A Mess of Reason

by A. Wilding Wells

  His lips are at my face, and between words he places small, teasing kisses on my eyelids, my cheeks, my ears, a deep, muffled groan here and there strategically placed. I feel like I’m sitting in a pool of pudding. It’s like he’s never going to stop—not that I ever want him to.

  “I’ve pulled your panties down now…but you see, they’re just to the bottom of your ass, just at the very top of your long, slow thighs, and yes…I’m teasing you, baby.”

  His thumbs are at my hips, hooked under the lace of my panties, tugging at them… his fingers moving along my skin…right there…but never does he move them down. I’m doing all I can to will them off of me in some kind of divine intervention.

  “I know I’m walking a dangerous line but I’m leaving them there. You’re begging me to pull them off, I can just tell…because I know, woman, what you want. You want to open your legs on my face and feel my tongue plunging into you as I lick and suck your clit, blowing your mind…making your senses spin. But I can’t take them down yet, now can I? Because the sight of you lying here, right where you are now, with that tiny bit of red lace barely covering you up is killing me, too.”

  Then he gently pushes my back down against the countertop. Yes, I’m lying down. He takes my ankles in his hands and places my feet on the counter against my ass…then pulls me toward him.

  “You’re thermal…the center of a nuclear explosion hot.”

  He’s chuckling as I’m melting. I kid you not.

  “Half naked…shirt still on, panting, begging.”

  His forefinger is skating along my bottom lip and my tongue keeps tasting the very tip of it. I do all I can to listen to my inner public service announcement telling me not to play with matches because fires can ruin lives…but the heat, and the sparks, and the burn… Here I lie, going up in smoke. OMG. WTF. Then both his hands skate down the front of my sweatshirt, palms flat, slowly sliding over my breasts as I arch into him. He reaches the top of my panties and looks me in the eye as he fingers the top edge of lace, then drags his hands to my inner thighs, opening them all the way with both hands sliding up and down over my naked skin.

  “Oh…fuck, Scout. Please…”

  “Shh, Tess…quiet now. Listen, baby… I tie a long black sash around your knees, forcing you to keep them together, my naughty little schoolgirl.”

  He closes my knees and I pray he has a sash in his pocket.

  “But your ankles—so tiny and sexy—I take them in my hands and I spread them as far apart as they can go. You must feel awkward right now though with your knees still pinned…yes?”

  He slides my ankles apart, and the moan that comes from me has his tongue skating along his lip as if he’s about to bring his mouth right between my legs. Oh, God, yes…please….

  “Tess…Tess…Tess. My view is exquisite as I drag your panties down your thighs. Let me tell you something baby…I can see all of you. Every beautiful bit of your bright-pink, marinating-in-your-juices, ready-for-me, gorgeous cunt. And I look…my God, do I look.”

  He backs up a step, staring right between my legs, then back to my eyes…surely having seen a pool of wet under me.

  “This is a view I don’t take for granted, not for one fucking second. Sinful. The devil himself would melt if he saw how hot you are.

  “Then I tie another sash around your eyes,” he says as his hand comes to my eyes, closing my lids. “Because I want every sense in your body focused only on what I’m about to do to you.”

  Then he stops talking and I hear him walk away, open the refrigerator, guessing he’s grabbing more beer as I hear think clink of glass on glass. I almost have a heart attack. I want to call the dammed National Guard in for backup. I’m not going to draw you a road map. They say torture is morally worse than murder, and if so, he is fucking criminal.

  “You want another beer, Tessie girl?” I sit up to stare at him. He says it as if we’re watching a football game on TV and a commercial has just come on. But the smile on his face says everything, as does the dark devilish look in his eyes—not to mention the rock-hard outline I see in his pants. Holy-fucking-wonderland.

  “You’re not done yet,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m done, all righty. And so are you, puddles.”

  I hate him. “I’m not wet yet. The deal is you have to verbally fuck me until I’m wet, remember? You don’t get to make up new rules, Scout.”

  “Tess, Tess, Tess. Such a fucking liar. A sexy liar, but a liar no less. And by the way, sweetheart, I’m clear on the rules.”

  He comes back over to the counter with two beers, and I open them both for us. I’m panting like a virgin about to get her cherry popped and feeling all too much the hit-and-run victim. What he just did to me, with those words…oh my God, I want him to do that to me. Now. I want him to push me back on the counter and do every single hot-as-fuck thing he just said…and then I want the rest of the story, too. He hasn’t even eaten me yet. I want to hear that part. Believe me, I know “The Street” rules for investing: bulls and bears make the money, pigs get slaughtered. Call me what you will, but I smell bacon, my friends.

  “Please finish.” I’m begging now. It’s not beneath me.

  “If you’re not soaking wet, I’ll go on, baby, but your eyes are dilated, you’re panting, you’re cheeks are flushed, and while my fingers aren’t on your clit, I’m gonna put a thousand bucks on the fact that it’s beating faster than a hare gettin’ chased by a dog right about now. Prove me wrong and I’ll go on to ravish you with some serious verbal cunt-licking. Come on, now…your turn show me the goods.”

  “I hate you.”

  “I know. I hate you too. I’m just playing by by the rules. Looks like you need a little SPF-50, baby.”

  Two can play at this game. I can fucking boot camp him under the table. I rest my hands on the top of my head, messing my hair up, staring him down all the while. He thinks he’s written the bible on flirting. Ha! Then he moves in and spreads my legs apart again, takes a solid swig of his beer, then sets it down and cages me again with his arms. Okay, so maybe he has.

  Fuck, he smells good right now…like sex and the tiniest trace of his vetiver cologne mixed with black pepper. Just fucking fuck me already. I want so badly to lick his neck. But instead I continue on with my counterattack mission. I drag my hands down onto my cheekbones, then I open one hand and skate it across my open mouth, tonguing my palm provocatively. The smile on his face is a-fucking-dorable. As in, stud times a gazillion. His eyes never leave mine as I bring my hands around to the back of neck, arching my chest towards him shamelessly. Then I touch my breasts all come hither as possible while panting and saying his name like I will someday when he’s fucking me and I’m about to come. Oh, you know it, sister: I play up the tease like I’m working a pole in Vegas.

  “Scout, oh God, Scout. I…I’m so…” Naturally he plays along. I’m dead. He’s winning. Of course I’m keeping score. Remember, bitches, I won the bull riding nationals in high school. I’m competitive if nothing else.

  “Yeah, baby. Oh Tess…so fucking hot…so wet… I’ll bet you’re so tight. Now, show me, baby…show me your sweet cream.” Such a fucker, isn’t he? One I want in me. But a fucker no less.

  Then he takes another drink of his beer as his eyes rake up and down my body as if he’s about to eat me with them. I wish to hell he’d just slam me back and get on with it, but no. He cages me again. His hands are next to my thighs. Then on top of my knees. Then just above my knee, moving… I’m wetter than ever. Ever. Hopeful as all get out.

  His PhD in seduction shines like a beacon. His hands are sliding slowly and he’s so close…so sweetly close. I know it’s about to get risky as he stops and slides his palms between my thighs, pushing them open a tiny bit further, his pinky fingers brushing straight across my clit. And yes, I moan because I’m so dammed turned on that my voice slams through the do-not-enter-this-sex-zone barracks like they’re made of Jell-O. Then he forces my thighs even wider, pushing them as far apart as they can
go in the position I’m sitting. I look down and see my red panties and his gorgeous masculine hands still there, right there…seconds away from sliding straight into me.

  “Show me, Tess…show me how wet you are for me, show me how my verbal fuck made your pussy soaking wet for me. I want to see you pull that fabric aside.” His words take raw possession of me, the ache of my desire sinfully erotic.

  “Scout.”

  “Tess.” He’s whispering to me; it’s dark, throaty, sexy…and my heart is turning over while my body is aching for his touch. His nearness is an invitation that completely overwhelms me.

  “Touch me, Scout. Feel me there…please,” I beg him as if nothing else matters in the world.

  “You know I can’t do that, Tess. That would be cheating on your fiancé.”

  His fingers are on the lace panel right between my legs. Rubbing me tenderly, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

  “If I moved your panties aside right now and slid a finger deeply inside your tight little cunt to see how wet my words made you, it really would be unfair to him. You’re not the cheating type, Tess. You’re a good girl…a naughty, sexy-good girl.”

  He says this in my ear, with his lips touching me, his tongue licking my earlobe all the while. I feel his hot breath on my neck but he never kisses it—he only breathes on it—and I’m going as crazy as a shit-house rat on the inside. His fingers are circling my clit, still over the lace: he can feel the wet, all right, but he won’t let me off the hook. And—this one is off the record—my skydiving adventures are nearly over with him, as I’m experiencing double parachute failure on my current mission of want. I’m as close to coming as I’ve ever been with only outside touching.

  “Scout,” I plead as my forehead falls against his.

  “Come on, baby, you’re teasing me… Do you like that, making me wait so long to see how wet your pussy is? You’re not playing fair, Tess—you’re breaking the game rules. That’s kind of like lying…and you know I don’t like it when you lie to me, gorgeous.”

  He steps backwards a little bit and looks into my eyes, then down between my legs. He’s not smiling, but his eyes are glowing with a savage fire. I find my gaze locked on his smoking guns sitting like ammo in his gray T-shirt, looking all hard and flexed…somehow they, too, seem to be fucking me. He takes a hand to his face, tracing one finger along his wet bottom lip. Back and forth, slowly taunting me as though he’s dragging it along my naked, wet clit.

  But I’m clear as ever. He’s never going to do it. He’s never going to pull my panties aside, slide his fingers in, and touch me where I most want him. Nope. He’s going to torture me and I deserve it. I’m playing him, using him. He knows it. He doesn’t deserve it, but I can’t seem to help myself…he makes me crazy.

  I take my hand and I slide down into the top of my panties, dragging it across my soaked slit. As I pull my hand out, I jump off the counter and take one step toward him, which puts me right in front of him. And yes…I take my dripping fingers covered with my cream and place them on his lips, dragging them back and forth slowly, coating him with my juices…then I slide them all the way inside of his mouth.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SCOUT

  She’s heartless, bold as a bull…and I love her for it. Her slender fingers fuck my mouth with her slickness—the only pussy I want to taste, want to fuck. Torturing me. Gutting me unfairly. It’s cruel and exquisite and holy-fucking-take-the wheel delicious. Slowly she plunges her two fingers in and out of my mouth, circling my tongue provocatively as she eyes me with her best I want your cock inside of me look.

  I grab her wrist, pull her fingers out of my mouth. The taste of her on my tongue lingers, shattering me. Because she tastes like heaven; she tastes like something the angels would create; she tastes like she owns me. And truly she does. Every single fiber of my being.

  “Such a bitch, Tess.” I know every expression she has and this one…it’s a hot spark of reaction.

  I wreathe her tiny waist, pick her up, then place her back onto the countertop. She needs to know how much she’s killing me. I can play the torture game, too, even more than I just did. I want to love her…I want her to let him go and love me. But she won’t do it. She can’t.

  “You want this, don’t you?” I spread her legs and I slide my hand down inside the front of her panties, all the while my eyes looking into the smolder of hers. She licks her lips as her head falls back the tiniest bit, while her chest rises and falls as she inhales deeply. My fingers skate across her tiny whisper of hair, down over her hard clit, between her soaking wet lips. I plunge two fingers inside of her opening, deeply—so fucking deeply—while my thumb works her clit.

  “Scout…I… Oh God, yes…fuck, yeah.”

  She needs to know this is what it could be like for us. This is what she’s leaving on the table. This is what I can do to her. The exact same thing she does to me. She’s going to find out in a second how much it hurts, though. I’m sorry to be doing it, but she needs to know.

  “You’re standing in the way of us,” I tell her as I finger-fuck her so beautifully. She’s writhing. So I grab her left foot and bring it up onto the countertop, giving me even more access. Then I scoot her ass right to me, putting her other knee up to her chest, pinning her this way as I pull my fingers out and look at her as she drowns in my power.

  “Don’t stop…please.” She’s desperate. Drop-dead desperate.

  I look at her sitting there, legs spread, knees at her chest, panties still on. And I do it. I rip them straight off of her in one quick tear. She dying to kiss me but I won’t. I can’t. If I kiss her, I’m done. It’s enough that I’m burying three fingers now, knuckle-deep into her.

  “You’ve closed the door on me, Tess,” I tell her as I explore every inch of her with my slippery fingers.

  “No…I haven’t,” she moans quietly, and it’s evident as hell: every hormone in her body is awake.

  “You have…and you know it. You’ve closed it on us. But you want this… You. Want. This. You want me to do this to you. You want me to fuck your little tight cunt.”

  Her lips are quivering, her eyes rolling back as she drinks every word like a fine cognac.

  “And you love it, Tess. You love that I’m buried up inside of you, and you want to come, don’t you, baby? Oh Tess…so wet and tight… I can tell, Tessie, you’re so, so close to coming for me.”

  “Scout…oh…” She can barely speak as her head collapses into me.

  She so fucking aroused I can tell she seconds from coming. And yes, she’s going to hate me in a second or so.

  “Scout, oh God, kiss me…Scout…I’m…oh…” Her lips are chasing all over my face as her nails pierce into my arm. I give her a couple more slow, deep fucks, moving my fingers inside of her like a heat-seeking missile that’s found its target.

  “Yeah, Tess…just like that baby. So good, so sexy… Now listen, love…listen closely.”

  I keep my fingers inside of her but I slow the fucking, and she’s dying. I’ll admit it’s a gorgeous death if ever there was one. My thumb is just barely on her clit, because I can’t have her coming. Cruel, so cruel, but I have no choice…she’s done this to herself.

  “I know you want this; I know it feels good. And my God, Tess, to have my fingers inside of you, to make you feel good…to watch you like this…to have your cream on my lips and lingering on my tongue…it’s fucking all I’ve ever wanted. You’re so beautiful…so delicious. But here’s the thing, sweetheart: you need to make a choice. Do you hear me, baby? A choice. You get him…or you get this.”

  And that’s the end of that story. That’s what my balls feel like, all the fucking time. I grab my beer off the counter and head out to the hot tub. Because right about now it’s all I can handle. An icy cold blizzard, under a night sky, the heat of the tub, my beer, and the taste of her still on my lips…still in my mouth. Branded on my soul.

  *

  About ten minutes later, Tess strolls out. She has a new
pair of panties on and a T-shirt. She’s surprisingly carrying the game and two beers. She climbs into the tub, setting the game on the edge, hands me a beer, then sits right next me, her shoulders touching mine.

  “That wasn’t very nice.” She slugs me in the chest, then rams her shoulder into mine.

  “Oh, really? I thought it was very nice. Beautiful, in fact. You, my girl, have one very pretty little cunt. And wet—my God, do you get wet. And sweet. You taste like heaven. So pink and swollen. And might I add, you’re tight. I mean tight-tight, that’s nice. I love a tight, wet cunt that’s also gorgeous. You didn’t have to put new panties on for me…I mean, I’m happy to look at your naked ass and fresh, raw pussy all night. Not gonna touch it again, though. Nope. Well, unless you’ve made some choices, that is. Then I’ll do more than touch it…I’ll consume it…ravish it. I’ll lick you until beg me to stop giving you orgasms. Then I’ll make love to you. Then after that, I’ll fuck you hard…all night long if you’d like. But you didn’t think it was very nice, anyway, so I guess we’re good then, huh?”

  “Such an asshole.”

  “Such a bitch.”

  “Wanna keep playing? It’s still my bachelorette party.”

  “Sure. Same game or Pin the Junk on the Hunk?”

  Amazing, isn’t she? I marvel at the fact that she can’t even talk about it. The wedding, that is. Well, now she knows she can’t have her cake and eat it too. Or, shall I say, can’t have her cock and eat it too. But fair is fair. I can’t have her cunt and eat it, either. I’ll keep playing the games, though. This is kind of fun, watching her squirm.

  “It’s my turn,” she says, smiling. I can’t help but wonder if she’ll be taking a step back now or not. “My card says, ‘In the next fifteen minutes, have an orgasm in front of the person sitting closest to you. No faking.’ Well, lucky me. Too bad my vibrator isn’t waterproof.”

  “You can use your hands. Oh, I’m gonna like this one, Tess. Better than a football game. A fresh beer in the hot tub and you getting off in a blizzard. This is live porn, ladies and gentlemen.”