by Selena Kitt
Strong fingers cover my breast. He squeezes, I love the constriction.
“Do you like that?” he asks, his hot breath washes over the wet spot he left where he just kissed.
I shiver and break out in gooseflesh.
“Yes,” I breathe out. I like it. I like everything he is doing.
His hand leaves my breast. It travels down my stomach, between us. Then he lifts my dress, pushing it up to my waist.
I hold my breath with anticipation. I even spread my thighs for him. He touches me, there, and cups my sex.
He groans that scratchy, sexy groan of his, “You’re so wet.”
My hips lift off the bed, pushing my sex against the palm of his hand.
Now I know I’m dreaming. I expected awkwardness when we first met. I assumed it would be a little difficult, gluing together what I knew of him, his voice, his thoughts, his consciousness, and making it stick to the real life person.
But I still haven’t seen him.
He’s still the voice, he’s still the entity I’ve mentally created. So far, I don’t have to adjust my perception of him to match the reality of him. I don’t have to suffer any disappointment.
I’m going to enjoy every minute of this.
I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex once. It was an awkward, painful, fumbling affair after senior prom. It was two teenagers doing it without knowing what the hell they were doing. I think, at least, it was good for him.
“I have to taste you.”
I’ve never done oral before. I’ve never had oral done to me. I’ve never had a guy with his face down there. I’m horny as hell but freaked out about it. I rather just have him inside me in the way I know.
“Wait, what?” I say but my butt is lifting off the bed and he’s sliding my panties off me.
I feel weight against my thighs, spreading me, opening me wider. My eyes strain in the darkness, trying so hard to see. What is he doing down there? Should I stop him?
His tongue drags along me, hot and wet. His tongue travels along my folds then across my swollen clit.
Oh. My. God.
Intense and extreme sensation. I’ve never felt anything like it before. I didn’t know pleasure like this even existed.
Then he’s doing it again. Slowly, his tongue drags against me. I’m dying. This must be what death feels like. It’s way too much, way too intense. I can’t handle it.
I want to push him away, I feel like I should push him away but my hands have their own ideas. My fingers tangle into his hair. They grab, they try to pull him into my sex.
His tongue moves faster. First, it laps at me. Then it’s flattening, pressing, savoring. He sucks me into his mouth. I cry out and shudder. He’s sucking my clit.
He has to stop, I’m going to die. My mind knows I can’t handle much more of this. My body doesn’t care, it can’t get enough of it. Overloading, overwhelming me with burning, liquid sensation.
There’s pressure, so much pressure. It just keeps building and building inside me. Am I expanding? How much more of this can I withstand?
I don’t understand what’s happening. This is so different than what happens when I’m alone, exploring myself on my own time. It feels as if I just jumped off a cliff. I’m free falling. Falling, falling, I’m going to crash. I’m going to break. I explode.
I cry out, my body convulses. His fingers are digging into my thighs, keeping my legs open for him. His mouth covers me, swallows me, and devours me until I’m done coming all over him.
Floating back down, between the darkness and the mind blowing orgasm, I’m disoriented. I don’t realize what he’s doing.
My dress flies over my head. Cool air hits my skin. I start to catch my breath, coming down. I hear him fumbling around. What is he doing?
“AJ?” I ask.
I sense him still, “Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
“Putting on protection.”
“Oh.”
We are really going to do this, have sex the first time we’ve met. I still haven’t seen his face. My eyes are growing accustomed to the dark. He appears above me. I stare up at him, focusing on his face.
I know his voice. I know this is the man I’ve been talking to. But is that the face above me that he’s lead me to believe that is him. What is he hiding? Why are we in the dark?
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.
He’s hovering above me. I sense him tense.
I reach up for him, my arms wrap around his neck. I pull his face down to me. My mouth answers him with a kiss.
I just can’t get enough. I’ve been so lonely on my own these past few months. I’ve been traveling a desert and he’s the blessed oasis.
I desperately need this human connection. I desperately need him. I’ve spent night after night fantasizing what it would be like to be with him. What it would be like to make love to him.
I want him inside more than anything I’ve ever wanted before.
His body follows his face. His weight settles on top of me. I gasp feeling his naked skin against my skin.
The kiss deepens. His tongue distracts me as his hairy thigh nudges my legs open once again. When did I close them?
Then I feel him, hard, thick, and pushing against me, seeking entrance. I’m so wet, he just slides on in. I moan into his mouth as he stretches me. I feel so full with him inside me.
He starts to withdraw. The friction, oh my God, the friction. He drives into me suddenly, hard and fast, stealing my breath.
He holds himself there for the briefest, most lovely moment. We’re completely connected now. I feel all of me wrapping around him, molding around him. He’s touching the deepest part of me. He’s touching me like no one else has.
He kisses me. His lips claim mine just as his body has, hard and fast.
Then he’s groaning, “I love you, Hailey,” and slamming his cock into me again.
My nails rake his flesh. I lose myself in the moment, let myself get swept away in the emotion, in the sensation. I let go again.
AJ is a man possessed, something has come over him. I cry out his name. I buck beneath him. The sounds of our skin slapping together becomes a melody to my moaning chorus.
There’s too much pressure, there’s too much pleasure. I can’t contain any of it. I’m exploding again.
It’s as if I’m dying, I’m reborn, and then I’m dying again. I can’t fight it. I can’t control it. I can only survive it.
I’m clutching at him with my hands and with my sex. My inner walls spasm and pull him deeper in. Wet, there’s so much wetness.
He grunts as he hammers away at me. Then I feel him swelling, pulsing. His thrusts slow and deepen. He rolls his hips, grinding against my clit. Then he’s grunting and telling me he fucking loves me as he experiences his own orgasm.
I hold him until the last tremor passes.
We catch our breath, he slides out. I feel cold as he leaves me. I hear him messing about and assume he’s discarding the condom. Then I blink and he’s back, pulling me into him, rolling until we’re now spooning in bed.
I fall asleep listening to him breathing. Sometime during the night he wakes me up by kissing my neck. We make love again with him behind me in the spooning position. We fall back asleep both blissfully sated.
Chapter Seven
When morning comes, I feel refreshed. I feel like a new woman. I can’t wait to get my first glimpse of him.
AJ is still holding me, he hasn’t let me go all night. His naked front is molded and sticking to my naked back. He must still be sleeping. He’s breathing deeply, slightly snoring.
I glance over my shoulder to get my first glimpse of him. At first I can’t believe it.
I gasp. Oh, my God. I muffle my mouth with my hand. I don’t want to wake him
Carefully I lift his arm, scoot away, and then gently lower it. Slowly I inch my way off the bed.
My black dress is on the floor, I grab it. I turn around, clutching the dress to my chest.
Please, let it be a trick of my eyes, please let it be a mistake I think before I look at him again.
A bright beam of sunlight shines in through the curtains. His face is clearly illuminated. Even asleep he’s breathtakingly handsome. It’s Andrew, there’s no mistaking it, but it doesn’t make any sense!
I have to get out of here. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to keep from running. I tiptoe out of his room as fast as I can. I left my shoes. Screw them. I only stop briefly when I spot my purse and only because I need my phone and my cash.
I make it to the elevator and start jamming the button. Come on, elevator come on. It dings and then I hear him.
“Hailey?” Andrew calls out.
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
The elevator doors slide open, I jump in.
“Hailey?” he calls out again and appears from around the corner.
The elevator doors start to close. I’m jamming the button. I don’t care if my finger breaks.
He starts running, he’s still completely butt naked. It’s such a silly sight, him naked, running for me through his extravagant penthouse apartment.
The doors close and the elevator starts to move. I let out a relieved breath.
After slipping my dress over my head, reality starts to set in.
I start laughing, hysterically laughing. The universe’s humor is seriously sick. The man of my dreams just turned out to be my stepbrother. I slept with him!
AJ is really Andrew. I totally got catfished.
The End
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Wet Dream Come True by Kelly Haven
Peyton was a slut, plain and simple. Scott had always thought his stepsister was a dirty little whore, throwing herself at every guy on the football team and the rumors about what went on in the locker room after games were almost more than he could stand.
Mondays after the big game were always difficult, with random people he’d never even met before calling out, “I heard your sister blew the whole defensive line last night, Scotty. Does she give good head?”
“How the fuck should I know? And she’s not my sister!”
God forbid anyone think she was his actual sister, especially after rumors started to circulate about Peyton bending over so the calculus teacher, Mr. Fink, could pump her full of extra credit.
The day he’d heard that one, he couldn’t stop staring in disbelief while they were at the dinner table. She hadn’t even been eighteen for two weeks, so he couldn’t even imagine how she’d pulled that off... And Scott had always though Mr. Fink was a pretty cool guy. The thought of the stiff-lipped mathematician ramming his stepsister from behind was enough to make him feel queasy and he’d excused himself from dinner without even touching his food.
Later that night, while lying on his bed trying to do his math homework, all the numbers seemed to mock him, especially the wide-yawning zeros. Frustrated, he slammed the book shut and looked up just in time to notice Peyton hovering in his doorway in nothing but a towel.
“What are you doing, you little freak?”
“I’d tell you to fuck off, but rumor has it you already did.”
The upturned button of her nose crinkled in dismay. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“I heard about you and Mr. Fink, Peyton. Really? A teacher? The rumors about you and the football team are bad enough, but now all anyone in school can talk about is you can Mr. Fink.”
“Somebody sounds jealous,” she cooed, stepping into the room.
“Get out of my room, slut.”
“What are you gonna do, Scotty? Tell your daddy on me?”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll tell him what all the kids at school are saying.”
“You won’t,” the towel slipped as she shrugged. She barely caught it in time, revealing a small glimpse of round, bubble-gum pink nipple that sent shock waves of confusion rumbling through Scott’s body.
He jolted upright defensively and growled, “Get the fuck out of my room, now!”
The smug grin melted from Peyton’s face and for a moment there was a fire in her eyes unlike any Scott had ever seen before. She pinched her lips together so tight, for a minute all the color seemed to drain from them, and then she huffed and tucked her towel tighter before storming from his room. He heard her stomping feet slap down the hallway and waited for her door to slam. When it did, the entire house rattled, giving him a great deal more satisfaction than he probably should have had.
He jumped up from his bed and closed his own door. Clicking the lock into place, he returned to his bed and flopped down. He would be so happy when they were both at college in a few months and he could escape the nasty association with Peyton that had brought him so much grief at school. Slamming his book shut with a sigh, he tossed it onto his bedroom floor and lay back in the bed. Soon, he would be free from Peyton and maybe make some actual friends.
Closing his eyes, he let himself daydream of the future. College parties, all those pretty girls, maybe he’d even join a fraternity. He could be cool there, make his own name. He could let himself forget about Peyton and her nipple slips and locker room gangbangs. How did one even participate in a gangbang anyway? A girl only had so many holes; Scott was pretty sure of that, even if he was still a virgin himself.
The whole notion of his stepsister posing like some dirty prayer queen while a bunch of guys sprayed fountains of cum all over her naked body was... intriguing. He could almost see her reaching up tentative fingers and swiping a taste into her mouth, her pink tongue dancing in circles as she lapped at the sticky white offering until her fingers were clean.
No, he corrected his wandering mind. That was disgusting. Yes, it was gross, and the twitch of excitement he felt in his cock was just a reaction. The same type of reaction he got when he was watching porn on his laptop. It was natural, even if the face in his fantasy had momentarily been Peyton’s.
Rolling onto his side, he ignored the tingling excitement he felt in his groin and let his mind wander back to calculus. It wasn’t long before he was imagining Mr. Fink bending Peyton over his desk again, slamming her hard from behind while breathy oohs and ahs escaped the carefully pursed o of her lips. As the fantasy took on a mind of its own, the body hammering into his sister’s melted and changed and Scott began imagining himself pounding her juicy pink pussy himself.
His cock hardened, springing to life and bulging against the loose fabric of his pajama bottoms like a tent pole. He lowered his hand slowly over the bulge, gripping his girth through his pants and gently stroking the length with his fingers until he was rock hard and aching for release. It took a bit of finagling, but he worked himself out of the hole in the front and gritted his teeth against the delicious feel of his own soft palm against the sensitive skin of his head as he tenderly squeezed.
He let his mind keep playing on that fantasy. Peyton ass up and bent over the teacher’s desk, her snatch glistening with clear nectar and winking as she clenched her muscles in anticipation of his stiff cock slipping through her puffy folds. Scott couldn’t deny the appeal of that notion, of sliding his throbbing head through that slippery invitation until it was dripping with her juices. He saw himself probing like an amateur at her hole while she wriggled her hips to entice him to take the plunge.
Scott had always wondered what it felt like... if the warm, moist muscles squeezed gently... if girls really liked to be pounded away at hard and fast. As much as the thought of Peyton fucking everything that moved disgusted him, he found himself intrigued by her experience, turned on by the idea of overcoming her unexpectedly and taking her against her will. She’d never see him coming, and maybe she would protest at first, but once she felt
him battering from behind to get inside her, she’d relax and give in and show him how it was really done.
His cock was pulsing with need and his gentle squeezing became an almost frantic whacking. He jerked hard, pulling and tugging at the throbbing head each time he stroked to the end of his length, then relaxed to softly drive back down to his balls. He reached down with this other hand and began playing with those balls, rolling them between his fingers, squeezing and pulling at them, imagining Peyton hovering over them, licking her moist lips in anticipation before drawing the goose-fleshed skin into her mouth to suckle.
