by Alexis Angel
Rolling to the side, I lie on my back and turn to her, placing my hands on her waist and pulling her into me. Moving with fast cat-like movements, she climbs on top of me, straddling me while she grabs my cock with both of her hands. I have to hold my breath and close my eyes so that I don’t come right here and now. Somehow, I manage to resist.
“You can’t go,” she whispers, her eyes locked on mine. Her lips are slightly parted, an expression of anxiety on her face. I feel the fucking gears inside my head starting to turn as I try to decode her words.
“What?” I ask, having no idea about what’s she fucking talking about all of a sudden. I’m not going anywhere; you’d have to fucking drag me out of the bed for me to leave right now.
“Europe… Don’t go.”
“Why not…?” Europe, so that’s fucking it. Of course.
“Because if you go…” She raises her hips slightly, angling my cock so that my glans is rubbing against her pussy lips. “Then who’s going to take care of you like this?” She continues to rub my tip against her pussy, moving it up and down with slow teasing movements. I can feel desire fucking pulsing through me, my cock straining against the grip she has on it. “If you leave, then you won’t be able to be in me like this any longer.” As she speaks, she lowers herself over my cock, allowing one inch to slide inside of her.
She’s getting back to me, fucking teasing me just like I did before… But, in a sense, this isn’t teasing at all. Although her voice is honeyed and sensuous, her words couldn’t be any more fucking honest. If I leave, there’s no Jocelyn anymore… No more of her body, of her pussy and tits. No more mind bending orgasms, and no more of that tender warmness I feel inside my fucking chest whenever she looks at me...
I thrust upward, trying to ram my cock deep inside of her, but she resists.
“No,” she says, a commanding tone in her voice. She’s fucking torturing me and she knows it. “If you have to leave, maybe we should stop right now… It would only make it harder for you, to remember how it feels to have your cock in my tight pussy.”
She has a point in everything she’s saying, but it’s not like it’s going to make me stop now. I hook my fingers on her hips and pull her down as hard as I can, thrusting upward at the same time. My cock pushes past her folds, and straining against her inner walls, goes all the way in. Jocelyn throws her head back, her hair cascading down her shoulders as she sighs heavily.
I reach for her breasts, squeezing them both as we start to rock our bodies against one another. She places her hands on top of mine, making me grab her harder; swaying her hips wildly, she then takes the lead and rides me as if this is the last time she’s going to be with a man. My cock nestled deep inside of her pussy, I close my eyes as I feel her body moving, my hands going down from her breasts to her ass. I slap her cheeks—once, twice—and then I squeeze them both as hard as I can, moving my hips upward and trying to match her movements.
It only takes a few seconds for the motion of our bodies to match, almost as if we were one. She leans into me then, locks of her hair brushing against my chest, and presses her lips against mine. We kiss as if our mouths were drawn to fit in one another, our tongues dancing in circles as I start to thrust harder.
“You’re not getting rid of me this easily,” I whisper into her ear, suddenly realizing that I can’t just pack up and leave to Europe. Not now… Not after Jocelyn. It’s dark, and all I can see is the vague outline of her figure, but I can feel her smile. A wide one. A happy one. She starts riding me harder, moaning louder as if she didn’t care any longer if my fucking father hears us. “I’m staying,” I say, this time out loud. I’m saying it to her as much as I’m saying it to myself. I’m actually staying, and I’ve decided this with my cock twelve fucking inches deep inside of her.
What else can I fucking do? Leave the States after meeting a fucking woman like Jocelyn? Sure, it doesn’t look like our situation is going to fucking improve much more, but still… I just can’t move on as if she didn’t exist. I can’t be that fucking stupid.
“You’re staying ...” she whispers, bucking her hips with such viciousness that I can’t help but groan. “Here...” she continues, getting the words out despite her hard breathing. “With me!”
With that, she explodes again, her pussy spasming and massaging my shaft as she digs her fingernails into my chest. Breathing heavily while her body convulses, she claws at my chest, her fingernails leaving red marks across my pectorals. I keep thrusting while she comes, feeling my own body close to the breaking point.
Two hard thrusts and I’m almost ready to join her, my cock spasming harshly against her inner walls. In a heartbeat, I’m gushing a torrent of cum inside of her, each spasm of my member sending electric waves of pleasure up my spine, every single muscle in my body tensing up to the point of ripping apart. It’s almost unbearable.
“Fuck…” I mutter through my gritted teeth, fireworks going off behind my eyelids. I keep cumming for what seems like forever, thick strands of semen dripping from her pussy and onto my shaft.
Sighing, she waits for my cock’s spasms to subside, and she finally climbs down from my body. But instead of simply rolling to the side, she goes on her knees and leans forward, her parted lips meeting my now sensitive glans. She takes it in her mouth and sucks hungrily, moving her lips down my shaft and cleaning it dry. As she goes back, my cock pops out of her mouth; she grabs it gently, tilts her head sideways and starts licking the whole length of my shaft before finally scooping up all the cum that pooled at the base.
I lay back as she licks me dry, still trying to catch my fucking breath. I say nothing; fuck, I can’t even think straight right now, pleasure still coating my mind. Jocelyne goes to my side as she finishes, one arm across my chest as she inches closer to me. I turn to her, and she loses no fucking time; she presses her mouth against mine, the salty flavor of my semen hitting me immediately.
We kiss as if there was nothing else in the whole fucking universe but us, the cum in her mouth dripping into mine as our tongues wrestle against one another. When she pulls back, there are a few drops of cum on my chin, making their way down my jawline; smiling, she scoops them up with the tip of her tongue.
“I’m not the only one in need of some cleaning up,” I whisper, my heart still beating like a motherfucker. My hands on her waist, I turn her around and pull her into me; she doesn’t take long to realize what I intend to do, and climbs on top of me, easing herself down on my mouth. Swaying her hips, she rubs her drenched pussy against my lips, cum dripping down from her folds and into my open mouth. I open it as wide as I can, feeling my warm semen sliding from inside of her and down to my tongue.
We remain like that until her pussy is dry, my mouth brimming with cum. Only then does she roll to the side, looking at me with anxious eyes. I know what she fucking wants, and so I just go ahead and fucking do it. I swallow, the saltiness of my load fucking clawing at my throat on the way down. Fucking Jocelyn… This woman drives me fucking insane, that’s a fact. Every time I’m with her is like fucking Christmas.
Throwing herself back on top of the mattress, she presses her body against mine. We say nothing for a long fucking while, simply staring at the ceiling as we hear our own ragged breathing, exhaustion lacing our bodies.
Then, hesitant, I feel her reaching for my hand. She grabs it, gently squeezing my fingers, and I squeeze back. We remain in silence, the long shadows in the room tumbling over our bodies as if they were trying to caress our naked skin. I’ve never been what I’d call a romantic, but this… This right here, this is fucking perfection. Forget everything you have ever heard about poetry, music or paintings; the only art form that can explain love is good old hard fucking. Trust me.
“You’re right…” I finally manage to say, the words coming out of my mouth as if I wanted to say them all along. “There’s no way I’m leaving. No fucking way.” She responds by squeezing my hand harder and I smile absently, knowing that for once I did the right fucking
thing. “I can’t be away from you.”
“Neither can I,” she says, whatever there is between us suddenly becoming very fucking real.
23
New York Daily Journal
From the Desk of Amanda Adams, the Professional Gossiper of Page Two.
Welcome to Page Two Gossip, here’s what we’re hearing around the halls of power:
That’s right, New Yorker, the people have spoken and apparently you can’t get enough of Lance and Jocelyn Anders.
At least that's what internal tracking polls have shown within the Anders For Mayor campaign. Sources inside the campaign are confirming for me what the majority of us think when we’re alone and watching the television: Hizzoner’s bad boy son is hot. And his new wife of less than a year isn’t too bad either. In fact, the photogenic family is one of the major reasons that Mayor Anders is retaining a slim 5-point margin of victory in most head-to-head matches against his mayoral rival, Jim Jenkins.
That’s right. Bad boy Lance better get a car for Christmas, because his good looks and hot body, on display at his father’s side throughout the campaign are attracting New York City voters and propping up his dad’s campaign. His stepmom, Jocelyn, is doing her own good among male voters as well.
When asked in a Fordham University poll who the sexiest person out of both the candidates and their families were, New Yorkers had no divisions among them. 89% agreed that Lance Anders was the sexiest man involved in the mayoral election. An even greater 94% of respondents agreed that Jocelyn Anders was the sexiest woman involved in the race.
49% of New Yorkers even admitted that the reason they showed up to events or tuned in to the news was to catch a glimpse of Lance or Jocelyn Anders.
In fact, my spies inside the Anders campaign tell me with numbers like this, they’re a bit concerned how much people must dislike Hizzoner for the margin of advantage to only be 5% over Jim Jenkins.
We’ve always known that Lance was a bit of a handful. As the prodigal son of the mayor, his biological mother died when he was only 10 years old, and his stepfather has raised him. Over the last several years, the two have been estranged according to family sources, but they’ve seemed to put whatever issues aside for the election as son has been next to father every step of the way. In college, sources tell us Lance lived up to his bad boy credentials, partying and living it up in a big way while also excelling at his studies and playing varsity football for Yale. After college, he went to work at the White House as an intern, but you’ll remember he was caught having sex with the First Daughter and almost started World War III, leading to his dismissal.
Jocelyn, on the other hand, comes from the politically connected Carter clan. Her brother is planning on running for Governor of New York State in two years time. The marriage between Jocelyn and Michael was certainly a whirlwind, and the two tied the knot in a private ceremony in Westchester. While they’ve been seen in public together, a few close to the family hint that there may be troubles beneath the surface between Hizzoner and his wife. But nothing that we’ve found out enough to confirm and print.
But whatever the case, we know we’ll all be watching Lance and Jocelyn as they stand behind Michael. Will that be enough to lead us to vote for Michael? Only time will tell.
That’s all for today, but we’re digging up as much as we can about this election. Till we hear more, this is Amanda Adams signing off. Keep your ears open, New York.
24
Jocelyn
Four.
That’s how many months ago Lance Anders set foot into Michael’s Upper East Side townhouse. How many months since I opened that door and set my sex-starved eyes on that gorgeous body of his. That’s roughly the number of months since I tried walking into his room when he was in the shower. Since I almost gave up on the sofa after he rescued me in the Park. Since my birthday. Since I saw him at the gym and went over to touch his shoulder. Then invited him to my dressing room at Saks. Four months since he first put his giant cock inside of me and shot me into orbit. It’s like I haven’t come down since.
Zero.
That’s how many times Michael has asked and wondered why Lance is still here even though the election is just shy of a month away. Lance was supposed to only stay the summer. But Michael doesn’t care about anything except staying as Mayor. Who knows what he has planned after that, he doesn’t tell me.
Zero is also the number of times that Michael has tried touching me. He just doesn’t care about me. I know I’m beating a dead horse and you get it—Michael may not be into me. Michael may be gay. You’re aware. But listen to me, hun, because this is important to me. I need you to understand this. I’m not the kind of girl who goes around cheating on her husband. I’m not some slut who sleeps with her stepson because there was nothing good on television during the day. If Michael hadn’t been cheating on me, and it’s pretty obvious nowadays when he walks in, or if he hadn’t forced my father to give me up for marriage, or even with all that, if he had shown me even the slightest bit of affection I would have never looked at Lance as hungrily as I do now.
OK, well, let me rephrase that. I would have looked at him hungrily. I mean, he’s young. And he’s so hot. But I would have controlled myself. I wouldn’t have flirted at the gym. If Michael had even given me a hug in the six months we were married. Forget about fucking. I don’t even want a kiss. A hug. Or a caress. Even a nice word of affection. Anything.
Can you imagine what it’s like to be treated like an employee in your own marriage? To sleep next to a stranger? And if you wake up with your arms and legs wrapped around them to have your partner look at you with disdain and scorn? So much so that you put a pillow between the two of you so it doesn’t happen again?
When I cum my brains out on Lance’s cock, I’m not just doing it to have sex. I’m doing it because I haven’t found love anywhere else in this world. And Lance gives it to me unconditionally.
Five.
That’s how many points separate Michael’s lead from Jim Jenkins. Everyone is confident it should be enough to carry the day. I don’t really pay much attention to it. Lance and I are usually having sex. But we both know we need to keep this relationship a secret till after the election. The public can’t find out. I don’t think Michael would really care at all if he found out I was sleeping with someone. But he would kill me if he lost the election because of me. Then he’d kill my father. Then Lance would most likely kill him. I can see the fire in both men’s eyes. They may not be related to each other, but it burns brightly the same.
Two hundred.
That’s where I lost count when I try to think of all the times that Lance and I have…been together. Ah, we’re all grown up here, right? That’s the number of times he’s fucked me. And trust me, multiply at least three orgasms for each time and that’s how many times I’ve cum. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced or felt before. There are simply no words. I’ve quite literally become addicted to Lance Anders. I know there’s an opioid addiction problem in the country now, but to me, Lance is my drug of choice.
At least once a day, sometimes two or three. If Michael is travelling, then even more. The benefit of youth I’ve discovered is that Lance is ready to go at a moment’s notice. And once he’s done, he’s only needing maybe another 15 minutes before he’s ready again. And each successive time the sex is longer and stronger.
You name it, we’ve done it. One afternoon, not long ago, he found me lounging next to our pool in the basement. I was wearing a cute new two piece bikini. Lance had just come back from the gym.
“It’s new,” I said to him, looking at his reaction.
He didn’t hide it, but adjusted himself to show me his huge erection that was tenting his sweat pants. “Looks like you like it,” I said to him, feeling lascivious. I don’t know how I get like that but he completely brings it out in me.
He didn’t say anything that time. Just got on his knees and began to lick my tits, moving my bikini top to the side. Then he proceeded
to take his clothes off and fuck me so hard while I ran my fingers and my tongue over those chiseled abs. Those pecs. Those 8-pack abs. I must have cum at least half a dozen times by the time he finally told me he was getting close. I still remember that afternoon because he must have cum in quarts, because he spurted for what felt like forever onto my tits. Imagine your tits covered in warm, hot, gooey, cum. Then imagine yourself using your finger to scoop it up into your while he watches and gets hard.
You can guess what we did after.
Thirty.
That’s how many days ago Lance and I basically went from having sex before we realized that there’s something a lot more real to this relationship. It’s not just him fucking me. I mean, that night when I snuck into his room to keep him from going to Europe—we both sort of knew then. But aside from that one time, we never really talked about it. Until a month ago.
“How many women have you been in love with?” I asked him one day. We had just showered together. He had surprised me while I was in there. But I didn’t mind. I lifted my leg onto the wall and he took me while soaping up my tits. It was a good thing he held me, because when I came, my knees gave way. He ended up holding me as he fucked me, completely in control—treating me like a total sex object. I loved it.
But afterwards, as we lay in bed together and watched the sun rise to high noon, I wanted to know more about this young man. I already knew a lot. How his mother died when he was ten. How with no surviving relatives, his stepfather became his primary guardian. The courts allowed it and expedited the process—anything for an up and coming Congressman it seemed. But Lance quickly realized he got a guardian—not a father. His life was a series of boarding schools and visits to New York when photo-ops were needed.
