I was all his.
He brushed his fingertips across my nipples and moaned, “Fuck, just touching your nipples makes me want to come in my pants.”
Him? The butterflies taking wing in my chest made me want to come in my panties. My nipples tightened into hard buds. Christos leaned down and flicked one with his tongue until it was wet and slick and straining. Then he showered the other with similar attention while massaging both with his hands.
My eyes were rolling into the back of my head as the familiar whirlwind in my chest coiled me into a tight knot of ecstasy. Every time he kissed and caressed my breasts like this, I was transported out of my body. I don’t know if I had an orgasm or not, but it really didn’t matter. The pleasure was immeasurable.
After a time, he paused and sat back on his heels. He gazed longingly down at my chest. “Fuck!” he smiled, staring at my swollen, heavy breasts and my engorged nipples. “You are a work of art, agápi mou,” he sighed.
Christos was excruciatingly happy now, a happy bomb waiting to go off. His happiness flowed into me, and I welcomed it. I felt relief washing over me. Christos’ joy was cleansing my soul, purging all the horrible stuff that had led up to today. The anxiety and worry and fear were all gone. Water under the bridge, a fading memory.
Joy was what lay ahead for me and my man.
He laid down beside me, propped on his elbow. He grinned, “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you looked in court today?”
“Mmm?” I moaned, still half dreamy with the pleasure circling between my sensitive breasts.
“After my case was dismissed, all I wanted to do was hike up your skirt and throw you on top of that defense table.”
“With an audience?” I snickered. I couldn’t decide if the idea was totally weird or a total turn on.
“I’m sure we could’ve asked the judge to clear the courtroom,” he smirked, “For a sidebar.”
“You mean the one in your pants right now?” I giggled. His cock was a hot rod of iron pressing against me through his slacks. “I think your sidebar needs some attention.”
I rolled onto my side and reached down to unfasten his slacks. Then my fingers snaked past the waistband of his boxer briefs and found his heat. The tip was hot and the shaft throbbed with need. I wrapped one hand around him and slid softly up and down.
He moaned in response to my touch.
“You like?” I asked.
He moaned again.
That was a yes.
I crawled under the blanket and he helped me get his pants and boxer briefs down far enough for his cock to pop free of the high zippered slacks. Under the blanket, I hunched over him in total darkness. I was going to have to use sonar, braille, or both. Who was I kidding? There was barely enough room under the blanket for me and his cock. I couldn’t miss it if I tried.
I took him into my mouth and went to work. The wetter I got him, the slicker I licked, the wetter my crotch became, the hotter I throbbed down between my legs.
I couldn’t wait any longer to have him inside me.
I surfaced from under the blanket and gave him a sultry smile while slowly stroking his manhood hidden beneath the blanket with one hand.
Christos unzipped my skirt with practiced ease. I think he knew his way around women’s clothing better than I did. Under the circumstances, that was just fine. He helped me slide out of my skirt, then I pulled my pantyhose down frantically. My core was clenching with need.
Christos dove under the blankets and went for my crotch. He slid around and down between my legs and lifted me up with both strong arms. His warm breath washed across my wet folds. Then his hot mouth was all over my core a second later. My eyes rolled back into my head once again as pleasure erupted from my center.
I was bucking into him seconds later. I needed this so badly I was on the verge of passing out with desire. It didn’t take long for a powerful orgasm to overtake me. I squeezed my legs against the sides of his head as I came against his face. My thighs and stomach quivered as my head lifted off the lounger. I didn’t cry out because we were outside, and I couldn’t escape the feeling neighbors were near, but I couldn’t stop myself from moaning low and long, over and over again as my orgasm coursed through me.
When the spasms of pleasure started to subside, Christos snaked his way up my body, his chest sliding across my stomach as he levered himself up on both powerful arms.
“Fuck,” Christos murmured while I floated in post orgasmic bliss, “you are soaking wet down there.”
I nodded at him through half hooded eyes.
His head hung down and he kissed me passionately, his face still covered in my wetness. His tongue slid into my waiting mouth as his cock slid home. He was inside me. Deep inside, his heat burning me from the inside out. He began a steady rhythm, pumping his manhood into my womanhood. He filled me up completely. His cock was a perfect match. He thrust steadily and I floated toward another hot climax minutes later. I moaned loud and long as my body released yet more tension.
I think maybe I was carrying more stress than I had realized. It felt so good to let it all go.
“Wow,” he whispered, “you’re on fire tonight.” Still inside me, Christos propped himself up on his arms and the blanket slid down his back, pooling behind him.
I felt a cool breeze across my breasts. I looked up at the moon and the stars twinkling overhead. Such a beautiful view.
“You okay down there?” Christos asked, slowing his rhythm.
That was when I realized that not only were my breasts exposed to the world, which wasn’t entirely new for me, but I had Christos’ throbbing cock inside my sopping pussy.
We were having sex outside. Passionate, hot, wet sex. I’d never done that before.
I nervously noted my outdoor surroundings. How loud had I been moaning? Was it possible that the neighbors had mistook my moans for air raid sirens and ignored us? Or had they been listening and snickering while I came? Was someone watching with binoculars? What about the squirrels in the trees? They slept outside. Surely we’d woken them. And the raccoons. They were nocturnal. They’d probably been watching during their lunch break. And what about the Man in the Moon? He had an unobstructed view the entire time.
I remembered some old black and white silent movie where the Man in the Moon had an actual face. Where had I seen that? Probably the internet. Wherever it was, I remember he’d looked pretty pervy. I’m sure I’d given him a good show.
I asked, “Can you pull the blanket back up?”
Christos raised his eyebrows and his thrusts slowed to a stop, “Aren’t you getting hot?”
So what if I was broiling? At least it offered cover from prying eyes. “A little,” I lied. “Why?”
“I’m dying under this thing. Mind if I get rid of it?”
“Uhhh…" I stammered, “what about the Man in the Moon?”
“Huh? Did I miss something?”
“He can see everything,” I whispered.
“What are you talking about?”
I pointed behind Christos. He turned to look at the moon.
Christos laughed, “Yeah, that guy is a total creeper. He’s always looking through bedroom windows around the world, watching people do it. Imagine all the times he’s watched people fucking in the history of man? Before man learned to hide in caves or build the first grass huts? Geez, the moon has seen it all. I think that means he doesn’t care. We’re just two more people amongst billions. He’s probably bored.”
“Okay, I get your point,” I smiled. “You can dispose of the blanket and we’ll behave like primitive man. Sex under the stars.”
He threw the blanket aside.
Now we were really exposed. I was naked from head to toe, under the night sky, my legs spread, Christos and his hugeness deep inside me.
Screw it. I didn’t care if the Man in the Moon or the squirrels or the raccoons were watching with binoculars or not. I wasn’t going to let my worries ruin the mood. I’d had a bunch of orgasms already.
Christos deserved his.
“Please continue, good sir,” I quipped.
I was in heaven as Christos’ cock slid cozily in and out of me.
He leaned forward and kissed me affectionately. “I totally love you, agápi mou.”
“Me too,” I sighed pleasantly.
I gazed into his eyes as he accelerated his thrusting. All I saw was his love, his devotion, and his passion for me. His joyous look from earlier had now eased into total, relaxed pleasure.
“Agápi mou,” he moaned. “I love you…”
Before I knew it, I was overtaken by his mounting ecstasy. He increased his tempo and I fell completely into his unbridled desire for me. We weren’t just having sex outside, we were fucking.
And I loved it.
Let the whole world listen. I didn’t care.
“Take me, Christos,” I hissed.
He responded by pounding into me. The desire in his eyes ignited into burning passion.
Each time he thrust, he grunted, “You. Are. The. Perfect. Woman. In. Every. Way. Imaginable…”
He continued to fuck me, grinding his pelvis into mine, for a long time. It felt incredible. Hot, wet pleasure stormed through my body, bouncing from head to toe. My body broiled with ecstasy.
My own pleasure built back up to maximum and soon I was floating out of my body, up into the stars. I felt connected to every planet and every solar system and every star I could see above me. I never noticed whether or not the Man in the Moon was watching. It didn’t matter. He too was a part of the universe that held the infinite pleasure that circulated between my heart and Christos’, and the hot heat that exploded between our legs as we came together.
I was one with Christos as powerful orgasms tore through both our bodies.
===
Christos and I spent the weekend relaxing together. Most of it was spent in our new bed. Then it was back to the grind on Monday morning for both of us.
I had a little matter of visiting the Financial Aid offices at SDU to attend to. I had no intention of changing my major from Art back to Accounting like my parents had demanded. That meant I had to get a bigger student loan now to cover the portion of tuition they had been paying previously.
After driving to campus, I walked into the Financial Aid offices and put my name down on the list. While waiting for my name to be called, I doodled in my sketchbook.
A little while later, a woman with curly hair who wore a frilly blouse and knee length skirt came walking out of a hallway. “Samantha Smith?” she asked.
“Me!” I waved and stuffed my sketchbook into my book bag before walking over to join her.
She led me down the hallway to a room full of cubicles. We stopped at hers and she motioned for me to take a seat. There were cat posters pinned up all over the walls of her cubicle, and framed photos surrounding her computer. She also had a stuffed cat wearing a miniature SDU hoody that had a zipper and little drawstrings on the hood.
“Hi” she said as she sat behind her desk. The name placard on the front of the desk read: Sheri Denney. She smiled at me and said, “My name’s Sheri. What can I help you with today, Samantha?”
“I’m going to need more loan money for Spring Quarter or I’m not going to be able to pay my tuition,” I sighed. Did I sound like I was complaining? I didn’t mean to.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Can I see your Student ID?”
I pulled it out and handed it to her. She typed my info into her computer. “It looks to me like you’ve reached the maximum federal loan amount already, based on your parents’ income and your calculated financial need.”
“But I need more money,” I scoffed.
She folded her hands on her desk. “I’m sorry, Samantha. But you have to understand, the federal government and the university consider it your parents’ responsibility to pay for college. The loans are intended to subsidize whatever amount your parents can’t cover. And you’re expected to work to help pay for anything left over. I see on my computer that you have a work study job?”
“I do, at the campus art museum, but it doesn’t come close to making up the difference I’m going to owe for Spring tuition.”
“Have you considered finding a second job off campus?”
“I had one, but it didn’t, uh…work out. It was at a convenience store. I smelled like hot dogs every time I came home from work.”
She grimaced, “Hot dogs?”
“Yeah. I’ll never eat one again. I’m traumatized,” I giggled. “It totally gets in your hair, worse than cigarette smoke.”
“Sounds like you’re better off without that job,” she winked. Sheri was nice.
“Anyway,” I said, “I’m looking for another job. But I haven’t found one yet. It may take awhile. Jobs are scarce.”
She nodded sympathetically, “The job market is tough right now.”
“But even if I do find one, I know it probably won’t cover the rest of my tuition.”
“How did you cover the difference Fall and Winter Quarters?”
I frowned, “My parents paid.”
“Aren’t they going to help pay for Spring?”
I held my palms up in frustration. “It’s complicated, but…no.”
Compassion knitted Sheri’s brows, “I’m sorry to hear that. It happens more often than you might think.”
“So what can we do? Without my parents’ help, there’s no way I can pay my tuition on time.”
“You could pay in monthly installments,” she offered. “Would that help? It’s three equal payments with the first one due in March.”
I did the math in my head. “With the loan money I’m supposed to get for Spring, I’ll have enough to cover the first payment. But I won’t have enough to make the second and third.”
“At least that gives you some time to find another job,” Sheri said hopefully.
“Yeah,” I sighed, “but I’m not going to make thousands of dollars by April, and thousands more by May.”
Sheri winced, “That sounds like a problem.”
“You’re telling me,” I groaned and clapped my hands on my knees. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“The first step is talking to your parents. Try to work through whatever it is that’s coming between you and them.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried. It’s been an ongoing discussion since I started at SDU last fall.”
“But you’re still talking. That’s something, right?” she smiled optimistically.
“Maybe ‘discussion’ is too strong a word,” I sighed. “More like them giving me orders that they claim I refuse to obey.”
Sheri rolled her eyes. “I know how that goes. I was there once myself. My mom and I had it out all the time when I was a teenager.”
“So you know what I’m talking about?” It felt good to have someone who could relate.
“Do I ever. But that doesn’t mean you can’t get through to your own parents.”
“Believe me, I tried.”
She took a deep breath while nodding her head. I half expected her to keep pushing me to talk to my parents, but she didn’t. Instead, she said, “If you absolutely can’t get your parents to understand where you’re coming from—”
I shook my head emphatically no.
“—and nothing is going to change their minds, there is the option of overriding your dependency status.”
I sat up on the edge of my chair hopefully. “Really?”
“Yes. But you have to meet certain criteria,” she cautioned.
“What criteria?” I was sure I could meet something or other. Criteria and me were besties. We went way back.
“Are your parents incarcerated or presumed dead?”
Maybe me and Criteria weren’t as close as I’d hoped. But the idea of my mom or dad in jail was hilarious. I couldn’t decide if my mom would rule her cell block or be shived in the shower because she was such a bitch. My dad would probably be like Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption and do everyone’s taxes w
hile outsmarting the warden. As for presumed dead, did it count that they were dead to me? At least it felt that way. I sighed. Probably not.
“No to both,” I said.
Sheri’s friendly expression suddenly went serious. “This is difficult to ask, but were you physically or sexually abused by either one of your parents?”
“No. But does mental abuse count?” I joked.
I could tell Sheri didn’t find that funny.
“Sorry,” I said.
“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I know you’re probably very stressed dealing with all these money issues when all you’d rather be focusing on is your studies.”
“You can say that again,” I sighed.
“Next criteria. Are your parents unable to be located?”
I had no interest in ever seeing them again, but that wasn’t what she meant. “No. I mean, yes. They’re in Washington D.C.”
“And you weren’t adopted?”
“No.” But sometimes it felt like I was adopted by robots.
Sheri sighed heavily. “Well, unfortunately that means we won’t be able to override your dependency status.”
My shoulders sank and I slumped down in the chair. “Oh.”
“But you might qualify as independent already.”
“Oh?” I smiled.
“Yes. If you are twenty-four, you would automatically be considered independent, but I see here on the computer that you haven’t yet turned twenty.”
“No,” I sighed. “Not until next school year.”
“And you’re not an orphan, or ward of the court?”
“Do you mean a ward like Robin is a ward of Batman’s?” I asked hopefully
She grinned. “Well yes. But you don’t happen to know any superheroes, do you?”
“One,” I grinned, thinking of Christos. “But he doesn’t have a costume. He has tattoos. Does that count?”
She chuckled, “Sadly, no. Maybe if you got him to wear a costume?” she winked
“Probably not,” I sighed.
“Any chance you’re a veteran?”
“No.”
“A graduate student?”
“Still an undergrad. Geez, I’m nothing, aren’t I?”
Painless (The Story of Samantha Smith #3) Page 18
