Chapter 566 | Sex Grade

Chapter 566: 566 | Sex Grade

Sloane pushed herself up on shaky arms. "I thought I was riding him properly."

"You were riding him enthusiastically. There’s a difference." Diane guided Sloane off me, and the loss of her warmth made me groan. "Watch."

Diane swung her leg over my hips, settling her weight on my thighs. She wrapped her hand around my cock, still slick from Sloane, and stroked slowly while making eye contact with her daughter.

"First lesson," Diane said. "You don’t just drop onto him. You tease. Make him want it. Make him beg for it."

She positioned herself above me, rubbing the head against her entrance without letting me inside. My hips tried to thrust up and she pressed a hand to my stomach, holding me down.

"See how he reacts? He’s trying to take control. Most men will. Your job is to remind them that you’re the one setting the pace."

"I was setting the pace."

"You were racing. Different thing entirely." Diane sank down an inch, just enough to take the head inside her, and then stopped. The heat of her around just the tip was maddening. "You want to build anticipation. Make him feel every inch as it disappears."

She lowered herself slowly, so slowly I could count the seconds, until she was fully seated with me buried to the hilt. Her head tipped back and a soft moan escaped her lips.

"Then you stay still." Her voice came out breathier than before. "Let him feel what he’s inside. Let yourself feel what you’re wrapped around. This is the moment most people rush through, but it’s the most important one."

Sloane watched with hungry eyes, one hand drifting between her own legs.

Diane noticed and smiled. "Good. Touch yourself while you watch. Learn what your body likes while I show you what his likes."

Then Diane started to move.

It wasn’t like Sloane’s bouncing, urgent rhythm. Diane moved like water, like something that had learned to flow around obstacles instead of crashing through them. Her hips rolled in figure-eights, grinding down on me at the end of each circle, and every motion pulled sounds from my throat that I couldn’t suppress.

"You feel that?" Diane was talking to Sloane but looking at me, watching my face contort with pleasure. "When I twist at the bottom, I’m hitting a spot inside me that makes everything clench. He feels it too. You can tell by the way his hands grab my hips."

I hadn’t even noticed my hands moving, but she was right. My fingers dug into her waist, trying to pull her down harder, and she let me set the pace for exactly two strokes before taking control back.

"Don’t let him take over." She placed her hands on my chest and pushed herself up, changing the angle. "He’ll try. They always do. But you’re the one who knows what feels best for you, and when you feel good, he feels good. It’s symbiotic."

"I know what symbiotic means."

"Then act like it."

Diane’s pace increased, but it was still controlled. She rode me with the confidence of someone who’d done this thousands of times, who knew exactly how to move to drive both of us toward the edge without falling over it.

Sloane’s hand moved faster between her legs. Through the bond I felt echoes of her arousal, blending with the direct pleasure of being inside Diane until I couldn’t tell where one sensation ended and the other began.

"She’s going to come again just from watching," I managed.

"I know." Diane’s smile carried pride and something darker. "She likes this. Watching her mother take what she wants. Learning how it’s done."

"I don’t—" Sloane started, but her voice cut off in a gasp.

"You do. It’s okay. It took me a while to accept the things I like too." Diane leaned forward, her breasts swaying with each thrust, and kissed me deep while her daughter watched. "Now switch with me. Put everything I just showed you into practice."

They moved like they’d choreographed it, Diane sliding off me as Sloane climbed back on. The transition left me momentarily cold, my cock exposed to the air, but then Sloane’s hand wrapped around me and I stopped thinking about temperature altogether.

"Tease him first," Diane said from beside us. "Remember?"

Sloane rubbed me against her entrance, wetter than before, and I watched her bite her lip as she fought the urge to just sink down.

"Good. Now slow. Feel every inch."

She lowered herself in increments, so slowly it bordered on torture. I felt myself stretch her open, felt her walls grip me as she took more and more, and by the time she bottomed out we were both trembling.

"Stay still."

Sloane stayed still. Her thighs shook with the effort, but she held position while Diane counted to ten under her breath.

"Now move. Slow circles. Find that spot again."

Sloane rolled her hips, searching, and when she found the angle her eyes went wide.

"There. Now stay there. Build on it."

The rhythm Sloane found was nothing like her earlier frantic pace. She moved the way Diane had taught her, in waves instead of crashes, and the difference was staggering. Each thrust hit deeper, lasted longer, pulled more sensation from both of us.

"Better," Diane murmured. She was touching herself now, two fingers working between her thighs as she watched her daughter fuck me. "So much better. See what happens when you stop trying to win and start trying to feel?"

Sloane moaned in response. Words seemed beyond her now.

Through the bond I felt her climbing again, the orgasm building slower this time but stronger. She’d learned something in the past few minutes, internalized whatever Diane had been trying to teach, and now her body moved with a new kind of awareness.

"She’s close," I said.

"I know. So are you." Diane leaned in and kissed Sloane’s shoulder, then whispered something in her ear that I couldn’t hear.

Whatever she said made Sloane clench around me hard enough that I saw stars. My hips bucked up without permission, driving deeper, and Sloane cried out as the orgasm ripped through her.

This time she didn’t fight it. She let the pleasure take her, let herself shake and moan and fall apart while I thrust up into her from below, chasing my own release. Diane’s hand found my balls, squeezing gently, and that was enough to push me over.

I came inside Sloane with a groan that probably carried through at least two walls. She milked me through it, her inner muscles pulsing in time with her own aftershocks, and by the time we both stopped shaking I couldn’t feel my legs anymore.

Sloane collapsed onto my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and held on while our heartbeats tried to synchronize.

Diane settled beside us, one hand stroking Sloane’s back, the other resting on my arm.

"Much better," she said. "We’ll work on duration next time, but that was a significant improvement."

"Mom." Sloane’s voice was muffled against my skin. "Please stop grading my sex."