Now I am insistent.
Now I am no longer willing to wait.
Now I will take what is mine, from husband to wife, and stuff it inside me.
I pull Richard from between my legs. He comes to the bed, wraps me in his arms, and kisses me like I’ve longed to be kissed. I circle my hands at his back and press my fingers into his flesh. I feel my ring on his skin. It makes me hotter.
Now we’re married.
I can’t kiss him hard or deep enough. I want to swallow him.
He laughs. “I love how much you want me.”
I say, “Let me show you,” then shove him onto the bed.
I attack his belt, unbuckling the buckle and yanking it from his pants. I unbutton his pinstripes and pull out his cock. It’s giant, hard, and hungry. I wrap my hand around the base and hold it straight so it’s pointing like an arrow to my mouth. I look down, see my ring glistening against his skin and smile. Then I close my eyes and drag my tongue from bottom to top, slowly.
I take my time on his dick like he did on my pussy, holding his giant pole straight as I lick him.
Richard takes control, pulling it from my mouth and waving it, making me weave and dodge, duck and dive as I’m trying to grab it.
Finally I do, and start fucking Richard’s dick fast with my lips, bobbing up and down and making him want me. When I feel him start throbbing between my lips, I slow, and wonder how long it will be before he yearns to fill me like I need to be filled.
He reaches down, grabs my hand, and starts sucking my fingers while I slurp on his shaft. He softly presses my palm to his cheek.
I hold him in my mouth and add pressure to my motion, knowing he can’t take it much longer. He grunts; it’s time.
I slide off of his cock and he sits up on bed.
I pull off one shoe. He pulls off another.
I rip off his pants and throw them to the floor. His beautiful, naked, ink covered body is waiting for me, exposed. I climb on the bed and turn back to Richard. “Rip off my wedding dress,” I purr. “I need you to fuck me.”
He scrambles behind me, fumbling with the laces at the back of my dress. He unthreads me in seconds. Still I say, “Hurry!”
“You’re like a present,” he laughs, peeling my layers. Under the dress there’s a slip, plus my panties and garters. He rids my body of the dress, and follows with the slip. I feel cool air kissing my tits, then my cunt as he peels panties from my pussy lips, approaching my hole from behind.
Richard digs into my pussy because he wants to feel like he owns it. He swirls his fingers, then licks it and sucks on my hood, lightly teasing it with his teeth before releasing the skin.
“Take off my panties,” I tell him.
He slides them down my ass. I lift my knees, one at a time so he can get them down past my ankles. I leave on my shoes and garter, nudge my ass slightly higher, reach back with my right hand, and start rubbing my cunt, sliding juices around my soaking lips, up toward my asshole.
From behind, Richard spreads my ass cheeks, and touches the tip of his tongue to my starfish. I shudder.
“Do that again,” I whisper.
He laps at my tiniest hole, pushes his thumb into my pussy, and starts stirring wide circles, licking faster at my asshole.
His tongue is everywhere, not just in my tiny dot, but down in my pussy, lapping along the skin on both of my cheeks.
I’m raw and in heat, already on all fours. I lower my body to the bed, pressing elbows into the comforter and raising my ass higher. I turn to Richard. “How long are you going to make me wait?”
I sound like I’m begging and don’t even care.
“Almost there,” he says.
I feel a tingle as his tongue takes another swipe at my slit.
He grabs his dick, holds it steady, and positions it against my entrance. I’m so raw my body flinches and I involuntarily lurch onto the bed. I push myself back against him like he’s a peg in the wall.
He reaches out, grabs my hand, and starts sliding inside me. Gently, as if it’s our wedding day. Still, I cum immediately.
Richard exercises perfect control, holding my sides, easing me into the evening’s fourth orgasm (the first with his cock). He holds me by my wrists, using them as handles to rail me. I slam back against him, screaming and cursing.
“FUCK ME!” I yell.
He’s mostly silent, grunting behind me, still exercising perfect control, making sure our first fuck as a married couple is as amazing as I hoped.
My head pushes into the comforter as I swim in pleasure, staring at my swollen tits and puffy nipples, waiting for the orgasm to subside. It does, then Richard lifts me so that we’re both standing on our knees with him still stirring inside me.
Once my body’s relaxed, he resumes his assault and sends me into another orgasm, pounding hard, this time grabbing me by the sides and pulling me back, hard onto his cock.
I explode again, and can’t stay upright. He’s still behind me, fucking me like an animal. I turn to jelly and fall to the bed.
Richard gets faster.
I’m screaming and moaning. Out of control. I’m a bag of pleasure, billowing in wind. I reach back and spread my ass cheeks, inviting more of him inside me.
He’s grunting and plowing. I’ve lost track of my pleasure.
I wonder when he’ll explode.
Richard is a machine. He climbs higher on my body and forces me lower. His dick spears me, almost straight down. His legs are spread behind me in a large, upside down V. He hovers above, maintaining balance with his strong arms planted on either side of my shoulders.
I start crying from pleasure. First there are only sounds, then I feel real tears as they soften my cheeks.
I finish cumming — again — and still without words Richard falls to the bed.
Knowing what he wants, I give it to him.
His legs are still spread. I nestle between them so my back is to my husband. I reach behind me, spread my cheeks with each of my palms, then wait for Richard to position himself. I loudly groan as I sink onto his throbbing pole.
Now I’m doing all the work.
I start slow, but quickly gain speed. It isn’t hard to cum again, but I lose control and can’t focus on Richard’s pleasure when I do. He doesn’t mind. He slaps my ass and guides it on his cock, me before him like always.
I grind against his pelvis, rubbing it back and forth inside me as much as I’m swirling in circles, round and round feeling him fill me.
My hair was gorgeous this morning (two hours in the chair), now it’s a clumpy mess.
I can feel Richard twitch inside me, and know he’s about to cum.
Not yet.
I pull out and kiss him. The longer I can keep him from cumming, the more explosive it will be. There’s already enough of a fire between us to give him one of the biggest eruptions we’ve shared. I’ve cum plenty, I could fall asleep right now and wake tomorrow as Earth’s happiest girl.
But I need to give him more. Something close to what he’s given to me.
After we kiss for minutes and I feel Richard settle, I slip him back inside me.
I’m straddling him, with his dick spearing my middle. I wiggle fast, swirling my hips around his cock and sending myself into another, almost instant orgasm.
I feel guilty for cumming so much, but know this is what he wants.
Still, I need to end it, need to see the look of pleasure on Richard’s face.
I need him to fill me.
I rise so Richard’s still flat to the bed as I straddle him, a leg on either side as I stare into his eyes. “Are you going to make me cum, Liza?” he whispers.
“Harder than you ever have.”
Richard closes his eyes. “I’m waiting.”
I start fucking him harder. My palms are behind me, flat on his upper thighs. I lift and hurl myself onto his pelvis. I can tell he’s still trying not to cum, to hold out through this final stretch. I want to give him pleasure, but can’t help but swallow
more of my own. Orgasms are too strong, too frequent. They keep hitting me.
Richard laughs, knowing I’m trying to please him, but unable to keep from pleasing myself.
“It’s OK,” he says, knowing what I need. “Finger your pussy.”
I do and scream through it.
I sit up straight, grab Richard by the back of his head and slam my pelvis against him, wiggling hard. I’m relentless. I ignore my pleasure, intent on pleasing Richard.
His eyes widen, our stare shatters, and he starts making sounds like I love, ones that show me his loss of control. He grunts, moans, groans and mumbles. Muscles ripple across his body and tighten.
He twitches inside me, violently enough that there’s no going back.
Richard bellows, then bursts.
I hold him as the orgasm tears through his body. I push his face between my tits as we shudder through what has to be minutes.
I stir my pelvis against him, milking more cum from his cock.
He finally pulls out and what feels like a gallon of goo spills from my still-pulsing hole, onto his lap.
I fall on his body. We kiss as he runs his fingers along my skin as I press myself against him. This is the forever I’ve wanted for always, and didn’t know I could have. The forever only Richard could give me.
Happy Anniversary
I laugh at Richard as he packs our basket.
“Is this really how you want to spend our anniversary?”
He’s asked 100 times already. I won’t change my mind.
“OK,” he shakes his head again, smiling, still packing.
“You don’t think it will be fun?”
“Of course it will be,” he says.
I’ve no doubt he thinks so. This is the sweet game we’ve been playing: our back-and-forth banter.
He must pretend, so I can pretend, too.
The last year’s been amazing, not just because it was all I hoped it would be, it’s still getting better a day at a time.
Our official anniversary was yesterday. We didn’t leave the house so we’re celebrating today. Richard bought me a tiny wedding cake. He called the bakery and asked if he could get one exactly like ours, but for only two people. Yes, still three tiers.
We fucked then ate, fucked more, and ate the rest. I remembered our morning, three months more than a year ago, when I woke as Richard’s fiancée, before leaving our life for a while.
“Finished!” Richard announces. The basket is large and bulging.
“Did you bring the wine?”
“Two bottles,” he says. “That’s all I can fit. Anything more, you’ll have to bring it.”
I go to Richard, kiss his cheek, thank him for packing the basket, then walk to the wine rack — the small one that holds a dozen bottles on the bar — grab another two, one per hand, not looking (or caring) what they were.
“Let’s go,” I say, heading toward the door, swaying my ass on the way.
Our drive isn’t long, or short. His hand stays on my knee through most of the drive, but doesn’t climb higher.
This is odd for us, something we’ve never done. We’re both sure we want to, but not about what lies on the other side. That’s why I married this sort of man: eager to discover that place for himself, with me by his side.
My nerves flutter through the final 15 minutes, until Richard turns onto a familiar drive and I feel my heart sink deeper into my stomach.
I wonder if I’m wrong, intruding where I shouldn’t be.
I play conversations in my head, from when I though Richard was joking. “Do you think it’s a good idea?” I asked, after I realized that he wasn’t kidding.
He said, “There’s one way to find out.”
Now we were.
Good thing. I’m not sure we’ll be doing this sort of stuff, exactly, once we have kids. I can’t imagine that’s too far off, the way things have been going.
We pull into the drive. Richard parks the Audi. He turns to me, grinning.
“Ready?”
“As I’m going to be,” I say, opening the door, half holding my breath. Richard gets out of the Audi and grabs our basket from the back. I hook my arm through his, and we walk to the porch.
He knocks, and the door swings open.
“Well, hello there,” Zoe smiles. Brian is standing behind her with his arm around her waist.
“Good afternoon,” Richard says. “You two ready?”
Zoe smiles. “As I’m going to be.”
Author's Note
I wasn’t that hyped on writing Engaged.
I hate to admit it, but it’s true. I love Lexi’s ABC series.
I wrote Anticipation before I even knew there was an ABC series. I wanted to tell the story of Jay and Caitlin, and how they made a good marriage better. Bitten was born because (almost on a whim) I decided that I wanted to tell a vampire story. Then, I caught onto the theme and loved it. I made a list of powerful words that incited strong feelings: Cheated, Divorced, Engaged, Fate and Identity.
The plot for Cheated was immediate. I knew what sort of story I wanted to tell for Delilah Quinn, and exactly the sort of tone I thought it should have (Kill Bill with pussy). I wanted Divorced to be heartbreaking — I wanted to cry while I wrote it and did. Fate and Identity both promised equally exciting themes to explore. Engaged was never anything more than a vague concept to be fleshed out later.
That continued until it was time to write. Creatively, this has been an amazing year. I’ve written what I want to write, when I want to. But as readied myself to write Engaged, I realized that I only wanted to write it because Fate and Gagged were following behind.
Before fiction I was paid to produce. My word count mattered. I can sit at the keyboard and get the job done, even if I’m not feeling it. I expected that that’s how it would be with Engaged, but it wasn’t. I started writing, then fell in love with Liza and Richard. I wanted them to be happy.
Engaged’s first draft was one of the hardest I’ve written. It wasn’t a lot of fun, and it didn’t flow as well as I wanted. I hadn’t marinated the story like I had with the others. I didn’t know Liza the way I knew Jay or Caitlin (or Delilah, Zach and Sam) so I couldn’t approach her story the same way.
I overwrote, learning who Liza was as I made my way through the draft. The book you’ve just read is a bit under 50,000 words. The first draft was nearly 70,000. Liza Elway told me her story, then I repeated a better version to you.
I expect Liza and Richard will be together forever. I had a great time seeing them Engaged.
The ABCs of Erotica
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About Lexi Maxxwell
Lexi Maxxwell isn't my real name. It's a pen name I use when writing for YOU.
Every sentence I write as Lexi is designed to make your dick harder or pussy wetter.
But I can't do that at my day job. I don't know if it's officially against company policy, but I have a feeling my superiors wouldn't be too happy if they knew. It's probably just as well since I'd probably spend too much of my work day with my hand on my panties checking how wet the story was making my pussy.
Which is how I prefer to write, and how I write at home.
My 9-5 is spent as a copywriter for a large marketing firm. I write fantastic copy, but it's dryer than sandpaper and I can say with 99.9% certainty that no one's ever jerked off to it before. I prefer my pages soaking wet, which is why I put on my Lexi hat, rub myself into a frenzy, then start typing every filthy thought to cross my smutty little mind.
When I'm writing as Lexi, all bets are off (along with my panties). I dip my quill in anonymous ink so I can splatter the pages with the impure thoughts we all think, yet few have courage to ponder.
If you’re reading this right now, then I already know that you and I are different. We embrace the human, vulgar side of our minds, so we can know ourselves better, and improve our lives through our new awareness. Unfortunately, there are too many people in this world marching to the false belief that sex is somehow dirty. Sex isn’t something to hide, or be embarrassed of. You deserve to enjoy experimentation, even if it’s only in your mind. YOU are the reason I write.
Engaged (The ABCs of Erotica) Page 15
