by Xavier Neal
Doesn't seem so bad. Could be fun to try something new. I do love doing that.
“I'll even reserve the term girlfriend strictly for when we're alone.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I giggle, “I guess we can try it for a little while...” His mouth leans down to connect with mine, which is when I tease, “Shouldn't we start on carving those pumpkins?”
On a swift lift up by the ass, my legs curl around him as he replies, “They'll keep. I've got something else I wanna carve out.”
I whimper and rock into his touch. “Please tell me we're talking about orgasms.”
He gives my ass a squeeze. “You're goddamn right, Sugar.”
Seconds after we've fallen into his king size bed, our mouths roughly crash into one another, hunger so fierce I'm not even sure we'll make it out of clothes before we explode. My hands claw at his bare chest only momentarily. Hunter bites my bottom lip, pins my arms above my head, and gives me a rugged growl.
I'll admit. Of all the men in the world to be my first boyfriend, I definitely picked a winner.
My body grinds against his hard on. In a low purr I tempt, “Wanna tie up your girlfriend?”
A louder grumble falls from him. “Hell yeah I do.”
His body leaves mine and I prop myself on my elbows to watch a process I've come to appreciate.
The hunt alone for the perfect rope is exhilarating. He never uses the same one two nights in a row. Just the anticipation of which type of binding and which knot I'll be receiving are enough to tug me to the edge of coming.
He strolls around to the locked brown chest at the end of his bed. The click of the lock opening causes my pussy to clench. Hunter's smile expands well aware of what dragging out the process does to me. There's some minor shuffling around before he pulls out a light tan rope.
I hum my approval.
“This is the smoother one,” he says, shutting the object. “High friction, Sugar. Low stretch. You know what that means.”
“Once I'm bound I'm not goin' anywhere.”
Hunter gives me a wink. “Strip.”
He's probably used to hearing that rather than saying it.
As soon as I'm naked, he positions me flat on my stomach, near the edge of his bed. He litters my skin with light kisses and tiny nibbles while dragging the accessory gently across my flesh. Hunter carefully lets a light lick linger along the side of my neck as he teases the rope between my ass cheeks.
A breathless moan of his nickname escapes, “Cowboy...”
“Yeah, Sugar?”
He waits for an actual response.
Only wants a willing participant. He really is a gentleman even in the bedroom.
The moment I let out a pleased whimper, he nudges my legs apart, letting the rope tease my pussy, each stroke lassoing a shudder. His lips fall next to my ear. “You're so goddamn beautiful.”
I let my eyes fall shut while he finally begins the precise yet exotic process.
Hunter's large palms run up my legs helping them bend at the same time he commands, “Hands behind your back.” Once they're there, the restraint is placed around my wrists and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, enjoying the small bite of pain. After he's done binding my hands, he shifts my legs to be parallel, another rope swiftly secures them as well. There's a minor tug on the rope that is keeping my hands together. All of sudden my body is stretched allowing him to connect the two tied entities into one. The ability to move is small yet the excitement of being at his mercy is huge.
Hey, I get it. Not everyone likes it. Then again not everyone has been tied up and had their pussy pleasured by a stripper cowboy.
“You're hog tied,” he explains, the same way he does any time he's finished.
I move my neck slightly in an attempt to see his face. “Now what?”
“Now...” Hunter's face falls into my vision from his bent down position. “You're gonna put those lips around something big and juicy.”
Oh...I should've known that was going to come back to bite me. Or choke me in this case.
His body shifts away leaving me stranded to simply listen to each erotic sound. First there's the sound of his belt being flung to the ground. Immediately, my breath hitches. Then his zipper descends and I helplessly shut my eyes again. The dropping of his jeans is the final addition that makes the wetness between my legs puddle.
The small lull between him returning to me and his cock knocking against my lips is excruciating. Definitely more painful than the ropes ever could be. More than eager, I part a perfect path, his dick sliding in effortlessly.
He immediately groans, “Goddamn...”
Knowing better than to try to control this situation, I simply give it a light suck and tease the underside of his member until another groan escapes. Hunter’s fingers thread through my hair to attach onto the back of my head. He shifts deeper down my throat.
Instinctively my response is to gag, which is when he slips out at the same time insists, “Just relax, Sugar. You know I'd never hurt you.”
His cock returns to my mouth and this time I suction harder, adding the faintest bit of teeth. He gently feeds more until the tip of his dick is taunting the back of my throat. Determined to muscle through, I clamp down, allow the muscles to be tested. Hunter draws back and lunges forward beginning a bobbing motion that's more tender than treacherous. The combination of care and concern ignites a ferocious hunger inside. I moan to encourage him to continue, to free the dominance he keeps so securely behind closed doors. He takes the hint. All of a sudden, the pushing gradually accelerates until his thrusting is rocking my entire body, an orgasm building from my clit being teased against the bed. With every suck, I find myself more rapacious than ever before. Not only do I want him to come, but I only want him to come for me. I only want him to be the reason I come.
The new found emotions burst through me at the same time he roars, “I'm comin!”
Greedily, I swallow each hot rush, the fact my own orgasm has broken through more like a faint memory than an active action.
Is this how it's supposed to feel when you're dating someone? When you're...co- co- committed to them? Does everything intensify this insanely? I probably won't be too great at this girlfriend thing, but if the time is filled with more moments like this, it will definitely be time well spent.
Hunter
I nervously stare at the doors to the building.
Fuck. I'm not a pussy. I'm really not. Bull ridin'? Hell, why not. Have an uncle who did it for a livin'. Can't be too much harder than ridin' a bronco. Skydivin' again? Make it monthly. But willingly walkin' into a funeral home gives me the fuckin' creeps. Just sayin'.
Knowing I don't exactly have all day to stand outside given it's a work night, I let out a deep exhale and prepare to enter the building. The feeling of my cellphone vibrating halts my steps.
What! I didn't tell it to vibrate.
In a quick motion I answer the call. “Hey Pop.”
“There's my boy!” He answers in a cheerful tone. “You got a minute to talk?”
I look at the outside of Rory's office building. “Just a quick one. Gotta head into work.”
“To tell 'em your quittin'?” He jokes with a hint of seriousness.
Get enough of this shit from Sam without gettin' it from Pop too. Normally when Pop calls he jus' wants to bullshit, tell me somethin' about Mama tryin' to bring a baby goat in the house or tryin' to adopt another dog for Bullet and Howler to take under their paws. Even though I wanted space, him and Mama call to try to keep me connected to 'em. Sometimes I love it. Makes me smile. Sometimes it makes me dread ever leavin', which I know is what he's hopin'.
“What'd ya need Pop?”
“Your cousin Carl jus' made state bull ridin' champ. Broke his record.”
A huge smile hops on my face. “No shit?!”
“Yup.”
“Bet Uncle Brett is flippin' the hell out.”
“'Bout as proud as he was when that little bastard finally took his first s
tep.”
Mama always says Carl was the slowest to learn to crawl, walk, and talk, but would be the first one to get the hell away from the family business. She wasn't entirely wrong.
“We're all gonna go celebrate the usual way.”
“Hot steaks and ice cold beer 'til everyone's gotta crash at the house?”
Pop chuckles. “Pretty much. Jus' wanted to let you know, in case you get a minute to call and congratulate him. He'd love to hear from you. Hell, any of the fam would.”
I swallow the budding guilt and simply state, “I'll try to give him a call tomorrow.”
“Alrigh',” he sighs. “I'll let you go. See ya in a couple months. Love you, son.”
“You too, Pop.”
Ending the call with a tap on the screen, I release a deep exhale I didn't realize I was holding.
It's not like I don't miss my family too, but I've got a great thing goin' here. And the best part is on the other side of that damn door.
After tucking my phone back into my pocket, I bite the bullet and walk in. Surprisingly enough, it's not at all what I was expecting. The entryway has a nice curved office desk, which is currently empty. There are two dark colored waiting chairs near the door and glass chandeliers dangling. The dark hardwood floors compliment the chosen cream colored walls, creating a distinct yet soothing vibe.
So far not so creepy.
As I travel away from the open waiting room, I notice the entire building seems to open vastly. Immediately I look for directions on the wall, relieved at their sight. To the left, seems to be where places for viewings, services, and gatherings are, while to the right appears to be facilities such as a kitchen and bathroom area. At the opposite end of the hall there's an elevator along with a set of stairs and a pair of double doors.
Do I wanna know what's behind door number 1 Bob?
Gritting my teeth through the expanding discomfort I head to the other end where the signs indicate offices are on floor two and the morgue is basement level.
Aw hell, why does it gotta be in the basement?
I groan and decide to take stairs rather than risk the possibility of being trapped in a funeral home elevator when the zombies come.
Nope. Not listenin'.
Cautiously, I push the set of double doors open, which are labeled Morgue, and am relieved to see a ramp rather than stairs. I follow it steeply down to the basement. At the bottom is another glass door except this one is slightly frosted.
Guess you wouldn't want looky loos comin' around jus' to see their worst fears come true.
I give the locked door a small knock.
Almost instantly, Rory's silhouette appears like a damn Hitchcock movie, and she creaks it open.
The minute her eyes settle on me excitement lands in them. “Cowboy!”
“Sugar,” I sweetly coo back.
“Come on in!” She opens the door wide for me to enter. “What are you doing here? Don't you have to be at work?”
“Yes ma'am,” my reply is quiet as my eyes scan the room for her potential project in the open. “But um....um....”
Rory giggles and swings into my view. “There are no dead bodies in here, Cowboy. This is the embodying room. This is where I prepare the bodies for service. Through that door is where they're kept until they're ready to be on my table.”
I glance to the left where there's a steal door with an access code and a padlock.
Call me crazy for wonderin', but who the hell wants to steal dead bodies?
Her warm hand touches my cheek. “Are you okay?”
“It's uh....it's jus' strange to be here, that's all.”
“Hey, this was your idea,” she scolds, dropping her hands on her black pencil skirt covered hips. “You're the one who wanted to visit me at the office. This is my office. And you know what's kinda funny? Brian's grandfather used to deal more with the bodies while mine dealt more with the people. Couldn't talk to me, but the families of those had lost loved ones, well....he always knew just the right thing to say to them.” An odd sadness flashes through her eyes briefly. “Come on.” She grabs my hand. “I'll give you a tour.”
I grumble under my breath, “Do you have to?”
You wanna take my place?
“It's pretty simple.” Rory starts dragging me over to the wall closest to one containing the non-living. “Through those doors is another door where the transfer crew delivers the body. Afterward I go over paperwork, tag 'em, and they fill out the whiteboard with all the other important information.”
My eyes glance around the wall we're beside. “I uh...I don't see a whiteboard.”
Proudly she smirks and touches what I thought was a television screen. “It's digital. They fill it in then the reports appear on all the computers connected to the system. This acts as a reminder for Brian to know who is here as well as to let me know anything crucial. Over here,” she pulls me off to the side to the cabinets and drawers that take up the entire back wall, “is where I do more paperwork by hand. Most of the cabinets are home to my many tools.”
“You don't have to describe 'em,” I quietly deny. When she giggles, I nod my head to the wide porcelain table. “Is that where the magic happens?”
Rory leans against the counter. “Embalming yes. The other one is for everything else. The cleaning, dressing, all pre-coffining.”
Equal parts impressed she's so calm about everything and concerned, I question, “How do you not lose that smile I love so much surrounded by all this?”
“Growing up around it helps, but remembering the importance of living while you still can, making the most out of the chances given, that's the knot securing me to happiness.”
Another soft smile tries to appear on my face.
Death is a helluva thing to be this kin to all the time. Maybe that's why she fears commitment so much. What's more permanent than death?
“Music also helps,” she playfully adds. “Who can be sad listening Lix and The Final Six?”
Hell even I think they're a great band and I'm not a huge fan of indie rock shit.
“Or....who can honestly not smile listening to 'Save a Horse'.”
The joke causes me to shift my hips to pin hers. “You wanna ride a cowboy, Sugar?”
Her warm hands slide underneath my t-shirt. “Always.”
A small groan leaves my lips before linking our mouths. My tongue eagerly teases her, roughly tangling it up as if to prevent it from ever escaping again. Rory instinctively melts against me. She slides her small hand around the waistband of my gym shorts and hungrily grabs my cock. Just the feeling of her touch wrapped around me has my dick throbbing.
It's pathetic how easily she gets me off. Somehow this little blonde doll has turned me from an hours man to the kind who would come in a minute if it wouldn't embarrass the fuck out of him. Well and if I wasn't such a gentleman. Ladies first. It's an unbreakable rule.
She drags her lips away to ask, “Got time?”
The jerking motion prevents any other possible answers other than the one she wants.
In one swift flow, I grab the condom out of my wallet, slip it on, spin her around, and bend her over the counter space. I don't waste another second yanking her skirt up, which exposes a pink lace thong. With a crooked smile, I slowly remove the article of clothing.
Yup. Another trophy. What can I say? The handful of her underwear that sit next to my ropes in my chest, turns me on. It's the best visual reminder she's always ready for me. That I'm the one claimin' her night after night. That I'm the only one keepin' her wet and tied up.
Rory pins me with a playful expression. “Going in the collection?”
I run my hands firmly up the back of her legs, helping them part in the process. “You know it, Sugar.”
Her pretty blue eyes begin to roll when I slowly push my dick deep through the tight heat I'm starting to call home.
Won't tell her that. She's so damn skittish about certain shit. No need to scare her away from the progress she's makin'.
The sight of her glossed lips parting to whimper my name shoots straight through me. I give my bottom lip a hard bite to prevent my dick's decision to come already. Rory's head falls back, blonde hair dangling down her back, burning a beautiful erotic portrait permanently into my brain.
No other woman has ever looked so goddamn graceful. Every time I watch her on my cock it's like lookin' at sophisticated art come to life.
I wrap my hand around the edge of her hair and start to tug in rhythm with my thrusting hips. Each pull receives a moan and each moan is louder than the last. The pulsating of her pussy begins to pendulate towards the brink of coming and I piston my body harder. Harsher. My cock so desperate to devour her orgasm that nothing in the world could prevent it from happening.
