I’m sliding in and out of you. I’m sucking up your juices, relishing your secret, precious taste. I’m swallowing.
Your legs clench, your thighs tighten around my head, and you reach down to the back of my head and push me in deeper. You want me in there. A place you hold so sacred. So private. The place you guard more closely than any other. You want my mouth in there, drinking you, relishing you, sliding in and out of you.
You squirm and writhe on the bed as the pleasure builds. You feel my mouth move from your clit, my tongue sliding deep into your pussy, and then sliding down beneath you to your ass. I slide my tongue over the muscle of your anus and make you blush with embarrassment. You can’t believe I’m there. You can’t believe I’m doing this to you.
I lift your butt off the bed to get better access, and push my tongue into your butt.
You moan my name.
Then I slide my finger into your butt as my tongue slides back into your pussy.
“Oh, God,” you moan. “I’m cumming.”
You’re soaking wet now. My face is covered with saliva and your juice. I slide my entire face against your clit and feel a spasm of pleasure rush through your body, starting at the core of your being and flowing through your muscles like an electric pulse.
“I’m cumming,” you cry again, and I smile.
I know if I make you cum, if I make you cum on my face, that you’ll be mine forever. My property. My woman.
And you’ll never be able to say no to me.
I feel your orgasm on my face, the pulsing of your muscles, the contractions in your body, and when you finally cry out my name, I know you’re in a state of pleasure that will leave you completely powerless against me.
You’re defenseless now.
You’re all mine.
And I can do whatever I want to you.
I can cum in you.
I could cum in your mouth and you’d swallow me.
I could cum on your breasts and you’d beg for more.
I could rub lube over your asshole, slide my finger in and out of you, and when you were finally ready to take me, I could push my hard, firm, cock into your ass and make you scream with pleasure.
But that’s not what I want.
What I want is to cum in your pussy. I want to cum without a condom, not knowing whether my orgasm will make you pregnant with my child or not.
I want to pour my cum inside you, all the way deep inside you, to a place where no man’s cum has ever reached before. I want you to feel me flowing inside you. And I want you to wonder if maybe I made you pregnant. Because then, you’ll really be mine.
As soon as I feel your orgasm subside, I get up and strip off all my clothes. Your beautiful eyes look up at me and take in my full, naked body for the first time. You take in my chest, my abs, the patch of hair that leads down toward my cock.
When you see my cock, your eyes grow wide. I know you’ve never seen anything so big, so dangerous, so dominating. I’m fully erect, practically throbbing with anticipation for what I know is coming.
I look down at your pussy, warm, and soft and soaking wet.
“You ready?” I ask.
You nod but don’t say a word.
I climb onto the bed and grab your legs, pulling you up against me and putting your ankles on my shoulders. I look down at you. You’re begging me with your eyes to slide in.
I touch the lips of your pussy with the hard, swollen head of my cock. Your eyes beg me to fill you.
As I thrust forward, I pull you into me, sliding myself into your pussy, all the way to the shaft. You gasp in pleasure and delight, never having felt anything so big inside you before.
I grab you by the hips and hold you in place while I slide out, then pull you against me again as I ram back into you. I do this over and over, each thrust getting me deeper inside you, each forceful movement bringing me closer to the point of climax.
I look into your eyes.
“I’m going to cum in you,” I say.
You’re shocked. You have no idea what to say. You didn’t expect that.
But you’re eyes tell me you want it as badly as I do.
With every ounce of my strength, I thrust all the way to the core of your body, and my cock explodes in pleasure. My cum pours out of me and into you, linking us, body and soul, for eternity.
I’ll never be able to let you go now. You’re mine for life, and if I ever lost you, I’d die. I wouldn’t be able to live. As my cum flows into you, I know I love you. I know I want you forever. I know I want you to have my baby.
CHAPTER 2
MEADOW
I slammed my car into reverse, pulled down the driveway of my overpriced suburban mansion, and skidded onto the street with a screech of rubber. For a second I considered speeding back down the driveway and slamming into my husband’s Porsche. Really ramming it. That would teach him.
But I didn’t. I took a deep breath, passed the four motorcycles parked side by side at the end of the driveway, and drove off without looking back.
My hands gripped the steering wheel like I was holding onto it for dear life. I drove erratically, too fast, tearing around corners. If I didn’t calm down I was going to cause an accident.
The radio was playing some sad, girl-loves-boy, girl-loses-boy song. It was the type of song that normally would have had me crying in seconds.
But I was done crying. I was sick and tired of being sad, and frankly, I don’t think I had any tears left in me.
I changed the station.
Taylor Swift? Nah.
Commercials.
Commercials.
Justin Bieber? Sorry, no. This wasn’t the time for adolescent angst.
I hit the next preset.
Respect, by Aretha Franklin? Fuck, yes.
I cranked up the volume, opened the sunroof, grabbed my sunglasses and slid them on as I drove out of Palo Alto, screaming, “R-E-S-P-E-C-T, FIND OUT WHAT IT MEANS TO ME,” at the top of my lungs.
The song ended as I merged onto the freeway. Some song I didn’t recognize came on next and I turned the volume down. It was in that moment, once the distraction of Aretha was gone, that I realized I had no idea where I was going. I had no plan, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t care.
All I knew was that I wanted to keep on driving and never go back. It had scarcely been five minutes since my marriage evaporated before my eyes, but already I felt more free, more myself, than I ever had with that asshole of a husband.
Then I had my second realization. My spur of the moment road trip meant I had packed nothing and all I had with me was my purse.
Ugh.
The stupid Coach purse Matt gave me after one of our many fights.
I grabbed it and tossed it on the backseat, out of my sight.
I couldn’t remember what that fight was about, but I did remember the loveless look on his face when he handed me the expensive gift. He was one of those men who thought he could solve any problem, no matter how serious, by spending money.
After a while, each expensive gift just hurt me more. It was never thoughtful, I don’t even like Coach. It was just his way of trying to shut me up.
The truth was, I didn’t need expensive gifts. All I needed was a husband who loved me. And that was the one thing Matt could never give. I finally knew it for certain.
My attention was drawn to the dashboard when the empty gas light turned on. So much for smooth sailing into my new life.
Luckily, there was a gas station a few minutes down the road.
I pulled up to the full service pump and asked the attendant to fill the tank with premium gas. I got out and opened the backdoor to grab my purse and headed into the convenience store. I took my time walking around and picked up a few snacks. Cracker Jacks, Bits ‘n Bites and a bag of Sour Patch Kids.
Don’t judge. I never denied being an emotional eater.
There was a display at the end of the aisle with sunglasses, hats and beach bags. I looked through the bags and fou
nd one on the smaller side with a few pockets and lots of color. I grabbed it and made my way to the checkout.
The young girl working at the cash register smiled when I put down all the snacks. Not in a judgmental way, but in an, excellent choice kind of way. We both laughed as she scanned them through. I reached for my purse and remembered about the gas.
“Oh and whatever it came to at pump six.”
I lifted up my Coach purse and dumped the contents on the counter. The girl looked at me like I was crazy. I started transferring all my stuff into the new bag.
“Why on earth are you taking your things out of that amazing Coach purse and putting them into this cheap gas station bag?” she asked.
“Hah, yeah, I guess it does seem a little strange. I think I’ve finally come to the realization that money and fancy things aren’t the most important things in the world. But, I think I’ll still hold onto my Vogue sunglasses for now,” I said with a smile.
We laughed again and I put the Vogue case into my new purse. She told me the total and I tapped my credit card to pay.
I’d seen that same girl working at that rest stop every day for two years. She was a sweet girl. Always friendly, always helpful. I didn’t know anything about her but always assumed she was putting herself through college with the gas station paychecks.
“Here. You’d look amazing with a Coach purse,” I said, holding it out to her.
“No way. I can’t accept that. It’s far too expensive. I don’t deserve it,” she said, taking a step back and raising her hands in protest.
“You do deserve it,” I said. “You deserve the world. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”
I handed her the purse and gave her a look that made it clear I meant it. She reached out and took it, still unsure if she was doing the right thing.
“Thank you so, so much,” she said.
“You’re so, so welcome,” I said and walked back to my car.
I could hear her squealing behind me as I left. I turned back and saw her holding it up like a winning lottery ticket, showing it to the other kid who worked the counter with her. He clearly didn’t have the same appreciation for purses she had but it made me happy to see her so excited.
I grabbed the keys from my new, gas station purse and got back into my Lexus. The luxury Lexus Matt had also bought me.
It was one of the many gifts I received after I told him I knew he’d been cheating on me for years.
Big fight, big gift. That’s the way it was in our marriage.
But with this gift he’d also dangled the promise of a family, our own baby some day, on the condition I didn’t leave him. He even went to the trouble of installing a car seat in the back.
But I never did get the baby.
I hated that I was driving a car he’d paid for but honestly, I wasn’t ready to give that away too. My high principals had their limit, and I’m a practical girl. I needed this getaway vehicle.
But I hated what it stood for with a passion. I still had no idea what my destination was, but the ocean was calling my name. I merged back onto the highway and continued south.
The sun was setting over San Jose and I put my car into cruise control. I turned the radio back on, turned the volume up to full and took a deep breath.
New life, here I come.
CHAPTER 3
MEADOW
By the time I reached the Pacific Coast Highway, it was pitch black out. I’d been driving a little over three hours and had completely escaped the glow of city lights. My high beams were all that guided me along the curving road.
A three hour drive hardly felt like much of a great escape, but it was getting late and I felt that driving along the coast at night was a waste of the beautiful view. I kept my eyes open for a place to stop for the night. I could get some much needed rest and start fresh in the morning.
I didn’t know how long I had before Matt realized I was gone for good. I knew the second he clued in, he would be pissed off and cancel my credit cards and access to our bank accounts. I mean, that was if he was even still alive!
Those guys who showed up at our doorstep on motorcycles looked like they meant business. I hoped they really gave it to him. He’d finally crossed paths with the wrong woman.
My only regret was that after putting up with so much from him for so long, when the cavalry finally arrived to teach him a lesson, they’d come to protect some other girl he’d lied to, not me.
Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers, and I wasn’t about to start complaining.
To save money, I reluctantly drove past beautiful, luxury, spa hotels located right on the beach.
What I needed was a modest motel. Nothing fancy. I started to cringe as all the stereotypes associated with motels jumped into my mind. Never in my thirty-plus years had I ever stayed at one.
People do it all the time, I told myself.
How bad can it be?
It’s not like I’m a princess.
I spotted a sign with the word ‘motel’ on it and took the next exit. It led to the town of Pismo Beach. It was easy to see I’d arrived in an adorable little beach town. I found the motel and pulled up outside.
A very young, very tanned, blonde girl greeted me at the front desk.
“Welcome to the Rolling Wave Motel. Do you have a reservation?”
“No, but do you have any rooms available?” I asked, hoping her answer would be yes.
“We sure do. Our drop-in rate is eighty-nine dollars, will that be fine?” she asked.
I smiled and told her it would be. The truth was, I never knew it was possible to get a night anywhere that cheap. I really had been living in an upperclass suburban housewife bubble.
I worried what kind of condition my eighty-nine dollar room might be in but the lobby seemed clean enough so I tried to relax.
As the girl took my credit card and photo ID, I realized I was starving.
“Is there anywhere nearby that’s still open to eat?” I asked.
She smiled and looked me up and down, trying to pair me with the most suitable restaurant for a guest of my type.
“There’s an amazing local winery overlooking the ocean, ” she started, but I cut her off.
“No wine. I do not want wine.”
I’d startled her. I felt bad for snapping, but there was no way I was drinking wine. Even the thought of it made my stomach turn.
“How about beer?” she asked with understandable caution.
When I didn’t snap back she continued.
“There’s a really cool brewery down the way that has an amazing late night menu.”
“Beer, I can do. That sounds perfect.”
She smiled and wrote down the name of the brewery, explaining how to get there. Then she handed me the keys to my room.
I turned around, looking for the bellboy to help with my luggage, before realizing two things.
One, there would be no bellboys in my life for a while, and two, I didn’t have any luggage.
I went to my car and drove to room thirty-four. I got out and took a deep breath. I knew it was pathetic for a grown woman, about to embark on a new life on her own, to worry about such a little thing, but I really was worried about finding mouse droppings, cockroaches, rats, blood stains even! The closest I’d ever been to a motel was watching bank robber movies.
I turned the key in the lock and braced myself for what I was about to see.
And … not bad, I thought with a sigh of relief.
The room was fine, cute even.
A queen-sized bed with a less than fashionable pastel-colored duvet on it. Above the bed was a large, tacky, beach-themed oil painting. I went to check the bathroom, which was small but clean. It had everything I needed.
It was fine. Everything was fine.
I’d be okay. I hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of my life by walking out on my rich, asshole husband.
And then I had a flashback to some stupid investigation show I’d seen once about how filthy mot
el rooms are, especially the duvet covers because they never get washed. They used a special light over the duvets from ten different motels and eight were covered in cum.
So. Gross.
I immediately grabbed two wash clothes and used them as mitts to rip the pastel duvet off the bed. I threw it in the corner without letting any part of it touch my skin. I was so disgusted at the thought of how many filthy men had probably jizzed all over it.
Ironic really, because a moment later my disgust turned to disappointment at the thought of just how long it had been since any man, filthy or otherwise, had jizzed all over me.
Who’d have ever thought it?
A perfectly healthy, relatively attractive young woman, married to a sex addict no less, and I hadn’t had sex in well over a year.
It really does a number on your sex life when your husband is out getting it elsewhere.
Asshole.
I felt a pang of emotion at the thought of him. His cheating started pretty much as soon as we got married and deep down I always knew the truth. There were so many telltale signs.
I couldn’t stand the thought of touching him, but the really sad part was that after years of being cheated on, I couldn’t really stand the thought of being touched by anyone.
I used to be so fucking attracted to that man, especially when we started dating in high school. Now when I looked at him, all I saw was a monster.
I turned on the shower and hopped in to quickly rinse off my body. I got out, toweled off, and grabbed my small makeup bag from my purse. It only had the touch up essentials but it would do.
I applied fresh cover up, redid my eyeliner, and touched up my mascara. I may not have had a change of clothes, but I was relieved to have my makeup bag.
I’d rather die than be caught without makeup.
I finished with a fresh coat of deep red lipstick and used a tissue to tone it down. I did a quick teeth check in the mirror and then, without stopping to think how long it had been since I’d gone out anywhere alone at night, headed to the brewery for a few beers and some well-deserved food.
CHAPTER 4
MEADOW
The brewery was only a few blocks away but I decided to drive. On the way to the motel I remembered passing a bank and wanted to stop there first. I needed to get out as much cash as I could because I knew it was only a matter of time before my access to money was cut off for good.
Fire & Ice: A Ménage Fantasy Page 23
