by Amber Burns
I’m far from being in tune with nature, save when we’re talking survival mode during tours in Afghanistan, then it was all about life and death, the fine line separating the two being how a Marine handled himself or herself on land.
But she has a point: The air tastes sweeter, more vital here in this piece of quiet oasis.
“What’s that?”
Vanna, alone, isn’t holding my attention any longer.
If she wanted me to drop it, she shouldn’t be saying, “It’s nothing.”
“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”
And it doesn’t. She knows what I’m talking about; at least her reddening cheeks do, and her ducking head.
Vanna, what are you hiding?
“Don’t.” My girl is persistent.
Too bad I can be way more persistent, as I proved when I wanted her and got her, before she broke up with me, and I continue to prove time and time again wherever she’s concerned.
Her hand slips away and I reach the bottom step connecting the upper deck on our side to the lower deck on…their side.
12
“Man,” my jaw is busy picking itself up the floor to finish that thought.
From the start of hitting puberty, knowing what to do with my dick and charming the panties off of all of the girls on my lengthy sex list, I figured I was good at fucking, and even better at not giving a fuck, but these two are out in the open, probably aware they share a space with their neighboring guests, yet screwing like their lives are staked on it.
Maybe they are, and they’re out here because one of them is dying and they’re making every last fuck like it’s the last one this time.
Wouldn’t that be a crazy story?
If I had a romantic bone in me, it’d be throbbing or buzzing, or whatever to let me know how awesome that is.
Even more amazing is that.
“How the hell is he?”
The guy’s got her in a twisty-pretzel before she wails her release, her pleasure resounding on each definitive note. She’s still wailing when he pulls out and unlocks them from the crazy pose and he’s readjusting them in a more normal position.
Hauled over the side of the tub, the dark blonde’s tanned ass is on display for a second before her lover is behind her, covering the view and taking the back door route to making her wail and moan, his groans slicing over her loud sounds of approval.
And Vanna walked in on them, it all clicked into place.
They either have no clue they have an audience, or they don’t care. I’m stumped as to which it is. Just like I’m not sure whether to be offended or…humored? Honored?
Turned the holy blazing balls on, my hand on that thought slides down to grip the front of my sweat pants, making room for the hard-on of all hard-ons, and it has less to do with the live porn show – I’ve seen my fair share – and so much more to do with knowing Vanna’s watching it all as well.
“Vanna,” her name is throaty and low. I chuckle, that and my quickening breath leaving me to suck in the sweet air all around us, and hands wrapping around the towel, half-turning on the stair to regard Vanna.
Or her retreating back; she’s sailing in the direction of our room, and burning a trail while she’s at it.
I take one last look at the couple in throes of their hard fuck, err, love-making.
“Vanna,” my drawling entrance has her perking up on her side of the bed, her shoulders doing that thing where they come up to her ears, readying her defenses.
I round the bed, shadow falling over her, waiting for that pretty head of hers to lift with all the questions that have to be running around in there.
“Vanna.”
She’s resolutely sticking to staring at her clenched hands, any indication she’s aware of me in her quivering frame.
Fine.
Since she doesn’t appear to be coming to my level, I’m joining her on hers. Down on my knees, I grip the bed on either side of her, finally earning a reaction.
Her gasp is nothing more than a sharp inhale, her head turning to the side, face as flushed as I expect.
“So, you’re human,” my comment is dry, an attempt at the humor I don’t feel and the annoyance that won’t allow itself to be masked no longer. “What are you running from? The fact you’re as hot under that…well, you’re not wearing a collar but you get it. You’re fucking turned on, Vanna.”
“N-No!”
One of the things I’ve learned about her is this sometimes cute, lately more frustrating quirk to stammer when she lies.
“You’re turned on, and I’m turned on, and you’re not sick. Do you know I jacked off in the shower because I wanted to fuck you?”
Wide-eyed, Vanna shakes her head.
Guess I’m doing all the kiss and tell for us. That and the washroom is soundproofed or something; she really couldn’t hear my groans before cumming hard to the live color clips of all our previous times.
My hands are cupping the sides of her ass, gripping the pudgy flesh and dividing my attention to my cock and her sensual shivering reaction to my touch.
“You want me, babe, all you have to do is say so. I’m all yours.”
Vanna is breathing harder by the second. As much as she can push me away, lie to my face about how’s she feeling, she’s falling under the spell of her own body.
“Stop making us both hurt, Vanna. It’s so fucking wrong, you know that. Only you can make this right.”
Teetering off the edge, I decide the moment of truth is going to either fuck me over or have me fucking her thoroughly to both of our satisfactions.
My grip loosens on her sides, hyper-tuned to my whole body from the painful throbbing and quivering setting in my calves and ankles to the anxious weight settling over my chest and the rigidness of my dick, heavy balls, and pre-cum coating my head…
Come on, Vanna. Let me fuck you, beautiful girl.
For forever and an eternity.
That’s how I’d define what in reality is probably the minute or so before her hands clasp mine over her hips, that and the tiny nod are her green light.
“Oh, baby, I’ll make sure you enjoy this more than me.” And I mean it. She deserves the complete Amos package after admitting her mutual desire, and sorta taking, what she wants by taking me up on my offer.
Considering it took a lot to get to this point, in spite of dancing around the topic all day, I have to act quick and stealthy, saving time by skipping the extensive foreplay we’ve had thus far.
“Hold out your hands, gorgeous,” my rumbling command is met with hasty action. “Cross your wrists.”
She does this, too, and no complaints yet.
“Hold them like that and don’t move.”
Drawing the hand towel off its perch on my shoulder I transfer it under her wrists and, with another warning not to move, I wrap the soft, white towel around her hands.
“Amos,” I cut her off with a look and hating that doubt furrowing her expression, wrinkling a perfectly cute nose, I sit up from my haunches and reach into the kiss.
Vanna bears down, trying to deepen the touch, and I have to remind myself there’s a lot more of that coming as long as I pace myself – it works and I move back, focusing on ensuring her hands are out of commission for what I have planned hurriedly.
“Move back.” I’m helping her, steadying her hips and navigating her back against the headboard and the pillows.
I climb over her, knees burrowed in the soft bed on either side of her hips, my gaze dancing over her, trying to decide where to start.
There’s so much of her to play with.
“Hands up, and hold them there.” She’s still following my orders. Good to note.
With her arms out of the way, the action pushes her tits out towards me; a saving grace when I was floundering in my decision of where to begin.
Not one to pass up an opportunity or offer as sexy as that, I cup her breasts, squeezing the soft, pliable flesh, pinching her hardening nipples. Her moans are already st
arting to drive me crazy; that and her wriggling bring my mouth bearing down, tongue stroking her tit through the cotton of her shirt.
I’m vacuuming her into my mouth, rousing the pebbly flesh with my tongue, teeth, my hot breath and warm saliva…
I’ve stained her shirt. I’m also moving onto to lather the same scrutiny to her neglected breast.
Between my legs I feel Vanna’s knees brushing against me, drawn up in reaction to what I’m doing to her.
I release her breast on a hiss; her knees are dangerously close to my cock, a hell of a remainder of the stiffy I’ve been holding for her off and on since she let me into her apartment.
Reaching down I push her knees back with a warning look.
Maybe I should have tied her legs up too.
Instead of doing that, my hands fall over the waistband of her shorts, pulling the flimsy article off her legs. I have to sit further back to get at her tights. It takes some work, but it would have gone faster if I didn’t get distracted by nibbling her exposed flesh as I went along.
She’s wearing no underwear, thankfully, and I can get at her that much easier.
I lay between her legs, face down and level with her cunt, eyes admiring the pink-red, engorged lips of her labia and hooded tip of her clit. Vanna has the prettiest pussy I’ve seen and, from experience, the tastiest too.
“You shaved.”
I’m recalling the last time she’d exposed herself and her mound’s then short, growing dark curls. My grumbling observation elicits her to lift her hips, angling herself to my face and my mouth.
I grab her hips, holding her back down to the bed. “No, baby, not yet. That’s not what I have planned for you.” And to give her a sound remainder of whose in control I blow on her pussy, loving her sharp moan, the loudest protest.
“Amos! Please!”
She clearly hasn’t gotten the message my point of blowing on her was supposed to send.
I blow again, and nearly lose my hold over her thrusting hips. “No,” she groans, head tossing to the side, face scrunched up from the throes of bliss.
For someone so quiet, Vanna is vocal as hell in bed.
“Vanna, I’m not going to fuck you yet. Shh, before someone has the balls to check if I’m murdering or screwing your brains out in here.”
“But,” she’s gulping her excuse, her breathing labored from a couple blows. Fuck. If there was ever a case of pure like a virgin, fucks like a goddess, Vanna would give a run for the money as poster girl.
I move up, surprised to see she’s not trying to follow me with her cunt, forcing me to take her with my tongue and fingers.
“Give me a sec,” I move off the bed. Vanna lowers her arms, or is in the process of lowering her arms. “Hey, hey, what did I say?”
She’s got them up by the headboard again.
“Good girl. Now keep them up there. I just have to,” I open the side of my worn pack, memorabilia from my high school years, and free the foil wrappers I’d shoved in there after much contemplation.
I rip off one and toss the condom by the edge of the bed.
Pulling my shirt off and tossing it to join her shorts and tights, I reach for my clasp and slow down, knowing Vanna’s watching, remembering with a jolt that it’s all about her pleasure – even if she probably only wants me to ram into her, fuck her until she’s boneless, filled with me in more than one way.
“What does ‘Vanna Say’?”
Her eyes lit up, the memory of ‘Amos Says’, our little game on the second floor of Sterling Outfits, coming back to her.
Shaking out her hair, she sucks in her bottom lip, chewing to a point of decision. The lip pops out on her command, “Take off your pants.”
I do as she says, stepping out in only my boxers, all the more aware of my erection with her eyes locking over it.
She sucks in her lips, closing her eyes like it’s all too much for her. I laugh lightly, breathlessly. Such a Vanna move – Somehow I’m harder for it.
Oh, Vanna…
“Vanna Says, I want you naked.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I lose the boxers, the only thing keeping her from seeing what’s she’s doing to me.
Vanna’s eyes open and she blinks, and I imagine all things when she licks her lips – namely that fantasy where she’s sucking me off.
Maybe we’ll get around to that, but it’s all about her. If this works out, we’ll have years of giving each other pleasure, hopefully the rest of our natural lives.
“What does Vanna want know?”
“Inside me,” she parts her legs, feet digging into the bed, giving a thrust against a phantom cock.
Vanna doesn’t want any more foreplay then we’re skipping foreplay, which has me tearing into the foil and rolling the condom over my shaft. She’s told me she’s on the pill, and as much as I want to make a baby, we’re not exactly simpatico and Vanna getting pregnant would be more of a problem at this stage.
So, securing the rubber, I crawl to warm my place in front of her, between her legs, only this time I’m aligning my cock with her entrance.
“You’re so wet, baby,” I push into her, letting Vanna catch up on the inches that are left to bring me hilt deep, balls brushing her butt.
She’s still tied so I set our pace and following Vanna’s moans and groans as cues to speed up and slow down, increasing the race to our orgasms.
I don’t know which of us is hornier, but the thrusts are killing me. I’m going to burst…
“Vanna,” I groan, pushing past my groan to continue thrusting, a little weakly, into her. In a perfect world we’d have come together, or she’d have come first at the very least.
I pull out completely, ignoring her screams and loosening her thighs from around my middle. My pleasure-addled brain functioning somewhat, I’m sure of what I’m doing.
“Relax, babe.” I swallow past the lump, falling onto my stomach in front of her pussy again.
As much as I love her cunt and would love to feel the tight squeeze on her climax, I want her coming on my tongue more.
Before I completely found my position, I take a test lick to let her know I’m not far.
Now I’m testing her opening, fingers stroking up and down her slit, coming away with her slick pre-cum. I keep our stare level as I bring my hand up, stick out my tongue and press the two digits to my tongue.
Vanna’s shudder courses through me, too.
I wrap my mouth around my fingers, sucking the juices, closing my eyes to memorize the tangy Vanna-flavor.
She’s wriggling under me, my hand over her side squeezing a silent command for her to be patient. No point in wasting her energy, we’d be staying up all night if I have my way.
I feel her moving, open my eyes to see her head raised, mouth pushed out for a kiss. Not part of my plan, I pull my fingers out of my mouth and meet her request.
My tongue is pushing at her entrance, impatient to wait to tangle itself with her wiggling, wet appendage, to give her a taste of herself. Our tongues dance, spin and twirl and I’m not sure where my groan ends and hers begins and vice versa.
“Vanna,” I sigh her name over her lips, my fingers finding her sopping core, thumb working her clit. She watches me through lidded eyes, head tilting up, making it impossibly tempting for me to not swallow her cry when it comes.
Her release hums through her, clamping her thighs around my hand, raising her body off the bed and flattening her breasts to my chest for that exquisite moment.
It isn’t until she’s dropping into the bed, her body sagging, that I notice her hands, tied and up by the headboard.
No wonder she wasn’t jumping me.
I grin, kissing her and tasting her once more, and in the kiss I work to free her, feeling her hands wrapping around my head and holding me to her mouth until want of air disconnects us.
Throwing down beside her, I pull her to my side, her head resting over my shoulder, one hand splayed on my heaving chest.
A little amateurish BDSM brou
ght a whole lot of pleasure and my burgeoning hope is normal.
“I love this. I love this so fucking much. Please tell me that was as mind-blowing for you?”
She hums, a wide smile lifting her cheeks and her brown eyes are glimmering; the look of afterglow becomes Vanna Sterling.
“You loved all that control, didn’t you? Telling me to take off my pants and boxers, you secret dominatrix,” I’m almost steely at that thought alone. Vanna as Dom. My Dom.
