by Carly Keene
If her hands go any lower, this will be over far too soon. I capture one hand and bring it to my mouth, sucking her sensitive fingertips. She moans. I keep sucking her fingers while I finally let my own hands explore her breasts. They’re soft luscious globes, round, with her nipples taut in the centers, and when I tease those nipples through the shirt she moans again. I pull the shirt away from her body enough to get my hands underneath, and then I moan at the silky softness of her skin.
She pulls me on top of her. When my needy erection settles at her groin, I press in a little without thinking, and her eyes fly open. “Wow,” she says under her breath. “You’re huge.”
“You’re sexy, Captain Obvious,” I say, trying not to laugh. I kiss her mouth again, fondling those incredible tits, wanting to feel them under me but not wanting to take her clothes off until she’s warmer. “I want you so much. Don’t worry, we’ll take our time.”
“I don’t want to take our time,” Cassie growls. The next second, she’s unfastening my jeans and pushing them down over my hips. I roll back and pull them all the way off, and it’s such relief to let my poor dick out that I moan. She pushes the covers back a little, leaning over me to tug my boxers down, and she gives a little gasp as my cock springs free. “Holy shit, I had no idea you had a baseball bat in your pants.”
This time I do laugh.
“I could see it was big,” she says, her eyes warm on me. She licks her lips, and my cock jumps. “I just couldn’t tell it was that big.”
“Never had any complaints,” I say, my voice going faint as she gets both hands on me.
“I have to suck you,” she says, and then she’s going down on me, her mouth so hot and slippery, hands and mouth working together in a way that is going to bring me off like a firehose if I let it go on much longer. I lie there in bliss for a few moments, my hands in her hair, seeing her beautiful wet mouth on my hard prick against my closed eyelids. The friction and lubrication is exquisite, and I have to stop her too soon.
“Your turn,” I gasp, and surge upward, flipping her to her back. I’ve gone beyond caring whether she’s cold. I pull my shirt off her, watching those glorious tits bounce free. “God, you’re beautiful, Cass. So beautiful.” I slide a hand under the waistband of the sweats, bending to lick each nipple, and then I find her pussy all bare under the fleece. I moan with my mouth full of tit. “Fuck, you’re wet.”
“I got your pants all wet at the crotch,” she says, and my cock jumps yet again, this time against her thigh.
“Not a problem,” I say. “They’re coming right off.” I slide them down her legs, leaving my socks on her because girls get super cold feet. And also because I like the way it looks, my utilitarian olive-green wool socks on her calves and the rest of her naked and splendid. I sit back on my heels, my cock bobbing with eagerness, and just look at her.
She smiles and reaches her arms toward me.
“I need dessert,” I tell her, and then I put my hands under her awesome ass and pull her pussy to me to feast on it. She smells sweet and musky, like honeyed melon sprinkled with salt, and then I put my tongue on her slit and lick all the way up, making her moan out loud.
Out in the hall, Max whines. “Quiet, Max!”
I get back to the sweetest pussy I’ve ever laid my mouth to, and I make it count. She’s so wet and ready, her little bud and folds so swollen, that it doesn’t take her long to climax, her tight little pink cunt contracting around my fingers while I lick her through it. My cock is so hard it aches.
I lean to open the bedside drawer. “Shit, I hope I have some rubbers in here. It’s been a long time.”
“I’m on the pill,” she says, and reaches for my hand. “I’m clean. I’ve never done it without a condom before.”
My mouth falls open. Getting to put my cock raw inside her pussy just makes this even better.
Her eyes are glowing in the lamplight. “I want to do it bare with you. I trust you, Weston.”
“Baby,” I say. “I need to be in you.”
“Go slow,” she says, just a little worried.
“It’ll fit. But we’ll go slow anyway. For now.” I slip two fingers inside that tight pink pussy and massage her G-spot, pressing lightly on her abdomen with my other hand. She moans and keeps moaning, her hips pumping against me, and a stream of really salty words coming out of her soft mouth, and then she tenses. A small gush of liquid comes from her and her swearing turns into wordless cries of pleasure.
Now I’m hard as stone and desperate, leaning down to kiss her beautiful filthy mouth.
“Fuck me,” she says. “Please. Please now.”
I say her name, and I slide my aching cockhead through her soaked folds, rubbing it over her clit.
“Please, Weston.”
It fits. It fits so well that I have to stop and catch my breath and count by sevens to distract myself while she whimpers and writhes under me, her gorgeous tits rubbing my chest. It takes me to 112 before I can start moving, and when I do she’s all nonstop moans, alive in my bed, really alive, and I’m so grateful when she climaxes again. I can finally, finally let go inside her, coating her sweet cunt with my cum, feeling her warm and breathing and the opposite of frozen in my arms.
Mine. My girl.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Chapter 7
Cassie
In bed, Weston treats me with all the tenderness he showed when he was giving me sips of bourbon and wrapping me in warm blankets, and with all the strength he showed when he was carrying me through the woods, and with all the restraint he showed when he was not grilling me about my stupid decisions.
I’ve never been so aroused before, and I’ve definitely never been so satisfied.
After the first time we make love, I drop off to sleep feeling safe.
When I wake, the bed is warm but I have to pee. Max is lying on a mat at the foot of the bed, doggy-snoring as I go past him to the bathroom. When I come back, I look out the window despite the cold on my naked body. The clouds have lifted, and there’s a moon shining its silver-white light on the snow outside. It’s breathtaking. I could live here, I think.
Then I look toward the bed, where beautiful Weston is sleeping. He has bedhead, all the hair mushed up on one side of his head. His mouth is open and he’s making a soft buzzing noise, not quite a snore. The moonlight is shining on his face and all those good chest muscles of his. I could live here with him, I think.
And then I sigh. Am I New Cassie yet? Or am I just fooling myself?
New or old, I’m chilly and I need more sleep. I slide back under the covers, tucking them up around our shoulders. Weston turns over, and then his eyes open. “You’re still here,” he says.
“Well, it’s not like I could just call Lyft in the middle of the night,” I say, and laugh.
He laughs and kisses me. “I’m glad you’re still here. I’m not done loving you yet.” And even though I know he means sex, it feels more emotional than just the sex.
We start over again, with the kissing and the cuddling, with his hands gentle on my breasts, thumbs brushing across my nipples. It gets rawer when he pushes me onto my back and spreads my legs out, saying, “I want to lick you again,” before he’s between my thighs, his hair soft as birds’ wings against my skin, his tongue making gentle swipes across my folds and then concentrating on my clit, teasing it to three-alarm fire status. I touch my own nipples as his fingers hit that good spot inside my pussy, his tongue flicking across my nub, and the world goes blank and then bursts into light as I cry out in pleasure, my pussy spasming over and over.
“Weston!” I cry out, panting for air, and he settles on my body to kiss me. “I need you in me. I need your cock.” I reach down to take his huge hard penis in my hand, to guide him to my eager slit.
“He misses your mouth,” Weston says, and kisses my neck. “Just a little lick before he gets inside you?”
We trade places, Weston sitting against the pillows and me kneeling between his thighs to take that beaut
iful monster into my mouth, as far as it will go. I cup his balls in my hands, rolling them, touching the soft skin behind them as he groans. I slide my mouth up and down on him, imagining him inside me, rubbing myself against the bed as I suck him. He reaches down my back to cup my ass cheeks, then play gently with my dripping pussy.
“Come here,” he says, and tugs me up. “You are so good at that, but I need to be in your pussy now.” He helps me position his cock against my opening, and we both groan when I sink down on him, taking all of him inside me.
“You’re so big,” I gasp, grinding down and feeling his dick stretching me out. “This is amazing. It’s like I can feel you all the way up to my stomach.”
“Do what feels good, Cass.” He puts his hands on my hips, helping to move me as I fuck him, and every few seconds he leans forward to lick one of my nipples. I find a groove that has me moaning in pleasure, his pubic bone rubbing against my clit, his cock rubbing against my g-spot inside, and I grind that groove again and again, flying higher and higher until I can’t take the sensation anymore, and I scream out my orgasm, a small spurt of liquid gushing out of me.
“Damn, that’s so hot, Cassie,” Weston says, breathing hard. “Don’t stop!”
But my thighs are too weak from the orgasm to ride him hard, and he rolls us over to my back, pulling my legs up to my shoulders and getting on his knees for leverage. With my ankles in the air, my pussy is bare and open, an invitation, and he pounds into me like he’ll die if he doesn’t come soon. “You feel so good, Cass, so fucking good, baby,” he pants. “Wanted you the minute I saw you, better than I ever could have imagined, fuck, I love fucking you.”
“I love it too,” I pant back. “Feels so good.”
Stretched this way, I really can tell when he’s close because he suddenly gets even harder, more swollen, and then he’s shouting wordless cries as he ejaculates inside me, jets of heat that I can feel. Then he collapses on top of me, kissing my mouth, still joined to me. “Cassie. You’re incredible.”
“No, you are.”
Max whines from the side of the bed, and we turn our heads to look at him. I hear his tail whap the floor. “Down, Max,” Weston says, “good boy,” and we’re laughing at his disappointed expression in the moonlight, as he goes to lie back down on his rug.
We snuggle up under covers, still laughing out of happiness, and Weston strokes my hair. “Tell me about you.”
I tell him all the boring details: 24 years old. Happy childhood. Parents. Older, married sister with two cute kids. Laid off from a boring office job in the Philadelphia suburbs. Apartment. No dog. Last boyfriend dumped me months ago for a tight-bodied Pilates instructor. Sister’s husband’s ski-resort vacation prize.
“Ah,” he says, and settles me against his shoulder, still stroking my hair. “It was last-minute and you never saw a brochure for the resort, so you didn’t know about the Observatory and the Quiet Zone.”
“I didn’t know. But, you, what about you?”
He tells me: 30 years old. Happy childhood. Parents still together but living in Florida so they don’t have to deal with winter in the mountains. College and the forestry service. Building the cabin after living in ranger barracks. Unable to find a woman in the area he wanted, but unable to find a woman from outside who wanted to stay, so he’s been single for several years. Younger brother, unmarried. Grandma living close by. Aunts, uncles, cousins, great-aunts, second cousins twice removed.
“How do you keep track of everybody?” I ask, stunned by the complexity.
He shrugs. “It’s just kinfolks. We look out for each other.”
I think about having that much family. I think about living here, what it would be like. “Is it hard to live unconnected?”
He shrugs. “I don’t think so. I can contact everybody I want to talk to, but sometimes I have to wait. That’s okay. I have internet that I can plug into. There’s a movie theater if I want to drive a couple of hours. I like the way you can relax and just be, you know?”
“That would be nice,” I say slowly. “I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I mean, I can do all kinds of office-y stuff, but a lot of it is really fast-paced. I’m kind of tired of it.”
“What do you like to do when you have free time?” He’s pulling strands of my hair through his fingers, gently, stretching it out and letting it fall.
“Read. Sew. Bake bread.” I snort through my nostrils. “My ex-boyfriend Josh was always telling me I was a housewife wanna-be. He didn’t mean it in a nice way.”
“Josh is a fucking idiot. Number one, he dumped you. I mean, I’m grateful, but what a dumbass. Number two, there’s nothing wrong with being a housewife if that’s what you like,” Weston says. “Nothing wrong with being a mom working outside the home, either.”
“You can’t always get what you want,” I say.
“My dad always called that ‘Jagger’s Rule,’” Weston says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “You know. From the lyrics to that Rolling Stones song.”
I remember it. “But sometimes you get what you need?”
“That’s Jagger’s Corollary.”
I wonder what it is, exactly, that I want. And I wonder what I really need. I’m quiet, thinking.
Weston breaks the silence. “I know what I need,” he whispers.
CHAPTER NINE
Chapter 8
Weston
I stroke the softly curling hair of this amazing woman. “I know what I need,” I tell her. “I need you.”
And as I say it, I know the words are true. I meant that I need to fuck her again, feel her body against mine—but I need more. I need her. I need her fresh eyes and her willingness to try new things, her happiness with simplicity. I need her to trust me and look up to me.
I need my Cassie.
“I need you, too,” she says, and then she reaches for my cock, sliding down the mattress to take it into her mouth, to lavish little kisses on it and play with my balls and my taint. She looks up at me, her eyes such a warm rich brown in the moonlight, and she’s both innocent and completely sexy. She sucks on my cock until it’s huge, and she’s wiggling her hips with her own desire to be fucked.
“Your turn,” I say, and pull her so she’s standing on the floor, bending across the bed, her beautiful bountiful ass pointing at me and her delicious pink pussy spread wide for me.
Max comes to see what we’re doing, so I scoot him out to the hall and close the door. I’m going to have to crate-train him. And then I lean over and take a lick of the sweetest, greediest, most appreciative little cunt I’ve ever known. Cassie keens in delight as I lap at her clit and pussy folds, sometimes over her tight little rosebud too. Her hand slips down to her crotch to rub at her button, and that’s so fucking hot that I can’t stand it anymore, I have to be inside her. I let my cock slide to her opening and press the head inside where she feels so good, going gentle and shallow until she’s breathing hard and moaning, begging for more.
And then I give her more. More length, more speed, more effort, until she’s crying out in climax, her pussy muscles clenching my cock, her juices dripping down both our legs. She’s taking my whole shaft, all of it, and she’s so wet and slick and tight, and she keeps coming on my dick. I think she has three orgasms before I can’t control myself anymore and I have to shoot my wad so deep inside, holding her close.
Then I lose my mind. “I love you,” I say into her hair, breathing hard.
She doesn’t say it back, and I feel a little bit like dying. It’s too soon. I know it’s too soon. But it’s how I feel, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.
I wait a minute more, and then I pull out of her, releasing a thick stream of my jizz down her thigh. “Let me take care of that,” I say, and take a couple of tissues from the nightstand, wiping her legs clean. I don’t resist the urge to bestow a tender pat on her pussy, and she inhales sharply. “Does it hurt?”
“A little.” Her voice is muffled, where she’s pressed to the bed. “
I don’t mind.”
“Do you need me to kiss it better?”
I see her shiver, and then she raises her head. “No, I’m fine.”
Max whines outside the door. She laughs. “I think he’s jealous.”
“He’s got good instincts,” I say, meaning it on several levels. “Want to sleep some more?”
She nods. We cuddle up again under the covers, and we doze off.
In the morning I startle awake—I’m alone. My heart sinks. Did she call someone for a ride? But no, there are some faint banging noises in the kitchen. I get up, tossing on my jeans and thermal shirt to rush to where she is.
She’s cooking bacon and fried eggs, her hair in tangled chestnut waves on her shoulders and my rolled-up sweatpants clinging to that very fine ass.
I have inappropriate thoughts involving bare skin and countertops.
She turns to get plates off the counter, and sees me. Her face lights up. “Morning! Breakfast’s almost ready.”
“Thanks, everything looks great.” I wave my hand at the stove and at her.
She’s so beautiful in sunlight. Any light, really.
She flips an egg over, and her boobs jiggle under her—my—shirt. My dick tries to periscope. I give it a squeeze through my pocket.
Max whines outside the back door, and I let him in. “Morning, buddy.”
“I didn’t know where his food was,” Cassie says. “Or my clothes. I wasn’t really paying attention last night.”
“No?” I rub Max’s ears and get him his kibble.
“I was too distracted by your chest muscles.” She grins sideways at me, dishing up eggs and bacon. I grin back, and then go get her clothes out of the dryer, folding them while she puts plates on the table.
While we’re eating breakfast, I keep flashing back to the way she looked last night: in my bed, naked. Spread wide for me. Her sweet puffy pink mouth full of my cock. Her full breasts jiggling in time with my thrusts. I shiver. If I don’t let my poor dick out of these jeans, I’m going to have zipper marks on it.
