But I didn’t care. Fuck decorum, this was something more important. This was about connecting with a part of myself, about having flirtatious fun. It was about beauty.
And working my vibrator so hard later that night that I might snap it in half.
I rested the cold beer against my chest, grinning to myself as my nipple became rock hard. I moved it to the other nipple and watched as it went erect and stuck out through the fabric of my bathing suit.
Back in the yard, I got into the hot tub next to Mr. Hoover and handed him his beer. I made sure to lean in very close to my hard nipples rubbed his arm.
For a brief moment he paused before taking the beer, then brought it to his lips while looking at me. I needed those lips elsewhere.
Some funny banter was being exchanged between my parents and the Connors, and I joined in on the laughter. I looked down at the churning water, at how it blocked sight to everything below. I wondered if Mr. Hoover’s cock was hard. Probably not, because if it stood straight up it would probably poke out of the water.
But there was only one way to find out. Under the cover of the churning water, I stretched my hand over next to me and let it find Mr. Hoover’s leg.
“Don’t,” he said, softly so that no one else heard.
“Why not?” I said, giving him pouty lips. My hand went further up his thigh, giving it a nice squeeze to repay him for the torture during dinner.
“Because it’s not nice to start something you won’t finish,” he said. His eyes closed, and he leaned back, breathing slowly and deeply.
My hand went up even higher, and I found his prick. It was snaked down his far leg, thick and solid like a sunken log. I couldn’t fit my hand all the way around it, and it wasn’t even fully hard yet.
He gritted his teeth and looked away.
As hot as it was to have this kind of power over this stud, I knew that I was being cruel. I gave his johnson one last squeeze, a little something for him to think about while he’s laying awake in bed. Suddenly the thought of him working his cock in his bed next door while he fantasized about me…
It was too much to take.
I excused myself and went into the house. I went upstairs to the second floor bathroom, flicked on the lights and locked the door. In a frenzy I leaned against the counter and looked into the mirror. With one hand I pulled my swimsuit aside, baring my hot and hungry slit to the cool air.
My other hand went to my breast, mauling myself as I rubbed tiny circles in my clit. I watched as my face contorted in ecstasy, and I imagined Mr. Hoover behind me, that washboard stomach flexing as he worked himself hard. I imagined him holding his massive cock in his hand, hard and needing the relief only my pussy could offer.
I dipped three fingers into my soaking wet pussy, imagining him plunging his fat cock into me. Stretching me to the brink, he would fuck me from behind while we both watched in the mirror. I needed him so badly. My other hand twisted my nipple and I came.
My pussy clamped down on my fingers, wanting to milk them for their nonexistent seed. Hot fire exploded inside me, and I had to stifle a moan. I clamped my mouth shut and breathed in and out through my nose. As my orgasm faded, I spun around and leaned against the counter, savoring the relief.
After a minute I washed up, checked myself out in the mirror, and opened the door to go back downstairs.
Mr. Hoover was standing right at the door.
I jumped back in fright, putting my hand to my chest.
He was looking at me, but not like normal. He was looking at me with a hunger, with a burning need.
I looked down and his cock twitched in his trunks.
“Hi,” I said, trying to recompose myself.
I saw his eyes drop to my pussy, his nostrils flared wide. He pressed up against me, his eyes looking down at me. His cock strained against his trunks, lifted so that the shaft lay against my slit.
“You are trouble,” he said, then he pushed past me and went into the bathroom. The door bumped into me as it closed and I was standing in our second floor hallway, not really sure what had happened.
I walked back downstairs and got into the hot tub, pretending to be interested in what the others were saying. More questions about me starting college, and of course everyone else sharing their boring stories of college. I eagerly waited for Mr. Hoover to come back downstairs, and after what seemed like an eternity, he did.
“I’m sorry to be a party pooper, but I’ve got to get to bed,” he said. “Thank you for the lovely evening. Welcome to the neighborhood!” he said as he walked past the hot tub and into his yard.
Everyone in the hot tub waved. I sat there, crestfallen. Had I done something wrong? Did I cross a line? Well, it was abundantly clear that I had crossed lots of lines, but I thought he wanted me to. To have him leave the party early really made me sad.
I passed the rest of the time in the hot tub in a rut. I was grumpy and embarrassed. I thought about how awkward it was going to be whenever we saw each other. I dreaded it. Basically, in one fell swoop I’d turned a comfortable new life in a new area into an exercise of walking on eggshells.
Just wanting to go to bed, I was relieved when the Connors went back home. They said they had to go check on Conrad, but I had a feeling he would be passed out from an all night spunkiest. I wrapped myself in my towel and made my way upstairs, letting my parents shut down the hot tub.
I got up to my room and turned on the light, closing the door behind me. I peeled off my wet bathing suit and laid it on a hook behind my door. I walked over to my bed and flopped onto it.
My face hit something stiff and crinkly. A piece of paper.
I lifted my head and opened my eyes. It was a note.
A note from Mr. Hoover.
Dear Tina,
Most people don’t spend enough time appreciating the beautiful things. If you’re the kind of person who does, then meet me in the park down the street at midnight.
Yours,
Richard
I couldn’t resist the cliche move of bringing the note to my face and sniffing it. It smelled like him, like confidence and mahogany. I laid back on my bed, imagining a rendezvous with Mr. Hoover late at night. But that’s just crazy.
My alarm clock read 11:50 in blinking red, so I gave myself another once over in the mirror. I wore a dark dress, something simple and dark in case we had to be discreet. I liked the way it hugged my hips and showed off my ass.
Out in the hallway, I tiptoed past my parents’ door and down the stairs. Slipping out into the cool evening, I quietly made my way down the porch and walked down the street toward the park.
The park was bordered on three sides by thick trees, extending out into a forest preserve. The park had the typical stuff for kids, a slide, swings and jungle gym. I sat on the swing and swayed back and forth, waiting.
I faced the street and looked at the line of sleeping houses across it. This neighborhood didn’t stay up late. The windows looked like dead eyes, not witnessing anything. I began to wonder what Mr. Hoover had in mind? I hope he had a lot in mind, but this was a fairly public place to get to know one another.
Why didn’t he just have me over to his place that night? Suddenly the night was getting colder, the park getting darker. I started to re-think this whole idea. I got up from the swing and looked down the street towards my place.
That’s when I saw it.
Loping along, as cool and at ease as one could be, was the biggest dog I’d ever seen. At the shoulders it was higher than my waist. Brown with white speckles, it was coming down the street towards me. I did a double take. It wasn’t a dog.
It was a wolf.
It saw me. It leveled its eyes at me, and across the park I could see it speeding up, tracking me.
I was running, as fast as my feet could carry me. I’d spun around and fled in terror, towards the wood line. My mouth opened to scream but my lungs needed the breath to continue pumping my legs. I heard the wolf’s feet drumming the ground behind me, gettin
g closer and closer.
At the edge of the park, I tripped. A thick root protruded from the ground, and my feet went out from under me. I landed hard, sprawled out on my face. I froze, waiting for the wolf to pounce on me. Waiting for the teeth to tear me to bits.
“Oh dear,” Mr. Hoover said from behind me.
I felt hands cradle my face and turn me over. I looked at the creamy skin of his palm, his pale arms, then his chest. I looked up into his eyes.
“Are you ok?” he said. His concern was evident. “I’m sorry, it’s just that you ran. I…like to chase.”
“What? What’s going on?” I said. My head was still swimming, trying to make sense of what was going on.
“You’re here because you appreciate the beautiful things, Tina. There’s a whole world of hidden mysteries out there. Some of it is mundane,” he said, pushing my hair out of my face. “Some of it isn’t.”
My eyes went further down his body and realized he was naked. His chest was breathing in and out, his abs flexed in rhythm. His manhood hung low and thick, brushing the tall grass of the field. His black was nestled behind it, two big stones in their pouch. They looked full and in need of relief.
Questions were still firing off in my head, but the intellectual part of me was being silenced by the needs of my body. Having a primed stud this close to me, naked and raring to go. I saw him, I smelled him, and there was no hiding that. My pussy began flowing, and I only had one thing on my mind.
“We couldn’t have done this in your house?” I said, laying down on my back in the grass. My hands went to the shoulder straps of my dress and I pulled them down.
“Like I said, I like the chase,” he said, grinning down at me. His cock pulsed, swinging upward as he registered the willing woman before him.
I loved that power, the feeling of control over that ancient part of this man. I reached my hand up and took hold of his cock. “It’s nice to see it unrestrained,” I said, murmuring. I licked my lips.
With a growl he pounced onto me, his mouth crashing into mine. His tongue dove past my lips, wanting to fill my mouth. Needing to conquer my mouth. I surrendered to him, submitting to his dominating will. I let go.
His tongue slammed into mine, batting it around inside my mouth. His teeth grabbed hold of my lower lip and squeezed, on the bring of breaking the skin. Then he released it and attacked my neck. Biting, licking, kissing.
He lay on top of me, his wide thigh between my legs, pressing down onto my clit. His cock lay against my side, hot and full of power.
I bent my head back and closed my eyes, relishing the pressure on my clit. Little moans escaped my lips, my nipples going rock hard.
He shifted his weight over, bringing his other thigh between my legs. With a powerful shove, he pushed my legs apart and lay himself between them, his long manhood snaking across the belly of my dress. He pulled my dress top down, exposing my bare breasts to the cold night air.
I pulled his head down my neck to my breasts, my nipples needing his lips, his tongue. I arched my hips upwards, rubbing my pussy against the length of his prick.
He suckled with fervor, squeezing them with his hands and letting his tongue inflict wonderful agony on their sensitive peaks. His teeth scraped, his lips tightened. Then he broke contact and sat up. He pressed a big hand onto my sternum, pinning me down. His other hand went to his massive pale shaft, like a log of driftwood.
I could see a dribble of cream coming out of the purple head. I squirmed against his hand, my aching pussy protesting the absence of his weight. I needed it, I needed him. On top of me. Above me. Inside me.
He shook his head and pulled his hand off his cock. It grabbed the inside of my thigh and ran up to my mound. His fingers pressed against my soaking panties, and he flipped the bottom of my dress up, exposing my damp laced panties to the night sky. With a savage grunt, he pulled, the muscles in his arm and neck flexing. The thin material was no match for such power, and my panties ripped and were tossed behind him into the grass.
My legs spread apart, my pussy now laid bare to this alpha male, he tilted his head to look at it. He closed his eyes, his nostrils flared. He breathed in deeply, taking in my scent, my musk. He ran a finger up my folds, from my asshole to my clit. Glistening in the moonlight, he brought the finger to his mouth and sucked it clean.
His eyes shot open and he pulled my legs apart with his hands. He lowered his face to my sex and tasted me. His tongue made long, slow laps up my slit, curling at the top to flick my poor abused clit. Each time he did it, a tiny thunderclap went through me, shudders going through me to my fingertips. He swirled his tongue against my clit, then caught my labia in his lips, kissing them.
My orgasm blasted through me, and my hips wanted to buck up, to grind against his laboring mouth, but he had me pinned. I felt the primal power wash over me, filling every nook and cranny of my being with warmth. But then the pleasure became a sense of pain as his licking continued. More pressure built inside me and I felt a second orgasm go off instantly after the first. I cried out, my heart rate through the roof, my breathing rapid fire as I came in his mouth again.
His lapping tongue didn’t miss a beat, didn’t miss a drop of my juices. He lapped it up, his cheeks shiny with my lust. Thankfully he took mercy on me, releasing my trembling legs as I got my breathing under control.
He backed off me and stood up. His cock swung through the air, hanging hard and in defiance of gravity. I could see the head was slick with his need, coated with his pre-cum. The curse of virility, the never-ending need to spill your seed.
I got up on my knees in front of him. He looked down at me, saying nothing. I brought a hand to his shaft, stroking him. I brought my face close to his manhood, smelling his musky scent, feeling the incredibly soft skin stretched over his rock hard cock.
I planted a small kiss on his inner thigh, and enjoyed feeling his cock spasm in my hand. I took his purple head in my mouth, concentrating on his primal salty fluid. It was thick and coated my tongue. The end of his prick was smooth, and I delighted in running my tongue under his glans.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Every guy lives for this moment. I guess werewolves are no different.
I opened my mouth wider, going further down on his rod. I came back up, licking up the streams of saliva escaping down his shaft, then swallowed him again. I lifted his cock, exposing his heavy sack behind it. I softly sucked one of his balls, amazed at the size of it. I wondered how much cum it could hold, and I had a feeling I’d find out pretty soon. I gave long licks to his sac, enjoying the feeling of his balls moving around inside it.
With a groan he opened his eyes and looked down at me. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me past him. I fell forward on my hands and knees. His hand held a strong grip on my hair, keeping me on all fours as he positioned himself behind me.
I cried out as I felt an immense pressure at my entrance. With no compassion or delicacy, he plunged into me. My soaking pussy stretched to accommodate his full girth and length. He bottomed out inside me, the crown of his massive cock bumping my cervix.
Unable to push in any deeper, he began fucking me like a wild animal, his hips pumping into me like a creature mad with lust. My body flew forward, and it took all my might to not be thrown forward onto my face again. His heavy ballast swung forward with every thrust, smacking my clit and sending a bolt of special pain through me.
The sense of being full of this man, on my knees in the grass and surrounded by trees, it was amazing. I could still taste his seed in my mouth, still smell his sex in my nose. Now he was ploughing my fields with his virile staff, doing anything his primal mind told him to. He was lost in his animal instinct, the need to relieve the pressure in his balls.
Bearly Apart (Big Paw Security Book 5) Page 92
