by Sylvia Fox
“Bloody hell. Bravo,” he stated, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. “Sculptors and painters would fight to the death for the right to use you as their subject. You’re glorious.”
I was blushing again. Not just my face, my neck and chest were flushed as well.
“Truth? Or dare?” I asked.
I let my hands drop slowly, letting my palms graze my nipples. They throbbed with delicious agony. Their need was beyond comprehension.
“Truth. I can’t deal with another one of your dares. And no, before you ask, you may not put your shirt back on, Emily.”
I pouted flamboyantly and drew my knees to my chest to conceal my breasts from his frustrated gaze.
“Earlier, when you were expressing how grateful you were that I shared my body with you and gave you my virginity, you started to say something, then stopped. You said ‘I’ followed by a word that sounded like it began with an ‘L’, but then you stopped. As your truth, tell me what you were going to say.”
Eric got very serious, and stared me down, searching my eyes for something, I knew not what. After what seemed like hours, but was in truth only seconds, he moved closer to me, took my face in his hands, and kissed me deeply. I whimpered into the kiss, returning it with equal fervor. My breasts against his muscular chest felt better than great.
When he broke our kiss, he let his forehead rest on mine. Our faces so close our eyelashes were almost touching.
“I love you, Emily. That’s what I wanted to say. I’m saying it now. I never thought I’d say it again to anyone in this way, and you don’t have to say it back, but there it is. I love you.”
Somewhere in my childhood, I saw a show on PBS about dinosaurs. Something that stuck with me all these years later was something about a brontosaurus having a tiny brain or a slow nervous system or some such, so that if you hit his tail with a rock, it would take minutes before its brain registered the pain. I could be all wrong, but that’s how I remember it.
In that moment that Eric Sutton told me he loved me, I became a brontosaurus. My ears and brain experienced a disconnect, a delay. I heard it, but my brain just couldn’t process it. I felt incredibly stupid, but I couldn’t reply. He looked crushed.
His hand slid down from my face to my thigh and then back into his own lap. He scooted to the edge of the bed and turned to face the door.
The short-circuit I experienced nearly cost me everything. But I found my voice in the nick of time.
“Eric, I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t stop thinking about you. I haven’t been able to since the day we first met. You do things to me I never dreamt were possible. I love you, I love you, I love you!”
He stood up and turned to face me, smiling. “Show me.” His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his underwear and he shed them, slowly. His half-hard cock came into view an inch at a time. He let his boxers fall to the floor and he stepped out of them.
“I’ve tasted you. And it’s the most delicious, succulent flavor I’ve ever experienced. Crawl over here and taste me.” His voice was commanding me again.
So dirty. So fucking dirty. But my body was on autopilot and firmly under his control. I crawled the short distance to where he stood and my eyes nearly level with the tip of his cock, a twitching muscle on the verge of flexing to its full, magnificent size.
I reached a tentative hand for it, but he corrected me.
“No hands. Just your sweet mouth. And only when I say so. For now, just study it.”
I swallowed hard, discarded my glasses, and looked up at him. He was regal. Imperious. I was right where I belonged. A supplicant to Eric Sutton’s cock. I inhaled the wild, musky scent of it, as close as I could without touching it, and on its own accord it swelled and extended, the heaviness of it coming to rest on my cheek.
My insides clenched and my blood ran cold. I had never in my life been so aroused. I felt drunk. Cockdrunk. I rubbed my face up and down against it, moaning softly. It pulsed and hardened against my whimpering face.
“Kiss it, Emily.”
Passionately, I kissed his shaft, from root to tip, and it grew and throbbed, bobbing in the air as it reached full mast.
My pussy was so alive, so ready, that it felt like I was already getting fucked. The anticipation was wild. Everything was primed and ready. I felt my hips bucking, fucking the air lewdly behind me.
“Oh my, look what you’ve done to me,” Eric said. “I’m very fucking hard, Emily. And you haven’t even put it in your mouth yet. Are you proud of yourself?
I looked up and nodded, enthusiastically. I was proud. I was in love. I’d made this glorious specimen of man throb by barely touching him. I felt like the sexiest woman on Earth, even though I knew how far it was from the truth.
“Do you want to touch your pussy while you suck my cock, Emily?” I still wasn’t used to being talked to in such an obscene fashion, and his every word gave me spasms. I did want to. I needed to. I could wait no longer. For his cock or my orgasm.
I answered my inhaling him as deeply as I could, and at the same time I jammed my hand into my yoga pants and it became a blur between my legs. My orgasm was almost instantaneous. It was totally unexpected, the abruptness and intensity of it. The wickedness of engulfing his cock with my mouth sent electricity coursing directly to my clit, and touching it ignited everything. I moaned through it, pulling back away from his cock.
Once I’d recovered, he spoke. “Did you enjoy that, Emily?”
“Yes. Very much. Thank you.”
“Do it again, but this time, do not let my cock leave your mouth. When you start to come, take it deeper. Trust me, my love.”
I answered by wrapping my lips around his cock, bobbing up and down on it. Again, my climax was swift. This time, however, I struggled to take him deeper, and the result was an orgasm that rocketed from my fingers up my spine to my throat and back down to my pussy, hitting me like a sledgehammer. Something about his cock in my mouth was so filthy that it turned me into a wanton slut.
“I planned to keep this game going, but I simply have to fuck you now. You have me too aroused to wait a moment longer. Tell me how you want to get fucked, Emily.”
“From behind.” My voice was a whisper. “Hard.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked.
“Hard, from behind.”
“Louder, Em. Convince me.”
Awkwardly, despite my attempt to make it sexy, I peeled my yoga pants down and off, and I turned dropped my elbows to the bed. My ass was raised, so close his cock was almost touching it. “I need to get fucked from behind. Hard. Like I’m some nameless, faceless whore. That’s how I want it.”
The words that came from my own mouth shocked even me.
Eric chuckled. “Good girl.”
He took hold of my hips and pulled them higher, and I felt the head of his cock at my entrance. He held it there, moving up and down, tormenting me. I wiggled and moaned, helplessly.
“Emily, I want you to show me how much you love getting fucked. I’m going to stand very still while you use my cock to get yourself off. Show me just how you want it.”
He took a small step forward, allowing him to slip inside, just enough to get started. I gasped at the invasion.
“Do it, Emily. As hard as you can.”
I was wild with need, and I threw myself into the task. My hips churned and bucked, riding him voraciously. The only part of us that touched was his cock inside my pussy, which clung to me each time I moved off it.
“Harder, Emily. I know you can take it harder than this.”
I redoubled my efforts, whimpering as I took his length faster and harder. Small climaxes erupted inside me, booster rockets that sent me into orbit.
“You’re so fucking tight it’s hard to believe you’re twenty, Emily. You aren’t lying to me about your age, are you? That would be very naughty.”
The exclamation point to his accusation was his big left hand delivering a spank to the sam
e cheek of my ass. Not a tap, nothing gentle, a full-blown spanking. Like a bad girl would get. He repeated the action with his right hand, then back to his left, changing the point of attack each time and sending searing waves of pain through my body. At first, I feared I’d displeased him. But I quickly realized that the burn each time he spanked me dissipated into delicious clenching spasms in my deeply-fucked cunt. Every. Single. Time.
With each spanking slap, I rode him harder. Deeper. Faster.
The fire burning all over my ass from the spanking he gave me made my pussy feel like it was filled with boiling oil. The blood in my veins was like acid. Sweat dripped from my face. And he just kept spanking me. And I just kept fucking him. Just like a wanton whore. Just like I’d begged for.
When his right hand found the backside of my ass, lower by the top of my thigh, a place he hadn’t yet reddened, I finally surrendered to the tsunami inside me.
“Eric I love you! I’m coming so hard for you! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”
With that, with the orgasmic earthquake ravaging my body exploding out of my mouth, Eric took hold of my hips and started thrusting, taking control of the pace. An aggressive, violent, breakneck pace. I collapsed onto the bed, my hips held up by his hands and cock. The pounding he gave me was brutal and punishing, and I drooled and mumbled through a series of orgasms, delirious with pleasure.
His pace finally slowed, but the thrusts were, if anything, even harder. Backbreaking. On the fourth one, all the way out then all the way back in, slowly, he finally finished, spraying his seed into me. My ass and thighs would bear the marks for days – the load my body craved so desperately would hopefully mark my body in other ways. For the next nine months.
I was insane. This man made me desperately want to be pregnant with his child.
He let my hips down slowly, emptying himself completely. He pulled me near, and we lay on our sides just like that, spooning our way into blissful sleep.
When we awoke, it would be Christmas Day. And in a few day, Holly would arrive home. To a world entirely different than the one she’d left.
Chapter Seven
Christmas morning was unlike any I’d ever experienced. Instead of waking up to my parents, I woke up naked and marked in the arms of my lover, Eric Sutton. My ass bore welts, the backs of my thighs bruises, and the muscles deep in my pussy felt cramped and exhausted.
Eric and I shared breakfast and I opened a few small gifts my parents had mailed me. I called them later in the morning once they were awake, given the time difference. The three of us cried through a conversation on our first Christmas morning apart, even Dad joining in on the waterworks.
They were happy that I had such a warm, accommodating host for the holidays, and my dad was excited to tell Coach that he’d be watching Moultrie’s next game wearing the Moultrie Basketball sweatshirt I’d sent him as a gift.
Eric spent the afternoon mostly in his office watching game tape and planning for upcoming opponents. I read, relaxed, and tried to limit my walking. It was painful!
We made love at night and fucked during the day. I loved having both the sweetness of our love as we drifted off to sleep, and being Coach’s little whore in the light of the afternoon.
But every time he came, he professed his love for me. And it’s all I needed to live.
A couple days later, we went to the airport to pick up Holly.
She was all smiles and two enormous new suitcases in tow, filled with gifts for us and gifts she’d received. I came from a world where you tried to fit everything in a carryon to avoid paying any extra fees; Holly thought nothing of filling the luggage hold on the plane with bag after bag after bag.
By the time we ate and exchanged gifts, it was after midnight and we were all exhausted. The living room looked like a cyclone of wrapping paper had blown through. I’d acquired a new tablet and new outfits to last me the next month of school, it seemed. Holly was nothing but generous.
It made me feel insanely guilty.
All the joy, however, was tempered by the secret Eric and I had no idea how to share with Holly. We’d done everything we could to keep our hands off each other in her presence, but all I wanted was to be held and kissed by him. We were a smidge more flirty than normal, but Holly didn’t seem to notice.
Eric and I agreed, via late night texts, that we had to tell her the next day. He had a meeting with the Moultrie athletic director planned for the next morning and an individual workout with a player, but he’d be home in the afternoon.
Holly and I caught up on her trip and watched bad reality TV, spending the morning in our pajamas. Eric arrived home mid-afternoon, and when we all found ourselves in the kitchen, he asked us to sit at the table in the breakfast nook, where he and Holly took most of their meals.
He sat at the end of the table.
“Holly, I have some news. Actually, we have some news. Emily and I.”
Oh my God. I wanted to throw up. This was going to be so hard.
A nervous smile crossed Holly’s perfect lips. “Okay?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders.
Eric looked at me and then extended his right hand, clasping mine in his, atop the table.
Holly went pale and leaned back, away from us. She looked to her dad, struggling to understand.
“Emily and I have realized that … we … I don’t know how else to say this. We’ve fallen in love.”
Silence. If a pin dropped at midcourt in Moultrie’s basketball arena, four miles away, we’d have heard it.
“This is a really weird and really bad joke, Dad,” Holly said. She turned her attention to me. “What’s going on, Em?”
I looked to him for assurance, and he nodded squeezing my hand. “It’s true. It isn’t a joke. I don’t even know what to say. Despite how happy I want to be, I know this is possibly hurtful to you.” I was crying now. “And that’s the last thing I want to do. You’re my best friend, Holly. The best friend I’ve ever had. I had no idea this would happen, and I would give it up for you. I would. Even though it would kill my heart to do it. You will always come first to me, Holly.”
I looked over at Coach. “But I love him. He makes me so happy and I like to think I do the same for him. Even though it would destroy me to give him up, I would. You have to know that. I want everyone to be happy. Because both of you have made me feel more loved than anyone besides my own parents ever has.”
I was sobbing now. Holly was glaring. At both of us.
“Okay, fuck this,” Holly said, standing up. “This is completely fucked up. You’re supposed to be my friend and you shake your ass and seduce my father? I can’t even-”
Eric cut her off.
“It wasn’t like that. Not at all. It’s a mutual attraction, on many levels, and if anyone was the aggressor, it was me. She tried to talk sense into me. But love doesn’t always make sense. We’re in it together. It’s real, and I hope you can understand and forgive us, if that’s something you feel like you need to do. But Holly, I deserve to be happy. I deserve to be loved. It’s been fifteen years, almost an entire lifetime for you. And it’s torn me apart, the loneliness. I’ve tried to hide that… I covered it up by being a workaholic. Probably by drinking too much sometimes. Working out like a maniac. But I’ve always had a hole in my heart that’s done nothing but grow and grow. Winning didn’t fix it. Money didn’t help. But Emily has filled it and then some. And now that I have this chance, please don’t ask me to give it up. I would. For you, you’re my daughter. But it would kill me to do it, Holly. I don’t expect this to be easy. But we can make this work. I know it. She’s amazing and she loves you. Be mad at me if you have to. But give her a chance. Give us a chance.”
Holly looked furious. She mulled over what Coach said for a moment, then she turned and walked away. A loud “Whatever!” trailed her out the door. We heard the front door open and she revved her Range Rover.
“Let her go blow off some steam,” Eric offered. He scooted in next to me and held me through all my blubbe
ring questions, wondering if we were doing the right thing and fearing we’d lost Holly forever.
Eric went for a grueling swim and he suggested I try to get some rest, that we’d had a draining few days.
I went to my room, quietly packing my things. I wanted to be prepared if I was getting banished back to the dorms. Or to Idaho. I was an emotional wreck.
Despite checking my phone constantly, I never heard from Holly. I watched snow falling outside, big, puffy flakes, and I wondered if what started out as the best Christmas ever hadn’t become a total disaster.
I lay in bed and tried to get lost in a collection of Carson McCullers short stories when I heard a soft knock at the door.
“Come in,” I called.
The door swung open and Holly stood there, looking as pretty as she always did, but lacking her typical pep. She noticed my things packed and piled near the door and she twisted her mouth into a frown.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
“I…don’t know. Am I?” I asked, hoping the answer was no.
She sat on the end of my bed and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to lie. This whole thing is bizarre. But, if the two people I love most in the world want to be together, if there’s still room for me, who am I to fight it? I just hope you both know what you’re getting yourselves into. My dad’s entire career could be in jeopardy if it’s discovered that he’s romantically involved with a student. It would be scandalous. We have a lot to talk about, all three of us. Together and separately. But I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Sorry for earlier.”
I burst into tears. She did likewise. We hugged and hugged. When our arms were tired, she kissed me on the forehead and gave me a mock-serious look.
“You know, the whole ‘Mother Emily’ thing was supposed to be a joke, right?”
We spent most of the evening talking, laughing, reminiscing, and pouring our hearts out to one another. Eric tried to inject himself into our conversation at one point, but Holly shooed him away, telling him that we needed “girl time.” We fell asleep in bed together, tangled up like sisters.
