Her Type of Guy

by 5 Author Anthology

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013

  Doris O'Connor, Raven McAllan,

  Michaela Rhua, Ella Grey, Morgan King

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-451-1

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: JS Cook

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  5 Author Anthology

  The Man with the Bouncing Cock & Grumpy Pants by Doris O'Connor

  A True Scotsman & No Longer Pure As... by Raven McAllan

  Only When Allowed & Snail's Pace by Michaela Rhua

  Ghost & Messy by Ella Grey

  Delightful Consequences & The Tickle Arms by Morgan King

  THE MAN WITH THE BOUNCING COCK

  Doris O'Connor

  Copyright © 2013

  "Oooh, yes, big boy … again, again. Yes … Yeeeesssss."

  Dean dutifully pumped his hips and blew his blond hair out his eyes. Sweat streamed down his back, and his partner in crime screamed her completion for the umpteenth time. He too flew over that edge as her silken walls milked his steel hard cock, and he emptied his seed into the condom, for that moment of blessed relief.

  He closed his eyes, willing that moment to last, hoping against hope that this time his damn cock would not bounce back instantly. Dean withdrew from his spent partner, but before he even had a chance to remove the condom completely that cursed appendage of his was primed and ready for action again. Collapsing on his bed next to Annabelle … Giselle—which one was she again?—he groaned and flung his arm over his eyes.

  Dean gritted his teeth against the feel of someone's warm hand on his aching shaft.

  "It is true what they say, Annabelle. He does bounce right back." Giselle purred and ran her tongue along his weeping slit.

  Cursing under his breath he yanked the brunette off his rod of steel. It wouldn't do any good, anyway. No matter how many women he fucked, relief was only ever short lived.

  He pushed Giselle away, ignoring her pouting friend, and cursed as he caught his cock in the zip of his jeans. He should have just worn his trusty sweat pants, but they did zilch at concealing his constant boner. The jeans hurt like hell, but at least he didn't scare little old ladies—or Amelie.

  He ground his teeth in annoyance, and his damn cock jerked and lengthened. Dean pulled his shirt on, making sure it covered his waistband, where his bouncing dick was now playing peekaboo, pushed his feet into his trainers, and left the girls to it.

  "I'll call you." He uttered the required words, as was expected of him, but he had no intention of ever seeing either one again.

  The early morning frost hit him straight in the face, and helped to clear the last of his orgy induced fogginess. It did nothing to cure the ache in his groin. Ignoring his discomfort he broke into a jog. The exercise would help to ease some of the stiffness, as long as he could keep his mind off Amelie.

  Since the prim and proper school teacher had moved in next door, his ever bouncing dick had gone into complete meltdown. Hot as holy fuck in her pencil skirt dresses and conservative blouses, he was itching to get his hands on her. Unfortunately Amelie's first impression of him had been shirtless exercising in the yard, and the loose pants he'd been wearing at the time had done nothing to hide his monster erection.

  His damn cock had bounced towards her in the dick equivalent of a handshake, and Amelie had pursed her lips and dismissed him.

  "For your information, that," she had flicked a glance at his tenting trousers, "may impress your usual floozies, but I would suggest you keep that thing under control, Mister."

  She had turned about heel, giving him the perfect view of her shapely ass, as she'd bent over to pick up another cardboard box, and ignored him, apart from a grudging "thank you" when he'd helped her carry in the rest of her belongings.

  Since then they'd kept a polite distance. She nodded to him every morning when they passed in the narrow hallway. He in turn did his best to keep his rampaging bouncing body part away from her, but invariably it made contact with her lush behind, causing her to draw in a breath and run away from him as though he was the devil incarnate, and maybe he was.

  He'd had to have done something bad to be cursed with this thing. Ever since he'd had his first wet dream, the thing had a mind of its own, and once it had actually had a taste of pussy, there had been no stopping it. Dean was exhausted, mentally and physically. The excitement of it all had long worn off, and whilst it had garnered him a lucrative sideline—it seemed women weren't averse to slipping him a few extra notes during his performances on stage—Dean had enough of being a sex object.

  He'd stashed more than enough money to open up his own club, and retire from stripping. He was ready to settle down, and he had the horrific suspicion that that thought had only entered his mind since the arrival of Amelie six months ago.

  It was beyond fucking ironic. The man with the bouncing cock could have any woman, apart from the one he truly wanted.

  *****

  Amelie woke up gasping for breath, her skin covered in a fine sheen of perspiration, her fingers slick with her own arousal pumping in and out of her pussy. In her dream she had been riding her hunky neighbor's huge cock. Impaled on him, she'd bounced like a mad demented rabbit. His hands digging into her hips, their eyes had locked together in a haze of passion. She flicked her distended clit and bit her lips. She was so close, so goddamn close, but it was useless. Her arousal slipped away in the bright morning light, like it always did.

  The thump of Dean's front door and muffled noises coming through the paper thin walls told her that he was back. She didn't even want to think about who he'd been with last night. Their small town was rife with his exploits, and if rumors were to be believed then Amelie might well be the only woman over the age of consent who hadn't bounced on his fabled cock.

  She'd thought the stories just that—stories, until she had seen the imprint of his erection with her very own eyes. What sort of man jumped to attention like that? They hadn't known each other, yet still, all he'd wanted her for was sex.

  She ignored the little voice in her head wondering if that would be such a bad thing. It had to be better than lusting after him from afar. A couple of times lately she'd made sure to linger in the corridor until he'd come out of his flat, so desperate had she been to feel him brush against her. A thrill went through her body at the brief contact. Her blood heated and tingles spread along her skin in delicious waves of anticipation, settling between her thighs. Heart racing, and barely able to catch her breath, she'd then stalked away, holding onto her dignity by a mere thread, his sigh of frustration causing her heart to give a suspicious lurch.

  Dignity be fucked, this pining after him got her nowhere. Perhaps the time had come to do something about this obsession of hers. Dean was a creature of habit. Today was Sunday which meant he would be working out. How he had the energy after his stint at the strip club and whatever else he'd been up to all night, she would never know, but come rain or shine, every Sunday saw him do a routine on the communal outdoor gym in their shared garden.

  Amelie had spent many a Sunday admiring the play of muscles on his sweat drenched skin, as he lifted weights and did enough sit ups to make her feel quite dizzy. Dean Bouncing had a body to die for. Six-foot two of tightly packed muscle, covered by a fine
dusting of light hair, with lean hips, tight ass, strong thighs, and that monster cock of his that never seemed to go down no matter how hard he pushed himself. Long, straggly, dirt blond hair hung loose around his face, covered in permanent stubble that was sure to give his conquests razor burn in some sensitive areas.

  Sure enough just after lunch the familiar clangs of weights carried in through her slightly open window. Thanks to the fine drizzle of rain his usual audience of adoring female airheads was absent. Which was just as well, because Amelie didn't think she could stomach any more oohing and ahhing, even if he usually ignored the obvious come on.

  Taking a deep fortifying breath she pinched her cheeks in the mirror, and pulled her tank top a little lower for good measure. She had seen him glance at her tits more than once, and a girl had to work with what she’d got. The rain was good. Braless as she was, it would turn her skimpy little top transparent, and it would aid her intended pretense of having been out on a run, when she stumbled across him in the garden.

  Amelie didn't have to pretend much when she actually made it down there. The mere sight of him pumping iron stole the breath from her lungs and sent a stab of arousal through her body. She clenched her thighs together to relieve the insistent ache between her legs, and a gush of her juices soaked the skimpy thong she wore underneath her running shorts.

  She didn't know how long she'd stood there, lost in the poetry in motion that was Dean in action, when his yelp of pain, followed by a string of colorful curses, shook her out of her lustful musings.

  *****

  Fuck that hurt.

  Dean dropped the bar, narrowly missing his foot, and grabbed hold of his still bouncing cock.

  "Fucking hell, you stupid, useless piece of shit. Will you just stop getting in my damn way? Go down already, you wanking piece of ridiculous nonsense."

  He yanked his smarting member out of his sweat pants, and winced at the bruise already forming on his sensitive underside. He'd caught the fucking thing with the bar on the way up, and the instant sharp pain had brought tears to his eyes, and had caused him to lose his grip on the weights. It wasn't the first time, this had happened, but, fuck it all, I've had enough.

  He shut his eyes and spread his legs, pumping his swollen prick with much more force than strictly necessary, visions of Amelie filling his mind. He shouldn't be doing this out here in the open where anyone could see him but if he didn't get this thing to deflate at least a little bit, he would explode.

  In his mind's eye, Amelie's luscious lips wrapped themselves around his cock, and his hands fisted in her raven tresses, he fucked her mouth. In and out, faster, deeper, his vision so real her flowery scent surrounded him, and he came with a hoarse groan of, "Amelie."

  Cum exploded over his fingers, the sticky evidence of his release, reminding him of where he was. Amelie would never give him head. He might as well wish for the moon. He collapsed back on the weight bench, his dick already hardening again under his fingers, and he shook his head.

  The flowery scent increased, and the fine hair on his neck stood to attention, when another scent registered—the unmistakable musk of aroused woman, followed by the feminine sighs of completion, as the unknown woman reached her peak with a strangled cry.

  Great, some chick was getting her rocks off to seeing him masturbate in public like a horny teenager. His cock bounced in eagerness, and he yanked his sweat pants up over it, wincing anew as he caught his bruised underside.

  "Enough, I'll cut the fucking thing off before I put up with this anymore. Show is over, lady, and I'm not interested, no matter what this thing between my legs says, so beat it already. The man with the bouncing cock is going to bounce right out this town."

  He turned his back on the woman he sensed standing there, heaved the heavy bar back on its stand and willed whoever it was to just go away.

  *****

  Still shaking with delicious tremors, Amelie could barely hear him over the rushing in her ears. When she'd seen him handle that huge cock, she'd just had to thrust her hand inside her thong. A few rubs over her tingling clit had been all it took, for her body to convulse in need, and the most breathtaking climax to grip hold of her. The smell of sex was heavy in the air, and her fingers were slick with her arousal when she pulled them out of her shorts and put that hand on his bare shoulder. He stiffened and whirled round, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment when his eyes locked on her.

  The heat of her skin was reflected in his eyes, as he ran his gaze over every inch of her flesh, and his whole body grew tense. She didn't miss the way he adjusted his bouncing cock, but the slight flush spreading across his sculpted cheek bones came as surprise and it gave her the courage to ask.

  "Did you mean what you said?" She grimaced at the breathy quality of her voice and pushed her sodden fringe out of her face. The drizzle had turned into much heavier rain and she wrapped her arms around herself to stop herself from shivering.

  He glared at her and her pussy clenched in answer, as he stepped closer and ran his hands up and down her arms.

  "You're frozen. Let's get you inside. This weather is foul." A rumble of thunder underlined his grumbled words, and she jumped. He smiled in answer, and tipped her chin up to study her face.

  "Afraid of a little thunder?"

  Another, deeper rumble, accompanied by a flash of lightening forking across the dark sky, made her gasp and he drew her closer into his frame. His scent and warmth surrounded her, his erection a hard ridge against her belly and she shut her eyes and inhaled against his chest. The scent of aroused, sweaty man, settled deep in her gut and they groaned in unison. She dug her fingers into his biceps and he held her close for one precious second, before he stepped away. He grasped her firmly by the elbow and propelled her back into the relative safety of their shared hallway, and then up the stairs. They stopped in front of her flat, and he didn't look at her.

  "You best get inside and into some warm clothes, and I think we should just forget what happened out there." He made to leave and she grabbed the hem of his vest top to stop him from leaving.

  "Please, I really do not like storms. Will you stay with me?"

  *****

  Dean shouldn't be here. He dried his hair with the towel she'd given him and he barely suppressed his groan. If he grew any harder, his prick would snap. He felt light headed with the loss of blood, as every last ounce seemed to have congregated in his bouncing dick. His balls drew tight and he was glad for the wetness of his sweat pants, which would hide the stain of his steadily seeping pre-cum.

  Now clad in a bath robe that gave him enticing flashes of bare skin, Amelie moved around her flat. She approached him with a steaming mug of coffee, her gaze briefly darting to his groin, before she handed him the coffee with a shy smile.

  "Black no sugar, like you asked." She perched her ass on the side of the table he sat at and her robe fell away, exposing the milky white skin of her inner thigh. Her musk filled his nostrils and he raised the coffee and inhaled the bitter brew to distract himself from the vision of taking her right here on the kitchen table. It would be so easy. She was wet for him, but sex would ruin any chance he had with her. He wanted more, damn it. He wanted Amelie to see past his appendage to the man underneath.

  "What you said out there…" His head shot up at her whispered question, and his heart turned over in his chest at the uncertain expression on her innocent face. She looked young and vulnerable, too good for him to spoil her with his bouncing dick, to use her for his release.

  "I said a lot of things out there, did things you shouldn’t have seen. I would rather not talk about it." She inched closer to him and he clenched his jaw to not give into his instincts screaming at him to take what he wanted.

  "You called my name when you came. It was the most arousing thing I have ever seen. Did you picture me when you stroked yourself?"

  She trailed one finger across the white knuckled grip he had on his coffee cup, and Dean didn't dare move. He managed a nod and she sighed, as
her fingers danced up his arm, over his shoulder, and over his rapidly bobbing Adams apple.

  "Why think of me when you have all those other women to fuck?"

  Dean shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Fuck it, it was now or never. What did he have to lose? He was leaving anyway. He couldn't stay here any longer so what harm was there in telling her the truth?

  "Because those other women don't mean anything to me. They are a means to an end, in the hope to get this thing to deflate." He gestured towards his cock and groaned as her small hand settled over it through the fabric. A shudder went through him at the contact and he placed his hand over hers with a strangled, "Don't. I 'm so on the edge, if you touch me I'll lose whatever decency is still left in me, and I'll shove this thing inside your cunt until you scream my name."

  Her sharp intake of breath settled like lead in his gut, but instead of releasing him and ordering him out of her flat for talking to her like that, she gripped him tighter. His dick once again peeked out the waistband of his pants and she ran her thumb over the swollen head. He almost shot his load on the spot, when she brought that digit to her lips and licked his pre-cum off it.

  "Shouldn't that be my choice, Dean?"

  Before he could say anything at all, she'd dropped to her knees in front of him, giving him the perfect view of her luscious tits swaying from side to side under her loose robe. She pulled his pants down, freeing his rod, and Dean stopped thinking all together, when she dropped a kiss on his weeping slit. Heat engulfed him and his balls drew up tight against his body, his climax already threatening to erupt. Just like in his visions Amelie took him deep into the warm haven of her mouth. She massaged his heavy balls and squeezed, humming around his shaft and the vibrations sent him over the edge. Dean grasped the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip to stop himself from giving into his baser urges, as the breath left his lungs. Stars danced in his vision and he threw his head back with a guttural shout of completion, as jet after jet of his blessed relief was swallowed by Amelie. His legs trembled and the world spun and narrowed until all he could feel was her tongue milking him dry. She took every last drop and when she finally released him with an audible pop, he pulled her up and kissed her.