Fighting for Her

by Amy Brent

  He massaged the muscles gently at first, then increased the pressure, which increased the pleasure. My pussy was flowing like the Mississippi now, pooling in my cunt hair, soaking the towel beneath me. I could smell my own scent, mixing with the scent of the candles. I wondered if Devin could smell it, too. I hoped he could. I wanted him to more than anything in the world.

  His hands massaged circles around my ass. I held my breath. Then it happened. I felt his right thumb working its way about the bottom of my ass. Then, just briefly, his thumb slid across my taint and to my asshole. I knew it was on purpose, not an accidental move, perhaps a part of Yoni.

  He rubbed gentle circles around my anus for a moment, massaging the oil into the delicate skin. I wanted to scream at him to slide his thumb inside me, but bit my lip instead.

  After a moment, the thumb moved on and I felt a little let down, even though I had orgasmed the moment his thumb pressed into my asshole and circled around.

  I wondered if he felt the shudder go through my body.

  Again, I certainly hoped so.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Devin

  I tried not to smile when I felt a rumble go through Cassandra’s body as my thumb rubbed little circles around her anus. She was having the first of hopefully many orgasms and trying to keep it quiet. How cute… I wanted to tell her to scream and shout and beg for more, but that would have been such a severe breech of the principles of Yoni that I would have probably been disbarred, I mean, if there had been a bar association for Yoni Masters. I certainly couldn’t imagine the Maharishi yelling at a woman to, “Cum like a freight train, baby girl!!”

  It was all I could do to keep myself from sliding my thumb inside her ass and my fingers into her pussy. Back in the old days the masseuses who moonlighted as gigolos such as myself called it, “the five-finger fuck”.

  In my mind, that’s what I did.

  I invaded her with my long fingers.

  My cock read my mind and got fully hard.

  I glanced down.

  My cock was pushing against the thin material of the linen slacks. My long shirt hid it well enough, but I could feel the blood coursing through my body, rushing to my cock and balls like a river to the sea, ready to participate in whatever party the night might bring.

  I stepped back and turned quickly toward the tray of oils so she could not see the erection popping like a tent pole out of the front of my pants. I spoke softly to her over my shoulder.

  “Slide over onto your back. Keep your eyes closed. Continue focusing on your breathing.”

  Cassandra moaned like a woman coming out of a deep sleep as she rolled over onto her back. I turned back when I was sure her eyes were shut. I stood warming the oil between my hands as my eyes soaked her in. Her head was back, resting on the small pillow. Her legs were outstretched, thighs parted, toes at an angle, hands at her sides. She looked perfectly relaxed as she basked in the glow of the orgasm that had just come her way. Her melon breasts were like wonderful mounds topped off by dark areolas and violet nipples that looked like hard raspberry candies.

  Hard, yet soft.

  Plump, yet pliable.

  My mouth began to water.

  I felt tiny drops oozing from the tip of my cock, soaking into the white linen. I stepped to the foot of the table. There was a neatly-trimmed patch of auburn fur between her legs. The curls were wet from her juices. I wanted to tug them between my teeth and suck them dry.

  “Breathe…” I said, again starting at her feet. My eyes washed over her like a wave over the sand. I rubbed her feet and ankles as I rubbed my hard cock against the edge of the table. Jeez… much more of this and I was going to blow my load all over the front of my white pants.

  I slowly worked my way up her legs and hips. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath. I massaged around her hips to avoid her mound, then slid my hands around the sides of her breast to reach the front of her shoulders and arms. Her luscious breasts were just inches from my hands and my lips. Her breasts were swollen, the nipples thick and long and so very fucking suckable. I massaged her arms to the tips of her fingers, then started back toward her neck.

  She was breathing hard. So was I. Her eyes were closed. Her lips were open. I could see the round tip of her pink tongue. I wanted to press my lips to hers. I wanted to suck her tongue, feel it in my mouth.

  Then my hands were on her breasts. The breath caught in her throat. My cock screamed for relief. I gently massaged circles around her globes, resisting the urge to pinch the nipples between my thumbs and fingers.

  Do it… the little voice said with an evil tone… Do it…

  My fingers slid over her nipples and Cassandra let go a low moan.

  “Let it out…” I whispered. “Don’t resist the urges…”

  I gently massaged her long nipples in the crooks of my thumbs and kneaded the fleshy globes with my fingers. I closed my eyes. The underside of my cock was sliding against the side of the table. I was going to cum if I didn’t pull back now.

  Cassandra sighed when my hands slid from her breasts to her stomach. I massaged the muscles, pressing down, releasing the toxins… the juices… the hot juices…

  I thought I heard her softly call my name. I paused for just a second and glanced at her face. Her eyes were still closed, but she was arching her back, breathing heavily, pursing her beautiful lips as the air gushed through.

  I stared at the curly vee above her pussy and took a deep breath. It had been years since I’d used massage as foreplay to impress the girls at UCLA. Massage was not foreplay. Yoni was not a sex act. Snap the fuck out of it, man. Snap the fuck out.

  My hands slid from her stomach to her bush. I massaged her mound. Her clit hoot was wet. It glistened. The oil on my fingers mixed with her juices. My fingers slowly slid down the length of her clit hood and I began to slowly roll her clit from side to side. She spread her legs and moaned. She arched her back against and pressed her cunt to my hand. I could see her pussy lips, her hole, so beautiful, glistening with juices, open, ready, so very fuckable…

  “You’re so fucking beautiful.” I said it out loud without meaning to, as if the words had been waiting in my mouth for years for the opportunity to pass over my lips.

  I felt her hand cupping my cock, gripping it through the linen.

  I didn’t pull away.

  I looked up to see her smiling at me.

  “I remember you now,” she said with a dreamy smile. Her hand tightened around my cock, pulling me toward her. She sat up and moved her face close to mine.

  “You do?” I asked, my breathing coming in short bursts, matching hers. Our lips were an inch apart. I could smell the warm oil and hot juices wafting off her body.

  “We met in college… in a bar…” she said, her hand milking my cock through the pants. My fingers slid down between her wet pussy lips and found her hole. I slid one finger inside her as far as it would go. She shuddered and put her free hand around my neck.

  “We did?” I asked.

  “Mmm hmmm… You’re him…” she said, her tongue wetting her lips as her pussy closed around my hand. I curled my fingers to find her G-spot. When I pressed circles into it, her body shuddered and she started cumming in waves, gushing hot juices all over my hand as I continued pressing her G-spot like the trigger of the worlds sexiest squirt gun.

  “You’re… the boy with… the big cock… and the massage fetish... you said… I was so… fucking beautiful…”

  “And you are…” I said, my hand still working. I felt a hot stream of urine flowing over my hand. Her grip on my neck tightened. I whispered in her ear. “Let it go… Cassandra… Let it all go…”

  “Oh god… am I… peeing… cumming… oh hell… shit… oh shit…” She held on tight to my neck as her body shuddered like an earthquake, her ass coming off the table, her knees spread as clear juices shot from deep within her. After a moment, she let go a long breath and fell limp in my arms. I let my hand slide from her cunt, but she did not release my cock.
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  “Are you okay?” I asked, studying her face, which was covered with sweat. I remembered her now. The hot girl in the bar… we went to her room and fucked like little rabbits… I was going to call, but I never saw her again because I met Genevieve the following week.

  Cassandra Casey.

  I’ll be damned.

  She was the woman who was always at the edges of my mind.

  Even after all this time.

  She finally opened her eyes and gazed into mine. She put her fingertips on my cheek and pulled me close for our first kiss in many years.

  Then, whispering in my ear, she said, “Can I fuck you now?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Cassandra

  Holy.

  Fucking.

  Shit.

  “You so fucking beautiful.”

  The moment Devin said those words—and slid his fingers inside me and curled them up to hit my G-spot—the memories came rushing back.

  Only one other man had ever told me that I was “fucking beautiful”.

  The boy from UCLA, the one with the big dick and the massage fetish.

  Kevin… Evan… Derrick… Devin. Duh.

  That bearded surfer boy was Devin McMasters.

  Again.

  Holy.

  Fucking.

  Shit.

  Is this a small world or what?

  * * *

  I didn’t think the orgasms would ever stop.

  I could feel his fingers wiggling deep inside me.

  His long cock was in my hand.

  I just kept cumming and cumming.

  And then I fucking squirted! Something I ‘d never done before in my life, but holy hell, what a feeling as that hot juice shot from my pussy like water through a firehose. It was like one of those pulsating fountains in Las Vegas.

  Then, I started peeing. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t feel it coming on. It just started and I just let it go. The warm pee started to trickle out on its own, then a little more, then a little more, then it was Katie-bar-the door, Russian racehorse caliber peeing. With everything else I had going on down there, it felt fucking amazing.

  When Devin finally eased the pressure off my G-spot, the orgasms started to subside. I was disappointed, but also out of breath and utterly exhausted. I glanced between my legs. I had made a huge mess, but didn’t care. Forget the fact that the towels beneath me were soaked and Devin’s arm was drenched to the elbow. I didn’t care about any of that. I only cared that I had just had the best orgasms—PLURAL—of my life.

  And I had found the only man who had ever made me feel that way.

  Devin McMasters…

  I gazed into his eyes.

  He smiled.

  I smiled.

  He pressed his lips to my sweaty forehead.

  My hand found his cock again.

  I whispered in his ear. “Can I fuck you now?”

  I didn’t wait for an answer. I slid sideways on the table and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of Devin’s slacks and pushed them down his narrow hips. His cock sprang free: long, hard, girthy, with thick veins along the shaft and a purple head the size of a small plumb. I leaned back so I could see it, cupped in my hand, my fingers around it, milking it back and forth from base to head.

  “That feels amazing,” Devin sighed, his hands on my tits, his lips on mine, the words tumbling out over his heavy breathing. “Put me inside you.”

  I slid my cunt to the edge of the table and spread my legs wide. I pulled Devin’s cock to me, swirling the large head around my hole to lube him up. I took a deep breath and pulled him closer. My pussy spread like a flower to accept his cock head, then suctioned around his shaft. I brought my legs up around him and prodded my heels into his ass.

  “Fuck me hard,” I said, leaning back with my palms braced on the table, exposing my melon tits to him. Devin ripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. I licked my lips when I saw his body, all lean muscle, tanned from the sun, hairless in a manly way. Even his pubes were buzzed short, making his giant cock look even bigger as the first few inches of it disappeared inside me.

  “Shit…” I moaned. “Fuck… you’re so… fucking big… my pussy… god... you feel… sooooo good…”

  “I remember you now,” he said with a smile, his hips rocking back and forth, thrusting into me until he could go no more, then pulling out to do it all over again. I watched his cock slide in and out, glistening, dripping, disappearing, reappearing, like a wonderful magic trick.

  “Oh god… I’m close… I’m gonna…” he said, putting his hands on my tits and giving them a squeeze. His hips moved faster. His cock was like a piston driving into me.

  “I’m cumming… oh fuck… Devin… I’m…” I tossed my head back and dug my heels into his ass like a jockey prodding a horse toward the finish line. The orgasm came from my toes and my fingers and the top of my head and erupted from my cunt. My body shook, my tits flounced on my chest, my ass slapped against the table. I gushed hot juices over the length of his cock and growled his name.

  “I’m…” That was all Devin could say before his body tensed and he drove his cock into me so hard it hit my cervix and made me bounce on the table.

  I could feel his hot milky load filling up my box, catching me on fire, radiating throughout my body.

  I could feel his cock in my pussy, my stomach, my chest, my throat.

  God, I could taste his jizz on the back of my tongue.

  I came again.

  And again.

  And again.

  By the time it was over, our naked bodies were covered in oil and sweat and an assortment of bodily fluids and Devin was leaning against me, his forehead resting on my shoulder.

  I could feel his hot breath on my nipples.

  I put my hands on his cheeks and lifted his head.

  He was smiling.

  “What?” I asked.

  He gazed into my eyes and sighed.

  He said, “It’s so fucking good to see you again.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: Devin

  Saturday morning.

  The sun was shining.

  The birds were singing.

  The smell of pine and mountain air wafted through the open window on the warm, gentle breeze.

  Little specks of dust danced in the rays of the bright sunshine beaming across the teak floor.

  The chipmunks…

  Jeez, I was sounding like a freakin’ Disney movie…

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  It was because of the woman sleeping next to me, the woman who had made love to me all night long. The woman who had made me do things and feel things that I had long forgotten how to do and feel.

  It was too early to say that I loved this woman, but I sure liked her.

  A lot.

  I liked the way she made me feel.

  I liked the things she made me think.

  I liked the feeling of her skin beneath my fingers.

  The taste of her lips on my tongue.

  The fullness of her breasts.

  The pink moisture of her...

  The satellite phone I kept in a cradle next to the bed buzzed. I picked it up and slid out of bed, then tiptoed quietly to the bathroom. I glanced at Cassandra for a moment, then eased the door shut and sat on the toilet to take a leak and answer the phone.

  “Yes,” I said quietly.

  “Devin, it’s Ben.”

  “No shit,” I said, rubbing my eyes as I yawned into the phone. “What can I do for you?”

  “Do you know what time it is?”

  “No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”

  “It’s almost nine,” he said, sounding rushed. “The guests are lining up to meet with you. It’s selection day. Get your ass down here now!”

  “Shit,” I moaned, my mood firmly soured. Selection day was the day that I met privately with each guest to determine which of them would benefit from my healing touch. The truth was, I had no magic powers or healing touch. Nor could I read anyone’s chi or aur
a. I simply asked each woman to tell me about her life in one minute or less, and then laid my hands on her cheeks like some old-timey faith healer I’d seen on TV as a kid. If she had a real shit story to tell—abusive husband, shitty kids, nobody who loved her the way she deserved to be loved—I felt sorry for her and invited her for a private session. That was it. My big secret was that I was a sucker for a sob story.

  But, if she made eyes at me and talked about how long it had been since she had orgasmed and asked how long my fingers were, I passed her off to one of my “highly-trained” assistants who could pop her cork like a bottle of wine at a bridal shower.

  “Dev? Devin? Are you listening to me?” Ben’s voice had a sense of urgency I’d never heard before.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said. “I’ll take a shower and be right there.”

  “One more thing,” he said, his voice going down a notch. “She’s here.”

  I frowned as a feeling of dread worked its way up my spine. “She?”

  “Genevieve,” Ben said, whispering as if he were afraid to speak her name aloud. It wasn’t like she was a monster or anything. To the contrary, Genevieve was one of the sweetest, most caring woman I’d ever met. I owed my life and fortune to her. Ben and I—and the entire staff—just liked things better when she wasn’t around.