by Brandy Ayers
As her pace quickens. A light sheen of sweat breaks out across her entire body, making her glisten in the dim street light streaming through her windows. Sitting up, I lick that salty perspiration from her skin, loving every single taste she has to offer me.
Marci pushes me back down into my reclined position. Then she leans back as well, planting her hands on my legs and spreading her thighs as wide apart as they’ll go.
The view is almost more than I can take. The prettiest pussy I can imagine spread out around my cock, her juices glistening on my angry flesh with every appearance from her tight inner muscles. The fishnets and garter belt frame it all, a naughty penthouse fantasy come to life in my lap.
Each inch of me tightens from my scalp to my toes. I refuse to blow without Marci going over the edge with me. The fluttering of her cunt tells me she’s close. Her thrusts grow erratic, her head thrown back and the long strands of hair tickling around my knees.
“Micah. Feels too good. I can’t. Oh god.” Marci whines, and her movements stutter. I can feel her hesitating, afraid of the strength of the pleasure bearing down on her.
But I can’t have that, she needs to take it all until she’s a screaming mess puddled in my lap. I grab her hair in my fist, forcing her head up to look me in the eyes. Those gorgeous blue irises of hers are glazed over, drugged with everything going on. “You wanted to fuck me, so fuck me. Bounce on this cock right now, or I’m going to flip you over and drill you into the floor.”
Determination glints in her eyes, wiping away a little of that fogged state she’d been lost in. Then she goes to town. The pumps of her hips pick up speed and strength.
Wet slapping fills the empty apartment, evidence of how much she loves what we’re doing with our bodies. I zero in on that little hot button nestled between her swollen lower lips. It’s hard as stone and practically throbbing under the pad of my finger. Instead of circling or rubbing it gently, I press down, pulsing directly onto it in a random pattern. Her knees fly open even farther, and a feral scream rises from her throat. She tries to throw her head back again, to break the intense connection through our gazes. But I won’t allow it.
Holding her hair at the root, I growl at the attempt to lessen what is going on. “You look at me while you come. I want you to know exactly who’s ripping this kind of pleasure from you. Say it. Who’s doing this to you?”
“Fuck. Oh god, it’s you, Micah. It’s all you.” Her thighs twitch, and her mouth falls open, and Marci detonates. A gush of warm liquid spills around my cock, and I add in my own thrust hard up into her sending her even further into the stratosphere. Sounds and words that don’t make sense pour from her red lips, her nails dig into my legs, probably drawing blood, but I don’t give it a second thought. I want to see her marks there, proof that our first time together is the wildest most exhilarating sex of my life.
As the climax crests and she starts down the other side of the cliff, I stand and reverse our positions. Throwing her legs over my shoulders, I plant her on the sofa, bending her in half and keeping her immobile as I slack my own need by pounding into her pliant body.
“Dirty girl got what you wanted from my cock, now I’m going to give you even more.” Hands shifting so that I hold both her ankles in one, I twist her bottom half to the side, the movement dragging my cock inside her in a brand-new way that makes us both moan. “Found out tonight you love being spanked. But what else do you like having done to this fantastic ass? Anyone ever play with you back here?”
My thumb lightly rests against her back entrance, and Marci’s eyes go wide in shock. “No. Never.”
“Let’s find out what you think, shall we?” There’s a part of my brain that can’t believe I’m being this pushy asshole. Another part that knows that this has been hiding inside me all this time. But Marci doesn’t seem to mind, because she’s biting down on her bottom lip and nodding like a goddamn bobble head. I’ve never done much ass play in my limited experience. But it’s always something I’ve been curious about exploring. Turns out I was just waiting for a gorgeous, brilliant, bratty reporter to come along for me to let loose on.
I slick my thumb up through the wet folds of her pussy, dragging it around her stretched cunt, still taking a pounding from my cock. Satisfied I have enough of her natural lube to work with, I press my thumb against that tight pucker. At the same time, I add a little dip and upward thrust into my hips, hitting her g-spot directly over and over. A sharp sting on the back of my ass has me roaring as Marci digs her fingers into me, pulling me into her harder as she screams down the rafters. My thumb pops past that tight ring of muscles, and Marci’s body goes crazy, pumping and thrusting as much as she can beneath my big body. I love how small and vulnerable she looks beneath me. I want to ruin her and protect her in equal measure.
Everything goes black behind my eyes as her third orgasm of the night causes her walls to clamp down on my cock, milking it for all it’s worth. My balls pull up so tight, I’m not sure they’ll ever fully recover from the storm wracking through my body. I’m coming so hard and so long, I’m a little afraid I’m hurting Marci, but her hand reaching around and down between my legs reassures me that she’s okay.
Those delicate fingers of hers cup my balls, massaging them then dragging up to where my cock is still impaling into her over and over. “Give it all to me Micah. Don’t leave any of that cum still inside you. I want it all in me.”
Jesus. Her husky voice and dirty, fucking demand does things to me that I can’t comprehend. I hold my hips tight against her and spill the last of my seed. A tiny part of me mad that she’s on birth control, that this won’t result in a brand-new life. I dismiss the idea immediately, ashamed that it came to mind in the first place.
Remembering her confession from earlier, about wanting to feel my cum dripping out of her, I pull back slowly. The head of my dick pops from her tight entrance, and milky white cum spills from her, and yeah, it’s one of the top five hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life. By the way, every one of those top five things are from Marci and this intense night.
Shifting her back so her butt rests on the edge of the couch, I spread her legs wide open. “Look at how much you made me come, Marci.”
It seems to take effort for her to pick up her head and gaze between her thighs, but when she does she gasps and tries to curl up further to get a better look. “Oh god, it’s so warm. I can feel it filling me, dripping out and back.” Her fingers swirl around in the mess we made, spreading it over her clit and rubbing it into her folds. The fascination in her eyes is so fucking hot and strangely sweet.
Despite the intensity of what we just did together, my cock starts coming back to life. Thickening and lengthening right between her knees. Marci’s eyes swing up to take in my growing erection, her eyes growing right along with it.
“Can… um…” Shyness returns, painting her cheeks red.
“You can say anything you want, Marci. I’ll give you everything and anything you want.”
Pride swells in my chest as she squares her shoulders and takes my words to heart. “Will you fuck me again like this. With your cum still stuffed inside me? I want you to make me even dirtier. I want you to put it on my stomach and my tits. I want your cum everywhere.”
“Holy hell, yeah. I can do that, my little cum slut.”
We both gasp. I can’t believe that just came out of my mouth. But Marci smiles and nods. Communicating to me without words that she doesn’t mind. She likes it.
Scooping her up, she points me in the direction of her room, and we fly into bed, testing its strength for most of the night. By the time we collapse from exhaustion my cum has been splashed all over her skin, and she gets louder and wilder every time. She begs for me to come in her mouth at the end, with her kneeling between my legs. Tongue waiting patiently as I wring every last drop out of my balls. That last orgasm is almost painful after the number of times I’ve been drained. But damn if I can deny her anything.
***
&n
bsp; Since starting my own practice, I’ve always left Fridays as a mental health day for myself. My clients are split between couples counseling and abuse survivors, so by the end of the week, my job takes an emotional toll.
I’ve never been happier for the long-standing policy than I am today. Marci managed to roll out of bed at eight this morning just long enough to call in sick to work. Something she swears she’s never done before in the seven years she’s worked at My Way Magazine. After she made the call, we fell back into bed, slept until almost noon, then woke up together and started making French toast in her tiny kitchen.
New information about Marci pops up almost every second we spend together, and I suck it all up like a brand-new Hoover vacuum let loose in a cat hoarders house. My favorite insights into all that is Marci so far? She’s a bed hog. We started off the night snuggled up together in the classic spoon position, and after a few short hours, I woke up to find I’d been shoved to the very edge of the bed, and Marci had spread out on her Queen mattress in a giant X. I tried to gather her back up but was unceremoniously pushed to the side once again.
Also, she’s adorably discombobulated until her third cup of coffee, all mumbly and confused. But as soon as that last sip of caffeine from her third cup goes down, she turns into Miss Get It Done.
After showering together, and pinning her against the wall to take her from behind, we decided to snuggle up on the couch for the remainder of the day and binge our favorite movies. Strangely, I’ve never felt more comfortable, even in my boxers and nothing else, Marci in a T-shirt and sleep shorts that are painfully tiny. This feels easy, normal. Like we’ve been doing it all our lives.
“Okay, I eased you into this day with Clueless, a timeless classic.”
I nod solemnly, acknowledging the truth of her statement.
“Then I kicked up the geek level slightly with She’s All That.”
I laugh into the crook of her long neck, planting a small kiss there. “But still decent enough. Freddie Prinze Jr. was man enough to snag and keep Buffy, after all.”
“Truth.”
Pulling back, I take in the relaxed version of the Marci I first met. She’s wonderfully rumbled, hair in a messy bun, glasses sitting on her nose since she didn’t feel like bothering with her contacts, and no makeup. She looks fresh, young, and adorable. I’m so fucking gone for her.
“But now, I’m pulling out the big guns. One of my favorite movies of all time. Model Behavior, starring a fresh-faced Justin Timberlake.”
The groan slips out totally involuntarily.
“Uh uh uh, we both said no complaining. You get to make the next three picks, so be careful how you react to this.” Marci gleefully pulls up the movie on her TV and starts it.
I’m not going to lie. It’s bad. Really bad. But I can’t help laughing right along with the girl whose feet are curled in my lap. Fuck the movie, watching her is the best entertainment I’ve had in years.
We only make it half way into the movie before I start waging a tickle war on Marci after discovering the back of knee is her ticklish spot. All the writhing on the couch quickly turns into a round of sex unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It isn’t the craziest or most erotic sex I’ve ever had, but it is the most fun. We laugh most of the way through it, alternating with moans and screams. There’s no cum games, or edging. No anal play either. It’s just plain old missionary on a too small couch while bad acting continues in the background.
But it’s intimate, and hilarious at times, awkward when I get a leg cramp due to the less than ideal working surface. But at the end, as Marci climbs towards yet another orgasm, we’ve lost count at this point, our gazes lock, we press close together so not even air can pass between us. Our mouths are locked together, but we don’t kiss, we just exchange breaths, capture the noises of pleasure, and we come together.
It’s amazing, and I never want it to end.
Which is why it hurts so much when everything goes to shit an hour later.
Chapter Eleven
Marci
I’m doing something with Micah that I’ve never done with a guy I dated before. No not the anal stuff. I’m letting it all hang out. All my crazy. All my nerdiness. All my insecurities. I hold nothing back, because I can feel deep in my bones that this is the real thing. And I want to be upfront from the beginning.
Up until this point, my dating life has been all about putting the best foot forward. Never letting a man see me with my glasses on. Never telling him I would rather sit at home all day binging movies and TV shows than going out to the trendiest spots around the city. Hell, I don’t even think I’ve ever let a boyfriend see me without makeup before.
This new attitude I’ve adapted is freeing. I’m not nervous, like I expected. Not second guessing everything I do. I’m comfortable. Happy beyond measure. And yes, it is partly allowing myself to be me making the difference. But it is also Micah and his ability to put me at ease.
We’re lying on the floor, propped up against the sofa where we landed after the latest round of sex, when my phone rings. The one ring I have dedicated to my boss, who I love. But still, no one likes getting a call from the person who signs their paycheck on the one and only day they’ve ever played hooky from work. Dread settles into the pit of my stomach. I don’t want to break the bubble we are in, so I seriously consider not answering.
But I can’t. The worker bee in my just won’t have it. So reluctantly, I accept the call.
“Marci, we’re in the layout meeting taking cover articles for the next issue. Where are you on the O Doctor?” Just like always, Francesca doesn’t bother with hellos or pleasantries. They just waste time in her book.
I glance at Micah, and he swiftly faces back toward the T.V. where his first movie pick is playing. Die Hard. Such a guy movie. But it's obvious he’s paying attention to the conversation, not the flick.
It’s weird talking about the story on him in front of him. But there’s nothing to be ashamed of. The piece is going to be very complimentary, but also honest. Plus, he’ll read it eventually.
“It’s coming along great. You have all the information in the notes I sent in this morning. Should only need another week before I’m ready to start writing it all out.” My heart slows back to a normal rate. This is fine. True, I don’t normally talk about my interview subjects ten minutes after fucking said subject, but whatever.
“Yes, I love where you’re going with the piece. The descriptions of the students are specifically vague, like they could be anyone’s neighbor or brother. Love that.” Francesca is famous for always giving praise first. Quickly followed by swift and harsh criticism. I’m used to it though, so I barely even tense as she continues. “I especially like this guy you are calling Virg the Virgin. We’re thinking about breaking out a follow up piece on guys who are virgins into their twenties and thirties. Kind of a look at how much of it is voluntary and how much is due to circumstances. How life as an older male virgin could be difficult. Maybe profile half a dozen attractive male virgins. Is this guy cute?”
My eyes roll back into my head of their own accord. As much as I like to think of My Way Magazine being a pillar of modern progressive times, the higher ups still have their moments when I want to slap them. Of course, they will only want to do something on male virgins if they are attractive. Even Micah scoffs a little next to me at what he’s hearing.
“Yeah, he’s adorable. And seems genuinely nice and intelligent.”
“Yeah, okay. Approach him before the end of your assignment and see if he would willingly be interviewed for the follow up. We’ll still keep his anonymity intact of course.” Shuffling on the other side of the line clues Marci into Francesca standing from her chair and pacing back and forth in her office. The woman thought best on her feet.
“Also, two things I need you to delve into a little deeper for the story. One, this Micah guy says he has only fucked three women, and yet he is claiming to be an expert on the female orgasm. I didn’t know that little tid
bit when we decided to do this story and might not have pursued it if I had. I want to know why he thinks he can teach this class with so little practical knowledge under his belt. Degrees doesn’t equal real world knowledge.”
Sick dread thuds to the bottom of my stomach like an anchor being tossed overboard into the sea. Micah goes rigid next to me, the air in the room transitioning from comfortable to tense in a matter of one sentence. My mouth falls open to say something, to defend Micah, because obviously he knows what he is doing when it comes to women and orgasms. I have firsthand freaking proof. But not a single sound comes out.
Francesca doesn’t notice my dilemma and barrels on. “Second, we just found out that Micah’s father is none other than Sinclair Carmichael, the leading defense lawyer on the sex trafficking former president case. I want a quote from him on what he thinks of his son’s chosen career, and I want you to press Micah on his father and his career.”
A buzzing starts in my head, the rest of Francesca’s orders drowned out in the pure panic rising up. Not panic over who Micah’s dad is, I couldn’t give a shit about that. No, the panic is thanks to Micah rising from his place next to me on the floor, grabbing his clothes from their scattered positions around the room. Movements stiff, he won’t even glance in my direction, and I stand as well, feeling more naked than simply not having clothes on.
Not bothering to say goodbye, I hang up the phone, turn it off, and toss it on the couch.
“Micah, please wait.” I look around for my own shirt, needing a layer of protection from the blistering heat his anger is throwing off.
“I can’t talk to you right now. I’m too angry, and I don’t trust what I’ll say.” Micah has his pants, shirt and shoes in his hand, but apparently can’t find the boxer briefs he’d been lounging in for most of the morning. Apparently abandoning his search, he jerks his legs into the jeans with so much aggression, I’m a little afraid he’s going to rip the damn things.
