by Laine Watson
I knew I didn’t deserve to be worshipped the way Carson fawned over me. If I did deserve it, then how come no one else had treated me like that? I also knew one day it would stop. He’d find someone who wasn’t into all the freaky shit I was into and then he’d realize how far apart on the class spectrum we were. Somehow, it was starting to be worth every single moment I spent with him, even if he’d someday leave me. At least that’s how I felt that night.
With that said, if he could fuck me like I wanted to be fucked, then I’d just have to deal with that disappointment when it came.
He kicked off his shoes and moved his legs underneath me. I waited until he was done with that to pull his costume down and expose his navy-blue boxer briefs. He finished taking the suit off and took off the mask, maybe we both forgot about the furry ears, because he didn’t take those off. I sat on top of his package, and it rose against my folds. He sat up slowly and I fell onto the bed. His stare was intense, but his face was soft. He was taking too long, so I slipped my shirt over my head, exposing my perky tits, nipples erect and ready for him.
I gazed up at his crooked smile as he lifted his hand and covered my left boob. I arched my back as he dropped his hand between my legs and lowered his face to my chest. His soft lips locked around my nipple and pulled tightly on it.
I moaned, tossing my head back. He was just as kind to my other nipple before he laid me down and kissed slowly from my breasts down to my stomach and right on the bow of my seeping underwear. My body was about to explode from arousal when he took the hem in between his teeth and dragged my panties down my legs. The sweet aroma of my wet box filling the air. I knew when he got a whiff of it because his eyes flashed green with desire. He stared hypnotized at my midriff, using his hands to open my legs and position me the way he wanted me.
“Oh, mmm...” he groaned, laying down, his face so close to touching my creases. I closed my eyes and let my head rest on my bed. He kissed my inner thighs, bending my legs in the air, then he kissed my knees and back down to my thighs, and slowly, achingly, passionately around my box until his tongue slid slowly between my folds from the bottom to the top. He shifted his body, setting his jaw and tilting his head to the right. He had two moves, licking and sucking, and those were the only two moves he needed, because he got it right, painfully, breathtakingly, body-numbingly right each time. I squirmed as his tongue fluttered in and out of me as he made love to my wet and throbbing lady bits. His hands roamed all over my thighs and legs, my stomach and hips, as he caressed me, almost roughly but gently. What a paradox, how his strong grip provided such delicate touches. I wanted his cock in my mouth, I needed it.
“Carson.” I begged, “I need you.”
“Oh, right,” He said his voice vibrating into my core. The coolness of his breath caused an involuntary contraction in my womb.
He shifted.
“Wait,” I said getting up and laying him down. I didn’t want him to finish. I knew if he finished, there’d be no way he’d penetrate me that night.
“No,” he said grabbing the back of my knees.
It made me squirm. He did it with such masculine force I felt like I was having a tiny orgasm.
Oh, Carson. Please fuck me! I just wanted to say that to him, but this is the first time—I didn’t want to scare him. I swallowed my words and tossed my hair to the side. I slid my lips down his shaft.
“Go slow,” he told me.
I wanted to suck the skin off his dick, suck the veins off his shaft, choke myself on his dick. But he didn’t want that—he wanted a sensual, gentle touch. So I let my tongue slide up and down his rod, using all my willpower not to suck his balls into my wet mouth.
If he hadn’t said that, I might have sucked the skin and veins off of his dick.
He yelped and moaned as he ran his hands through my hair, and his tightly closed eyes and just barely contorted face turned me on so much I couldn’t wait anymore.
Fuck me! I demanded in my head, but once again I swallowed my words.
“Carson...” My voice waivered in a whisper.
His heavy panting lessened, “Yeah?” that breathy voice, so... sexy.
“Make love to me,” I peeped, unable to hold out any longer.
“Okay,” he agreed, his dick standing at attention. He sat up and laid me down.
Missionary. I knew that was going to be his first choice. He spread my legs wider, his lips spread apart, a concentrating stare in his eyes. He lifted them from my middle to my eyes and he placed his hands beside me, palms down, fingers wide. And with a little bit of struggle he slid that delicious, rock hard erection inside of me. Pushing my walls as far as they had ever been apart. My mouth opened wide, as I arched my back and my mind turned to mush. I couldn’t even keep my eyes open it was so good. My eyebrows furrowed as he began to thrust with long, slow and just barely rough strides. I rocked my hips upward to meet his thrust which pushed my pleasure beyond anything I had experienced before.
“Look at me,” he demanded, in a vulnerable, yet possessive tone.
When I opened my eyes, his face was just as defenseless. So was I.
“God, you feel... so good,” he said breathily. His words dripping with passion as he groaned. He fell to his knees and pushed my legs forward, they were already bent in the air. With each groan he made I thought, this is the one, this is when he’s going to start fucking me, this is when he’s going to fuck me so hard I try to get away from him but he won’t let me. This is when all my dreams are going to come true. This is when the sound of our bodies smacking together is going to drive my orgasm to the highest height. But our bodies never smacked together, I never felt the painfully beautiful pressure from his thrusts.
What did happen is that we stayed in missionary position for hours, the passion never died down. He lay back down on top of me and kissed me. I’d never kissed anyone while having sex. My hands clutched his hair over and over because I really didn’t know how to feel. I was so turned on, so wet, the sound of this, all over the room, our bodies pouring sweat and the heat consuming us. As we kissed, our tongues intertwined, but not one pounding thrust came my way, just passionate, intense lovemaking. I had never experienced that. I was frustrated and ultimately pleasured at the same time. I was pushed beyond my limits without feeling the pain of having my hair pulled or my ass smacked, no handcuffs, no gags, nothing but pure, delicious big dick energy. After a while I couldn’t think anything, I was consumed by every, affectionate thrust, every passionate kiss, every loving touch.
I’d like to say it was so disheartening, but it wasn’t. After all I knew from the beginning this was the kind of guy he was. My orgasm built slowly. At points I thought it would fizzle out, but it never did. As Carson slid through my cream pool I could imagine at the base of his shaft how much of me must have been dripping off of him. For long periods of time, I’d lie there moaning with my arms around him, still at the peak of my arousal and want nothing more than exactly what he was giving me. But then I’d come to my senses. At those times, I wanted to tell him to stop, but I also didn’t want him to. I wanted to scream, “Harder, harder! Fuck me harder,” but I was too ashamed. If I would have said it and he would have done it, I don’t think I would have been able to deny how much I wanted him, in every way.
I closed my eyes and enjoyed it out of shame and disgust. I hated myself, because a good girl would love someone making love to her like this, catering to her every move, worshipping her body as if it were angelic and fragile.
I convinced myself, as delicious and breathtaking, as soul-defining and spirit-releasing as making love to Carson was, it was still lacking. I couldn’t tell you what it was lacking because I had nothing left inside of me. I had orgasmed all at once, more times that I had ever orgasmed in a day’s time, having sex or masturbating. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought my entire womanhood had packed up and moved to the end of Carson’s dick so it could hop on anytime it pleased. My body was spent. My mind was mush, my soul and spi
rit were drunk with vibes of Carson all around them.
“Mmm...” he moaned, “Delicious.” He sucked on my bottom lip, propelling even slower and more precisely, almost as if he had zeroed in on the specific area of my vulva that would render the strongest orgasm one could have.
I tried to ignore it, tried to pretend that it was boring and not all-consuming.
Is this how it’s going to be? I can’t do this. Fuck me. Throw me around the room, please. Bite me. Smack me. You’re not even going to turn me over? Doggy style? From the side? Nothing? I thought with my eyes closed, as if I could do any of that right now. I just want to go to sleep in his arms.
I thought that, but it was no use. This slow and steady, careful love making was powerful and unique to any other sex I’d had before. I couldn’t deny, another orgasm was building and when it reached its peak, my body shuddered and I fell deep into extasy, eyes rolling back in my head, my lips quivered and I could only moan and ball the covers up in my fists as I whimpered in pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Carson sat up, placing his palms flat on my headboard, and peered deeply into my eyes. His gaze wasn’t innocent anymore it was direct and arousing, sexy and masculine. He finally closed his eyes as he groaned. Each slow and direct thrust solicited a sexy grunt and a groan. The tone of his moans grew higher and higher until it sounded like he was a hummingbird singing praises to my flower.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, throwing his head back, never breaking his rotation.
I screamed out. I felt like I was going to melt into the covers underneath me, wrapping my fingers around Carson’s forearms. My flower pushed him out, she was just as spent as I was, I imagine. I thought at least his seed would spread out over the room so I opened my mouth. I wanted it all over me. It sprayed across the room a few satisfying drops spraying across my body. Carson quickly reached for his dick.
“Sorry,” he said, letting the rest of it dribble out on the bed.
The innocence is back.
I was disappointed, enraged, aggravated.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream no put it on me, put it in me, but I just lay there, body shuddering, unable to speak. Even though he hadn’t fucked me, those, by far, were the hardest, strongest and most intense orgasms I had ever had. I moaned and whispered, my fists balling the covers as I stayed in that muscle spasm stage longer than I ever had. And when my body released I couldn’t even hold my head still I wagged it over the bed speaking and moaning gibberish until the only thing I could do was catch my breath. I couldn’t even open my eyes, my body was so weak. My body was beyond satisfied, I couldn’t even address the fact that I hadn’t just gotten fucked.
“Heh. Sorry I didn’t use a condom. I really didn’t know you were going to be that hard to resist.” He got up. “Do you mind if I wipe off the cum with your shirt?” he asked innocently. “My other clothes are in the car.”
Wipe it off? I want to finger myself using it as lube, while you watch. And you want to wipe it off? I sighed, smiling to myself.
“Sure,” I peeped, opening my eyes.
He wiped it off and threw the shirt on the floor in the corner.
“Can you turn the light off?” I asked him with my eyes closed, I didn’t want to move.
“Uh, yeah,” he said and the flick of the switch darkened the room.
“C—can I lay with you?” he asked, that breathy, boyish innocence stinging me right in my core.
I didn’t usually allow that, but I was weak and I wasn’t coherent. We’ll blame it on that, not on the fact that that was what I wanted most in the world, even if I didn’t deserve it.
“Uh-huh,” I said, turning over on my side.
He laid beside me, pulled me close to him in the middle of the bed.
“Cover me,” I demanded, in a bratty tone and he did with no rebuttal, only a sweet and affectionately smile.
Being in his arms was new. After I had sex with someone that was it. You went your way, I went mine. But he had been the one to slip through the cracks.
“We don’t have to go to that party. You’ll still be my moon goddess, you’re wearing my necklace.” His words were muffled, his breath on my back.
I moaned something but I don’t know what I was trying to say. I was drifting off to sleep.
I giggled lethargically. “Goodnight... my kitty cat.”
Chapter 10: Missionary
I had used finals to try and keep Carson away and for the most part it works. I had finished my first semester of my senior year and I could rest. And I was going to be resting right in our humble abode. I wasn’t going home for the holidays.
I lay on the sofa, upside down, fiddling with the bow of my baby pink hipster underwear. I wore a super soft and comfy sweatshirt with an abstract colorful design on the front. My feet dangled off the top of the sofa as I listened to some early two thousand emotional rock music as I thought about Carson. He had come into my life and created a whirlwind of emotions I wasn’t used to. I glanced at my phone on the coffee table when it started to buzz. Stretching my body off the sofa, I grabbed it.
Sawyer? Random.
“Hey.”
“So how’s our McKinzi? Feeling good today?”
“I feel okay.”
“Going home for the holidays or are you going to cuddle up with me a few times like you did last Christmas break?”
“We were definitely not cuddling.” I giggled.
“Our version of cuddling. You’ve been a little MIA. What’s going on?”
“Sorry it’s been a bit crazy. Next semester is going to be crazier. You graduated already, you remember how your senior year was, don’t you?”
“Okay, okay. I get it.”
“I promise, I’ll come and see you soon.”
“Okay, take care of yourself.”
“You too.” I smiled.
“Ciao.”
“Bye.”
The call ended but I didn’t put my phone down. Instead I stared into the screen.
Did Carson already leave for the holidays?
Kira appeared to the left of the sofa, holding my birthday card.
“You’re not going home for Christmas?”
I sighed tiredly and turned right-side up, folding my legs on the couch cushions.
“No. My parents already put money in my account. More than likely they aren’t even in the country anymore; probably in some tropical place for the winter.”
“Wow. Nice.” She threw the red envelope at me. “Are you going to open your birthday card?”
“I wasn’t. There’s nothing inside,” I frowned, opening it to appease Kira, “except a stamped happy birthday and a gentle reminder that when I graduate college I’ll have to rely on my trust fund—basically allowances are done and I have to fend for myself.” I giggled.
“You have a trust fund?” She contorted her face, “How is that ‘fending’ for yourself?”
“Yeah. Because once it’s gone—it’s gone,” I said, opening the card. “See,” I said, pointing at the fancy stamped ‘happy birthday’ and my parents’ names.”
“Hillary and Jeffery Todd,” she read.
Then I pointed at the ten-digit number.
“What’s that?” Kira asked.
“The number of their accountant. See, nothing special. They probably aren’t even the ones who did it. Those signatures are stamps too.”
“Wow, your parents are loaded.”
I nodded. “Pretty much.”
“But they also suck. Who sends a generic birthday card to their daughter?”
“Only daughter—only child,” I muttered.
“Definitely parents of the year,” Kira scoffed.
“Yeah, whatever. At least I’m not in boarding school anymore.” I gazed at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I get to choose to have whatever life I want.”
She pursed her lips to the side. “I thought this year you’d go home, since it’s your last year of college.”
“Nah. I have to get ready for this last
semester. I have to be focused. I have observations to do and a few more classes that I have to take.” I lowered my eyes and exhaled regretfully, cracking my index finger knuckle. “I don’t go home for the holidays because...” I frowned, “my mother barely even answers the phone when I call her. I called her a few days ago. She didn’t answer. Going home would probably just make me sad. I’d be there alone.” I gazed up into Kira’s eyes sadly.
“I get it.” She smiled, affectionately.
“It’s fine. My parents and I have never been close. At least they’re not overbearing.”
“I don’t get it, you make good grades—I mean you’re a complete slut—but other than that, even with that, you’re a good kid, a good person.”
“Am I?” I stared in the other direction at the curtains.
“I think so.”
“Not as good as Carson,” I said, sinking deeper into the couch cushions.
“Carson? Emo guy?”
I giggled. “I guess.” I paused. “We finally had sex.”
“Yay?” she said with a grimace.
“It was good—great—better than great. Toe-curling, mind-numbing, body-bending sex.” My heart was heavy as I turned to face her as she sat down in the chair. “I mean, I orgasmed so hard I thought my womb was going to split in half,” I scoffed.
