When he first came of age, he thought his gift of massive endowment was to make up for losing out in the hair color lottery. He’d been called every red-headed slur in the book, from Ginger to Carrots to worse, much worse. But puberty had been kind to him, and by eighth grade gym class, he remembered strutting around the locker room like a peacock, not caring in the slightest about the fiery shock lifting from his scalp when he had such a nice-sized tool growing out of his matching pubic hair.
As if on cue, Mara gasped at the sight of him. Garnering awed gasps and wicked grins since eighth grade, Garrett snickered in his mind as she collapsed between his legs, her breasts pressing against his thighs as she eagerly ran a tongue up his length. Her mouth stretched to accommodate his thick head as she tried to choke down a few inches. He could see a tear form in the corner of her eyes as she struggled to gain more ground. This was a visual that turned him on like no other. There was something unbelievably sexy about watching his partner take on the challenge of sucking his cock. It was so exhilarating, he felt his need surge through him, and he wondered if he would be able to last.
He threaded his fingers through her honey-colored tresses as he urged her on. “Come on, that’s it. Suck my cock, baby.”
Spurred on by his encouragement, her mouth flooding with saliva, she managed to successfully take another inch, all while he thrusted his hips toward her. She bobbed up and down a few times, but he could tell cock-sucking was not her forte, and well, she had given it a valiant effort. He preferred having his cock in a man’s mouth anyway. They usually had a much easier time accommodating his girth.
It was her turn. There was no way he would be able to wrangle that thing inside her without a lot of prep work. He stood up with her still attached to him, her legs clinging to his hips. Then he laid her down on the couch, more or less gently, taking his place on the floor where she had been. He lifted the ruffles of her skirt to expose her smooth, bare pussy, closed up so tightly he could only see a faint line delineating each side of her labia. He knew getting her rosebud to open up its petals would be a fun challenge, and it had been ages since he’d been down on a woman. He gave Mara a devilish smirk and then ran the tip of his tongue between her folds as she nearly squirmed off the couch.
“Spread your legs, baby,” he commanded, but shoved them apart before the words were even out of his mouth. He licked his finger and stroked it down her sex, parting her lips so he could survey the soft pink flesh concealing her entrance. Not wanting to wait any longer, he held her lips apart with his fingers so he could fuck her hole with his tongue.
She went from gripping the couch cushions to clenching his shoulders so tightly, he thought she might bruise him. His efforts were rewarded by a huge gush of juices that coated his tongue with her sweet taste as he continued to stroke his tongue in and out. Get ready, baby, he thought, because my cock is about a hundred times bigger and harder. When she began to whimper with desperation, he replaced his tongue with two of his fingers and went to work on her clit: nibbling, sucking, teasing, working it over with everything he had.
As she grew ever close to climax, her grip on his shoulders strengthened. He put everything he had into his endeavor of getting her off without sustaining any damage to his musculature. Her hips wildly bucking against him, his chin dripping with her desire, and his lips almost numb from overuse, she finally screamed at the top of her lungs that she was coming. Minutes later, still frozen between her legs, her spasms continued to throb against his mouth.
An hour later, Mara was begging him to come, just when he felt he was hitting his stride. “Please, please,” she whimpered beneath him. She still wore the skirt, but the rest of her skin was saturated with sweat as their passion had overcome the power of the small window A/C unit some time ago. Her mascara was smeared beneath her eyes, and her lips were dry and cracking from her constant gasps for air, not to mention the shrieks of ecstasy that erupted in frequent intervals.
“Please, what?” Garrett growled as he pulled her legs up throw over his shoulders. He’d already had her bent over the couch and doggy style. He was considering how he wanted to finish. Pulling out, ripping off the condom, and spurting his load all over her chest was the most appealing option at the moment.
“I’m getting sore, baby. You’re so big. I’m not used to it,” she squeaked out between pants.
“You’ll get used to it,” he assured her as he pulled nearly all the way out and then slammed back in, stealing her breath before it could fill her lungs. She couldn’t even muster the volume to answer, so he took pity on her.
His hands buried in the soft flesh of her ample hips, he railed into her. Jaw clenched, veins popping, beads of sweat sliding down his face, he put every ounce of power he had behind his thrusts. Everything went black, black, black until a burst of light cracked the shell, raining fireworks down in his line of vision. His explosion rocketed out, landing all over her creamy golden skin. And a few seconds later, after he regained his bearings, he was pleased to see she had weathered his storm.
“I think you’re going to do well on the test,” he said when he could speak again.
“Me too,” she smiled, stroking her hand down his sweaty back. “Me too.”
That first hot June night he’d spent with Mara seemed like a million years ago now that the sun was setting earlier and the winds were blowing in cool, blustery air. His apartment was cold and damp, and there was nothing in his refrigerator or cabinets. He ran his fingers through his greasy hair, not remembering the last shower he’d taken. It had been two days since he was escorted off campus and given orders never to return again. He was banned. Banned. The word itself sounded so final. So damning.
He was supposed to defend his dissertation in the spring. He was supposed to finally get his PhD and prove he had made something of himself.
Not that anyone would care. Not that anyone was left who would care.
But he had done it for himself. He had made something out of nothing, because nothing was what he’d been after he left his hometown at eighteen. Ever since that day, he had promised himself he’d show them. He’d show everyone he would rise above.
But now he had been kicked out again, banned, and his head hung low with shame. With self-loathing. And for what? He didn’t even know. He didn’t understand how Mara could have said those things about him. They weren’t true. All lies.
Where could he go from here? How could he start over yet again?
Garrett’s Story is available now in The Navigator:
Bit.ly/TheNavigatorBook
Christmas in the Mountains (Mountains Series Book 4) Page 13
