The Truth About Numbnuts and Chubbs

by Cat Kelly

  * * * *

  Warm waves from the heating vent blew against her pussy and her bare bottom. She started to sweat. His long fingers now massaged around her clit with skill, not quite touching it directly. Just teasing. Still riding the wave of an intense orgasm, Bry didn't want to think too long about where he gained his experience, but she supposed she ought to be grateful to whichever bold woman had shown him the way and saved her the trouble.

  The window was cool against her back and she took advantage of that to keep from exploding in a fireball. She could no longer hear the icy rain rattling the glass. There was only her racing heartbeat and his shattered breathing.

  Ben dropped to his knees, pushing her thighs wider apart with his hands.

  Oh, god!

  If he did that, she'd be lost. She'd be—

  His mouth touched her inner thigh in a soft kiss. First one side and then the other. She gripped her dress where it was bunched around her waist. She daren't take it all off yet. Too self-conscious at the last minute.

  But part of her wanted to pull it off over her head and give herself up completely to the savage lust writhing through her like a wicked snake. Ben Petruska tempted her to throw caution to the four winds. A stronger part of Bryony, however, clung to her dress as if it was her shield in battle.

  His lips brushed over her pussy and she held her breath. Slowly his tongue swept between her labia. Once, twice, three times. A hard gust of wind flung rain at the window behind her. Ben set his mouth over her slit and thrust his tongue deeper, faster. She exhaled, grabbed his hair, held on.

  She was coming again already.

  His hands grabbed her butt, lifted her onto his mouth and Bryony melted around his tongue, her pussy walls squeezing, contracting hard. She knew she must be creaming. He made a low, excited sound, muffled between her thighs, and then diligently lapped up every trickle. Bry's sex was so sensitive then, her orgasm so deep, that yet another, smaller tremor followed.

  Aftershock, she thought drowsily. Must be. No way did he just give her three orgasms in a row.

  Ben stood between her legs, hooked her knees over his arms and entered her with his thick cock. In only one solid thrust he was deep and she was filled. Finally he stripped off his open shirt, tossing it to the hardwood floor with the rest of his clothing and he fucked her with a hard, steady rhythm, looking down between their bodies, as she did, watching the wild coupling. When she looked up there was fire in his dark, passionate gaze and she was burned by it, melted like wax.

  His forceful shaft stretched her, possessed her. Like a sleek, well-oiled piston it worked in and out of her body. She shuddered as more waves of heat floated upward. The ridges of the air vent were no doubt marking her cheeks with red lines, but what did she care?

  Ben took her nipple between his firm lips again. He sucked a little but not hard, just enough to keep the peak damp and roused. She felt his teeth gently tease her areola, his tongue flicking at the swollen bud slowly, gently until she wanted to scream. Finally, just when she thought she'd have to beg, he began to suckle harder at her nipple, closing his hard lips around it.

  His lower body worked tirelessly, every ridge of his long cock tickling her pussy, stroking her inner walls. She could hear the wetness of their bodies joining, could smell sex, thick and heavy in the air. Even deeper he impaled her now, rocking her body, his knees knocking into the wall below her.

  Then he stilled. His head went back and she saw the thick muscles straining taut in his neck. His hot cum poured into her, his fingers digging into her ass cheeks, his balls emptying their load just as he emptied a long, contented growl from somewhere inside his being.

  And only then, as she felt another orgasm flutter through her pussy, did Bryony realize their utter stupidity.

  No condom.

  What on earth had she been thinking? For the first time in her entire adult life she'd been thoughtless and completely irresponsible.

  So had he.

  Chapter Five

  He wanted to see her in bra and panties—the way he'd fantasized. Fortunately she'd stopped clinging to her dress and let him do what he wanted now with very little persuading. She had a great ass for those lace "cheeky" panties. They weren't red, as he'd imagined, but pink. Close enough.

  The shelf-bra was just right. His hands were shaking so much he could barely get the clasp snapped and she squirmed about, complaining his breath tickled her neck.

  "Now walk around the bed," he said huskily, planting a kiss on her shoulder. "While I watch."

  "And give me orders?"

  "Exactly." Grinning he leaned back on the bed, stark naked, head propped up on his arms. "Go ahead. I want to see you walk." She still wore her thigh high stockings and, at his insistence, had put her heels back on. "I love to look at you in lingerie. Ready for me. For my eyes only."

  "Who do you think you are?"

  "Benedick Petruska. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

  With a heavy sigh, Bryony got off the bed and walked as he instructed, hands on her waist. "Just remember this is one night only. The last time I'll ever obey your commands."

  "Not too fast," he exclaimed. "Slow down so I can appreciate every inch."

  "For Christ's sake, Petruska." But she was trying not to laugh. He saw the dimple in her cheek. The one on her face.

  "Your ass has just the right amount of wiggle," he muttered. "And your breasts have a magnificent bounce. You're a work of art, Mulligan. Everyone at that gallery was looking at the wrong thing tonight."

  She laughed. "Thanks. Is this an audition?"

  "Sure. Do you want the job?"

  "As what? I didn't know you owned any strip joints."

  He paused, ringed the base of his erect dick with his fingers and then said, "As my mistress."

  She flicked hair out of her face and looked down at him on the bed. "You don't have a wife. How can you have a mistress?"

  "I'm married to my work. I want a mistress who'll be at my disposal, so to speak. Who will be mine exclusively and whose only task is to make me happy." He knew he pushed his luck with her, but hey, if he didn't ask he didn't get. And Ben didn't beat around bushes, he plowed through them. "Who won't complain at the hours I put in or the traveling I do. Who won't ever have a headache when I want sex. Who will be ready for me whenever and wherever I want her."

  "Keep dreaming, Numbnuts. You were born in the wrong century."

  "You asked me. I answered. That's what I want. I'm not sugar-coating a thing."

  Turning again, she walked back around his bedroom, a slight sway of her hips telling him she was getting into the role. He stroked his cock, thinking how she felt when he sheathed it deep in her pussy. How she moaned and arched. Her cream was so sweet. He could get addicted, he realized. As he stared at her panties he saw the darkening at the crotch where she was damp. Could be her own juice or his, slipping out of her. His shaft thickened under his palm at the thought of his seed filling her to overflowing. Again, it was a primal urge that made him want to spend deep in her. Over and over.

  She'd reprimanded him about the lack of condom, of course, and he had a box in his bedside drawer ready for use. Why he'd forgotten them in this case was obvious. At least to him. When a man suddenly had a dream fuck come true he didn't think about the practicalities or the risks.

  And she was ready to shout at him, but where were her logical brain cells earlier?

  "Walk over here," he commanded. "Put your heel up on the bed so I can look at your panties."

  To his surprise she obeyed. Oh yes, she must be enjoying this game, because Ms. Bryony Mulligan did not follow orders. Generally. That made this night of games doubly enjoyable.

  Definitely a darker patch spreading over the pink cotton. Nice.

  "Put one hand down your panties and rub your cunt for me."

  "Why?"

  His throat was tight when he tried to swallow. "Just do it." His gaze fixed on her crotch. "I want to see how wet you are."

  Bryony slowly
slipped her hand down her belly, taking her time, teasing. He leaned up on one arm for a closer look. Her fingers moved under the lace and he watched as she touched her sex. Her breathing had changed, her eyes narrowed as she looked down at him. Ben didn't know how long his cock could wait before claiming that fine pussy again. He was trying his best to be polite about it, but frankly he wanted to fuck her brains out.

  "Your nipples are hard under that bra," he observed sternly. "You're very aroused, young lady."

  "Yes."

  "Did I say you could be?"

  "No." Apparently she tried to frown, but must have found it difficult in her current state. Her nipples were dark and distended. Her pussy, he knew instinctively, was ripening. He watched her fingers moving faster under her panties.

  He raised his chin and sniffed. "Are you nearly coming again? You're in heat."

  She moaned softly, her lips rolling inward, her eyelids half closed.

  Ben sat up fast, grabbed her wrist and tugged her hand out of her panties. "No you don't. Not yet."

  Her satiny red lips pouted. "Why?" The breathless word shot out of her like a hot spark from a boiling kettle.

  "Cos I said so," he replied smoothly. Ben Petruska had mastered women before. He was very much the dominant member of any sexual encounter, but recently it had become dull. No woman was much of a challenge any more.

  And then there was this one, appearing back in his life suddenly.

  He would master contrary Bryony Mulligan if it was the last thing he did.

  Pulling her hand closer, he licked her wet fingers, then drew them into his mouth and sucked. His pulse thumped hard through his body and his balls felt heavy, ready to explode again. Her musk filled the air, invaded his senses. Kneeling up on the bed he turned his attention to her tits, forcing his hands under the bra cups and pushing her nipples up until they sat perkily on the frilled edge of lace. Little offerings, like dainty, sugary decorations on iced cupcakes. His fingers slid back down over her stomach and he felt her harsh, unsteady breaths. Yes, indeed, she was highly aroused. He pulled her panties up higher so that the cotton crotch wedged into her damp slit and the lace into the crack of her bottom. He knew that would rub on her most sensitive spot as she walked, cause more pressure to build. With one finger he stroked her cleft through the bunched material and felt how sopping wet it was. "Now walk around the bed again."

  "Why?"

  "If you don't," he looked up into her eyes, "I'll tell Helena exactly where you spent the night. That you've been a bad girl."

  "You wouldn't dare."

  He smirked slowly. "Wouldn't I?"

  "She'd never believe you."

  "Do you want to take that chance?"

  Finally she obeyed, walking faster this time, enjoying the sensation evidently, of the panties riding up her crotch and him watching. She pretended to do it because he bribed her, but she wouldn't do it if she didn't want to; he knew that too well. He'd just given her a reason to justify it to herself.

  He sat back on his haunches. "I can see your pussy lips. They look swollen Mulligan and very, very pink." There was also a shiny wetness on her inner thigh.

  She turned in her high heels and walked toward him. Between gritted teeth, she muttered, "I'm taking these off now."

  "Not until I say so."

  "Right." She rolled her eyes.

  "Is your cunt aching for me?"

  "No."

  "Goddam liar. I can see it throbbing from here. Look at me. Look at my dick." He showed her the bead of pre-cum. "Are you as hot for me as I am for you?"

  "Damn you, Petruska."

  "Stand there."

  Bryony stopped at the side of the bed, hands on her waist still.

  He began to work his cock with both hands, staring at her roused body while he did so. "Bend over."

  "Let me suck you." She was looking at his cock as if she wanted to put mustard on it and swallow it whole.

  "No!" He knew he'd spend too soon again if he let her perform oral sex. "Turn around and bend over."

  With an irritated gasp, she spun around and bent at the waist.

  "Spread your legs." He leaned in and grabbed the wet crotch of her underwear. Between his teeth.

  * * * *

  She heard him sucking the moisture from her panties and then the sound of stitches breaking as he ripped them off her body, pulling with his teeth.

  "Hey!" She almost toppled over in her five inch heels. "Those weren't cheap."

  "I want this ass." He slapped it and she fell against the bed. Barely did she have the chance to steady herself on her hands and knees than she felt the cool lube squeezed into her ass. This time he remembered a condom. The torn, empty package landed on the bed cover beside her and then she felt his cockhead.

  "Don't you ask permission, Petruska?" she groaned.

  He leaned over her spine, his breath hot on the nape of her neck. "Can I fuck you, Mulligan? Do you want my cock inside you again? Filling you, rutting you, coming hard?"

  Not much she could say to that. Except. "Hurry up then."

  Ben pushed his finger into her ass and then she felt his tongue again, slipping up and down her quaking pussy. She laid the side of her face to the bed and spread her legs wider, sticking her ass high. The need to have him inside was so greedy it was almost painful. It made her belly ache. As he eased a second lubed finger through the tight rim of her asshole, his tongue curled inside her vagina and his lips closed over her sex, steadily sucking the juice out of her. Bryony groaned, rocking on her knees and elbows, her hot cheek sliding over his silky bedcover. The pressure in her sex was almost unbearable, the need to be filled dominating every other consideration, and his fingers in her ass only multiplied the sense of emptiness in her cunt.

  "Come for me," he whispered, his lips moving against her swollen, roused labia, his breath slipping inside her body. "I can't get enough of this pussy." Her kissed her and flicked his tongue in and out. "Come for me, baby. Yes, just like that. Just like that." He clamped his mouth over her cunt again and forced the full length of his tongue into her body. She felt his free arm fall over her arching back, holding her lower body still while he ravished it.

  When she heard the groaning scream she wasn't even sure it was her. Bryony Mulligan melted into the silk of that bedcover and he drank her up like a cocktail.

  * * * *

  His broad crest, clad in the sleek condom, pushed at her anus.

  "Yes," she cried out. "Fuck me!"

  "Glad to oblige." He was also glad he had no neighbors to hear all this or there might have been cops banging at his door by now. He could never have guessed Bryony Mulligan was a screamer.

  But boy did he like it.

  And she evidently enjoyed the little slaps with which he'd reddened her ass cheeks. She pushed back, pumping her hips at him, urging for more. She was a beautiful, wild cat.

  He was no longer so sure he wanted to master her. Some women should be left untamed, he mused. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud. Ben Petruska had a reputation to withhold.

  He began filling her sweet ass, half inch by half inch, pausing at times to let her adjust. Her gasps grew throatier and he watched her hands gripping the bedcover tighter as he plowed deeper. Ben tried to steady his breathing, but the excitement was too much. Leaning over her sweating back, he wrapped one arm around her waist and gave that last little push. Filling her. Possessing her. For a moment he waited, the blissful sensation of her ass hugging his cock making him burn with the desire to ram home hard, but natural good sense making it necessary to slow down, be considerate.

  He ran his free hand over her left ass cheek, cupped it, squeezed it, felt the throbbing squeeze intensify on his rock hard shaft.

  "Go balls deep in me," she gasped out. "I want all of it."

  Fuck.

  That was it.

  He pulled back an inch, resettled his knees on the bed and then thrust.

  She screamed out a, "Yes", although it sounded as if she had a mouthful of
silk.

  Ben let himself go, riding her glorious ass until the friction flared into a white hot spark and then he spent, firing his load with a last push that slapped his balls hard against her sticky cunt. She squealed and groaned breathlessly and he felt it vibrate through his dick. Just as he thought he was done, she moved under him, pushing back, hips swaying, her wet pussy rubbing on his sac as she came to her own peak. The soft trickle of her warm liquid honey, smeared on his balls, sent him to heaven again and he shook as yet another spurt of cum shot out of him and into the condom.

  * * * *

  Bryony woke abruptly. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but after the exhausting few hours in his company her body had won out over her brain and insisted on much needed rest.

  She sat up as carefully as possible so as not to disturb the man sprawled beside her on his stomach. They had not made it under the covers, but they were both naked. He snored softly, his face partially mashed into the pillow, dark eyelashes twitching. Ben Petruska still managed to look incredibly sexy, she thought almost angrily.

  After this she'd hoped to find him looking....normal. Looking like any other man, once the mystery was stripped away. Unfortunately it wasn't the case. If she sat there any longer gazing at his hard butt and muscular shoulders she'd probably feel the need to wake him and continue where they left off. Or say goodbye in some squishy way that would later make her cringe. Best slip out quietly. No awkward conversation that way. Really she needed a shower, but that would wake him for sure, so she dressed quickly, picked up her shoes and purse and tiptoed out into the main room of his apartment. It was getting light out already. The city outside his windows looked icy and miserable, sinking in grey dismal surrender to the bitterness of another winter. Grabbing her phone from the window ledge where she left it last night, she checked the time. Eight thirty. Shit. She'd be late for work.