[It's not long before a rumpled map joins Ferdinand's glove at their feet, as Petra's grip tightens on fistfuls of shirt and hair. There's no hesitation, no build up--just the sudden shock of being filled, though not even close to enough. Even so, it's enough to force her to cry out, muscles clenching around his fingers in a desperate attempt for more.
Surely as long as she makes sure he can take her, he will, yes? That ragged panting, his flushed face, how mussed he's let himself become--that's not the noble, composed Ferdinand who would hold himself back for the sake of being a gentleman. Petra's hands snake down to squeeze between them and unfasten Ferdinand's trousers, dipping below his waistband to wrap around his cock for a few experimental strokes. How exactly is she supposed to hold him? Is this right? What about how to move her hand?
One of the most important parts of learning how to master any new weapon is the proper grip and form, after all. Let it never be said that she's not studious.]
no subject
Surely as long as she makes sure he can take her, he will, yes? That ragged panting, his flushed face, how mussed he's let himself become--that's not the noble, composed Ferdinand who would hold himself back for the sake of being a gentleman. Petra's hands snake down to squeeze between them and unfasten Ferdinand's trousers, dipping below his waistband to wrap around his cock for a few experimental strokes. How exactly is she supposed to hold him? Is this right? What about how to move her hand?
One of the most important parts of learning how to master any new weapon is the proper grip and form, after all. Let it never be said that she's not studious.]