Yet because of the marijuana she had smoked, a warm relaxed lethargy began to flow over her. The grass was beginning to have a heightening effect on her bloodstream, while at the same time dulling her mind, so that the pounding of her heart seemed twice as loud.
Carl was staring at her now sultry-looking face, at the kind of miasma of encompassing sex she was beginning to exude, and the full rich softness of her beautifully huge tits; Christ, he'd like to tweak her nipples into rock-hard arousal, take each one in his mouth and roll it around and around his tongue… but he had to move slowly, couldn't scare her away.
And he felt, his cock jerk into sudden, instant rigidity, as if it were alive, as if it were straining for release from its cloth prison. Cautiously, his eyes went to Lily's face.
She was looking directly at the bulge in his pants now, smiling through half-parted lips as though hypnotized by its growing hardness.
"You want me to fuck you, Lily, don't you," he breathed. "That's right, isn't it? You want me to fuck you up between your legs, don't you?"
"No, no," she protested, feeling as if her brain were reeling. Had she heard him correctly? Yes, yes, of course she had. How dare he talk to her like that. Had he taken leave of his senses? Or was it just that he was a promiscuous scoundrel, like she thought. Yet her cunt ached for him, for any cock, and she felt she desperately needed him to fuck that ache away. And his talking to her like that wasn't making it any easier to say no. For God's sake, didn't he have any morals at all. Didn't he?