It's much later. He'd discovered she'd been wearing the bikini after all, underneath her dress.
But not for long, of course: it'd taken no time at all to cup her breasts free of the flimsy top, to thumb her pink-brown nipples to full attention, to coax wetness from between her legs.
Then he slows down. Her judging commentary's always been incisive and fair, he wants to give her a good performance. He screws it up, she won't be afraid to tell say so.
He's pretty good with his tongue, he's told; swoops and sings, like he'd done on finals night a year ago. She tells him it's working for her, keeps up a running commentary as he uses his whole body, as well, fingers her ass and maps her sensitive inner thighs with his rough fingers. She warns him, breathlessly, when she reaches the final lap, and then she hits her crescendo, and he has to hold her hips as her back arches off the bed.
"What d'you think?" Ordinarily, this would be kinda churlish, but she'd been judging all week and all night.
She pulls herself into a sitting position, shakes her sweaty hair out of her eyes. "Awesome," she tells him, grinning that balls-out grin he loves. "Round one to Cook. Forty million votes can't be wrong."
Then she runs her hand down his body: "Okay, now, it's my turn."
David hasn't ever been on this end of the Idol judging continuum, but as her mouth moves lower, and with more intent, he figures he could definitely get used to this.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Judging David Part 2 [R/NC-17]
Date: 2010-01-21 04:41 am (UTC)It's much later. He'd discovered she'd been wearing the bikini after all, underneath her dress.
But not for long, of course: it'd taken no time at all to cup her breasts free of the flimsy top, to thumb her pink-brown nipples to full attention, to coax wetness from between her legs.
Then he slows down. Her judging commentary's always been incisive and fair, he wants to give her a good performance. He screws it up, she won't be afraid to tell say so.
He's pretty good with his tongue, he's told; swoops and sings, like he'd done on finals night a year ago. She tells him it's working for her, keeps up a running commentary as he uses his whole body, as well, fingers her ass and maps her sensitive inner thighs with his rough fingers. She warns him, breathlessly, when she reaches the final lap, and then she hits her crescendo, and he has to hold her hips as her back arches off the bed.
"What d'you think?" Ordinarily, this would be kinda churlish, but she'd been judging all week and all night.
She pulls herself into a sitting position, shakes her sweaty hair out of her eyes. "Awesome," she tells him, grinning that balls-out grin he loves. "Round one to Cook. Forty million votes can't be wrong."
Then she runs her hand down his body: "Okay, now, it's my turn."
David hasn't ever been on this end of the Idol judging continuum, but as her mouth moves lower, and with more intent, he figures he could definitely get used to this.