by Alexis Angel
“We’re perfect,” I correct him, softly brushing my lips against his and running my tongue over them.
“We are,” he agrees. Then, looking into my eyes, his smile turns into the Devil’s grin. “And do you know what’s also perfect? What I’m about to do to you.” He sits up on the bed and I do the same; he grabs me by the waist and makes me go on all fours, kneeling behind me. He squeezes my cheeks gently, his long fingers over my ass. Then I hear him hold his breath and I brace for impact: he smacks me hard with the back of his hand, my cheeks bouncing as he touches me. He does it over and over again, the loud sound of his smacks filling the whole room. The sharp pain makes me grit my teeth, but it makes me ache for his touch even more… There really is something to be said about using pain to cause pleasure.
Stopping, he runs the tip of his middle finger over the length of my crack, stopping right before my asshole. I sway my hips from side to side, urging him to go on, and he presses his fingertip over it. My insides clench and, a heartbeat after that, he starts to slide his finger in, slowly prodding my insides.
“Mm,” I moan, my mind numbed by the feeling.
“This right here,” he says, sliding his finger in and out of my ass, “it’s mine. It’s mine and I want it.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for doubts: he’s going to take my ass, and I don’t have a say about it. Which suits me just fine, knowing that he wants to fuck me there is enough to make me desperate for it. My cheeks become flushed as I think about it, and there’s a deep sense of urgency inside of me. It’s high time to feel his cock inside my ass. “But you have to beg for me to do it.”
I don’t even need for him to say it twice.
“I want you…” He twists his finger inside of me, and I gasp. I have to take a deep breath before I can continue. “I want you to fuck me… I want you to fuck my ass. Please.”
“Good,” he whispers, leaning forward. He takes his finger out of my ass, and grabbing his cock, rubs it along my crack, moving his glans so that it’s pressing against my hole. A needle of anxiety prickles my mind then—is he going to fit? Is it going to hurt? I mean, to have a cock as huge as his inside of my ass… It’s already an impressive feat to have him inside my pussy. “Don’t worry,” he says, almost as if he could read my mind, “I’ll take it slow.”
“I trust you,” I tell him, looking over my shoulder at him. He winks mischievously at me, and I close my eyes, looking down at the mattress as I prepare for it. His cock is still drenched in my fluids so, as he presses it against my ass, I feel the tip sliding in, stretching me wide. “Oh, God!” I gasp, his thickness straining to get in. “Oh, God!” It’s almost too much for me to bear, but I don’t want him to stop. I want his cock all in me, stretching me wide and fucking me in such a way that I won’t be able to sit up straight for days. This is going to be intense.
He takes his time, sliding inch by inch as slowly as he can. I moan all the way, a thunderstorm raging inside my head. Keep it together, keep it together, I think to myself, breathing heavily and trying not to pass out. This feels too good. Sure, it hurt a little as he slid it in, but the pleasure I take from it… Oh, God, the pleasure. Every woman should feel this much pleasure, at least once in their lives. You just don't know you’re alive until you have a twelve-inch cock sliding down your ass. And, right now, I’m as alive as I could be.
“Are you alright?” he asks me, almost all of his twelve inches inside of me.
“I’m… I’m…” I can’t speak, sweet Jesus. “I’m fine… Fuck me, Lance. Just fuck me.” I beg, grabbing at the sheets as I prepare for an avalanche of ecstasy to overtake me. Still moving slowly, he starts to rock his hips, making his cock slide in and out of my ass. “Fuck!” I cry out loud, my ass straining to survive his thrusts. Oh, but who cares about survival? I start to thrust back, pushing through the sweet pain and urging Lance to unleash all of his wickedness upon me. He takes the hint pretty quickly: his hands on my waist, he holds me in place as he starts to pick up the pace. I moan incoherently as he fucks me, completely destroying me. My insides are burning, the sweet drug of climax coursing through my veins.
“HARDER!” I shout as loud as I can, my throat aching to let the words out. I’m so close to coming I can already feel it bubbling up to the surface. Like I told him to, Lance starts to go harder, his thighs slapping my ass incessantly until my whole body grows numb. “Fuck, fuck…” I hiss through gritted teeth, my muscles tensing up only to start twitching immediately after.
I don’t think I have ever come this hard. I’m screaming so hard my throat feels raw, and it’s like flames are lapping at my skin from the inside out. My mind is an incoherent mess of rambling thoughts, and it feels as if I’ve descended into a world of insanity. Tears are going down my face, and I can feel their saltiness as they go over my lips.
Lance pulls his cock out, carefully, and I collapse on the bed, stomach down. I don’t think I have ever felt this exhausted in my entire life. Opening my eyes, I try and force myself not to drift off; after all, we’re not done yet. How could we be done if I still haven’t tasted his seed yet?
Rolling to my back, I reach for his cock, summoning whatever strength is left inside my body as I start to stroke him. My arm moving fast, I’m jerking him almost too violently; he doesn’t seem to care, though. His head thrown back and his eyes shut close, he’s groaning loudly, completely lost in pleasure.
Lost in a daze, I don’t even notice the signs of his impending orgasm. I only realize he’s about to come when he grunts, breathing out sharply through his gritted teeth. Before I can take my mouth to his cock, thick ropes of cum gush onto my face. I barely have the time to close my eyes, his gooey semen coating every inch of skin on my face as I open my mouth wide. His salty flavor hits me at once, coating my tongue and filling me up to the brim. I don’t even bother to wait for him to finish: I swallow all the semen inside my mouth as he keeps cumming, his fluids covering everything in their way. From my hair to my tits, nothing is safe.
Then, with a growl, he leans in and places his hands on my waist. Harshly he forces me to lay down on my stomach, his cock always spasming as he goes about it. Gushing like a fountain, he covers my back, and angling his cock, starts to aim at my ass. His warm juices drip down between my ass cheeks, completely covering my crack and pooling over my asshole. I remain like that for God knows how long, feeling heavy drops of cum hitting every square inch of naked skin.
When he’s finally done, I turn to look at him, but he acts quickly, with his hands on my waist again, he keeps in place, lying down on my stomach.
“Don’t move,” he orders me, “I’m not done yet.” And then, with no explanation whatsoever, he leans in. I feel his tongue on my neck, licking all the cum there, and then he moves it down to my back. He doesn’t stop, tracing a perfect straight line toward my ass and picking all the cum on the way there. He only makes a small detour to kiss the dimples on my lower back, sucking in all the cum that has pooled there, but soon he is on his way again.
Shuddering, I feel his tongue moving over my crack. When he’s close to my hole, he places both hands on my buttocks and pushes them apart, clearing the way for his mouth. He dives in then, pressing his lips against my asshole and scooping up all the cum that has accumulated there. My muscles twitch as he licks me, ripples of pleasure still travelling up and down my spine, and I let out a loud moan as he starts using his tongue to lick my crack, stroking me softly. I shudder and tremble; soft whimpers on my mouth as he licks me dry. He only stops when there’s not a drop more of cum on my ass.
Finally done, he comes up, lying down by my side; I open my eyes, taking in the beautiful sight of his cum-coated lips. There’s semen all over his face, dripping down his chin and neck. I grin and inch closer to him, pressing my mouth against his; with an electric touch, our tongues dance around one another, swapping whatever cum we still hold inside our mouths.
Pulling back, we smile at each other, and without feeling the need for words, we swallow. I watch
as his Adam’s apple rises and falls, his own cum going down his throat.
If anyone came inside the room right now, they’d see two people lying down side-by-side, their bodies covered in cum. One would be a young man, the other would be a woman closing in on her forties. It would be an unlikely couple, sure, but what they wouldn’t realize is that love doesn’t care about details. It doesn’t care that he’s younger, or that I’m older. It doesn’t care that our sex is hot and dirty. Love only cares about the truth. And the truth, my friend, is that I finally found love.
And I found it in Lance Anders, my hot young lover.
104
New York Daily Journal
From the Desk of Amanda Adams, the Professional Gossiper of Page Two.
Welcome to Page Two Gossip, here’s what we’re hearing around the halls of power:
After an election with more twists and turns than a roller coaster on Coney Island, the city has finally decided on it’s mayor for the next four years.
That’s right, New Yorkers, the post of Hizzoner will be once again held by Michael Anders. Mayor Anders becomes the first openly gay mayor in the history of New York City and New York City becomes the largest city in the world with an openly gay mayor.
Already, Hollywood executives are rushing to City Hall to buy the rights to the story—something that seems like it could come out of a racy romance novel rather than reality.
Perhaps most striking in transformation is the Mayor himself, who gave a much more subdued acceptance speech once all exit polls were closed, calling for unity and compassion between all New Yorkers—no longer the firebrand of moral righteousness that he was on the campaign trail.
The Mayor, who had been accompanied through most of his campaign by his wife and stepson, spoke alone this time around.
Sources are telling me that Lance Anders and Jocelyn Anders left by the Anders' private jet to London shortly after their gripping press conference two days before the election. Sources inside City Hall were not able to confirm whether the pair had in fact voted.
Mayor Anders, in addition to his conciliatory tone that he took throughout the final days of his campaign after the what many are deeming the ‘press conference to end all press conferences’ is putting in place plans that are a vast departure from his traditional ‘family values’ principles he put out during the summer. Instead, campaign and administration officials stressed that the first year of Hizzoner’s second term will be focused on job training for displaced workers, as well as luring more manufacturing and specialty jobs back into the city that have been lost through automation and factory closings. The mayor is apparently also considering an across the board tax cut for middle income and low income families that will assist those who are currently struggling in the city’s economy.
While critics of the Mayor, who state that he can sometimes run roughshod over his enemies, have stated that only time will tell if his startling admission to being gay will mean a kinder and gentler politician, already many in New York who felt alienated by Michael Anders are celebrating.
“I hate to say anything good about the man, considering I spent the last several months saying bad things, but it looks like after that doozie of a press conference, we’ll see a more open and honest Michael Anders,” Jim Jenkins, his opponent commented to me after his concession speech. He went on to state, “Whereas before, if you were unemployed, elderly, poor, a single mother, working in manufacturing, or just basically not wealthy, you had cause for concern, it seems that the Mayor coming clean about his own skeletons has made him say and do some very, very different things.”
Only time will tell what the relationship with Mayor Anders and the City of New York will be like. During that time, many of you in Gotham will undoubtedly be wondering what happens to his estranged stepson who seems to have for the moment absconded with his wife.
“Since the Mayor and Jocelyn Carter were never truly married it turns out due to the form not being properly signed, there’s no real reason for a divorce,” his Chief of Staff Kenneth Loomis stated when contacted about this issue. “The Mayor wishes them both every happiness and hopes that they will keep him abreast of news of his grandson. But in all honesty, he’s probably going to be more focused on running the city.”
Citizens polled during Election Day stated overwhelmingly that the Mayor’s burst of honesty was what had made them finally favor him. Many stated that holding back such a key facet regarding his personality had affected him in other areas in how he presented himself to the public, which all coalesced to create such low approval ratings for him despite his photogenic family. I think that once citizens learned the full story of their Mayor, we began to realize that we may not like him as a person on some levels because he’s so busy, but the job of Mayor requires someone who will give it their all and sacrifice everything else. And that made him the top choice, by a margin of 63% to 37%.
That about does it for my coverage of this election cycle. I either need a vacation from politics, a long, hot shower to feel clean again, or both.
I can’t wait till Lance and Jocelyn come back to New York though—they’re currently in London—and you can bet that as soon as they have their baby that this newspaper will be all over them, getting the facts for your reading pleasure. Till we hear more, this is Amanda Adams signing off. Keep your ears open, New York.
105
Jocelyn
Epilogue
The limo glides next to the curb of our new home in the city. I get out, and Lance comes out from the other side, holding the baby carrier.
I look up briefly. I can’t see the top of the tower to One57.
“How did you say you came to a decision to live here, again?” I ask him.
He shrugs as we walk into the ornate lobby. “I got a buddy who lives here,” he says.
“Someone from your wilder days?” I ask, eyebrows raised.
I can’t help it. Lance looks very cute carrying little Lola Grace in the baby carrier. A bad boy, certifiably with his tattoos, now a daddy.
“A buddy of mine from a while ago, actually, Arsen Hawke,” he says.
The name rings a bell for me. “The porn king?” I ask.
He nods. “His dad was the porn king, but he met some girl and they run it like a business now.”
“The guy who’s making webcams come into the mainstream?” I ask Lance. I’m a bit skeptical. “He’s not going to want to film Lola Grace or something, is he?”
Lance laughs. “Nah, but he’ll probably be down to him us.”
I give Lance a look. He looks at me and smiles and whatever withering stare I may have tried vanishes. I love this man too much to even be fake mad at him.
You know that feeling, hun? Where you’re mad at your significant other for being too cute to not let you be mad at them? Like you try to be mad at you, but then they just smirk or smile, or touch you somewhere and you stop being mad? And then you get mad that they were able to take away your anger?
Let me just say that I’d rather be mad about this, than where I was one year ago. Right before the election.
We open the door to the apartment and walk in.
It’s already furnished rather tastefully. I hired someone while we were in Europe to make sure that the apartment was ready for us.
What? I would have loved to do it myself, but it’s really hard when you have to have sex three times a day and take care of a baby.
Although, hun, the sex part - I don’t have to do it. It’s just that my body seems to want it that often, is all. Like I’ve been walking in a desert, and now I finally have all the water I could drink.
Besides, the $10 million a month that Michael pays me as a settlement lets me not have to worry about these things. Combined with Lance’s trust fund, I’d say we’re doing pretty good. Considering where we were.
There’s a knock at the door.
“That must be Michael,” Lance thinks and I’m almost tempted to say speak of the devil.
It’s funny
. I want to stay mad at Lance, but I’ve already forgotten what that’s like. But Michael. I’m not mad at Michael. It’s just a chill that runs through me when I see him walk in the door.
He doesn’t have the human feelings that are supposed to be in people. Something like that. No way else to explain any of this…
“Hello,” Michael says walking in. “I just wanted to stop by, welcome you to my city, and visit my granddaughter.”
Lance shakes his hand and I bite back the urge to tell him he’s not related to our little family in any way. I was never married to him. He was never Lance’s father. But I stop.
“She’s beautiful,” Michael says bending over and examining Lola Grace.
The baby looks up at Michael, in a few minutes she’ll be crawling around the apartment, exploring. But for now, she’s content to stay bundled up where she is.
Michael gets up and turns around.
He hands Lance an envelope.
“Come back to work for the company and the campaign son,” he says to him. “Here is everything I have, and I think I’ve met your conditions.”
“The media hitting you that badly, huh?” Lance asks.
Michael shakes his head. “Not at all, actually,” he says. “They’ve embraced this whole breaking barriers thing I’m putting up at them. Really taking the narrative of the first openly gay mayor to heart.”
“Then why do you want me back?” Lance asks with suspicion.
Michael shrugs. “Well, considering that I have no need for a family, having the two of you there associated with me can only help in the polls,” he says. He looks out the windows. “I mean, with the city the way it is and problems always cropping up, you can never have too few positives on your side of the table.”
Lance looks at Michael for a second. There’s a lot of history between those two men. A lot of anger. Pain. Hurt.
