by Anne, Betsy
We have a wonderful ride to the resort. We talk about music, movies, food and all other sorts of nonthreatening details about ourselves. It’s a blustery day, which adds an aura of coziness to our adventure.
I see the first billboard advertisement for our resort that indicates we’re about twenty miles away. He must have seen it too because we both lose our chattiness. Reality is setting in. I’m ready to profess my love to this man, and I’m beyond ready to make love with him.
We valet park the car, and he tips the bellman generously to bring our bags to the room. The lobby is beautiful, dark wood Craftsman décor with the largest stone fireplace I’ve ever seen. We walk over to see it, and he offers me a seat in one of the rocking chairs as he fetches spiked warm cider. It looks like Noah’s Ark in here: couples, and only couples, as far as the eyes can see. It’s a romantic setting, I can see why this place would be hopping this weekend.
He checks us in, and has a lengthy conversation with the desk clerk. I can’t hear them, they’re too far away, but I see a lot of hand gestures. Wick has a devil’s grin on his face when he approaches me.
“Ready to see the room?”
More ready than he’ll ever know.
“Sure!” I down the rest of my drink, and spring out of the rocking chair a little too enthusiastically. He laughs.
“I guess you are, love,” he says as he holds out his elbow for me to take.
Our “room” is actually a villa larger than my condo. These villas weren’t visible driving in to the resort: They’re on the lakefront. There is a large fireplace in the bedroom, a small kitchen, a living area with no TV and a large outdoor patio with a fire pit. He must have arranged to have it supplied before we arrived; there is food in the refrigerator and wine in the bar. We can stay in here all weekend, undisturbed, if we so choose.
We walk out onto the patio, and there is a hot tub nestled near the rocky waterline. The villas are close together, but their juxtaposition ensures full privacy. The water in the hot tub has been preheated, and there is a cloud of steam rising from it. As I stand and enjoy the view, Wick goes back inside to open a bottle of wine and bring it outside with two glasses.
“Isn’t it a bit cold to drink that out here?” I ask, as I shiver in the damp cold.
He walks past me and sets everything down on the small table near the hot tub.
“Not if we’re in here,” he says, as he begins to undress.
Holy shit. My heart.
In no time flat, he is standing in front of me, buck naked, and it’s a beautiful sight. The vista behind him should bow down in defeat. His eyes twinkle mischievously, and he hops in the warm water. Even though it’s bone chilling out, the man has an impressive cock. I could have guessed that based on how many times I’ve seen it tent his pants.
He lets out a cross between a low growl and a scream when his body hits the water. He settles in, and motions for me to join him. I’m encouraged by this turn of events so soon. I hate the cold, so I rush over and make haste in removing my clothes. No time for a sexy striptease when it’s close to freezing. I let out a similar sound when I step into the water, which, at first, feels like it will slowly boil us to death. After a moment my body acclimates, and it feels like heaven. Wick comes and sits next to me and hands me my glass of wine.
“Here’s to you, me lovely lass, and to us,” he says as he clinks his glass to mine and, in one gulp, empties it. He reaches for the bottle, and refills it to the top.
I think he’s looking for some liquid courage, which is not the worst idea. I try to do the same, but it takes me quite a bit longer to down one glass. He finishes the first bottle then runs like hell inside to get another. I’ve never seen him drunk, or even tipsy, since when we go out one of us has to drive and it’s usually him. Maybe this will act as the truth serum we could desperately use.
Turns out, it doesn’t make him talkative, it makes him horny, very horny, although, he has yet to touch any part of my naked body except for my arms and face. As his eyes begin to glaze over, a couple of bottles later, he takes my glass along with his and sets them down on the table, almost missing the mark.
He grabs me and pulls me to sitting on top of his lap, his semi-erect cock resting between our bodies. As soon as my body is against his, it goes from semi to full almost instantly. This is usually the time when he shuts his eyes and mentally forces it to go down. Not tonight. He’s enjoying the feeling of having a full cock up against my body. We’ve made leaps and bounds already, and we’ve only been here an hour. The possibilities for the weekend are looking bright.
He’s had so much wine, that he’s having some difficulty focusing on my face. He holds it between his hands, as much a gesture of intimacy as it is trying to hold it steady, and he gives me a warm, wet, wine-flavored kiss. I’m feeling the effects of the wine as well, so I give back just as much as he’s putting into it. It turns sloppy and sensual as we push our boundaries to a place we haven’t yet been before. I’m afraid to let something happen while he’s in this state, something he may want to wait for, but I’m powerless to stop right now.
He raises me up, just a little, so that my breasts are above the waterline. My nipples pucker against the harsh cold, but his warm mouth covers one breast and he suckles it until it’s smooth and pliable. He takes a turn on each side, and the sensation of alternating cold and heat is exhilarating. I may orgasm if he continues to tease me like this. I feel his marble-hard cock rubbing against my clit, and I feel a familiar sensation begin to rise. I feel powerless against what’s happening inside my body, and I want my release to wash over me. He suddenly halts all movement, and brings his head up from my breast to my face. He closes his eyes, and presses his forehead against mine. He stays still for a long while. My angered, tortured body is trying to forcefully wiggle against his for some form of relief, but his cock has gone down. He holds me with both arms wrapped around me like a vise, and his head presses hard into mine.
We were so close; I don’t know how he can physically stop himself like that. I’ve never known any man to have that type of control.
I try to whisper above the noise of the hot-tub jets, but it comes out more like a scream.
“What happened, Wick? Help me understand why you do this?” It sounds as if I’m mad, but I’m really not. I’m just buzzed and frustrated and I want answers.
He doesn’t release me, he grabs me tighter as he stands and steps out of the hot tub. It’s frigid out, so he carries me with purpose back inside the villa. He continues to walk to the bedroom, and I think he may be ready. Instead, he walks us to the bathroom and, with one hand, grabs the robe off the hook on the wall. He wraps it around us and walks to the bed. He had lit a fire when we came in earlier, so that’s the only light in the room and it’s throwing shadows on us.
He throws back the big down covers of the bed, and lowers us in together, still wrapped in the large plush robe, and pulls the mound of blankets over us. He hugs me tighter to his chest and falls sound asleep. He’s done for the night.
The bedroom window faces east, and our eyes are assaulted by the sunrise. We left the blinds open, not even thinking about the morning. It’s so beautiful. The sun is sparkling off the water, and the sky is dark pink and orange. My head is fuzzy from the night before, but I remember every minute of it. I felt like I was on the brink of orgasm for an extended period of time. I never came, but my arousal was satisfying on it’s own. That’s the closest we’ve come to intercourse yet. I really thought it would happen. I was sitting on his erect cock for an hour: A slight move to the left or right, and we would have had sex. One thing I know for sure about Wick by now, is that nothing happens without measured thought. Spontaneous hot tub sex would have been an accident and, I think, a mistake.
He leaps out of our warm nest to close the blinds. I’m really enjoying the view of him dancing around in the cold trying to get back to the bed as fast as possible.
“I’ll pay you one million dollars to go and make the coffee,” h
e says, laughing, the cold air getting under the blankets and making me scream.
“I take it we didn’t turn the heat on last night? Maybe we should have added a few more logs to the fire, too. I’ve needed to use the restroom for the last hour, but I hate the cold!”
He kisses my forehead, and grabs the robe that’s tangled deep in our blankets. He makes quick work of stoking the embers and getting the fire started back up, heads to the kitchen and makes a pot of coffee, and then cranks up the furnace.
“Well, all that work got me blood started. You stay put; I’ll make some breakfast.”
He takes off the robe and tosses it on the bed for me, as he throws on some thick sweatpants and a sweater. The robe is warm, and it smells like him. I put on a pair of his thick socks and make my way to the ice-cold bathroom. I can feel the tile through my feet and socks, and it travels up my spine.
I’m a little surprised I feel as well as I do. I’ve been waiting for the red wine headache to kick in, and so far, nothing. Maybe it was the chilled air, and the relaxing hot water last night, but I feel wonderful.
I clean my face and brush my teeth to try and look tumbled-out-of-bed beautiful, but it’s not happening. I still look like I got drunk in a hot tub. I go looking for Wick in the living area and see him out on the patio talking on his phone. That’s unusual for him; he always lets calls go to voicemail when we’re together. He could be calling to make plans for us today, but I hope not. For all I care, they can drag us out when summer starts.
His voice is loud; it sounds as if he’s yelling at someone. Other than at the football game where we had to shout above the noise, I’ve never heard him raise his voice.
“…Look, I told you I was going away this weekend … no, you don’t need to know where. I know, and I’m sorry about that. I love you, too,” he says as he lowers the phone.
Jesus, he’s married. How could I be so stupid? Maybe he thinks that if he doesn’t have sex, it’s not cheating. I feel like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs, I can’t breathe. I make a run for the bathroom, and shut the door. I try to get my heart rate under control, but its beating so fast I can see it through my shirt. It all makes sense now.
“Becca, love? Are you OK?” he calls out to me.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second,” I say trying to mask the panic in my voice.
I emerge holding my head high, waiting to see what he does next.
“I made you some coffee. Want some eggs?”
“What the fuck is going on, Wickham? I heard you on the goddamned phone.” So much for subtlety. I can’t proceed another minute in this relationship without answers.
His face pales.
“What did you hear, Rebecca?”
“I heard you tell someone that you were away, and that you loved them. I also heard you yelling, which is not like you. Of course, how would I know? You haven’t opened up to me about anything. Is this, us, all a big lie?”
He looks relieved. He starts to approach me, then stops. I’m sure I look like a rabid, cornered cat that would not be advisable to take a poke at.
“Becca, I’m sorry. I …”
“That’s all I seem to get from you, Wick, is ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Well, stop being sorry and explain this shit!”
Now he looks pissed. We’ve hopped around some strong emotions already this morning and the sun is barely up.
“Listen, Rebecca, I know you’ve been patient. I was nervous last night, and it didn’t exactly go as I’d hoped. Let’s start today fresh, OK?”
“I’m waiting, Wick. If you don’t start talking about what that phone conversation was about, I’m out of here.”
“That was me mum. I go by there whenever I can, and she was confused, she thought I was coming today. If it sounded like I was angry, it’s only because she doesn’t hear very well,”
Oh. Shit.
“Wick, it’s time to talk.”
~Part Two~
Wickham Dunmore
Chapter 11
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” I shout as I shoot cum inside pretty Miss Wendy, or whatever the fuck her name is. Can’t very well respect a girl willing to fuck you in the high school parking lot during lunch break. “Clean yourself up, and get goin’. I don’t want to be late for practice.”
“Mr. Dunmore and Miss Firth. I believe you’re both supposed to be at lunch, and not out here steaming up car windows. Miss Firth, go see Mrs. Brown, she’s expecting you,” Mr. Thomas, the assistant principal, says, as he waits for her to run back to campus. “Mr. Dunmore, we need to have a chat. Follow me.”
Fuck.
I can’t be busted again. My parents will disown me. This makes the third time I’ve been caught having sex at school. What teenage boy wouldn’t is my question. Just because they don’t go for it like I do, doesn’t mean they don’t want to. They’re just chicken shit.
News travels fast around here, and as Mr. Thomas and I walk to his office, I see my brother, Lachlan, is waiting for me.
“Get your shit together, Wickham. Mom and Dad don’t deserve this humiliation from you,” he says as he smacks the back of my head, and follows me to the office.
“Lachlan, we have this taken care of, thank you for caring about your brother. If he were a little more like you, we wouldn’t be having these issues,” the prick assistant principle says as he glares at me.
Lachlan looks at me, then back at Mr. Thomas.
“OK, Mr. Thomas. Wick, I’ll be waiting for you at practice.”
Lachlan leaves, and gently closes the door. He knows how much shit I’m in.
“Listen to me, you little shit. The play-offs are coming and your brother needs you, is the only reason I’m not calling your parents and having you suspended. You’re too smart for your own good, and this behavior has got to stop. What if that girl claimed rape? What if she gets embarrassed and says you forced her? Then you’re looking at criminal charges. Wise up, son. Keep your dick in your pants until you get to college,” he says, as he points to the door.
He doesn’t want the hassle of calling my parents like he did the last time this happened. Anyway, I think he’s still scared shitless of my dad, who had begun beating on me before we’d even left Mr. Thomas’ office. The bastards’s right, though. Lachlan needs me out there to catch the game for him; he starts on Saturday. He’s committed to Illinois to play ball there, but there will be scouts from the Majors at these play-offs. They’ve been watching him since he was in ninth grade.
I’m good, but my reputation precedes me. The scouts see how many disciplinary actions I’ve have had handed to me, and shy away. Illinois has expressed interest since they’ve seen how well Lach and I work together. The added benefit of him being my babysitter works in my favor, too.
* * *
I manage to graduate, much to the thrill of my teachers, and head down to join Lach at Illinois. Mr. Thomas was right. From the minute I stepped on campus, my dick has been hard. All these pretty girls in one place, and now I’m free to fuck them all, and fuck them I will.
The first week of school, Lachlan’s fraternity has a blowout party. It’s meant to get potential pledges interested, but for me it’s College 101, How to Party.
I begin pounding beers at noon, so by ten, I’m blitzed and horny as fuck. There’s a curvy blond who’s been following me around all night, and she’s about to get her wish. I walk over to her, and kiss her right on the lips. She’s flattered, like most girls are when I show interest, and she follows me up the stairs to one of the bedrooms. When I open the door, I see there’s already someone fucking on the bottom bunk, so I throw her onto the top. She’s giggling and trying to talk to me, but all I want is her pussy.
I can usually talk most girls out of their underwear in under a minute flat. She’s pretty drunk, so she starts to undress right away. She has firm, round tits and a trimmed pussy. This isn’t her first time, thank God. Virgins are the worst. I just want to fuck, not walk them through it.
I fumble for the condom in my pocket, which I always have on me. I deftly roll it down my sizable cock, then I push her knees up to her chest and shove it in. Damn, that feels fucking great. She keeps talking to me, and I’m trying my best to focus on her cunt. I fuck her hard as I suck her tits, and she has great fucking tits. I rub my face all over them, and she moans and arches her back. I begin to come and I push harder into her until I’m as deep inside as I can be. I pump my load, again and again, until I’m completely drained.
I pull out, and toss the condom over the side of the bed. The couple below us aren’t happy about it. I don’t know whose bed this is, but I roll over and fall asleep. I fucking love college.
I start to develop quite the reputation during my freshman year. By May, I’ve managed to fuck my way through the female dorms and most of the sororities. It goes without saying, I’ve left some unhappy women in my wake. During baseball season, I learned how to hide after the games when one of them is looking for me. There are only two reasons they ever look for me. The first is to try to fuck me again, the second is to get my head on a platter. Lachlan has tried his best to keep me on the straight and narrow, but he gave up. As long as I show up for practice, classes, and games, he doesn’t bother me about it.
Even though we didn’t make it to the playoffs, Lachlan had a really good season. A scout for the White Sox has had his eye on Lach for a while, and approaches him after the season. They want him to tryout for the team. He’ll probably end up in their farm league somewhere, but it’s an incredible opportunity and I’m happy for him.
Lach’s a great guy, and an even better brother. The number of times he should have rightfully beaten the shit out of me, or taken one from Dad for me, I’ve lost track. I’ve always got his back, but he’s never needed me to come to his rescue. Everyone who meets Lachlan, loves him. If I had a dime for each time someone has told me that I should be more like my brother, I’d be living on an island with girls feeding me coconuts. The kicker is that they’re right. I’d kill to have the focus and drive that he has, instead of always following my dick around.
