by Alice Bello
His cock throbbed inside me as he rocked in and out of me, my hips jolting upward to meet his every downward thrust into me. As he pounded away at me, slowly notching up the tempo and the forcefulness of his thrusts, I dissolved beneath him, my heart racing inside my chest, my flesh alive with shivers of want and need. My hands explored his spectacular body, gliding over his muscular backside and down to squeeze his ever so tight and supple butt.
I suddenly thought, he has dimples down there to match the dimples on his face!
Abruptly Dean rolled over onto his back pulling me on top of him. He pushed me up so that I was sitting upright, making me groan at having my own weight impaling me further on his meaty shaft. His hands cupped my breasts as he pistoned his hips up and down, sending jolts of pleasure up through me, making my back arch like a cat’s.
I felt something coming over me. Something hot and powerful. I snapped my head back as it erupted from my core and thundered through my veins like fireworks. My breathing became ragged as I clutched hold of Dean’s hands, pressing them all the harder against my breasts.
I rode Dean’s cock and this tide of jolting ecstasy for what seemed like hours. There was nothing else, just his hands on my beating heart, and his manhood splitting me open.
Suddenly Dean sat bolt upright, lashing his strong arms about me, his face buried in my bosom, roaring out his climax as he shot his seed deep inside me, filling the latex sheath of the condom.
He pulled me down on him and then rolled over on top me, skewering me roughly with his pulsing cock as the last of his climax spurted from his cock. Slowly he kissed me, our lips melding together perfectly, and he pulled himself from me. The look on his face was pain — pain at having to extricate himself from me — it was the same thing I was feeling.
Dean sprawled on the bed beside me, glistening with sweat, his chest heaving, laboring to catch his breath. His arm was under my neck as he pulled me closer to him. I clung to him in utter unbelievable bliss. I knew I’d never had an orgasm like that before... not even close!
I’d thought I was having a heart attack there for a minute.
After a long while I felt Dean slide from my arms and I watched groggily as he padded naked to my bathroom, those fine dimpled orbs bouncing enticingly as he strode. I watched as he peeled the condom from his still half-hard cock and flushed it down the toilet.
Moments later he was with me in the bed again, pulling the covers up around us. As he pulled me to him and I fell asleep in his arms, my cheek pressed against his chest like a pillow, listening contentedly to the slow, strong beat of his heart.
Chapter 14
I woke that morning still wrapped in Dean’s embrace. I gulped at the realization that it hadn’t just been a dream. I smoothed my hand over his chest and let it slide down his smooth hard stomach. Then further down under the covers until I could feel his hard member beneath my touch.
I was seized with the hunger for him. I scooted under the covers until I was face to face with his huge member. I licked up the shaft and felt him stir under my efforts. I finally came to the tapered head of his prick and took it into my mouth, sucking gently at the thick mushroom head. I heard Dean gasp as he awoke.
The head of his cock throbbed in my mouth, tasting sweet, the flesh so soft on my tongue. I couldn’t get over how something so hard on the inside could be so soft on the outside.
His hips jerked and shuddered as I took more of him into my mouth. He pulled the covers down from over my head and ran his hands through my hair as I sucked him.
But that only lasted a moment.
“God, Dana, I can’t take that!” And he pulled me from his lap and kissed me, hard and sweet, until he’d maneuvered himself to between my legs, his manhood pulsing as it rubbed against my burning sex. He leaned over and took out a condom from the box Bess had left us.
God bless Bess, I thought.
Dean ripped open the foil packet and stretched the rubber over his huge mushroom head, the rolled it down his mind-boggling length. He wrapped my legs about his hips as he stood up, holding me in his arms, suspended sitting on his long hard cock. Slowly I sank onto his cock like a spear, gasping as I was gored straight through. He walked to my bathroom and took us inside the shower stall.
Soon he was fucking me against the wall, the hot water streaming over us as his prick slowly pounded me to the verge again.
A girl could get used to this, I thought.
Then he lowered me to my feet and pulled his condom wrapped cock from my pussy, leaving me feeling empty, leaving me feeling hungry for more... it couldn’t be over already!
That’s when he gently pulled me to him and around until the spray of the shower cascaded over my breasts. He positioned my hands up on the wall in front of me, and then I felt him enter me again, from behind this time.
I started to squirm. I’d never been taken like this, from behind. I couldn’t see him, I couldn’t touch him, and yet as his hands ran over my body, soapy with my body wash, and his cock slowly churning in and out of me, I felt myself give in to it. I came in an instant, my head thrashing as he bucked his hips harder into me. I felt like a house fire was burning inside me. I was sure any moment I would turn into living flame and scatter like ash.
But I didn’t. For who-knows-how-long I writhed in the hot spray of the shower, run through by his amazing cock, wave after wave of orgasms rushing through me.
Bliss.
~*~
Still soaking wet, satiated inside and out, I lay spent on the bed, wrapped in my favorite terrycloth robe.
Dean was dressed, his hair mussed in sexy ringlets, and I watched enraptured as he tried to button his shirt — most of the buttons were scattered over my bedroom floor.
He looked at me and made a funny hand gesture.
“Don’t look at me,” I purred. “You did all the undressing last night.”
His smile was even more brilliant by the light of day.
“And I prefer your shirts not having buttons. Very sexy.”
He wriggled his eyebrows. “It’ll be all your fault if I get molested on my way home.” He leaned down to kiss me on the bed. He hadn’t even brushed his teeth yet and still he had good breath! Was he even human?
I pondered this and so many other questions as he walked toward my door and pulled it open. Then he suddenly stopped and looked back at me. “So, dinner tonight? Or do you need time to recuperate?”
I was exhausted, yet my internal engine revved up at the thought of him in my bed again tonight. “Who needs rest?” I smiled wickedly. “Now if you need a night ...”
“Eight o’clock, then.” His eyes darkened and I felt them hot on my body again as he passed through my doorway and closed it behind him.
No sooner did I think, I’ve gotta tell Bess, than my phone rang. I picked it up and said “Hello.” That’s all. Suddenly I heard a deafening whoop from the other end of the connection.
“Cupcake have a hard night?” Bess crooned.
“I don’t kiss and tell.” Which was a lie. I was dying to tell her the details.
“OMIGOD!!! He ate you out too!”
I sat up in a flash. “Do you have my apartment under surveillance?’”
“I can hear it in your voice.”
“It’s creepy.”
“I also can tell you did it twice, and he tried it in a new position, right?”
“This part of the conversation is over.”
I heard Bess laughing on the other end. “You’re just bummed you didn’t get to tell me... and he’s enormous, right?”
“Shopping,” I said, trying to change the subject. “I’m seeing him again tonight. I need to buy another dress, and shoes that won’t leave me with serious injuries.”
“Don’t forget makeup. I’ll show you how to use it... it’ll be just like having a little sister.”
I fell back onto the bed giddy with flashbacks of last night. “We got caught in the rain... and that’s when he kissed me. It was so romantic, and so ...�
�
“Did you say rain?” Bess’ voice turned shrill.
“Yeah, it rained last night, and we ran all the way back to my apartment.”
“In my Jimmy Choos!”
“No, silly. I couldn’t even walk in those suckers. I wore the black ones again.”
I could hear Bess take a sigh of relief, and then I could swear I heard her croak. “Oh my god! You were wearing my Halston!”
“Your what?”
“The dress! It’s a Halston! And it’s silk!”
My jaw dropped open as I realized that I’d simply chucked the dress at the bottom of my bed. I scampered to the foot of the bed and looked over at the still wet, blotchy stain that used to be a stunning red silk dress.
I gulped. “I’ll buy you another... today.”
“What do you mean?” she was shouting. “That’s a twelve hundred dollar dress! It’s vintage!”
“I’m so sorry.”
Silence on the other end of the phone. Then Bess started to speak, slowly and quietly, yet her voice oozed sternness. “Now listen very carefully. Get dressed and take the dress to Sato’s Dry Cleaning on twenty-third Street. Tell Mr. Sato that it’s my dress and that you got it wet in the rain. Do you understand?”
I sprung from my bed and started throwing on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. “Yes, I hear you.”
“And do it now!” And Bess disconnected.
God, she’s mad.
I grabbed the dress from the floor and stuffed it into a plastic grocery sack. I tugged on my sneakers and lashed my hair back in a ponytail, and ran out of my apartment, down the stairs and out onto the street. Twenty-third was ten blocks away. I started to jog, fear for my life jabbing my ass the entire while,
~*~
The line at Sato’s Dry Cleaning was three deep out the front door. After approximately twenty minutes I finally made it to the front of the line — thank god it was my day off.
Mr. Sato was short and plump, yet stood gracefully before me as I turned over to him the grocery sack with the dress in it. He peered into the bag and then smiled at me with a confused expression.
“This is Bess Armstrong’s dress. I got caught out in the rain in it and —”
“This is one of Miss Armstrong’s?” the dry cleaner said, looking back into the sack. Then his eyes became hard and shot back at me furiously. “You’ve destroyed the Halston!”
Damn, I thought. Even the dry cleaner knows more about fashion than I do.
“As I was saying, I was wearing it and then it started to rain.”
“New York City is rain toxic. Why would you stand out in it?” Mr. Sato stared accusingly.
“I didn’t stand out in it! I ...” Well, I did make out in it for a while. “I got caught out in it, blocks away from my apartment.”
“Couldn’t catch a cab?” His tone of voice was really starting to irk me.
“Look, can you fix it or not?”
Mr. Sato smiled placatingly, more of a sneer. “For Miss Armstrong I’ll try… but no promises.” Then he said something in Japanese that I was sure was an affront on my character. But since I wasn’t sure — I’d taken French in high school and one class of Spanish in college — what the hell he’d said, and since he was my only hope to restore the dress (and for Bess not to kill me) I tried to smile and walked out of the store.
~*~
When I returned home I was surprised to find no messages from Bess. I called her but only got her voicemail. “Okay, I screwed up,” I told her voicemail. “But Mr. Sato seemed pretty sure he could fix it.” I omitted the “No promises” part of what he’d said.
“Call me!”
About an hour later I still hadn’t heard from Bess. She was obviously pissed. And I couldn’t blame her. She’d lent me a twelve hundred dollar dress and I — in my ignorance of fashion and fabrics — had gotten it soaked in the toxic rain that eroded the facades of every building in the city.
And then you left it balled up overnight on your floor, a venomous voice sounded in my head.
I felt so damn guilty. After all she’d done to facilitate my rather steamy union with Dean, I’d failed her miserably. I was a lousy friend.
Two more hours passed and I tried her number three more times. Still no answer.
And then when the digital clock by my bed declared it was now two in the afternoon, I suddenly remembered I had another date with Dean — I had a flash of ecstasy as a panel of last night’s love making played in my mind. And then I realized that I had nothing to wear, no shoes or makeup... and now no Bess to help me out.
I had a horrifying moment where I considered taking my Visa down to Macy’s and throwing myself on their mercy. “Make me into a silk purse!” I’d grovel. But then I remembered how much the thong had cost. Having them make me over might put me into bankruptcy.
With every fiber in my being I didn’t want to do what I was about to do. I picked up and tried to dial the number three times before I finally let it ring through. She picked up on the third ring. “Dana, dear, what a pleasant surprise.” Then her voice changed, harder, gruffer. “You’re not canceling on me, for brunch tomorrow?”
“No, Mother.” I closed my eyes tight and held my breath for a beat or two. “I need your help. I need to go shopping for a dress and makeup.”
Silence.
“I’d understand if you’re busy. It’s just I’ve got a date —”
“With a man?”
Great! Now even my Mother is thinking I’m a lesbian.
“Yes, he’s a man. I just need —”
“I’ll be right there.” And she hung up on me.
Twelve minutes later she was knocking on my door. When I let her in she flounced excitedly into my apartment, didn’t even comment on my frizzy hair or my stained sweat pants... or the frayed and faded t-shirt I was wearing. She just looked like I’d told her she’d won the lottery — or that I was getting married and had a bun in the oven already.
“Thanks for coming so quick, Mom. I really do need your help.”
She grabbed my frayed pea coat and tossed it to me to put on. “I was just so shocked when you said you needed to go shopping. And then you said you had a date... and with a man!”
“Wait a minute ...”
“I couldn’t be happier. Now let’s go. After we get some nice dresses, we can make a day of it at Elizabeth Arden.”
“Who’s Elizabeth Arden?”
She blinked at me and subtly shook her head. “They are who will tame that hair and show you how to apply your makeup.” She looked me up and down. “Maybe they can turn the rest of you into a woman while they’re at it.”
“The rest of me?” I looked down at myself. “What’s that supposed to mean.”
“Nothing... nothing.” Mother turned and closed her eyes as if hearing beautiful music — probably “Here Comes the Bride” — turned on the spot, simultaneously latching onto my arm and whisking us both out my apartment door and off to shop as if we were in fast forward.
~*~
When we landed in front of Macy’s I broke it to her I couldn’t afford to shop there.
“My treat,” she said without batting an eyelash.
“Do you know how expensive it is to shop in there?”
“Of course I do,” Mother scoffed. “I shop there twice a week.”
I’d forgotten how well she’d done for herself in the divorce settlement from Dad. Dad had told me once that she’d tripled her fortune in less than two years after the split up. That she had a preternatural knack at picking good investments. He joked that she was probably now worth more than he was.
I suddenly wondered if he hadn’t been right.
When she marched into the store a flock of sales women sprang to her side, calling her by name and telling how gorgeous she looked today. She smiled generously at all of them, and called them each by name as she sounded off her marching orders.
In no time at all they had us ushered into a private salon in the back and had shoes and dresse
s and even the most alluring looking underwear and bras for me to pick from.
I was so glad that Mother had told them panties and not thongs. I would’ve died it they had brought out thongs.
“And,” one of the hyper sales ladies told my mother. “Christy at Elizabeth Arden said they’d be ready for you in about an hour, if that’s alright with you?”
“That will be fine,” Mother said, then turned to me. “So we better get shopping.”
Mother flipped through the dresses the fleet of sales girls brought out. I was dizzy, not even getting a real look at the things. Before I knew it they all looked like multicolored swirls of mist, passing by in torrents just to be replaced by another swirl of color.
Mother plucked one dress from the mire. It hung a few feet away, and I started to stare at it. It was powder blue, like the sky, it was satin, I took from its shimmering shine, and it had spaghetti straps that made me nervous.
The next dress to be plucked out and placed beside the other was jade green. It had a faint oriental flair, with a high neck and dainty sleeves that would surely slip halfway over the shoulder. The skirt was short but the line was so elegant that I was sure I’d never be able to pull it off.
Then came a beautiful yellow frock, it was a print that swirled with gold and black, a halter top and a skirt that flowed luxuriantly to knee length. I was sure I’d look like a bad Princess Diana impersonator.
Finally came a little black dress, this one wasn’t like Bess’; this one was slinky and probably silk. It looked ridiculously small hanging there on its hanger.
The lingerie was brought to me and I picked out seven different pairs, some silky, some lacy, and one that had a leopard print that shimmered with gold when they moved.
Before you could say bullshit I was whisked into another salon that had a private changing room. Two of the sales girls helped me into the first dress — the powder blue number.
I walked out in front of Mother and she looked me over with an unreadable eye. I turned and saw myself in the mirror. I was showing an awful lot of skin, but damn did I look good. The dress just fit too well. Made me feel giddy that I could look so hot.
