What Do I Wanna Do?

Hearing his question, Carina Marie Delvecchio spins around, eyes alight with sudden passion.

"What do I wanna do?" she asks, seemingly incensed. She pulls off her blouse, buttons flying. She lifts her skirt, panties down and off, they land forgotten on the television. Her bra is next.

Philadelphia's Mount Rushmore indeed.

She kicks her heels off and spits her gum across the room.

"What am I gonna do?"

Carrie kneels between Zach's legs, her eyes half-lidded, lips curving with the kind of smirk that promises ruin. She trails one lazy finger along the inside of his thigh, tracing the veins she knows too well, watching the way his stomach tenses under the touch. But she doesn't start--not yet.

"You know what I'm gonna do?" she murmurs, voice slow and syrup-thick. "I'm gonna make you fuckin' lose it, right here. Gonna take my sweet time, talk you through every little thing I'm doin' till you can't think straight."

Her nails drag, just enough to make him shudder. She leans in, breath hot against his skin, but still doesn't touch him where he wants it.

"First? I'm gonna get real close, just like this, let you feel my breath, warm, right there. Let you wonder when I'm gonna touch you--if I even will--or if I'll just keep you like this, achin', leakin', waitin'."

She tilts her head, lets her lips just barely brush him, not even a kiss--just a whisper of contact.

"Mmm. I could lick you so slow, make you watch, make you feel every little flick of my tongue. Maybe I'll tease the tip, keep it light, just enough to make you twitch. Or maybe..." she exhales, her hand sliding up, nails scratching lightly along his hip, "I'll wrap my lips around you and suck so slow you'll feel it all the way down your spine. Make you moan, make you beg, make you tell me how bad you need it."

Her fingers skim over his modest length, feather-light, not even a grip, just pressure, just promise.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? You like when I take my time, make you work for it. Maybe I'll take you deep, let you feel my throat clench around you, squeeze you so tight you can't even think. But not too fast. No, baby, I'm gonna drag it out. Make you feel every inch."

"All three of 'em." she hisses.

She lets her tongue flick out, just the briefest touch. Not enough. Never enough.

She shifts, just enough to hover over him, dragging her nails down his stomach. Then, voice thick with mockery, she hums, "Maybe I should just mount you, see if I can even feel you. Just grind real slow, let you squirm, maybe--maybe--get a little friction. But I dunno, baby, think I'd have better luck rubbin' up against a damn pillow."

"And when you start pantin', when your hips start twitchin' up 'cause you're so close and you can't help it? That's when I slow down. When I let go. Make you sit in it. Make you beg me to let you cum. Make you promise me whatever I want just to finish what I started."

She looks up at him now, eyes dark, wicked. "Bet you'd say anything, huh? Bet you'd give me whatever I want if I just--"

Her hand finally grips him, slow, deliberate, squeezing at the base. She laughs, low and mean.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Then she shifts, pushing her tits together just enough, letting him see exactly what's waiting for him.

"Or maybe," she purrs, lips curling, "I just get your little dick lost in these big fuckin' tits. Let you disappear between 'em, feel how soft, how warm--fuck, bet you wouldn't last a minute."

She presses closer, drags the curve of her breasts along his length, slow and teasing. "Wanna see if you can handle it, baby? Wanna see if you can even find yourself again after I'm done with you?"

But then she shifts back just slightly, reaches behind her. A second later, there's the quiet pop of a bottle opening, and then--

The sound of oil slipping between her palms, slick and obscene.

She rubs them together, slow, deliberate, letting the heat build. Letting him see what's coming before he can even process it.

"Oh, you're gonna love this," she coos, dragging one hand down her own chest, spreading the oil over the swell of her tits, letting it gleam in the dim light. "Gonna make it nice and slippery, let you slide right in. Bet it's gonna feel like heaven, baby. Bet you won't even last long enough for me to really get started."

She drags her hands over herself again, just for show, just to make him ache. Then she looks up at him, smirking as she scoots forward, letting her oiled-up skin press against his heat.

"Let's see how long that cocky little smirk of yours lasts, hmm?"

Then her grin sharpens, her voice dipping into something crueler, something merciless.

"Look at you. Already breathin' heavy. Already twitchin' like you got any business actin' like a man when you're sittin' here with this tiny fuckin' thing beggin' me for attention." She clicks her tongue, shakes her head like she's disappointed. "I mean, really, Zach, what am I even supposed to do with this? Barely worth all this oil, but I'll humor you."

She drags her oiled hands down his length, slow, teasing, watching him suck in a breath, watching his fingers clench in the cushions.

"Bet you think this is generous of me, huh? Lettin' you get all lost in my tits, lettin' you pretend, just for a second, that you're big enough to deserve it. But you and me both know the truth, don't we?" She leans in, breath hot against his jaw. "You ain't."

She presses her chest around him, squeezes just enough, just enough, then lets up like she's unimpressed.

"You ain't got a cock, you got a clit with delusions of grandeur."

"Pathetic," she hums, shaking her head. "Most guys'd be dreamin' of this, losin' their fuckin' minds. But you? Nothin' but a little twitch, baby. You can barely even make a dent."

She watches him go speechless, watches his breath hitch, his body strung tight between pleasure and the humiliating truth of it all. And she doesn't care. If anything, it spurs her on, makes her meaner.

"C'mon, Zach," she purrs, mocking, syrup-sweet. "You wanna cum for me, don't you? Gonna make a big mess all over these tits and pretend like you did somethin', huh? Gonna act like you gave me anything but a reason to laugh?"

She tilts her head, grinning sharp and cruel.

"Whatever mess you make with that tiny cock, you're cleaning up with your goddamn tongue. I promise you. Go on, baby. Make your little mess. Show me exactly how... small... you... are."

Finally, Zach, exhausted, says, "Jesus Christ, Carrie... I said what do you want to do for dinner."

"Oh? Dinner? Lennies. What the fuck else?"