Engaged (The ABCs of Erotica)

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Engaged (The ABCs of Erotica) Page 8

by Maxxwell, Lexi


  “I was the first guy to fuck you, period.”

  “True,” I smile.

  “Confession?” Cooper says.

  I’m not sure I like the lilt at the end, but nod anyway.

  “I never really dug it that much, you know, my dick in your butt. Anal is fine. But I really don’t see the draw. Most girls don’t like it that much. Mostly, it’s like planting your flag at the top of a mountain. Great the first time, but what’s the point after that? You do it and move on. After planting my flag in the dirthole, I’ll take the mouth or pussy every time.”

  “You are endlessly charming. And fuck you.”

  “What?”

  “You’re making me feel like you were doing me a favor.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. Everything was awesome. But I’m older now and have a better understanding of what I like, and what I think I like because you see it in porn.”

  “That’s very sexy,” I say.

  “So, how long are you going to stick around, you know, using my assets?”

  “I have no idea. I guess it depends how long you want me, and how good you are at holding my interests.”

  “You can stay forever,” Cooper says. Something in his eyes says he means it.

  “Have I satisfied your need for conversation? Because I’d like to move on to other things.” I grab his dick and blow hot breath in his ear.

  He says, “You know I’ve spent a long time trying to forget you.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “I’ll be crushed when you’re gone.”

  “Sorry in advance.”

  I fall to my knees and take good care of his hard cock.

  Leaving Cooper

  I lie in bed, waiting for Cooper.

  We’re in his parent’s house now.

  I love this room. It reminds me of Richard. White linens and gleaming glass. It’s easy to feel beautiful, lying on the all-white bed, wearing all white myself, though not all that much. I have lacy panties, thin and see-through, and a white, button-down shirt, loosely tied below my breasts, about to lose its knot.

  Eyes closed, I feel Cooper enter the bedroom. I turn and look. He smiles as he approaches from the bathroom, bare-chested in white, linen pants. His muscles aren’t bulky like Richard’s. He’s thin like me, and beautiful.

  I’ve been in bed for 10 minutes, with Cooper for a week.

  This is our final interlude.

  I scoot toward him as he approaches the bed. He wraps his hands around my back and underneath my legs, then pulls me toward him. I’m putty because I’ve been waiting. We’re well-oiled after a week together, more than we ever were before. My eyes are closed as we kiss. A week ago he tasted like memory; now he tastes like my present.

  I open my eyes and find him staring. I put my hand to the back of his head and pull him toward me. His tongue finds my nipples. His lips clamp my breast, and he starts to suck me as I moan.

  I look down at Cooper sucking my tit. I get wetter. I try shrugging the top from my shoulders, but it hangs. Cooper lowers me to the bed and tends to my panties, hooking a finger under the elastic from either side and gently tugging them to my waist, over my knees, past my ankles. He holds them to his nose, and inhales before they slip from his fingers, onto the carpet.

  He falls to his knees. I spread my legs on his way. He looks at me, extending his tongue and showing it to me playfully. He laps at the juices dribbling from my middle.

  I love how he’s licking my pussy. He’s changed. In a week, Cooper’s lovemaking has evolved into something closer to Richard’s than I imagined Cooper capable of. He’s learned to be slow, and gentle. He makes me crave him in a way the old Cooper never could have. I wonder if this new Cooper is a result of being with me for a week, or whether he was there all along, blooming in my absence.

  His hand slithers between my legs, up my body to my breast. He gently swats my hand and starts kneading it with his own. My arms fly up over my head as I writhe on the bed. I plant my hand over his, push him harder against my breast, and quietly tell him to rub my tit harder.

  I didn’t expect to stay here this long. A few days, tops. Cooper suggested I go to Europe. I would have, crazy as that seems. But I called Sasha and Hope. Their schedules were scattered. We couldn’t all be in the same place at the same time for weeks. I thought of returning to Richard, but could feel his disappointment, hear him asking, “Did you get what you left here to find?”

  I’d have to say no.

  I couldn’t go where I should go next, so I stayed with Cooper instead. Each day I’ve been here, I’ve seen him continue to soften. It’s so sweet, different from the boy who lives in so many of my memories. I wonder what would’ve happened if I was the me I am now, with this version of Cooper. Would we both be living in his parents’ guesthouse? Maybe I’d be here, painting or writing or sculpting. I’d be finding myself, or expecting a child.

  I glaze Cooper’s face as he pushes his mouth harder against me. I moan and shudder into the morning’s first orgasm, moaning and shaking on the bed. I finish and find Cooper staring with kind eyes.

  He grins and says, “Yummy?”

  I nod, and lose my top as Cooper slips his finger into the knot and pulls. It falls from my shoulders as he pushes me to the bed. He kisses my skin, starting at my breasts.

  “I want to give you a turn.”

  He grins, and lowers his pants. He looks at his dick, pointing like an arrow.

  I turn onto my stomach and scoot to the foot of the bed. I take Cooper’s cock in my hand, and lap it before dipping the tip in my mouth. I slide down and hum around his shaft.

  He’s playful, grabs his dick, and starts swirling in my mouth. I laugh as I suck him. Like all week, our sex is sweet and playful. I close my eyes as I slide down his length, thinking about our week and how once we’re finished, we’d have no more days like this. Not ever again.

  I look up at Cooper, then slide off his dick.

  “Will you miss me when I’m gone?”

  He cups my cheeks and brings my face to his.

  “You know it’s not fair to ask me that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not,” Cooper says. “You love this, teasing me, knowing you’re going off to happily ever after and leaving me here.”

  He’s smiles like he is joking. I play along.

  I swallow his cock to kill the discussion. He goes back to rocking inside my mouth, bucking harder. My legs swing playfully above me, crossed at the ankle. He see-saws between my lips until I’m certain he’s going to spill. But I’m wrong. Cooper pulls a Richard instead: pulls his cock from my cunt and kisses me.

  He climbs onto the bed and scoots toward the pile of pillows at the top. He opens his arms and waits. I climb into the crook. He wraps them around me, pulls me tightly against him, then lowers my mouth onto his.

  We finish kissing, and I climb over his body, swinging one leg to either side. I reach both hands behind my back as I crouch above him, and spread my ass cheeks as his hands rise to hold me steady. I love this moment — anticipation stretched like taffy between us — as I hover above his pipe-hard cock, knowing in seconds I’ll slide to his base without a whisper of resistance.

  I start slowly at first, still holding my ass cheeks wide as he guides me down his pole. I want to sink to the bottom, but Cooper won’t let me. Every time I try to push my ass down he squeezes his fingers into my upper thighs and lifts me back. I whimper protest, but he ignores me. I fall down to his face, and press my lips against his.

  He inhales me as we kiss, and I continue to slide on his shaft.

  I wonder if I would’ve been able to see what was so amazing about Richard if I hadn’t learn what I wanted from men like Cooper before him. Guys like Cooper, plentiful through my early 20s, made me hungry for a man like Richard. I won’t visit the men who came after Cooper because there’s no need. Only Zoe. She is the reason I cannot call Richard.

  Have you called Zoe?

  Even if
he doesn’t say it, he’ll think it. Cooper is my first, but Zoe’s my first love. I had Cooper, then Leigh, then more men than I want to admit.

  Then Zoe, who taught me to love.

  What happened with Zoe destroyed me. The aftermath sent me to Europe, from bed to bed, until I found myself with Hope, touring Sasha’s carnival.

  Thinking of Sasha sends fresh juice to my hole.

  I cry out and fall back to the bed, curling my hands into the cool, white sheets. My back is arched as he holds me steady against him. His cock is a spear inside me. His palm digs into my flesh as he pulls me against him.

  I scream, moan, and beg Cooper to fuck me. He lifts me up and down on his long, tan dick, then reaches over to kiss me. He grabs my face, and nibbles my bottom lip darting his tongue between my lips.

  I beg him, “Fuck me from behind.”

  Cooper flips me around before I finish my sentence. My side is pressed to the bed. He lifts my right leg up from the mattress, and buries his dick in my folds. I cry out as my soaking cunt clenches his pipe and he pushes up into me to bury his shaft to the hilt.

  I squeal and moan. His right hand holds my leg in the air. His left digs into the flesh under my left breast. I look down between my legs at his suntanned dick piercing my pink and creamy interior.

  I cry out, fall back to the bed, and moan as he rails me. Cooper pushes harder on my leg, bringing my knee closer to my right tit as I scream and moan over and over and over. Still, he drives faster, hurling me from one orgasm into the next, each harder than the one before, all of them racking my body.

  With each thrust Cooper draws back and plunges deep, as if hammering nails through a board. He groans behind each of his thrusts, as if he has no control of motion or velocity.

  I scream, involuntarily. With too many sensations all starting to sharpen, my head falls to the pillows. I chew my bottom lip to keep screams inside me.

  I reach down and start rubbing my clit, just above Cooper’s thrusting pole.

  I rub as he plunges.

  My body explodes. Knowing it’s the last finale we’ll share, I keep rubbing myself through it. Cooper continues to kiss me, chewing gently on my bottom lip as he stares into my eyes. He lifts my leg higher, pulls me close to him as I wrap my right arm around his neck and cling to him.

  My mouth opens, and my body lurches up. My hungry mouth searches for his. Electricity crackles between us as Cooper fucks me equally hard with mouth and cock, refusing to shatter our stare.

  My body is a single, raw nerve.

  I need to finish and leave. I pull away from my lover and roll to the side. Knees to the bed, I lift my ass in the air. “Cooper, I want you to fuck me from behind. I want you to cum inside me for the last time.”

  I close my eyes and wait.

  He tickles my cunt with his dick, like he’s done more times than I can count in this last week alone, then climbs higher and brushes my tiniest hole. He often teases my asshole, knowing I love it, but never pierces me.

  This time he does.

  I groan deeply, surprised to have him inside me, there. His dick in my ass feels full and tight and amazing. Mostly good, but the pressure is certain, and I have no time to mentally prepare. With my cheek to the bedspread, I look up at Cooper, smiling, encouraging him to fuck my ass faster, and harder.

  He’s doing this for me.

  It’s our final time together. Given his choice, Cooper would probably have preferred my pussy, or more likely my mouth. The ass is for me; I love that he gives without question.

  Wet slapping sounds fill the room as Cooper drives himself toward a finish. His fingers dig deep as he fucks my tiny hole faster. I’m lost, and can’t manage a thought. I’m caught somewhere between bellows and screams.

  Cooper grunts and erupts. Wetness is everywhere. My flooded asshole drips down to my cunt, then to the bedspread.

  I lie still, ass in the air as Cooper inspects me and his work. My body trembles, raw as he strokes me.

  I shake Cooper away, and collapse to the bed as I’m laughing. I swing my right leg over his, then hook my arm around his neck and pull him to me.

  He runs his fingers along the lines of my swollen pussy, gently rubbing me until I eventually start falling asleep.

  I hope I wake while he’s sleeping, so this can be our goodbye.

  It’s time to meet my Zoe’s eyes.

  My Zoe

  I’m driving to Zoe’s.

  This was the part of my past I most need to look in the eye.

  If I don’t do this, Richard will ask me why I bothered at all.

  I love Zoe. Unlike Leigh or Cooper, I didn’t have to look her up to see where she was, or hope she was still in the same place.

  I look all the time. Less since Richard, but plenty.

  No one in the world understands me more than Zoe. My parents, Mark and Samantha, know me well, but only in the way family can. Richard gets me more than any man ever has, and probably ever could, but he isn’t Zoe.

  She is a woman, like me.

  Zoe was born wealthy, and like me, was poisoned with an early lust for life and an appetite for the best that money can buy. And like me, she was a quiet troublemaker in school, the type who managed to stay out of trouble most of the time. We met in art school, and left together our sophomore year.

  We never fought, until we realized we were a couple. Arguments every now and then seemed more natural after that. We had both fooled around with girls in the past, but neither of us considered ourselves lesbians. After nearly two years, completely exclusive with Zoe, I started to wonder if that’s what I was.

  We listened to the same music, read the same books, and watched the same movies and TV. We liked eating the same things and having sex in mostly the same ways — I wanted it more often, but not by much. She was softer than I would have sometimes preferred, but she soothed me in a way no one or nothing else ever has, including Richard. It was wonderful, until we realized we couldn’t be together.

  Zoe was going to be an actress. There was nothing I — or anyone else — could do to stop her. She’s certainly pretty enough to be famous, but I thought that struggling for stardom as an actress was the wrong choice for Zoe. And I didn’t want to move to New York.

  Our goodbye was awful. Not too long, or too short. Just one long and horrible night. A couple, then nothing.

  We stayed friends on Facebook.

  I devastated myself after that. I steered clear of drugs, but just barely, and steered clear of little else. I even did some porn. High-class stuff, and I kept my face out of it. It was for one of my friends, Liam McAllister. He didn’t drop out as a sophomore, and did gorgeous stuff. I wore a mask for the project. His film was called, The Girl Next Door (You’ll Never Know it’s Her).

  I’m still proud of this, though I’ll never show it to anyone other than Richard. Sometimes we watch it together.

  My parents could smell something was up after Zoe. They knew I was hurting, just not why. I never introduced them to my girlfriend, because I was a coward, and never wanted to have that conversation.

  My parents suggested I get out of the country. I listened. Europe was good, but I stayed too long and did too many things I shouldn’t have, and wish that I hadn’t.

  I stayed in Europe, numbing my pain, killing regret, and hating my stupidity for two years until I came home and found Richard. A friend of Liam’s, Brandon Holloway, was doing some work similar to what he had been doing before I left for Europe, but not as explicit. It wasn’t porn so much as fashion photography with naked models. The best bits were covered, but unlike Liam’s previous work, now I could show off my face.

  I enjoyed the work, and it was getting attention, enough that it became possible for my parents to see it. I hated thinking that my father might find the work, and was considering dropping out of the project. Then, Richard came to the set.

  One of his students was a friend of Brandon’s. He thought Richard would like to interview Brandon because of his unique perspectives on
modern erotica and its place with Internet culture.

  I’m not the giggly, schoolgirl type. Men don’t make me nervous. I’ve felt jittery once in a room with Matthew McConaughey, because he makes me wetter than water. But Richard stole my breath and wouldn’t give it back. He stared, and my heart beat faster. I had to know him, be with him, ask him 100 questions, and feel my naked body up against his chest.

  A thousand thoughts assaulted me at once as I stood from the sofa where I was sprawled. I practically leapt up from the cushions and made seven strides across the room toward him, counting each in my head.

  Richard laughed as I reached him. He held out his hand, palm toward me. I stopped, hypnotized. He smiled and said, “You’re the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen. Will you go back, lie down, and do that again?”

  I felt wet in places I didn’t know I could.

  Richard rescheduled his interview. Brandon said he understood. We left together, went out for lunch, laughed until dinner, ate at his favorite restaurant, and had sex through the night.

  That first night with Richard was the first I woke up not thinking of Zoe. I realized a day or so later, and knew he was the one.

  It’s funny: I never told my parents about Zoe, even though we were together for over a year. I told them about Richard two weeks after a met him. Because he’s a man, and I’m a hypocrite.

  Everyone said the stuff about Richard that they would’ve said about Zoe. He was temporary, not for me, it wouldn’t last. Plus, they said he was too much older than me.

  Mom whispered, “He’s nearly your father’s age!” in something like a hiss. Dad broke my heart with what was said in his tone. I just want what’s best for you. Richard is what’s best for me. They may not know it, but I do and always have.

  It’s three hours to Zoe’s from Cooper’s. Now I’m 10 minutes away.

 

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