Kneeling naked before the coach, who sits on the couch, his cock spent and limp after his release, I feel my pearl throb with unfulfilled need. It aches for his touch, tongue, and lips to bring me to the same ecstasy he just experienced as his cum adorned my face.
Mrs. Jones sits beside me, her bare, ample breasts rising and falling with each breath. I steal a glance at her, my heart racing as excitement mingles with a shy flutter in my chest at the thought of the coach eating my pussy while she watches.
Her eyes lock with mine, and she whispers, "Go on, Amy. Let John pleasure you. You deserve it for being such a good girl."
I nod, a surge of heat pooling between my thighs as I meet his gaze. My body trembles, my need is tangible in the air between us.
"Why don't you lie down on the couch, sweetheart?" Mrs. Jones suggests, her voice soft and encouraging. "John will take good care of you."
I slowly get up from the floor, my exposed body quivering with desire, and sit on the edge of the couch beside the coach, feeling the heat of his gaze on my skin.
With a deep breath, I lean back on the couch, my head resting on the armrest. My thighs press together, and the sensitive skin on my inner thighs creates a delicious friction that causes a tingling sensation to shoot up my spine.
With each rapid breath, my chest heaves, and my nipples harden into sharp points that beg to be touched. Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I await the touch of a man on whom I have a massive crush.
Mrs. Jones settles on the floor beside me, her closeness both comforting and arousing. "Spread your legs, sweetheart," she coaxes. "Let John admire your beautiful nether lips."
With a hesitant slowness, I part my legs, my heart hammering in my chest as I worry that my prominent pussy lips, swollen with arousal, will appear too puffed for his liking.
His gaze fixes on my wet folds, his eyes darkening with desire. "So pretty," he rasps.
"Indeed, she is," Mrs. Jones purrs, her fingers trailing across my stomach and dipping lower to circle my throbbing clit. Her touch sends shivers through me, and I moan softly. She dips two fingers inside me, eliciting another moan. "See how responsive she is, John? So eager for your touch."
The coach nods, his gaze fixated on my pussy, mesmerized by the sight of Mrs. Jones pleasuring me. She withdraws her fingers, glistening with my juices, and brings them to her mouth. "So wet and tasty," she purrs, licking her fingers clean. "You're in for a real treat, John."
My heart stutters as the coach moves between my legs, his fingers gently exploring my labia. He examines every crease and fold with the devotion of an artist, spreading my wetness as if it were a canvas waiting to be painted.
Mrs. Jones watches intently. "Take your time, John. Amy's all yours to enjoy."
I bite my lip as I watch him lean in, his breath ghosting against my skin.
"I hope I smell good," I think, holding my breath as he inhales, my body tensing up.
I can feel the heat of his mouth hovering over me as the coach gives in to his desire and takes a long, slow lick from bottom to top. A grin spreads across his face as his lips descend, enveloping my clit. His tongue swirls firmly, sending thrills of pleasure through me, and soft moans escape my lips as I arch my back. It feels incredible, and the sight of the coach between my legs makes me want to moan even louder.
"Consider this as a part of your birthday celebration," Mrs. Jones teases, clearly enjoying the show she orchestrated.
"Happy 18th birthday, Amy," the coach whispers before his tongue dives into my wetness, causing me to gasp with pleasure.