by Kira Blakely
The world outside of her pussy was fucking frigid. I hated it.
“Lay down on the bar,” I instructed her.
Michelle bit at her lower lip, but she obeyed. I climbed on top of her and positioned my hard prick between her tits, letting it slide into her airtight cleavage. The sensation was nothing like her pussy, the way it would grip and milk me, but it was still so hot. She moaned and pressed her tits tighter together and I thrusted and thrusted until I felt a tingling at the tip of my head. Then I pulled away.
“Did you like that?” I wondered as I climbed off the bar.
“Yes,” Michelle answered without hesitation.
“Why?” It wasn’t like the space between her breasts was lined with nerve endings.
“Because you like it,” she answered, gazing up at me with starry eyes. I leaned closer just to be closer to her eyes. I think I was falling in love. That was the exact moment it happened. “Giving you pleasure gives me pleasure.”
Fuck, that was hot.
I closed my eyes and nodded. “Get down here,” I said, pulling her off the bar. “I want you to taste this.”
Michelle climbed onto her knees and then looked up at me uncertainly. “Taste myself?” she asked, incredulous, pointing one finger at my hard-on. “On you?”
“Oh, yeah,” I assured her, burying my fingers in her hair and guiding her onto my prick. “You taste so sweet. You’ll see.”
The first stroke of Michelle’s mouth down my shaft was tentative but then she must have realized that I was right. She sucked up and down with vigor, and I cringed at the intensity of it. I almost had to stop her a few times but I focused on breathing and the spots cleared from my eyes.
Still, I was a mortal man, and I could only stand a few minutes of the lavish treatment of her mouth. I pulled her off the floor and scooped her up into my arms. She clung to me as I carried her up the stairs and through my house, to the bedroom.
When I laid her on the bed, it was with reverence. She was so beautiful, I stretched her out like she was a masterpiece, tracing my fingers over her luscious hips, the valley of her little tummy, up to her full breasts, around her hard nipples. Her face was the best part of her entire body, and when my eyes traveled there, they were fixed. I swallowed.
“I think I’m in love with you,” I said. My dick pounded plaintively, probably wondering where we were going with all this foreplay, but I had to say it. I had to stop and say it.
Michelle blushed and shook her head like she was dizzy. “No,” she told me. I was pretty sure I was right, though. “You’re not.”
I leaned down and took a moment to savor the smell of her neck before I whispered against her ear, “Let me prove it to you.”
My dick went between her legs, sinking to the hilt, and her hot sex pulsed around me tightly. I shuddered and thrust slowly into her. I stretched her arms over her head and pinned her wrists down into the pillow. My strokes came faster. Her thighs stretched up and locked around my hips and I drove harder, forgetting gentility, forgetting love. The entire premise crumbled away from me and something ancient and animal took over. Michelle clawed into the pillow and pitched it off the bed so she could grab the headboard itself.
Using the headboard for leverage, increasing the resistance against my thrust, the sex entered a new dimension and I bucked into her like crazy. She pushed against me in her own kind of thrust and we worked together like a perpetual motion machine, her pushing down, me pushing in, and again and again and again.
“Fuck, Michelle,” I cried out to her, certain it wouldn’t be long. Her pussy fluttered around my shaft like she was having an orgasm and I looked at her face, her eyes rolled back in her head, mouth contorted in ecstasy. My hard dick went into her for the final time and then popped, spilling jet upon jet of cum deep into her body. I stretched over her, blanketing her from head to toe, and shuddered. “I’m sorry,” I murmured against her sweaty neck. “I know I’m crushing you.”
“In so many ways,” Michelle agreed lightly, giggling.
I peeled myself off of her and she grinned up at me. She still had those stars in her eyes. Did she love me, too? If she didn’t love me, what right did she have to keep smiling up at me like that?
I guess I did just make her come. If I wanted an honest reading on how much she loved me, I’d have to study her face when we weren’t floating in the afterglow.
After cleaning up and returning naked to bed, we curled together. I threaded my fingers through hers. She was spending the night. She hadn’t talked to me all month, and now, she was spending the night. It wasn’t moving in, but it was a start.
“You know, I really do love you, I think,” I murmured against her left tit as I lapsed off to sleep.
* * *
We were awoken in the morning by a loud rapping at the door. Michelle jolted upright, hair sideways and bleary-eyed, covering herself with the blanket. I was about to start threatening the life of whoever felt the right to come into my house, pound on my bedroom door, and scare my naked girlfriend. But then it hit me: this was my weekend with Connie.
“Um, give me just a minute, baby doll,” I bellowed, clambering from the warm bed—still fragrant with good sex—and shoved some pants onto my legs. “I’ll be right there. Is your mom with you?”
“She already left,” Connie hollered back through the door. “Can I come in? Are you decent?”
“Not—” The door swung open and there stood poor, innocent Connie, blinking up at me... and then her eyes shifted to Michelle, still in the bed, blankets hitched up to her chin. “—entirely,” I finished weakly.
“Miss Michelle,” Connie greeted her, cocking her head to the side. “Why are you naked?”
“Um,” Michelle said, looking like a deer in headlights, if deer in headlights were very sexy. With that hair, she also kind of looked like a white Tina Turner right now. I had to grin at how utterly awkward she was being. “There was a spider in my clothes.”
“Oh, my god!” Connie cried, scanning the floor. “Is it dead?”
“Oh, it’s dead, all right,” I reassured her with a little grin at Michelle. “I beat it pretty good.”
Michelle’s face burned bright red.
“Well, it’s good to see you,” Connie told her, brow furrowing. “I didn’t think I was going to see you. What are you doing here? Are you spending the weekend, too?”
“No—” Michelle began. And I knew Michelle. If I wasn’t careful, she’d take the opportunity to flee.
“She is staying the weekend, actually,” I said. “Her house got broken into, and she’s scared.”
“I’m not,” Michelle insisted, a big, phony smile plastered to her face. “I just decided that I’m not as scared as I thought I was. I’m just going to go home, I think.”
“No,” I said in a downtrodden tone. “Stay.”
Michelle looked at me shrewdly.
“Why are you guys being weird?” Connie asked.
Okay, I had to maneuver Connie out of this room so Michelle could get dressed.
“Did you see the trampoline?” I asked, ushering her from the room.
“Uh, yeah, I saw it when we got it,” she reminded me. I crowded her down the stairs and flashed Michelle a wink as I closed the bedroom door behind us.
Michelle, of course, darted out the door as soon as she was fully dressed. “Beautiful day for a long walk,” she announced. Connie noted that she was weird. I sent her a text.
Be safe… Come back soon.
It didn’t get any response.
* * *
I waited two days, and I knew I wasn’t going to see Michelle again unless I made the first move. I texted her again, and then I called.
It rang five times before there was an answer.
I imagined her staring at the screen, weighing whether or not to answer.
I know no one wants to hear “Just trust me” when they have good reason to suspect infidelity.
“Hello?” Michelle answered. She sounded bored alread
y.
“Hey,” I said.
There was a pause. “Hey,” she echoed.
“Hello.”
Michelle laughed a little and my heart did a shimmy. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Wondering when I’m going to see you again. I know if I don’t schedule your ass, I never will.”
“Mm,” Michelle murmured behind closed lips, and my dick thickened at the mere sound. The vibration of an “mm” against her lips was enough to get me ready. I couldn’t even see her. “I don’t know, Ace.”
I furrowed my brow as I realized that I couldn’t remember the last time she called me Ace, if she ever had, even though only my mother still calls me Andrew.
“Hey,” I said, voice almost soft with offense. “You never call me Ace.”
“Because it’s not your name,” she answered simply. “Somewhere, deep down inside you, there’s a little boy who knows that his name is Andrew.” I smiled at the thought of her calling my inner-child whenever she said my name, reaching down into a place inside me that even I have forgotten. “Anyway,” she added, “Ace is a douchebag name.”
My brow dented. “You’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you?” I told her.
“What, I can’t play?” she wondered, and another rush of blood unfurled my cock.
I swallowed. “What are you doing right now?” I wondered thickly.
“Getting out of the bath tub,” she answered in a sultry, husky voice. I reached down and squeezed my prick through the denim of my jeans, biting down on my lower lip and relishing the sensation. Fuck, I was either going to see her right now or I was going to jack off thinking about her right now.
“Are you still naked?” My hand grinded over my cock in anticipation, conjuring images of Michelle laced in bubbles, Michelle’s wet palms slipping over her slippery tits, Michelle’s mouth hanging open in ecstasy, dark tendrils clinging to her neck and the side of her face.
“I can’t right now, Andrew,” Michelle giggled, receding from our erotic conversation. My dick throbbed plaintively as it watched her go. “I have an appointment downtown, but I’ll be back in a few hours if you want to come by then?”
“Fuck yeah,” I growled. My mind was still in that bathtub with her.
Michelle laughed again and my heart soared. “You’re an animal,” she purred.
“Leave the door unlocked for me, will you?” I asked, biting down on my lower lip at the fantasy of stretching out naked with some whipped cream sprayed on my shaft. I didn’t even think about her home security issues.
“Oh, I don’t bother locking the door anymore,” Michelle mentioned, blasé. “Whoever keeps breaking into the house has had a key made.”
“What?”
“Oh, yeah. Every time I come home with one of those alerts, the front door is just unlocked. They have a key; they just don’t have the code to shut down the system.”
“God, that’s shit,” I scoffed. “You need to get out of that house.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” she departed musically, the line going dead.
With my manhood still pounding for her, I decided to take a bath, too.
Fifteen minutes later, I sank nude into hot, sudsy water and the throbbing intensified as my blood vessels dilated. My prick peered up at me, as thick as a two by four, from its halo of bubbles. I ran the fragrant water over my skin and sighed—as a well-endowed mechanic in a bubble bath.
God, I was going to come so hard. It was a shame that my cum wouldn’t be able to find its way into Michelle’s pussy from here.
I closed my eyes and settled along the slope of the tub, stroking gently, smoothly, up and down my own shaft. I pictured her round ass in front of me, slippery and soapy, her pink little pussy tucked neatly between those thick thighs. I would ease her backward onto my cock and slip into her so easily, so readily. She was always so wet for me. She would shudder around me and grip the ledges of the tub as I thrusted. I would grip her hips and jerk her back and forth, relishing how she slithered over my shaft, whimpering and gyrating....
A dollop of lotion swept my hand rapidly over the broad head of my cock and my thighs tensed. I hissed in a breath and my hand tingled with the desire to smack Michelle’s ass hard right now. I wasn’t going to last long. She would press and twist and milk my cock for all its honey, telling me yes, her dark hair getting wet, her glasses off, tits bouncing, yes, yes....
It was the mental image of bouncing, soap-slippery tits that made my cock spurt ribbons of white into the bath water and I exhaled with vigor and relish, feeling like a new man.
Maybe I should do that every time I’m going to see her, just to keep my head on straight.
* * *
After the bath, I dressed myself in a plain red cotton t-shirt and jeans. I glimpsed in the mirror and was delighted at the progress of my five o’clock shadow’s return. I practiced my bedroom eyes on myself in the mirror and then laughed. What kind of girl would fall for a face like this? I looked like mountain terrain, all brush and stones. Oh, well. If Michelle wanted to swing her hips and saunter down to my league to be with me, that was her decision.
I went to her house with a can of spray whipped cream and her car was still in the driveway. Huh. I was going to strip down and stretch myself out on her bed, but if she was already home, maybe I could spray it on her instead. I wondered briefly if she was the kind of person who would get upset if her bedding was damaged, and then disregarded the thought. She wouldn’t care. If she cared about us staining the bed, I wasn’t doing my job right.
My mind was on Michelle’s mouth as I strode up her front porch steps. There was a spring in my step and a song in my heart as I reached for the doorknob.
But it twisted before I could touch it, and I pulled back. I assumed it would be Michelle on the other side.
But the door fell open and Chet Browntooth strode into the dying July afternoon, an old composition notebook and a photo album clutched to his chest.
Within an instant, I knew everything. The look in his eyes told me everything that context couldn’t. It hit me like a bolt of lightning and I broiled. He was the reason the police department never received any alerts. He was the reason there were no signs of forced entry. He was the reason the profile of this thief was so creepily obsessive. How hadn’t I seen before that his personality fit the crime perfectly? Why had I believed his story on that first night, when he was on her porch in the dead of night, front door hanging ajar? How could Michelle have been the only female Chet ever successfully bought a gift without offending? He knew she would like the pearls because it was in a journal or a picture or something. He’d probably been plying her with her own secrets and memories all month.
I launched myself at him with all the primitive instinct of a caveman and we tumbled back over Michelle’s threshold together. Chet telegraphed his first swipe one beat before it came, so I dodged easily and pinned him to the wood floor.
“You’re one sick son of a bitch, Browntooth,” I told him through gritted teeth. “What were you doing in there, huh? Reading her diaries?”
“Jerking off in her panties,” Chet sneered up at me, and I swiped his jaw with my knuckle too quickly to even comprehend what I was doing, what I had just done. “You’re about to be under a-fucking-rrest, Ace!” he roared, mouth spraying blood where I busted a tooth loose.
“Oh, yeah?” I gave him a little shake. “How are you going to explain what the fuck you were doing in here, Browntooth? I’m supposed to be here! You’re not!”
“Just because you’re here doesn’t mean she’s yours, grease monkey,” Chet jeered. He grinned, even though blood seeped over his lower lip. “I see her all the time, and she loves to talk to me. Giving me little smiles. Shaking that ass when she walks away. You’re not the only one she wants, and I live right next door.”
“You’ve been stealing her shit!” I struggled off Chet and snatched the composition notebook from his hands. “What is this?” I flipped it open and saw handwriting on lined paper. V
intage. There was a Chapter One heading, and it spilled right into some deep, passionate love scene.
My palms raked a little trail down the patch of hard stubble on Gavin’s jaw…
The guy sounded a little like me, actually.
My eyes thundered down at Chet and I said nothing.
“I’m going to tell her,” I informed him solemnly. I had to keep my cool, or it was going to look like something it wasn’t. “What she decides to do with this information is up to her.” But she better fuckin’ move in with me and sue your ass for harassment if you come within 300 feet of her.
“I think you should tell her,” Chet encouraged me, propping himself up on his elbow. In spite of Chet’s slimmer stature and the fact that his hands weren’t half as hard as mine, he’d taken that punch like a champ. As I recall, he was in a lot of fights as a kid, and his old man was pretty sour, too. We were born in the ‘80s, but that kind of stuff still happened behind closed doors. “I think you should be the one to tell her that you have been breaking into her house and stealing her little treasures,” he explained as he shambled to a stand and dabbed at his lip. “That’s noble, Ace.”
“She would never believe that, even if I did tell her myself,” I said.
Chet grinned. “You mean, the way she didn’t believe that you were still hooking up with Lola?” he provoked me. “Don’t you have a license to locksmith? Didn’t you get all that equipment when you started the garage?” He rolled his tongue thoughtfully in his mouth and sauntered toward me, sizing me up like he thought he was becoming the alpha in this scenario. I watched him with even, calm eyes, waiting for his next move. I knew one was coming soon. His body language radiated restrained aggression like heat waves coming off a desert road. “And isn’t it so fucking weird how perfect she thinks you are? How perfect you seem to be?”
I swallowed and told myself that violence never solved anything.
Who said that? Can’t remember. Doesn’t matter.
