by Ford, Mia
My cock was fully inside her sweetness, pressing, stretching, and triggering every single button of lust she had. She instinctively wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me even deeper inside of her. I moved in and out of her at a growing rapid pace. I loved the way she was tighter, the deeper I went into her, culminating in the end of the thrust where she was tightest. As I pulled back it was like her pussy was grabbing the head of my dick and giving it some suction to add to the overall blissful experience I felt. I was going to come very soon.
The expression on Amber’s face was one of total wonder and endless passion. I loved to watch her growing pleasure as I felt the climax building inside of her. She grew tighter around me with every moment. I made sure that my eyes were locked tightly on her as our lust grew. I pounded tighter and tighter, my ass muscles getting a great workout as they continued pouring on the tension of balancing my hips to propel them forward.
I finally came hard inside of her.
“Shit!” I yelled as I released a huge load deeply inside of her wet paradise.
“Yes!” Amber moaned. She pulled me forward harder and harder with her legs, eventually pressing me inside of her so tightly that I couldn’t move. All I could do was wait for the climax to finish with no hope of a reprieve or rest.
“AHH!” I moaned.
God, this was intense. My body began to shake as my face became almost paralyzed in an opened mouth gawk as Amber drunk every drop of my man juice out of me and I felt her own climax going off around my hard cock. She was gripping me hard from the inside as if her inner walls were having some sort of a beautiful spasm and just knew how to get the most out of my hard shaft that they could.
And they did. I wasn’t sure how much I could hold on before I blacked out but I was determined to give it all I had.
“That’s it!” Amber hissed as she finally released me and I collapsed beside her.
We both lay there huffing and puffing for several minutes, both too tired to speak.
I just lie there thinking about how amazing my life was. I did what I wanted to do all day with my music. My time was my own the rest of the time. I had amazing women in my bed frequently. I really had it all.
But yet, something was missing. I was only twenty-four years old and I had my whole life ahead to figure out what I really wanted and who I wanted to be. I thought I knew, but everyone does think that at that age.
Still, there was something nagging at me. There was something that kept eating at me and I just didn’t know what the hell it was. I wanted something else. I wanted something more.
I wanted the one.
Never in my life had I ever thought about settling down or finding that one woman that I was head over heels crazy about, but lately I had been fantasizing about it. But that’s all it was—a fantasy. Did I really want to deal with the headaches and emotional problems that a real relationship brought? I didn’t know, but for whatever reason I found myself daydreaming about it and it was starting to sound like a good idea.
I figured one day I’d settle down and find the one, but not until my band took off. I knew we were good and I was determined to make it. I was lucky that I didn’t have to worry about money, which meant that I could devote all of my time to making it as a musician, which is what I’d spent the last few years doing. But not much was happening and I was starting to have my doubts. I found myself asking the question “what if it doesn’t happen?” way too many times.
And I was beginning to realize more and more that I didn’t have an answer to that question. I didn’t have any other plans. There was no plan B. It was music or bust as far as I was concerned.
And at twenty-four that idea was starting to sound a bit foolish even to me. At times I even started to think that my douchebag father was right. But then I had to dismiss that idea entirely. I could never admit he was right about anything.
As Amber and I lay there joking and talking in the afterglow of mind blowing sex, in the back of my mind I began to realize that I was full of these doubts lately.
Eventually, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. I hoped that the doubts would be gone in the morning. I just had to stay the course, right?
Just stay the course, and everything would be alright.
* * *
When I woke up the next morning Amber was gone. In her place in the bed was a note on her pillow. It simply said “Had a great time. Call me. 759-555-9986.”
I smiled and tossed the note in the trash. Last night had been great, but I had no intention of calling Amber again, at least not any time soon. Though I’d been thinking about possibly finding a great woman to have a real relationship with, Amber wasn’t it. She was a great, fun, sweet girl, but I didn’t feel that extra spark that went beyond the physical. But then again I’d never really felt that spark. I heard people talk about it all the time, but I had yet to really experience it. I wasn’t sure if I ever would but if it didn’t happen then that was fine too.
I rolled out of the bed, grabbed my phone, gave myself a big stretch, and then walked out of my bedroom. Glancing at my phone I saw it was a little past eleven in the morning. Shit. I hadn’t wanted to sleep that late. It felt like the day was getting away from me and I had some things I wanted to do before practice at three. There was a new song I was working on I really wanted to get a tight demo together for so I could show the guys at practice.
I grabbed a food packet from the freezer, placed it on a paper plate, and tossed it in the microwave. While it was cooking up, I grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the cap, and took a long swig. Ah, I loved the first beer of the day. Most people need coffee in the morning; me, I’ve always preferred a cold beer.
The microwave beeped and I took the hot packet out. I sat the plate on the coffee table and plopped back down on the couch. Just then my phone buzzed. I glanced at it in dread because I knew what was coming. My dad wanted to be buzzed up. I pushed the accept button on my phone app and watched on the camera as he entered the building.
I grabbed a robe from a nearby chair and wrapped it around my still naked body and unlocked the front door. Then I sat back down to enjoy my hot packet careful not to burn my mouth on the way-too-hot cheese. You always had to let those things sit for like ten minutes before they were cool enough to actually eat.
My father came walking through the door a few moments later.
“Hello, son,” My dad said walking into my apartment like he owned the place (which he kind of did since he technically paid my rent). I hated being under his thumb, but for the time being it was far better than the alternative.
“How’s it going dad? To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked laying it on a bit thick. But I was feeling a bit goofy. It was often easier if I lightened my mood before the conversation with my father got heavy.
“Enjoying a nutritious breakfast I see,” my dad said.
“It is what it is,” I replied taking a bite off my hot pocket.
My father sat down on the chair adjacent to the couch and sat there for a few seconds staring intently at me. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to intimidate me somehow or if he was just waiting for me to say something.
“Did you just wake up?” He finally asked.
“Yeah, we had a late gig last night. The band is starting to sound fantastic."
“Great to hear,” he said with a small amount of disdain in his voice. “You should be on the cover of Rolling Stone any day now.”
“Keep laughing,” I said. “Did you just come here to pick on me?”
I knew the answer to that but it was fun to antagonize him anyway.
“I was in the neighborhood working on a business deal, so I thought I’d stop by to see how my only son is doing. And to no surprise you are still wasting your life.”
“How am I wasting my life? I’m doing what I want with my life.”
“Well, when doing what you want comes at someone else’s expense then its considered wasting.”
“I appreciate all the financial
support, dad, but the money that you pay for my stuff isn’t even pennies compared to your bottom line. It’s not like you even miss it. I’m not living in the lap of luxury or anything.”
“You are and you don’t know it. That is how far out of touch with reality you are, and for that I have to take some of the responsibility for. When you were growing up, I was working all the time and I didn’t have the chance to teach you how hard it is to come by things. Life is not supposed to be easy.”
“Dad, I’ve heard all of this before. I know. I realize how lucky I am, but I thought you said you didn’t want me to have to struggle the way you did.”
“That’s true; I don’t want that for you, but I don’t want an easy ride in some fantasy world either. I mean, why haven’t you made it in your music? You’ve been working on it for years, but it doesn’t seem to be panning out. You have nothing else going on, so you can devote all of your time to that.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s hard. There is a lot of competition out there,” I said finishing the last bite of my hot pocket.
“Well, that is true in everything. Do you think I was the only guy going into real estate when I was your age? No. I was a fish out of water like everyone else. I knew nothing; I had nothing. And no one gave me a thing. I scraped and clawed my way up from the bottom and I am forever proud and grateful that I had to do it that way. If something is handed to you then you don’t have the proper mindset to appreciate it. Don’t you want anything of your own? Don’t you want to achieve anything?”
I groaned and took a swig of my beer.
“Dad, don’t you get tired of dropping by here once a week to give me the third degree about the same old stuff? I’m sick of hearing about it. I am just so sick of hearing you yap about how hard it was for you and how I’m not you. Why rehash this constantly?”
My father sighed. “Because I’m hoping one of these days it will stick in your head. Look, you are getting older. You might not think twenty-four is old, but thirty will be here before you can blink. And thirty-five is just around the corner. Time moves fast, especially the older you get. I don’t want you to wake up at forty one day and realize you’ve done nothing with your life. That leads down a path of self-destruction. Son, I do this because I love you and because I care. You don’t seem to realize that, but somewhere you have to let this sink in.”
I looked my dad in the eye. I knew he cared about me in his own way, but harping at me to be more like him was never going to motivate me to change. I didn’t want to change. I liked who I was and I was content with the life that I was living. I didn’t need anyone telling me how to do it differently. And I damn sure did not want to be like my workaholic father.
“Look, dad,” I said. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m not wasting my life. What I do fulfills me. It gives me purpose and hope. I don’t think there is a problem here. I just don’t know when you are going to get it through your thick skull that I am not you and I’m never going to be you.”
My father paused a moment. Then he rose, sauntered over to the mini bar and poured himself a scotch, neat.
“You know,” he said sitting back down in his chair, turning his glass and watching the whiskey move from side to side almost as if being mesmerized by it. “You and I are alike in a lot more ways than you realize. We are both stubborn as hell and we both like to make our own rules. Do you know how many times my old man told me I was crazy to venture into the real estate business fresh out of college at twenty-two? No, he wanted me to go into the furniture business and help manage his store, like he’d done with his father. I had no interest. My dreams were loftier. But the difference is, my dreams were practical. I worked a steady day job while I was working on my own ventures. No one was footing my bill. I had a fire under my ass because it was literally sink or swim. If this music thing doesn’t pan out for you then what happens? You continue to wake up at noon, watch TV all day, and party all night. Wash, rinse, repeat.”
I was getting angry listening to my father lecture me but he was making some valid points. I think this is what made me the angriest.
“Listen, Dad. Despite what you think, I do have some work I have to do soon. So, this has been real, but I think you should be on your way,” I said.
“Not just yet. I have a job opening for you. One of my realtors just quit. I know you are a great salesman. You have a way with people, kind of like I do, but I think you are even better with them. You are a natural born salesman and I know you could make a real name for yourself if you just gave it a shot. Now, getting your license will only take a few steps and then you can start working right away and making commissions. I’m offering it to you first before I even begin looking at others. It’s a great opportunity son. You should really take advantage of it.”
I almost threw my beer at him. The thought of putting on some stupid suit every day, waking up early, and going to kiss people’s asses all day hoping they would buy a house that someone else got most of the money from was reprehensible to me. It just wasn’t for me. I had other things in mind for my life, for my future.
“Dad, thanks, but no thanks. I’m not interested. I never will be.”
My father looked into my eyes for several seconds. He seemed so disappointed. I know that should have made me feel guilty, but it actually filled me with a little bit of pride and satisfaction. I loved it when he didn’t get his way.
He finished his drink quickly and walked towards the door.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Dad said. “I’ll give you a few days to change your mind.”
He closed the door behind him.
“Don’t bother!” I yelled, but I wasn’t sure he actually heard me or not.
I felt rage coursing through my body and before I realized what I was doing, I threw the beer I was holding against the wall where it shattered into a bunch of pieces painting the wall in what was left of the beer.
“Shit!” I said.
I sat down on the couch and tried to calm down enough to start my day. Dammit. My dad always knew how to mess with my head.
Chapter Three
Kay
I woke to the smell of breakfast. The bacon, sausage, pancakes, coffee, and even biscuits—I could pick each aroma out bit by bit—wafted up the stairs, down the hall, and into my bedroom where I was still half asleep. But not for long. There was a rumbling in my stomach and I was hungry enough to eat Texas.
I grabbed my phone off my nightstand and checked the time. It was almost eleven in the morning. Ugh. I wished I’d gotten up earlier, but I’d gotten in late after all. The party was fun and I was glad I’d gone. You never knew what sort of crazy events were going to transpire when you went to a frat party on campus.
I stepped out of bed and briefly brushed my hair. I realized my nightgown might be too revealing for the breakfast table with my family so I quickly wrapped a robe around me, taking a moment to look at my large cleavage in the mirror before I did.
My thoughts returned to Clint. Why had I done that? Was it the alcohol? Or just the environment? It was really out of character for me to behave that way, and while it had been fun, I found myself wishing I’d given him my number. I could have used a date that week, as one last final hurrah to Nebraska. Who knew how often I’d be able to come back and visit my home state after I uprooted my whole life to Arizona. It would have been fun to go out with a nice guy and just have fun. Hell, maybe it might have even gone farther and that would have been fun, too.
As I stood there staring at myself in the mirror and trying to wipe the sleep out of my eyes, I began to focus on a few things about my life. I had always been a strong, independent, and attractive girl, but I’d never had great luck in the romance department. Offers for dates and great guys who were interested in me had never been the issue, which so many of my girlfriends complained about for some reason. It had taken me a long time to narrow it down, but I believed I finally knew what the real problem was.
My kinky desires.
&nbs
p; I’d yet to meet a man who shared my kinky desires in the bedroom. Even in college, where everyone wants to experiment and try crazy things, any guy I’d ever been romantic with would eventually reach a limit as to what they found sexy and what seemed to turn them off or scare them half to death. Why couldn’t I find a guy who was as adventurous and open minded as I was when it came to sex?
Even my ex Jamie, the dirt ball, had become very strange when I seriously wanted him to consider moving things up a few notches. For as long as I could remember I’d always found the idea of dominating a guy and being a sex slave mistress to be appealing. For whatever reason, no guy I’d ever met had been really interested in that, or they would say they were interested and then you find out they were all talk, or they would just decide that it wasn’t working for them.
I often fantasized about it and masturbated to orgasm thinking about tying a guy up, spanking him, whipping him, doing whatever I wanted to his cock, putting it anywhere I chose, and then there was always fun things to do with their back door…
I giggled to myself just thinking about it, feeling my body getting warm and turned on. I shook my head and tried to suppress those thoughts for the moment; now was not the time. Breakfast was waiting for me.
When I arrived at the breakfast table, I couldn’t believe how much my mom had gone out of her way to create such an incredible feast. It was amazing. Ever since I was a kid for all the big holidays, or birthdays, my mom had always awoked early and put together a magnificent breakfast feast. We would always eat until we felt like we were about to burst.
“Wow, this looks good,” I said.
“Dig in,” My mom said.
My father was already stacking his plate half a foot high with bacon, sausage, pancakes, French toast, and loads of syrup. It was hilarious to see how much my father liked to eat. But he worked so hard, both at his day job and operating our small family ranch as well. He didn’t have a lot of money to hire outside help, so he did most of the work himself. Of course my brother Adam helped out when he could.
