broken. Shaky. Her entire frame limp in my arms.
“That’s it, Petal,” I whispered against her chest. “That’s what it feels like to be worshipped.”
She blinked up at me, dazed.
“I thought… that only happened from down there…”
I smirked, brushing a kiss to her damp forehead.
“With me?” I said, voice rough
and low. “It’ll happen anywhere I touch you.”
She collapsed against my chest.
Panting. Teary. Shaky.
And my cock was again still hard as steel while I whispered against her ear
“That’s mine, Leya. That pleasure? All fucking mine.”
