by Lana Hartley
I lean forward, my body feels like it can no longer hold itself up. He’s still fucking me in the ass and it feels so good. He pulls out and slides into my pussy and starts fucking it.
“Fill me with your sweet cum,” I say to him.
He stops fucking me and tells me, “roll over.” I do as he asks and lie back on the bed. He lifts my legs and pushes down on them so my legs are being pressed closer to my torso and my pussy and ass are in the air for him. He grabs the bottle of lube from beside us on the bed.
“I’m glad that didn’t spill,” I note.
He laughs and pours the lube onto my ass. I feel the liquid hit it and then begin to slide toward the bed. He uses his finger to stop it from actually hitting the bed. He rubs the lube around my holes and his finger and then he slides his middle finger into my ass.
“Mmm,” I moan. It feels so good and I’m ready for another orgasm.
“You want more?” he asks.
I nod my head as he begins to rub my clit with his other hand. My arms wrap around my ankles and I start panting. He’s rubbing my clit so fast, my body begins to tremble and I feel I might cum again.
“You close?” he asks.
I nod my head and he stops, taking his hand away and before I know it, he’s sliding into my pussy. He pulls out and slides into my ass. He moves his cock from my pussy to my ass over and over again. Picking up the pace with each thrust. I watch as he puts himself in my ass and then slides his middle and pointer fingers into my pussy. He makes a “come here” motion with the two fingers and rubs his thumb on my clit. He does all of this while continuing to thrust in and out of my ass. Everything feels so amazing and I’m edging.
“Don’t stop,” I say. I can hardly speak because the pleasure is so intense.
He starts thrusting harder, the sound of our skin slapping together echoes throughout the room, and probably throughout his entire penthouse.
“Are you gonna come?”
I nod my head and another second later I close my eyes, my body is trembling and my toes are numb. I’m coming for the third time.
He starts to pick up the pace, causing my body to involuntarily jerk. It’s a weird sensation. Then I feel him pull out of me and a warm liquid is covering me. I open my eyes and watch as he cums, his cock spasming as ropes of cum shoot out from its tip, covering me in his milky white seed. Ah, and the look on his face… He’s loving it.
He looks down at me, a glint of something in his eyes “This was amazing,” he whispers, and then uses my body to help push him backwards some. He gets off the bed, I unfold my body and then he goes into his adjoining bathroom. I hear the shower turn on and he steps back out.
“I figured you’d need it,” he says, placing a towel on the bed next to me.
“Thank you,” I say and sit up. Careful not to drip cum on his bed. I walk into the already steamy bathroom and to my surprise, he's following me.
“I hope you don’t mind. I’d like to get in also.”
“I don’t,” I say.
He lets me get in first and then he joins me. His shower stall is huge. He pours some soap into his hand and I think he’s going to start lathering himself up. But instead, he starts rubbing it around my body. His hands move slowly over my skin, smearing his own cum all over my body. There’s something sensual and intimate about the way he's doing it. A small moan escapes me. I have no control over it.
“You want some more?” he asks, his lips slowly opening into a smile.
“No, no. I didn’t mean to,” I say.
“Did you not enjoy it?” he asks. I know he's just teasing me, so I laugh.
“I enjoyed it a lot. I just don’t know if I could handle another orgasm.”
His hand slides down my chest and my stomach and he stops just above my clit.
“You want to test that theory?” he asks.
I don’t say anything. He must take this as I want it because he slides a finger onto my clit and starts rubbing.
I moan again, only this time it’s not just soft. He moves his fingers down farther so he can slide them inside of me. He starts moving them in and out faster and faster. I start moaning louder. I position myself against the wall so I won’t slip while he continues finger fucking me.
“Don’t stop,” I say between moans. I want to cum again so badly.
He repositions his hand so he can finger me and rub my clit at the same time. It feels amazing.
“I’m ready to go again, if you want me to fuck you,” he says.
I nod my head, enthusiastically. He pulls his fingers out of me, turns me around and shoves me against the shower wall. Blue tile is now all I can see. I close my eyes and bend over some as I feel him shove himself inside of me.
He wastes no time and starts fucking me harder and harder. I didn’t expect this when I went to take a shower. But I’m happy that it’s turning out this way.
“You like when I fuck you?” he asks.
“Uh huh,” I moan.
“Do you want me to cum inside of you?”
I nod my head. He bends me forward just a little more. His hands are on my hips. He’s starting to thrust in and out of me harder. It feels amazing. It’s intense and I reach down and start rubbing my clit.
“There you go baby. Help make yourself cum,” he says to me.
I use two of my fingers to rub my clit at the same pace that he’s fucking me. It’s so hot and I can feel myself getting close to the edge of pure pleasure.
“Fuck me harder,” I yell out.
His thrusts become harder. He’s slamming into me. It’s rough and hard and it hurts a little bit, but I’m also loving every single second of it. I find that part of me never wants this to stop. It doesn’t want this to end. I want to feel him fucking me every single second of every single day.
Not only is his cock huge, but he knows how to use it. I’ve found that’s a major thing. Some guys just don’t know how to use it properly even if they are big. And this one is both. He's large and can fuck me deep and hard.
“I love your fucking cock. Harder!” I yell.
I want to cum again, I’m so close. I want to do it. I want to do it for myself, but I mostly want to do it for him. I want to show him I can be a good submissive in bed. I know I can’t be outside of bed, but I can be in bed.
The hot water falling over us, and the intense motion he's using to fuck me, I feel my body begin to get closer to the edge. I feel my legs tense up. My left thigh starts to cramp, but I ignore it as it only takes a few more seconds and my body is numb. My climax is at its peak and feels even more amazing.
He removes his cick from inside of me while I’m coming down.
“I knew I could get you to cum one more time,” he says with a sexy smile.
I laugh. “I just wasn’t sure if I could. Now I’m sure I’m done.”
He looks at me and lifts an eyebrow. “Careful. Because I’m sure I could make you cum one more time.”
“No, no. I’m good. Don’t worry,” I say.
He laughs and turns around. Grabbing the soap and lathering up his own body. It’s hot watching him wash his muscular body. His arm muscles flexing and moving as he does so. I could stare at him forever. But I tear my eyes away and tuck the mental image aside for later when I might need it.
After we're both clean and rinsed off, he steps out of the shower first. Logan hands me a towel and just as a cold breeze touches my naked wet body, I cover myself up.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my cheeks turning crimson as I say it.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
We go back into his room and I find my clothes scattered around the floor. I pick them up and start dressing myself.
“Are you leaving?” he asks.
I nod my head. “I’ve got to get to work early and write your profile.” I say. “I don’t have a change of clothes or anything.”
“I understand,” he says, but I notice something in his voice. Is it disappointment?
I grab my purse and
head for the front door, phone in hand and ready to call a cab.
“Well thanks,” Logan says at the door.
I smile at him. “No, thank you. For the four orgasms.”
“It was my pleasure,” he says, a smug expression on his face.
I laugh and shake my head. “Goodnight, Logan.”
“Make sure I look good,” he says with a wink.
“Logan, you are good. Trust me, you make yourself look good,” I tell him.
“Goodnight, Natalie,” he says.
“Goodnight, Logan,” I say and open the door to his apartment. I step out and head down the hall to the bank of elevators. When they open on the first floor and I walk out to the street, I know I won’t be able to get this sex out of my head for a long time.
How did an interview turn into the best sex of my life?
Hunter
The music is pulsing through my fucking body like water through a sieve. It’s not bad and I don’t mind it but what I fucking love is this tight young slut that’s totally just shaking her ass and grinding backwards on my cock.
That’s right. I’m at Marquee – it’s still the hottest fucking club in the Meatpacking District and I think as long as New York City is around it’s going to stay the hottest club to get some pussy between fights when I’m on the fucking prowl.
And don’t get me wrong, this girl that I peeled from her friends, she’s good, but I’m not sure it’s the flavor I want tonight. She’s thin, with a nice backside. My eyes pulled her to me as I walked onto the dance floor. She was in a group, dancing with some friends. But one look at my body and she couldn’t help herself. I don’t blame her. I absolutely understand the effect that I’m going to have on her.
It didn’t take her long to shuck her barely covered ass on my pole. God, I love it when the fucking sluts do the work for me, getting me all fucking hard as they try to get themselves off on me. I can feel my cock nestle into the curves of her ass cheeks. God, if I take her home to fuck her, I can tell she’ll be willing. It won’t fucking matter if she has to leave her friends. She’ll fucking do anything for me right now, her eyes are so fucking clouded by lust. Who the fuck knows. She may even have a boyfriend or husband in the outside world.
But right now, she belongs to me. I raise my hands up her side. Maybe I’ll just take her right here. Use my strong fucking arms to guide her down to her knees. Have her take my cock in her mouth right here on the dance floor. Then maybe take her over to the VIP section behind the velvet rope. Bend her over and stick my cock inside of her. Make her moan so loud as I fucking take her to paradise. Scoop her juices that run down her legs with my fingers and feed them to her.
All that is interrupted by one fucking phrase.
“Oh my God, did you see this thing on Logan Daniels?”
My head jerks automatically. The little slut is still writhing against me. She’s still going at it. But somehow, in that split second, my mind is now a million miles away.
I’ve left the dance floor and my fight mode comes back on. Logan fucking Daniels. That motherfucker.
I scan the crowd and see where the statement came from.
Don’t fucking shake your head. I know the music is playing in this club so loud that you can hear it from the streets. I know the bass is going to the point where it makes your bones shake. I don’t know how I heard just that one snippet of conversation from two scantily clad hussies drinking fucking cosmos at the bar, maybe two yards from where I’m standing.
The little slut I was teasing turns around toward me. Her eyes are pouty. She’s wondering why she’s not getting any more attention from the big strong boxer who was just a second ago thrusting his massive hard cock into her.
Sorry, babe. There’s one thing that gets my blood boiling more than wet pussy in front of me.
There’s one thing I can only imagine doing and enjoying more than fucking up that nasty little snatch that’s being rubbed on my cock.
And that’s fucking up Logan Daniels. Seriously, smashing his fucking face. Destroying his rib cage. Breaking his nose. Making him fucking bleed for what he fucking did to me. I fucking hate that motherfucker with every single breath that I fucking got.
I’ve forgotten the little slut. I don’t even register her in my brain anymore.
No, instead I’m walking toward the two women standing at the bar.
I approach them and they turn their heads toward me. Their eyes light up as they scan up and down and take in my warrior’s physique. Their bodies immediately lose the defensiveness that we get when approached by a stranger. Their brains are probably screaming at them to make themselves more appealing – fulfilling the evolutionary desire to mate with a superior representative of the race.
“Did you say Logan Daniels?” I ask, by way of fucking greeting.
It takes a moment for one of the women to register what I said, but without thinking twice, she nods.
“Show me,” I command and without fail the woman hands over her phone from her purse. They’re both enraptured by the sight of me before them. Both of their brains are struggling with the overload of fantasies playing out in their head. If I told them I wanted to take both of them home with me, they would agree. They’d both happily take turns sucking my cock like a popsicle. They’d coo with lust as I came in their mouths. They’d even swap my cum between them and show me all in an effort to get me hard again.
But you know what? I wouldn’t really fucking care. Because as I’m looking at the phone with the headline from the Gazette, “Logan Daniels – the Boxer Who Can’t Go Wrong” my fucking heart is sinking.
Here I am, seen as this massive douchebag and fuckup of a person who just boxes well. The bad boy of the boxing world. The black sheep of the fight club.
And what about Logan?
Motherfucker is a fucking pillar of the fucking community apparently according to this piece of shit news story.
How the fuck and in what fucking universe does this happen where I’m the fucking loser and he’s the hero?
But that’s the fucking truth, isn’t it?
I can beat as many poor Russians to a fucking pulp in the ring as I want, but until I get some good PR from the press, I’m still a fucking chump compared to a whining little bitch like Logan Daniels.
“Thanks,” I say, handing the phone back to the girl whose name I didn’t even get.
But it doesn’t even matter because I’ve already turned around and I'm walking to the exit. I can hear the girls call out to me briefly but I don’t have time to listen to them.
See, I gotta get home. Get a good night's sleep.
Then tomorrow, I gotta figure out how to make the appropriately needed level of splash at the Gazette.
Logan Daniels, your days are fucking numbered.
Natalie
“Two more!” Michelle cries out, brandishing her empty gin glass. She’s already slurring her speech, but I guess that’s only normal; it’s hard to get the words right when you’ve been working your way through a bottle of gin.
“I don’t think I can drink anymore, Michelle,” I tell her, steadying myself with one hand on the counter. I don’t know how she does it; I’ve been trying to keep up with her for the last two hours, but it’s an impossible task.
“Oh, shut up. This is your party, and we won’t leave this place until we’re both completely drunk,” she says, still waving her empty glass around.
“This isn’t a party,” I try to tell her, but I doubt she’s even listening. I guess she just wanted an excuse to go out for drinks, and she latched on to the success my article on Logan had. Yup, I’ve already published it, and I’m pretty proud of the way it turned out. Even Fat Ed seemed pleased with it, and that isn’t an easy accomplishment. I’m not sure if my article was the reason behind it, but the fact remains: this week we sold a lot more copies of our newspaper.
“Of course this is a party! Why else would we be this drunk?” She laughs, winking at the bartender as he pushes two glasses of gin acr
oss the counter. I sigh as she hands me mine, but I set it aside; I need to pause for a few minutes, or else I’ll be leaving the bar on my hands and knees.
“Tell me, Natalie…” Michelle slurs, throwing one arm over my shoulders and pulling me into her. She lowers her voice, or at least tries to, and adopts a more secretive tone. “That was a really personal article… How did you get to know him so well over dinner?”
I knew this was coming. The moment I stepped into our office this morning, Michelle eyed me suspiciously, and I knew right away that I was wearing an unusual smile on my lips. I’ve never been that good at hiding things from Michelle, and now here’s the proof.
“Journalistic skills,” I chuckle nervously, trying to feign my way out of the conversation. Of course, Michelle’s having none of that.
“Journalistic skills my ass,” she continues, using her free hand to take the gin to her lips. “You got to know him… intimately… didn’t you?”
“Michelle, I --”
“I knew it!” she proclaims, taking her arm out from over her shoulders and clapping her hands together. “My God, I want to know every single detail, Natalie.”
“Nothing happened!” I try one last time, but I can’t help but smile as I say it. The I’ve-just-had-the-best-sex-of-my-life kind of smile.
“Yeah, right…! He must be a complete animal in the sack. He is, isn’t he?” she asks me, grabbing my arm and looking me straight in the eyes.
“Well,” I start, shrugging my shoulders as I grin. “Yeah, he is.”
“Oh my God, you’re the luckiest woman in the world… He’s so freaking hot, and rich, and --”
“C’mon, he’s just a normal person,” I laugh, but in the back of my mind I know that’s not true. The way he handled me… No, a normal person wouldn’t be that good. More than just a regular human being, Logan is a God, and every single inch of his naked body spells the word sex.
“Ed never gives me assignment like yours,” she grumbles then, throwing her head back and downing the rest of her gin in one single gulp. Jesus, when it comes to drinking, she’s a viking.
“And that’s not all. I still have the Hunter profile to write, which means I have one more handsome guy to meet,” I tease her, discretely nodding at the bartender for him to take my still half-filled glass of gin.
