by Vivien Vale
“You didn’t bring that condom for nothing,” she finally says, a sly little smile playing on her lips. “I want to feel you in my pussy, Daniel.”
“And you don’t care who sees?”
Rose grabs onto my hips and pulls herself to her feet. The moonlight twines its fingers between the waves of her hair and bathes her tits in its glow.
“Let them see,” she says.
I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman more in my entire goddamn life.
But as Rose pops herself up on the table, pushing aside wine glasses and dinner plates, I can’t help but realize…this is a lot more than just a fuck.
When I claim her mouth, I’m not just thinking about how I want to get my dick inside her. I’m thinking about how I can kiss her to make sure that she never remembers the feel of another man on her lips.
When I squeeze her tits, I’m not just thinking about how fucking hot they are. I’m thinking that these are the breasts that are going to feed my child and how fucking bad I want to worship them.
And finally, when I nestle my cock between the hot, slick lips of Rose’s immaculate pussy…I’m not just thinking about getting my dick wet.
I want to make her feel me—really feel me. Not just inside her cunt, but all over her perfect fucking body. I want her to feel me in every cell—ever petal—every thorn.
“Condom,” Rose gasps as I tease the head of my cock at her entrance.
“Fuck,” I swear, feeling the condom still between my fingers.
How the fuck did I almost forget?
I never fucking forget.
Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts. I’m getting drunk on this woman—drunker than any wine has ever made me.
I get the condom rolled onto my cock in record time.
If I don’t fuck Rose now—fucking immediately—I’m going to go insane.
I take her in a single thrust. Hard and deep…but slow and exacting at the same time. I make her feel every fucking inch of me—and that’s a lot of inches to feel. Her cunt is so fucking hot wrapped around my dick that I find myself driven by some force beyond rhyme or reason.
The fact that there’s only a thin layer of silicone between my cum-slinger and Rose’s slutty, fertile womb only makes me fuck her harder.
Fuck, I’m never fucking like this. There’s just something about Rose—something that I don’t have the words to explain. Her scent, or the shape of her body, or maybe just the way she moans so sweetly in my ear when my cock makes her come…
“Daniel!” she cries out, grabbing my hair in her fists and holding onto me like she’s being swept out to sea. “Daniel! DANIEL!”
“Fuck—Rose!” I moan back in ecstasy.
My balls release as they slap against her pale, smooth skin. I can feel my cock pumping my cum into her—the way it pools around my tip as it fills the condom so full, for a moment I think it might burst.
It holds—thank god.
Tonight, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that Rose is the one I want to get pregnant. It has to be her—no one else will do.
Rose is going to be the mother of my children.
Rose’s cunt is the cunt I’m going to pump full of my babies.
…I just don’t know yet if Rose is sure.
“That was…amazing,” Rose giggles while I rain kisses down on her neck.
When I pull away, she looks pleased enough.
Just as I suspected—she looks beautiful when she’s been well-fucked. Sparkling eyes, flushed skin, ruined make-up, and epic sex-hair—that’s what my Rose looks like when she’s in bloom.
“Thought you might like it,” I say, grinning back at her.
“Excuse me, young man!”
There’s an elderly male voice calling out behind us, and suddenly, my stomach turns. My cock is still inside Rose—and now there’s some old pervert out here, staring at her?
Fuck’s sake. A second ago, I was getting off on the idea that anyone could be watching us. Now, I feel so fucking possessive of Rose that I never want another man to look at her ever again.
I do my best to cover her up with my body before I turn my head.
Standing behind us, just beyond the gauzy curtains of the cabana, is an elderly couple. The woman is clinging to the man’s arm wistfully, smiling up at him in the moonlight. I watch as the man pulls her a little closer to him, placing a kiss on her forehead.
“Can I help you folks?” I ask. Rose’s legs are still wrapped around my waist. When I look down at her, she’s giggling—and when she giggles, her pussy clenches even harder around my cock.
Fuck.
“We were just wondering if you folks knew if there was a drugstore open anywhere nearby,” the man calls out to us. If he knows what Rose and I are up to, he doesn’t make any indication of it. “The missus and I are looking to purchase, um…”
“Condoms!” the woman calls out. “As big of a box as we can find!”
I look down at Rose, doing my fucking best not to laugh.
She’s biting down on her lower lip, trying to avoid the same.
“Just up the road and to your left,” I call back to them. My cock throbs in Rose’s cunt—even with an audience, I’m getting hard all over again. “There’s a 24-hour place lit up like a Christmas tree—can’t miss it.”
“Oh, thank you, dearies!” the woman calls out. I can hear her chattering to her husband as they wander off: “I hope you packed your heart pills tonight, hot stuff! The things I’m gonna do to you tonight…you’re gonna need ‘em!”
Once they’re out of earshot, Rose and I dissolve into laughter.
She’s got a gorgeous fucking laugh. I could listen to it for a lifetime.
But I know I’ll turn those sweet little giggles into moaning again soon enough.
Rose
“Shit,” I swear, looking at myself in Daniel’s rear view mirror. “I’m a hot mess.”
“Emphasis on hot, I think,” Daniel says as he puts the car into park.
He’s driven us back from the beach just in time to meet my self-imposed curfew—10 p.m. on the dot. I could’ve spent all night with him just talking and listening to the ocean…which is exactly why I was so insistent on getting home early.
Not to mention the fact that, so far, talking with Daniel always seems to become something more than just having a chat.
I have to hand it to him, though. When Daniel fucks a woman, he does a damn fine job of it.
The messy state of my appearance right now serves as proof.
My mascara is smudged around my eyes so badly that I look like a sexy raccoon. My hair is in a bit of a rat’s nest, which has given it a whole new world of volume.
The lipstick I wore when I left the house has all either been kissed off, fucked off, or smeared across my cheek. And the halter top of my little black dress has been hastily retied all lopsided and fucky.
When I left for my date with Daniel, I smelled like nice perfume and anticipation. Now, I smell like sex and the ocean, mixed with a little white wine.
“Here,” Daniel says as he watches me try and smear my mascara into a slightly more refined smudge. “Let me.”
He turns my face to him and I’m able to just enjoy the look of him as he fixes my makeup with a handkerchief from his pocket, and, failing that, the pad of his thumb. I didn’t even know men still carried handkerchiefs—but I guess I don’t know that many billionaires, truth be told.
Up close like this, when he’s not smirking, or covering me with kisses, or trying to fuck me, I can finally appreciate how fucking handsome Daniel really is.
He has a long, straight nose that makes his face look masculine and refined, a chiseled jawline, and the dreamiest eyes.
It’s the face of a man who I would, all things considered, be totally okay with mixing my genes up with. And considering how tonight went…I’d say doing exactly that is right on schedule.
God, he can’t even fix my makeup without me thinking about getting pregnant with his child. If I
wasn’t already flushed from all the fucking, I’d have the decency to blush.
“There,” he says, smearing the last bit of errant lipstick away from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “Picture perfect.”
I do a quick check in the mirror again and realize that he’s right.
I mean, I still look pretty well-fucked, but at least I don’t look like I’m doing a bad impromptu audition for the role of Harley Quinn.
“I had…a really good night,” I say, and my voice is even doing that embarrassing breathy thing as I say it. Probably because Daniel’s thumb is lingering at the corner of my mouth—and as I speak, he runs it back over my lower lip.
He doesn’t answer me—he just goes in for another kiss. We’ve kissed enough times tonight, I’m beginning to learn his moves.
Our lips slide against each other’s in a coordinated sort of harmony, and when he presses his tongue into my mouth, our tongues tango like they were made to be partners.
“Get some sleep,” Daniel purrs protectively against my lips. “You’ll need it.”
“You too, tiger,” I tease. “Text me in the morning?”
“Rose, if I wasn’t afraid of smothering you, I’d text you later tonight.”
Something about that sits perfectly with me, and I end up grinning like an idiot. Being smothered by Daniel doesn’t honestly sound half bad.
He opens the passenger side door for me and kisses me again before he drives off. I wait in the driveway until his car is out of sight. As soon as I get inside the house, the interrogation starts.
“What does he taste like?” Jenna asks, greeting me with a knowing smile. “Is it pussy? Oh my god, I bet he tastes like pussy.”
I laugh uncomfortably, and not just because, well…she’s kind of right.
“He tasted good,” I say, and I leave it like that. I’m a bad liar, and it’s the truth in every way—from his lips to his cock to his cum.
But Jenna doesn’t need to know that.
“Okay, spill,” Jenna says. “You have to tell me everything.”
“We, uh…” I say, obviously stalling. “We went to the beach?”
That’s when Jenna does something that really freaks me out: she leans in, dips her nose to my neck…and she sniffs me.
“Oh my god,” she moans, pulling away. “You two fucked. Holy shit. I can smell it on you, girl!”
“Smell what?” I say, being, like, the most obvious ever.
Jenna gives me a look that verifies: she doesn’t buy it for a second.
“Yes or no, Rose,” Jenna says with a knowing smile. “It’s okay, you can tell me—I already know the answer.”
“I’ve, uh…I’ve still gotta process it for myself, honestly,” I say with a tired laugh. “Let me sleep on it—I’ll give you all the dirty details soon.”
“Good night,” Jenna calls after me in a sing-songy voice. It’s only as I’m opening my bedroom door that my word-choice hits her: “WAIT! Dirty details?! HOW DIRTY, ROSE?! HOW DIRTY!?!?!”
I hate to leave Jenna in the lurch…only, I kind of don’t. I’ve always had to share everything with my cousins, be it clothes, or secrets, or Halloween candy. Jenna and I even share a birthday.
I’ve always been kind of a private person, and for once, I’m feeling kind of smug about keeping this sexy story to myself. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it—in fact, I know that Jenna would probably die of jealousy if she heard it all.
Something between Daniel and myself feels…special. Kind of sacred…and secret…and holy.
Maybe I’m just still half-dumb from how hard he fucked me, but I really want to believe that there could be something more going on here…
Or maybe I just need to stop being such a fucking romantic and hit the hay.
Either way, when I wake up the next morning, there’s a message from Daniel waiting for me.
Good morning, gorgeous, the text reads, and if that doesn’t make my heart go pitter-patter, I don’t know what would.
I consider my retaliation text carefully because, yeah, I’m apparently a starry-eyed, fifteen-year-old all over again when it comes to this guy. Part of me wants to believe that he’s actually into me. That last night was actually as crazy-awesome as I feel like it was.
That there could be something real growing between us.
The other part of me is playing the cynic. It figures that this dude just has some kind of weird pregnancy fetish, and I’m a willing participant.
Good morning to you too, I send back and then, feeling sudden wave of sauciness, I add a winky face.
Sufficiently reassured that I am, in fact, a texting genius, I venture out into the kitchen and dodge another coy line of questioning from Jenna over my morning coffee.
“Rose, I’ll die if you don’t tell me,” she says, pouting.
Luckily, I can deflect her line of questioning by leaving for work, and I know she’ll be off soon with my adorable nephew to pick up her hubby form the airport.
“I’ll tell you later!” I say, practically running out the door. “Love you!”
“Love you, too, ho!” she says, covering my nephew’s ears for the last bit.
She’s a good mom, Jenna. Just, holy shit, I’ve never met a nosier person in my life.
Work is work. Another day, another dollar—whatever. The exciting thing, of course, is my ongoing chat with Daniel—who has responded super positively to my ongoing flirtation-via-emoji.
New resort opening this week. Want to get away for a couple of days? his latest message reads.
I fantasize about it for a full minute: Daniel and me, lounging around on another sexy beach, soaking up the sun, and rubbing each other’s bodies with sunscreen until—unf—his fingers curl beneath my bikini bottoms, pulling them downward as he lowers his mouth…
Then, I come back to reality with the awful truth:
I’d love to :) Need to check with my boss about getting time off, though.
Let me know, he messages back. I need to see you again, beautiful.
He doesn’t add a winky face, but I’m pretty happy with the results nonetheless. The prospect of enjoying two whole days at one of Daniel’s resorts has butterflies coming to life in my stomach. I feel like when I open my mouth to ask my boss for the time off, they’ll fly out and flutter around the office for the rest of the day.
Maybe my inner optimist is right. Maybe this can be something. The more I obsessively scrutinize Daniel’s texts to me, the more hopeful I become.
…but not too hopeful, of course. My inner cynic is still along for the ride, pinching me to make sure I’m not dreaming with every passing moment.
I know he’s a playboy, and I know I shouldn’t let my guard down…
But that doesn’t stop me from allowing myself to get my hopes up.
Just a little.
;)
Daniel
Rose is a fine conversationalist. Yeah, that’s right…I care about that kind of shit, too. It’s not always just about the pussy.
Although I have to admit…the conversations almost always lead to pussy in the end.
But Rose isn’t just a good conversationalist. She’s cute, sweet, funny, smart―and sexy as hell. So, what’s the problem, right?
Why does there even have to be a problem, you ask? Alas, the world isn’t perfect, and neither is any relationship I’ve ever been in.
I have a problem. A mental issue.
Well, allow me to rephrase. I have a setback when it comes to sex that perhaps might prove itself to be unfavorable under the circumstances of this extremely unique situation I’m currently in with Rose.
Okay, I’m just going to come right out and say it:
I can’t come without a condom on my cock.
There, happy now?
Yes, it’s a mental thing. I don’t know why or when it started, but I’m always extra careful when I fuck women. Like obsessively so. To the point that I’ve trained myself to only cum fully protected.
I mean, I don’t want t
o have a horde of bastard children just walking around out there, while the baby mamas beg me for child support. I’ve seen enough of that shit with my step-siblings.
I’m literally shuddering at the idea right now.
Here’s the thing…Rose wants me to give her a baby. I think we’re both fully on board with the plan after our date the other night.
So how the hell am I going to retrain myself to be able to jizz out the special sauce without a condom? She pretty much needs my sperm filling up that cunt and overflowing, and the idea makes me both quiver with dread and jump for joy with excitement.
My point?
My tedious little problem has the potential to become our problem if I don’t at least put forth some solid effort to remediate the issue somehow. Given that having a child with Rose is part of the current plan, yeah…I have my work cut out for me.
It’s been a few days since I last saw Rose, so imagine my delight when my phone buzzes on my work desk, and I notice that I have a new message from her. Grinning, I scoop up the phone to check, secretly hoping that she’ll want to get together today.
Hi! I just want to let you know that I’d love to take you up on your offer to have lunch at your newest resort hotel. I’m willing to pack a bag for a few days of fun.
She ends the text with an adorable pink heart and a grinning smile emoji. I internally chuckle a moment. Why the fuck do these emoji’s do me in?
Rose is the fucking cutest, and I genuinely love spending time with her. Why else would I agree to be a live and participating sperm donor if I didn’t?
The little getaway will also be a fantastic way for us to get to know each other better and explore each other’s bodies in a more intimate way. Of course, I’m looking forward to the hot-as-hell fucking the most, but the condom problem is looming in the back of my mind.
I already plan on savoring every inch of her delicious and decadently smooth body, her warm skin, and her feminine scent. She’s amazing―pure perfection, really―and she leaves me with a throbbing in my cock that’s fucking insatiable. Given the chance, I’ll dive into her over and over, with more than a little enthusiasm.
Rose, I’m fucking thrilled. Pick you up first thing in the morning.
