She was becoming better, in his eyes, even though this was only his direction. Oscar counted the knots on her skin and then felt her take her breath by his cock inside her. She would have let him pull that belt closed completely. Which was why he wouldn't. He counted the knots on her skin until she discovered the danger of his thumb. There she was again. And there was the cementing sound that he was right about her.<br/><br/>He found a pleasant compromise between advance and retreat in her, so that the stimulation and intensity could add to the pleasure he was providing with his circling fingers. She was fighting hard, he knew, but she wasn't made of the right fibers to challenge him in this kind of joust. A clear, fat orb of spit rolled off his lower lip and his thumb moved out of the way for it to land and splatter on the button her kept exposed. Then he  continued to smear it all out while massaging her.<br/><br/>"You're such a pretender, Monroe." he pointed out, cock never moving to hurt, simply to maintain the friction so the signals could mingle with those he was giving her on her right place. He tugged a little at the belt again, because he liked the way it looked when her arms moved, useless to help her. Inspired, the fully clothed man put the end of the strap between his teeth. A dominant display while he continued to attack her physical sensibilities.<br/><br/>"You're not going to peek, are you?" he asked through teeth and leather as his newly free hand curled two fingers into her, as well, playing with the wetness she'd rather have his cock for. The thumb was absolutely rude. "Oh, please, what if your little club could see you now? This wont even give you children, you know, this is just for you."