by Lulu Pratt
“Oh, oh oh,” she gasped.
My touch had never had such an immediate effect on the women, and her desire spurred me on. I placed another finger within her, and soon, to the background noise of Poppy’s heavy breathing, I was stroking her walls, moving my fingers in and out, around in circles, creating all sorts of patterns within her body, and Poppy was responding in kind – moaning, gripping the bed with her perfectly manicured fingers, scrunching up her toes.
I pulled my fingers from her opening, and slid them back up, until I arrived at her pearl. I barely even brushed it – more of a whisper than actual contact – and I felt her shudder beneath me and close her eyes more tightly, desperate and excited. My finger frisked in circular patterns, then back and forth, changing the rhythm. I wasn’t sure about my dancing skills, but when it came to rhythm in the bedroom, I had gifts aplenty.
As I increased the pressure, Poppy’s cries increased too. Fearing that we’d wake the whole house, I reached up with my free hand to cover her mouth, laying my palm flat on her lips. To my surprise, she licked at my hand then bit down on it, not in self-defense but as an involuntary muscular reaction to pleasure. In any case, I wasn’t complaining.
My fingers had only been flicking her clit for perhaps one minute when she heaved out:
“I’m gonna come, Finn.”
That had been fast, but then, she didn’t strike me as someone who masturbated often. I redoubled my efforts, pressing harder on her clit and clamping my mouth back down on one of her nipples. She held my face tightly to her breast, and after a few moments of suckling and flicking, I could feel her entire body clench beneath me.
“I’m coming!” she moan, her voice ravaged with desire. Her hips shot up beneath, her chest moving up and down in waves, the linen between her fingers shaking.
I pulled my hand away, just in time to see Poppy Reeve squirt all over the bed, spraying like a water hose.
After a few moments, she gasped and looked downwards to her pussy.
“What was that?!” she cried, confused.
I moved from my position near her pussy, sliding up to her mouth, ‘til our faces hung one atop the other.
“You squirted, love,” I explained.
“Is that a bad thing?”
I kissed her lush mouth. “No, I take it as a compliment.”
She blushed, and whispered, “I’ve never felt anything like that.”
“You deserve to feel like that once a day,” I replied, my hand returning to her breast, absently stroking it.
“Pinch me again,” she pleaded, glancing at her tits.
I obliged, and even gently twisted her nipple this time.
“Finn?”
“Yes?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m not finished. I want… I want more.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Shall I eat you out?”
Poppy shook her head. “No, I mean I want – I want sex. With you.”
My cock throbbed at this, but I restrained myself. “Are you sure?” I asked. “You’re rounding a lot of bases in one day. I’d love to, but not if you’re feeling pressured.”
Her hand very tentatively moved to my dick, and I could feel her trembling with nerves.
“I want it,” she repeated, this time in a low, fervent voice.
Okay. Okay. Then this was happening.
I slid off the bed, and jogged over to my suitcase, in which I found a condom.
“All right,” I said, returning to Poppy, who lay in wait like a real pillow princess. “And whenever you want to stop–”
“Coconut.”
“Right.”
I stood beside the bed, and before I could take off my underwear, Poppy reached out a hand once more and laid it nervously on my cock. My muscles twinged in response and my dick jumped.
“It’s so… thick,” she murmured. “Will it hurt?”
“Not if you’re actually aroused,” I replied.
“I am.” She blushed the deepest of reds.
I grinned and slid the underwear down to the floor. Her eyes drank in the length of my eight-inch cock, its ridges and gentle curve. I maintained eye contact with her as I wrapped the condom onto myself, tossing the package aside and hopping back onto the bed. Poppy lay beneath my straddled legs, the picture of anticipation.
“I want this,” she whispered.
And so did I.
With that, I lowered myself down to just above her center, teasing Poppy’s opening with my tip. Her breathing quickened. It was time.
In a long, slow, smooth motion, I inserted my cock inside her. There was no resistance, no dryness, no whimpers of pain on her end. Poppy had, indeed, been ready.
“Wow,” she whispered. “Wow.”
Thrilled by her encouragement, I braced my hand on the wall behind her head and lifted her legs around my shoulders. Her broad hips rose easily, eagerly, and I plunged back into her core.
“Oh, Finn,” she murmured. “Don’t stop.”
I didn’t plan on it. I had been wanting to do this from the moment we met, to fill her body with mine. And now, the time had come and it was even better than I could’ve possibly dreamt and trust me, I’d dreamt about it rather extensively.
The pace of my thrusts increased and Poppy threw her head back. I was going to come faster than I had since… well, probably since I was a pubescent teen, unable to control his urges. She did that to me – made me young again, young and deeply excited.
My cock’s ridges felt every inch of Poppy, the thrill running up and down my bones. Her nails, which had been twisted in the sheets, made their way to my back, and were dragging up and down my spine, increasing my sensation.
I was on the brink, and knew I could orgasm at any moment. My cock sunk deeper into her, and her mouth spread into a wide O.
“Oh my God,” Poppy screamed.
It was the first time she’d taken the Lord’s name in vain, and that thought aroused me so much that I ejaculated on the spot, my legs collapsing as I fell on top of Poppy, my hips arching to fill every last corner of the condom with my seed. I writhed in bed, riding out my ecstasy for what seemed like ages.
After a few deep breaths, I removed my dick from Poppy and wiped my forehead.
“How was it?” I asked, sitting back on my heels and panting.
Her eyes welled up. For a moment, I thought she was upset, that I’d done something wrong, but then she smiled.
“It was perfect,” Poppy whispered.
Chapter 18
POPPY
OKAY SO…
That happened.
I was no longer a virgin. Ugh, I don’t even like to say ‘a virgin,’ it makes it sound like that had been my whole personality. Let’s put it this way – I was no longer somebody who hadn’t had sex. Instead, I was now a woman who’d had absolutely, positively mind-blowing sex.
And you know what?
I didn’t feel even a little guilty about it.
I mean, how could I? Finn wasn’t just a gentleman, he was a total stud in bed. He knew every move to make, listened when I asked and focused all his attention on me. Where’s the shame in that?
Finn leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed behind his head and a satisfied smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Remembering one of April’s countless sex lectures – my parents had left her with the job, even though nobody thought it’d be relevant for several years, if not decades – I climbed out of the sheets and went to clean up.
After doing my business, I saw a towel hanging on a nearby rack, and debated wrapping myself in it before going back out. Would it be weird to still walk around naked?
But I realized that the body shame I’d been feeling previously, from my new venture into fashion and my confrontation with Chrissy, had dissipated when I allowed myself to be intimate and vulnerable with Finn. I had returned to my equilibrium – not giving a hoot what people thought about my fat butt. Besides, I already had it on good authority – aka the horse’s mouth – that Finn was a big f
an of said butt.
So I waltzed back out of the bathroom, unclothed and not mad about it. To my mild surprise, Finn was out of bed, delicious cock still hanging free, but he was on the phone. I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, but he held up a finger and pressed his ear closer to the receiver.
“Really? Yes… I mean, I’d love to. My pleasure. Of course.” He paused. “Great. I’ll send you the digitals later.”
He hung up the phone and turned fully to face me.
His eyes ran over my body and he smirked. “Jesus, you’re stunning.”
I moved closer to him, feeling confident. “Everything okay?” I asked.
Finn erased the distance between us in a matter of steps, his body towering over mine now that we were vertical, and not horizontal.
The smirk turned into a grin, and he said, “That was my assistant, Janice, on the phone. I sent BeYou Magazine the pictures I took of you yesterday, at the market and so on, and they were so pleased with the results that they asked me to shoot you around the island today.”
My body froze. “Are you serious?”
He nodded.
I stuttered, “I’ve never been in a magazine. BeYou Magazine hardly ever has, y’know, plus size girls.”
“You’re a trailblazer,” he murmured his arms encircling my waist, his hands gliding to my butt. “Besides, nobody could look at those pictures and not want more.”
He moved his hand back around the front, and slipped a finger inside me again. I moaned and instinctively clenched down on his hand with my muscles. Finn pulled the finger back out, and slid it in his mouth.
“Yum,” he said with a wink. “Just had to get one more taste of ye before we started the day. Needed a little inspiration.”
Oh my gosh, he was so hot I could just about melt to pieces. Or, as my Mama would say, swoon.
“Now, go get ready,” he instructed.
I tried to play it cool, to act like this was just a regular day in my life, but the stupid grin that immediately took over my face gave me away. I pecked Finn on the cheek, and raced to the bathroom to begin my prep. This look would have to be fantastic.
While Finn lazed outside on the bed – it took him all of five minutes to get dressed, men don’t get how good they have it – I recorded a “Get Ready with Me” video, while simultaneously getting, y’know, ready. I’d been slacking on my channel since we’d landed, which was a little presumptuous of me. After all, though this job with BeYou Magazine was awesome, YouTube paid my bills.
After about forty-five minutes of hair and make-up, which really isn’t that long for a look that’s going to be professionally photographed, I was ready. At least, on the beauty front. Next, I had to pick out a killer outfit.
I paced back into the bedroom, where Finn was reading a new book. How did he get through them so quickly? Probably because he doesn’t have to put on a full face of make-up, my mind offered.
He glanced up from his novel. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you, Finn. Sorry I’m taking so long,” I apologized, feeling a little embarrassed. I knew being ‘low maintenance’ was in.
But Finn shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Art takes time.”
That brought the color to my cheeks, piercing through the blush to spread an even deeper red across my visage.
I moved to the closet, where I’d carefully hung up all my new clothes.
Sigh. They were all beautiful, but what to wear? What said, ‘this is my print debut, and I’m fabulous’?
“Why the groan?” Finn asked.
Without turning from the rack of clothes, I replied mournfully, “I don’t know what to wear.”
He jack-knifed himself up from the spread of pillows and padded over to me, barefoot and elegant. Taking a hair tie from his wrist, he pulled his long locks back, as if getting down to serious business.
“Okay,” he said, looking through the closet attentively. “So I’m thinking something kind of like, lost romantic for this shoot. If that makes sense.”
I nodded, and smiled a little at his concentration. I’d never seen a man give a hoot about clothes, and the way he talked about them like they mattered, like they weren’t just ‘girly things’ but were serious business, made me feel as though he appreciated what women went through just to get dressed in the morning.
His fingers alighted on a piece of silk, and Finn pulled out a cerulean dress that was the height of simplicity – no extra ties, no random frills, no extraneous details. Nothing to hide behind. Although it covered everything, it was so simple that it was almost scandalous.
“This,” he said with confidence.
“Are you sure?” I replied. “It’s basically just a slip.”
“Try it on,” Finn insisted.
I grabbed some underwear from my bag, preparing to pull it on, when Finn held up a hand.
“Underwear will ruin the lines,” he said. “It’ll bunch up the silk.”
He was right – but was I really ready to be underwear-less in a national magazine? Maybe nobody else would know, but I would.
“Just give it a go,” he suggested. “If you hate it, we’ll find something else.”
That seemed reasonable.
I slinked into the dress, neither bra nor underwear on my skin to prevent me from feeling the cool, sensuous kiss of the silk. It slid on like a second skin.
Finn took a step back to take it in.
“Perfect,” he murmured, his head tilted slightly. “Look in the mirror.”
I floated across the room, feeling like someone older, more self-assured, until I was in front of the full-length mirror.
Finn had been right – I looked absolutely gorgeous.
The silk hugged my every curve, the color bringing out my pink undertones and playing with the blue of my eyes. My breasts had always been the only part of my body that I’d called ‘perky,’ and they sat upright in the dress, demanding attention. It didn’t hurt that my nipples were still hard from Finn’s proximity.
Speaking of – Finn came up behind me, and laid a hand on my waist.
“I could fuck you again,” he whispered, “right here, right now, but I don’t want to tear the silk.”
I giggled, and gripped his hand.
He continued, “Put on some simple gold jewelry, and don’t worry about the shoes – you’ll be barefoot.”
There was clearly a defined vision in his head, so I followed the instructions, adding some tiny gold hoops and a long, gold, single-strand necklace.
At last, I was ready.
Finn took one look at me, and said, “Don’t change a thing.”
I laughed. “That good?”
“That great.”
We shared a smile, and then gathered up our things and headed downstairs to grab protein bars and water before we headed out. Any other food we needed, we’d pick up around the island.
In the kitchen, we were met by Bebe, Kareen, and of course, Chrissy, who looked enraged that I’d had the gall to even enter the same room as her.
Bebe and Kareen, dressed in multi-colored workout clothes, chorused, “Hey!”
“Hey,” I replied with a smile. “How’s it–”
Chrissy cut me off. “Why are you, like, glowing?”
What was that supposed to mean? Surely Chrissy doesn’t have, like, a sixth sense for sex, I thought. That would be crazy. Then again, she was pretty nuts. I glanced at Finn, whose jaw was clenched tight.
Kareen offered, “Because Poppy’s amazing at make-up. Duh.”
That was sweet. But Chrissy just shook her head. “Not that amazing. Nobody can fake that glow.”
Finn growled, “Knock it off,” but Chrissy persisted.
“No, really, something’s different. Maybe you’re just super oily,” she finished with a careful sneer.
Suddenly, my newfound confidence leapt into my throat, and jumped out of my mouth before I could curb it.
“Actually,” I replied, though the voice sounded nothing like my own, “I be
dded Finn.”
Chrissy mouth dropped open, the first uncalculated move I’d ever seen her make, and Bebe and Kareen cheered.
“That’s so fantastic!” Bebe hollered.
“Yay!” Kareen said with a big smile.
I couldn’t see Finn – he was just out of my range of vision, and I wasn’t willing to break eye contact with Chrissy to look at him. But I had a feeling he didn’t care what I told Chrissy. Hopefully, that was an accurate feeling, because I couldn’t take back what I’d said, couldn’t untell the truth.
“You…” Chrissy managed to splutter out. “You fucked Finn?” She turned to the man of the hour, saying, “Finn? What’s she talking about?”
I pivoted to face Finn. Sure enough, I’d guessed correctly – he was the absolute picture of unconcern.
“Yes, Chrissy,” he replied. “Poppy and I, two consenting adults, had intimate relations. What’s it to you?”
Chrissy’s eyes were lit up, as if with little animated flames.
“Nothing,” she hissed. “It’s absolutely fucking nothing to me.”
She glared in my direction, snatched a protein shake off the counter, and stormed out of the room.
Finn and I looked at one another, and he shrugged. Guess that settled that.
We bid goodbye to Bebe and Kareen, then headed out to where the company car was idling. No rickshaws for us today. This was official business. Finn opened the door for me, and I climbed inside. This time, not relegated to the cramped back seat.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Anywhere you love,” Finn replied, then gestured to me. “I’m going to be shooting her today.”
The driver glanced back at me. “Okay, I have some ideas.”
Finn and I spent the car ride talking about our favorite places in our respective cities – his was a rooftop in New York, covered in plants and just a few creaky chairs with a stunning skyline of the city. Mine, a lake about a mile from my house where you could swing from an old rope, attached to an even older tree, and get a good five-foot jump into the water.
At last, we pulled up to an old church. No, church probably wasn’t the right word. More like a monastery, perhaps? The kind of place missionaries might’ve built when they came to convert the people of the island. An aspect of Christian history I felt appropriately guilty about.
