Attic Fever: Raw Lust in Dust and Sunlight

Dust motes swirl through the attic window, golden September sun slicing the grime. His father’s house, empty below. We climb up here, seeking the spot where restraint crumbles. Garden sways outside, trees dancing lazy. Boards creak underfoot, powder puffing up. My red dress clings, heart hammers already.

Eyes meet. Boom. I crack every time. His words echo: ‘Pleasant and reasonable end the same, but incompatible?’ One breast in each hand, thumbs circling nipples hardening under fabric.

The Irresistible Pull

‘Rarely,’ I whisper. He sighs, ‘But…’ Air thickens, desire roars. I press back into him. His scent—clean, male—wraps me. Straps slip down arms, bra and dress pooling. Reflection in filthy glass: my neck arched, tits swelling free in dusty light, his broad shoulders behind. Hands knead, possessive, tender-rough. Heat floods skin, pulse races.

Head lolls on his shoulder. Left hand trails flank, belly, hikes skirt. Fingers spider thigh, tease panty edge. I tilt for kiss—he denies, eyes promising more. Hips grind subtle. His right mirrors, dives under lace without brushing pubis. How? Gasp escapes. Palm cups air near sex, inches from fire. I ache, colossal want.

Hands snake back, grip his ass, hips. Tits peak in sun halo, nipples screaming. Right hand abandons breast, joins sister. Fingers ghost inner thigh, lips part slick. Heart thuds wild, breath short. Stroke clit? Plunge? No—tease. I burn, curse his control. Yet crave it.

He sighs content, withdraws. Panic flickers—loyalty to her? Waist gripped, cock presses firm along ass crack. Yes. Rigid, hot. Hips roll vertical, shaft slides valley. I squeeze cheeks, urge him. Hands between us now. Fingers invade pocket, braguette gap. Phalanges find bulge, gland velvet under cloth. Lips wet, tongue darts air. Imagine taste.

Savage Surrender

Skirt shoves up, panties yanked. ‘Move,’ he growls. Cling arm. Fingers claim: press clit, invade wet heat. Surge builds fast. Other hand vertebrae trail, gathers slick, circles anus. Probes. Intrudes. Moan rips free. Legs quake. Everything accelerates—breaths ragged, moans louder, cock swells against thigh, pussy floods.

Fingers ease. Face him. Palms flat on chest, feel pectorals blaze. Trail abs, belt unclasps. Jeans snaps open, drops. Boxer waistband yanks down. Kneel. Grip shaft, kiss tip. Tongue laps pre-cum bead. Swallow slow, deep. Suck languid, greedy. Hand strokes base. He sweeps hair, watches. Eyes down—I can’t.

He thickens, thighs tense, hips buck. I pause—gasp of frustration. Resume, throat takes him. Explosion. Hot jets coat tongue. Swallow every drop, pulse milking last.

Hands cradle face, lift me. Snag panties, slide up. Nestle arms, crushed tight. Heartbeat syncs, skin fevered. Release. He dresses quick, leads down creaky stairs.

‘That ass… body killer.’ Crave him nude, strutting free. Skin still hums, echo of blaze. Ashes smolder. Unique. Addicted.