by Teagan Kade
That was a thirty-dollar bra, I almost tell him, but I imagine he’s good for a replacement.
There are other, more pressing matters at hand.
It’s like I can’t breathe any longer. My body is tight and compressed. His cock is wedged against my mons and I don’t know how much more I can take. Above, my breasts are the perfect size for his hands, my nipples arrowheads against his palms.
He pulls a nipple taut between two fingers. It elongates from the rosy saucer below and I know there is no going back. This is not part of the article, but I want it to be part of my story, to at least say I was here, that I did this One Crazy Thing.
Peyton groans again and I realize how strange having a dominant alpha before me is. All my former lovers were weak, lights-off kind of guys where the entire thing was over in twenty seconds. Something tells me this is going to be quite different—an education.
He takes hold of my hand and brings it to his chest. As I expected, it’s like marble.
The sun flares outside again, the room slowly illuminating. I can see his cock in full now, completely hard, the head of it a sleek helmet. It’s insanely large. I’m starting to wonder how any blood actually gets to his brain.
I bite my lower lip hard, sitting up on my elbows and waiting breathlessly for first contact.
But I don’t want him to have all the control here.
Go for it.
I reach forward and take hold of his member, surprised by how hot it is in my hand, a molten rod of heated flesh.
“You sure?” he asks.
I nod, even though my head’s saying otherwise, telling me to back away now before I break something.
I dip my head and take him into my mouth, my lips closing around the shaft of his cock. I draw them down, a guttural groan following from above to mark Peyton’s approval.
I shift my weight over him, slide my lips further down the slippery length of his cock; it seems never-ending. There’s no way I can get all of him inside, so I use my tongue to lathe his shaft, flick the tip of it at his glans, my fingers firm around the root. The soapy, sweet taste of his skin is just as I imagined.
My hand lowers, balls weighing heavy in it. All the while that marble chest presses in and out, his breathing caught and released the more I consume him.
I take the head of his cock again and let it pop free, a faint bridge of spittle extending from my lips, backlit by the sun, before falling away into the limbo between us.
I try to grab him with a second hand, but he pushes me onto my back with a surprising assertiveness.
He straddles my chest, his tight scrotum hanging above my mouth. I love the way his cock looks above me, the way it lifts and jerks so eager to be back my mouth… or perhaps elsewhere.
He pulls together my hair into a loose ponytail and lifts my head up, guiding his cock back between my lips, thrusting into my mouth with a sharp shift of his hips.
He knows just how to control it, adding length until I can’t take any more and then drawing out. With every thrust my hair pulls lightly from my scalp, a tug there that adds to the taboo. It’s enough to turn me into a soaking mess below, a heated cornucopia of desire.
He thrusts faster. I’ve taken at least half of him, my lips ringed tight around his shaft as he goes, grunting and groaning and filling the air with nothing but satisfaction at the feel of my mouth.
It’s so intense. I know he’s building fast towards climax, and I could do it. I could almost bring myself to let him free in my mouth, but he draws away instead, the head of his cock sitting against my cheek wet and hot. “I need to be inside you,” he says. “Right. Fucking. Now.”
He shifts between my legs and my nerves are frayed beyond belief. But it’s when his head lowers between my thighs, when his lips press against my inflamed pussy, I lose it completely. I buck and quiver like an animal, spine kicking off the bed. And I know how wet I am, know how I must taste, but he doesn’t seem to care. He seems to relish it, his face buried into my most private of spaces.
And I love it.
I fucking love it.
He sucks on the bright crimson lips of my pussy, pulling each into his mouth, lapping at the fresh desire flowing from my core, letting it gather against his tongue before cleaving it deep inside me.
He moans against me, sweet vibrations running through my sex. His tongue moves long and flat, stroking up against my clit, splitting my folds on the way back and repeating the process until I realize I’m not saying his name, but screaming it, begging him for more.
My pussy tightens and I can’t stop it, that exquisite, unknown pressure bearing down on me.
His face is pressed hard against my swollen labia, his tongue constantly seeking and exploring, searching deeper and deeper within the slick compression of my sex. My clit’s engorged, everything hot and ready.
I can see the slippery sheen of desire on his lips and chin when he lifts himself away from me, can see the sinful smile there as he disappears back between my legs, slipping two fingers inside me, sawing them back and forth in my wetness until I’m near catatonic.
The sides of my thighs are slick and hot. I’ve never been this wet.
I tell him I want him inside me. I beg him for his cock, another person entirely.
He takes a moment to draw something from his back pocket, sheathe himself with a practiced hand.
He rises and leans forward to kiss me. I taste myself on his lips, the salty desire of my sex.
His cock presses up against me and I realize this is it.
It’s actually going to happen.
He doesn’t allow me to dwell on the thought, sliding deep into my pussy from the first stroke. He’s big, yes, but his cock seems to fill me perfectly, stretching out areas unseen. He draws back and thrusts forward, deeper now, my sex clamping down upon him, its walls tightening against the silky shaft of his cock.
My head goes slack and slumps against a pillow, Peyton shifting to kiss down the side of my neck, kissing at the pulse running there before licking up the side, gathering the sweat between my neck and shoulder, moving it until it reaches my hairline, flicking against the tip of my earlobe.
I’m hot and unhinged and totally into it. My body thrums from head to toe, static electricity sitting above my skin wherever he goes.
His cock runs deeper with every stroke, more and more of it plunging into me, sliding deep into that hot pocket of desire. He grunts from the effort, rising above me, heaving into my body with every thrust until I’m driven deep into the mattress, fucked with abandon.
I’m so lost in the sensation I don’t know what to do with my hands. They hold his hips and then move to his buttocks, feel them squeeze and tighten with every thrust inside me.
I look down between us, just enough to see the heated act of intercourse, the way the pink lips of my sex grip and pull at his cock.
He pulls free and flips me over with one hand, wasting no time pressing my back into the mattress with one hand, lifting my ass up with the other and running his cock back inside my hungry hole.
I close my eyes and then it’s only sound, texture and taste. My nipples are firm pebbles against the quilt, tight with awareness.
He pulls me back by the hips against him, always trying to drive deeper and further, unable to find the end of me.
A thumb slides down the crack of my ass, the stubborn fingerprint of it pressing against the tight button of my anus. It opens and closes against it, palpitating from the punishing I’m receiving below.
I spread my legs wide and he burrows deeper. I feel the spattering of hair around the root of his cock, moaning aloud, and I know I have somehow, magically, taken the full length of his cock.
I’m struggling for breath, panting, heart pounding against the quilt, my face caught in the cotton, and my core threatening to collapse and overwhelm me at any second.
I didn’t think it would be like this, scary and wonderful in equal measure.
In the heated seconds between each thrust I los
e myself completely in the act. He bears down upon my backside with his full weight, pulls back enough to slap at my raised buttock with his open hand.
It’s so naughty, so foreign it makes me hotter still. I ramp up quickly towards orgasm, my chest collapsing like an accordion, my skin soaked with sweat.
My sex squeezes around him, chocks him in the heat of my pussy. It does so involuntary, of its own will.
Every inch of him is inside me.
Filling me.
Claiming me.
I’m close… so, so close. I feel the familiar tug of orgasm now, waiting to crash into me. And yeah, my Magic Wand is great, but it pales in comparison to the real thing.
I announce as much, a garbled mess of syllables spilling from slack lips.
“Please,” I beg.
“You want to come?” Peyton pants.
“Yes,” I plead, forcing myself back against him. “Please. Please.”
“Okay,” he says, his thumb pressing forward into the tight squeeze of my anus.
It’s so unexpected, so surprising that for several moments I freeze, unable to work out what I should be doing. It’s my body that fills in the blanks.
He rises still higher above and thrusts as deep as he can, the ring of my asshole tightening around his thumb. He pulls back and I can barely breathe, my vision starting to bleed out from the edges, fuzzing up where there should be clarity.
He thrusts forward again and I know I’m almost done. It’s so exquisite, the feel of him, the heat…
He reaches around and strokes my clit with his fingers, my desire aiding the action.
I’m panting in short, sharp bursts, fucked into another dimension entirely. He tells me how much he loves it, but the words don’t sound dirty coming from his mouth.
They sound perfect.
“Come,” he demands, thrusting forward again.
“Come,” he says, more assertive.
I scream out, long and loud, thrown head-first into a cacophony of emotion and sensation, feel it overwhelm me and cast me once more back into the fire. My whole body convulses and shudders, wave after wave of pleasure consuming me.
He stops and jerks once, twice, before thrusting once more and groaning with his own release, a single, wet finger tapping against my clit and forcing me to start all over again.
It goes on that like for a half a minute or more, time lost.
He collapses sideways onto the bed, leaves an open void where his cock was.
We both do our best to catch our breath. I don’t know how long we lie there, his hand in mine, waiting for reality to return.
When it does, I’m smiling.
I’m smiling so damn hard it hurts.
There’s no regret or the shame I thought I would feel. It was better than I imagined — life-changing.
I exhale, wipe matted hair from my forehead. “That was…” but I can’t find the word I need.
Some writer you are.
“I know,” he replies, the smile he wears thick with such satisfaction I know this wasn’t a simple fling but far more. “Shower?” he asks.
I reach down and find his cock, surprised how quickly it grows in my hand. “Only if you’re ready for round two.”
CHAPTER TEN
PEYTON
The afterglow — it’s not something I’m used to. It tends to be more of ‘I’ve shot my load now it’s time to get the fuck out of here,’ but it’s different with Erin. I want to stay. I want to be close to her. The way her fingers are dancing around my navel, seems like the feeling is mutual.
We’re still wet from the shower, and have somehow found our way back to the bed.
Erin’s got her eyes closed, arms flat by her sides, her skin flushed and patchy.
“You okay?” I ask. Shock, horror, I’m actually genuinely concerned for someone other than myself for once. There have been girls I’ve near crippled and sent packing without so much as a kiss on the cheek. Why is this so different? Why is this girl suddenly turning me into Mr. Congeniality?
Erin folds her leg over her thigh, lightly grinding against it. “I am. More than okay. It was actually kind of amazing the way my… you-know… well you know.”
“I don’t want to hurt you — ever.”
A trill of laughter. “You say that to all the girls you sleep with?”
I know it’s said in jest, but it still stings. I don’t let it show. “Most girls I sleep with I’ve forgotten a minute later, but you…”
She sits up, placing an elbow on my chest and watching me. Her hair brushes against my ribs. It’s enough to get me hard again. “What about me? I’m different?”
“You are, as a matter of fact. I had you all wrong.”
I want to ask her why, but she’s distracted by the alarm clock beside the bed. “Shit. I’ve got to get to the office.”
She leaps off me and starts searching around the floor for her underwear.
I point to the oversized teddy bear in the corner who’s wearing them on his head.
She swipes them up. “Thanks, Eddy.”
I sit up, my hard-on lifting the sheets into a tight tent. “Eddy?”
“As in Eddy the Teddy.”
She holds her panties in her hand for a moment, dropping them when she realizes she could just get a fresh pair from her drawers.
I thought she might be hobbling around a bit. I didn’t expect brain damage.
She bounces from her drawers to the closet, one leg in her underwear, opening it with one hand and searching amongst the blouses gathered there in perfect Kondo symmetry. In fact, as I take in the room and think back to her desk at the Crimson, order’s definitely something she’s got going on. She’d have a heart attack if she stumbled in my room.
She nods her head at Eddy. “Mom gave him to me when I finished college.”
“Pleased to meet you, Eddy,” I nod, thanking Christ the fluffy motherfucker doesn’t reply in the voice of Seth MacFarlane.
Erin bends down to pick something from the floor, her panties rounding out, drawing into her ass and the whole picture nothing short of heaven on earth.
She stands and pulls a blouse free from the closet, throwing it around her shoulder and buttoning it up in double time.
“What are you doing later?” I ask.
“Ah,” she replies, moving to the drawers and lifting out a pair of palazzo pants, “nothing tonight, but if it’s another party you’re offering, I don’t think—”
I stop her. “No, no, even I’m over the whole party thing, but there is a carnival in town. I know you said you don’t like rides and all that, but I thought it might be fun. I haven’t been since I was a kid.”
She tugs her pants into place, letting go to pull her hair into a ponytail, a hair-tie from nowhere around her wrist. “Your dad took you?”
“Our housekeeper, actually, though she had fuck-all chance of keeping the four of us in check. Poor woman got fired after that night.”
Erin’s too busy doing up her buttons. “Sure. You want to meet there?”
“At the Ferris wheel, ’bout seven?”
“Sounds like a plan, man.” She stops, laughs, and shakes her head. “Jesus, sorry about that. My mouth and brain, like… bleh, you know?”
Oh, I know all right. My thoughts are also driving in the slow lane, my brain sexed out and exhausted.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go.”
She runs over and kisses me. I reach behind her neck and pull her in deeper, take all I can to sustain me until seven.
She pulls back breathless. “Damn. I could go for some more of that later,” she glances down to my makeshift dick tent, “and that,” she winks.
I avoid the temptation to slap her on the ass on her way out, instead settling back into her bed and staring up at the ceiling wondering a) how I’ve fallen so hard for this girl and b) how the fuck I’m going to get my balls back.
*
The carnies are grinning wide as I walk around the fair. This is an affluent area with small-town
sensibilities, the perfect breeding ground for middle-aged white people to lose their money on the assortment of sideshow games and scams. The smell of corn dogs, sawdust, and cotton candy is overpowering. It brings back a flood of memories.
The Ferris wheel, pink and green, towers above everything else. At the sight of it my cock tics in my pants, eager to be back with Erin. All I’ve done today was think about her, about this morning. Practice was a write-off. Coach was looking at me like I’d landed in a UFO.
I arrive at the Ferris wheel and find Erin waiting there in a red and white polka dot dress that hugs her hips just right, the neck low enough to reveal a hint of cleavage. The heels from last night have been replaced with white Chuck Taylors. “Bold,” I tell her, my hands snaking around her waist, “and beautiful.”
She pushes up onto her toes to kiss me, tastes faintly of mint. “Again, it’s not mine. I don’t think I’ve got anything this bright in my wardrobe.”
“We can fix that,” I smile. I take two tickets out of my pocket and glance up at the Ferris wheel. “What do you say?”
She lets go of me and snakes an arm through mine. “Rides and me…”
“But when in Rome… Come on. It’s not the Helter Skelter. You’ll be fine.”
“Fine,” she smiles.
The operator takes our tickets with the enthusiasm of a potted plant, opening the gate and letting us through.
The seat’s a little tighter than I remember from my childhood, not that being closer to Erin is a bad thing.
We’re the only ones on the Ferris wheel as it rises into the night. Everyone else is too busy on the more energetic rides, their screams and laughter dissipating the higher we go.
I lean over and breathe her in. “You’re wet,” I announce.
She flinches, her breath catching. “You don’t know that.”
I smile. “Mmm, don’t I?” I pause to kiss up the back of her neck, stopping at her hairline. “Let’s see. Your breathing is erratic, your cheeks are flushed, and your legs are pressed so tightly together it’s a wonder they haven’t snapped in half.”
