It started innocently, or as innocent as things could be between us after all that had happened. Late at night, when the house was quiet, we found ourselves alone again. I don’t even remember how it started the first time, but I do remember the electricity in the air, the way our eyes locked as we both realized where this was heading.

We were sitting close, and I started to tease him, slipping my hand under my shorts to touch myself, my breath hitching as I let out a soft moan. His eyes darkened, and without saying a word, he pulled his own shorts down, his cock already hard and throbbing as he began to stroke himself.

It became our secret routine—these nights where we’d strip down, sitting across from each other, watching, teasing. I’d lie back, spreading my legs, letting my fingers slide over my wet pussy as he stroked his cock, his eyes glued to every move I made.

Sometimes, I’d touch myself slowly, dipping my fingers inside before pulling them out, spreading my wetness as I rubbed my clit. I loved the way it made him groan, his strokes growing faster, more desperate. “You like this?” I’d ask, my voice soft but teasing, and he’d nod, his eyes never leaving my pussy.

He didn’t just watch, though. He got bolder. One night, as I lay back, teasing myself, he reached over, his fingers brushing against my hand. “Let me,” he said, his voice low and rough.

I nodded, and his fingers replaced mine, sliding over my slick folds, teasing my clit before dipping into me. I moaned loudly, my hips lifting to meet his touch as he rubbed me, his movements confident and deliberate.

He leaned closer, his cock still in his hand, the tip brushing against my thigh as he teased my pussy, rubbing the head against my opening. “You’re so wet,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire as he pressed against me, not entering but just enough to drive me crazy.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice trembling with need.

But he just grinned, rubbing the head of his cock along my folds, teasing my clit before sliding back to my entrance. The sensation was maddening, the way he hovered there, almost pushing in but pulling back at the last second.

“You’re gonna cum just like this, aren’t you?” he said, his tone teasing as he kept rubbing, his cock slick with my wetness.

I couldn’t answer—I was too lost in the pleasure, my body trembling as he continued to tease me. My hips bucked against him, chasing that release, and when I finally came, it was explosive. My whole body shook, my moans filling the room as waves of pleasure crashed over me.

He didn’t stop, though. He stroked himself faster, his hand slick with precum as he groaned loudly. I watched, still trembling, as he came, his cock twitching as he spilled his release all over my stomach and thighs. The warmth of his cum on my skin sent another shiver through me, and I couldn’t help but smile, satisfied and spent.

We stayed like that for a while, our bodies tangled, the air thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction. Each night, it got bolder, more intimate, and I found myself craving these moments, the way he made me feel, the way we pushed each other closer to the edge.