B.I.L.F: Beard I'd Like To…

by Frankie Love

  “Should we--”

  I never find out what she was thinking, because when I hitch her up and press her against the wet shower tiles, her train of thought becomes completely derailed, and she just moans as I press my mouth hungrily against hers, so she can taste herself.

  Her legs wrap around my waist as I drive inside her sweet, tight cunt and feel the aftershocks of her orgasm clench around me. I pump in and out as fast as I can without losing control. As I fuck her perfect pussy, I grip her so damn tightly, sliding all the way inside with every thrust and squeezing her waist and hips while she moans in delight.

  The spray from the water and the steam is heating up our skin, the feeling of the trickling droplets like an intense simultaneous massage on my shoulders while Daphne massages my cock. It’s a sensory overload and I’m loving every second so much that I can’t help but explode inside her. I fill her for the second time in 24 hours and it still doesn’t feel like enough.

  Not even close.

  I hold her while we come down again, my legs sturdy underneath both of us while hers shake. When she can set them reliably down again without sliding onto the floor of the shower, I let her, but I still hold her waist and kiss her hard.

  “You’re so sexy,” she whispers into my mouth, and I don’t know how to put into words how I feel the same about her, and more.

  “You’re the writer,” I say, “how do I tell you that you’re the hottest fucking woman I’ve ever known?”

  She leans away so she can look me in the eyes, and she smiles. “Just like that.”

  The doorbell rings and we both look in that direction. “Already?” I ask aloud.

  “Food here is fast,” she confirms. “You’ve been in the mountains for too long.”

  I let out a chuckle because she is probably right -- when someone arrives within thirty minutes up in the mountains it’s a coincidence or it’s a miracle. People are few and far between up there, just the way I like it.

  I get the food from the front door, drop it off on the table, and return to the bathroom.

  I watch Daphne as she dries herself off from head to toe, smoothing the fluffy white towel over the droplets shining on her skin, and I swallow, feeling myself grow hard all over again. I wonder if maybe I’m changing, right here in this suburban bathroom.

  Maybe I’ve been on my own up there for too long.

  Maybe being alone isn’t what I want anymore.

  We move to the kitchen and she teases her long hair into untangled strands and then ties it up loosely while I grab plates and cutlery. She looks at the spread laid out on the table and she burst out laughing.

  “Something funny?” I ask, looking in the same direction to see colorful containers and boxes piled up.

  “How much did you think we were going to eat?” She looks through the different dishes. “There has to be enough here for six or seven people, Dane.”

  I help myself to a portion of rice and then a few scoops of beef with black bean sauce, some sweet and sour chicken. “Well, you won’t need to cook for a couple of days,” I say simply. I watch as she helps herself to two or three things, and I’m more pleased than I’d like to admit that I ordered a couple of things she likes.

  “I’m starving,” she exclaims as if surprised, through a mouthful of crispy duck.

  “Well, have you eaten since last night?” She shakes her head. I smirk. “Guess you’ll need to keep me around to feed you, Daph.”

  “Daph?”

  “Sorry. Would you prefer I just call you Daphne?” I say, as I enjoy my food and my company. I realize I kind of miss civilization. Some parts of it. A large part of me, though, misses my cabin in the woods even though I’ve only been away for a couple of days.

  I’ve honestly never felt conflicted before. As long as I can remember, I’ve known what I wanted. To be self-sufficient. To be isolated, but not completely. To be a ranger in the forest. To build my life with my own two hands.

  Only if you build it yourself can you know for sure nothing will break down.

  Or at least know where the cracks are.

  “No one has called me Daph in a long time, is all.” She smiles, bringing a bottle of water to her lips. “I kind of like the way it sounds coming from you.”

  Her smile is contagious. My cock stiffens at the sentiment, too, and it takes me a moment to catch up with my own errant blood flow. Why would that excite me so much?

  I know full well, why. I just don’t want to think it out loud.

  “So, when are we getting to the main event tonight?” I say, distracting myself from the direction my mind is wandering in.

  She looks up, mouth full, eyebrows questioning. “Didn’t we already start that in the shower?”

  “Yeah… I mean no. The collection, remember?” I shake my head sharply to rid myself of images of what we’ve already done today and the knowledge that it can only get better from here.

  “The collection,” she repeats, and even though I’ve already been so fucking deep inside her, this beautiful girl blushes again. “I’ve never shown anyone my collection, so be cool, promise?”

  Be cool?

  “I’m always cool,” I say, tossing up an egg roll and catching it between my teeth. She laughs with surprise and claps her hands.

  “How do you do that, by the way?” she asks.

  “Hmm? You just kinda have to follow it with your eyes. And open your mouth. That part’s important.” There’s a pause. “Otherwise, it just bounces right off.”

  “No, I mean… you’re always so confident. So sure of yourself. Have you always been like that?”

  I think about it seriously; I never have before. “No,” I say finally. “Being here, growing up here, it made me doubt who I was. But when I left, I stopped feeling judged for wanting to be alone, for wanting to make it by myself and for wanting to duck out of the rat race. I get to be who I am, no more and no less, every day. That lack of pretense, of compromising who I want to be, it’s made me a stronger person.”

  Daphne listens intently and then nods when I’m done. “I’m envious,” she says finally. “I’m always so far inside my own head, as a writer and all, that I sometimes can’t… see the forest for the trees. You know?”

  “I know,” I say because I really do.

  She’s eyeing me as I start to stack the boxes again. We both only ate a little. I know I’ll be hungry again later, but for now, it’s hard to keep my mind on anything but her. It seems like she feels the same, because she sets aside her own plate and gets to her feet, smoothing down the loose dress she changed into and reaching out to take my hand.

  “I usually just write out in here because it’s near the coffee machine and it gets great sunlight,” she explains, nodding to her laptop on the kitchen table nearby, “but I do have an office. In case I need any… inspiration, I go in there for a little while.”

  She gives me such a filthy smile that I’m instantly hard as I allow myself to be led down the hall and through the enticingly locked door of her office.

  Once inside I’m struck and almost disappointed momentarily, by how normal it is in here. There’s a desk with an old desktop computer, and I wonder if she ever actually uses it. Beside the desk is a tall, cared for plant, and an entire wall-length, floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.

  Such a huge section of it is romance novels, and I wonder briefly if she wrote all of them, but that’s stupid. Maybe some of them, though, and I make a mental note to ask if I can take a quick look at something she has written later. I’m curious to see how she writes the way two people fall in love.

  I’m curious to find out what she thinks the perfect man is like.

  “Behind the books,” I hear Daphne’s voice nearby softly tell me. I realize I’ve been staring at the spines, wondering which name might be hers if she doesn’t use her real one. I haven’t seen any Daphnes at all yet.

  “Behind?”

  She sweeps over, the hem of her dress twirling as she moves, and she mesmerizes me as she takes
a bunch of books in her hands and pulls them all off the shelf, setting them down on the desk.

  Behind them is a dimple that stopped them from going back too far, and beyond that is a row of multicolored plastic … somethings.

  I haven’t ever seen toys like these in real life, and certainly not this many.

  “This is…”

  “A lot?” she interrupts. “I know. I write sometimes for webzines and other online publications that review things like these. I get them for free. And I keep them all, you know after I’ve thoroughly researched.”

  “All of these were sent to you for free?”

  She turns back to me and rests her hand on my chest again. She did this last night too, and for some reason I find I like it a lot. The light contact. It feels urgent but restrained.

  “Not all of them. Some just came highly recommended. Sometimes I’ll treat myself and buy something online to help me out with a scene I’ll be writing later.” She watches me as I stare at them, and then I turn around and raise my eyebrows at her.

  “There’s so many. You’ve really used all these toys?”

  She blushes.

  “I’ve really tried all these toys, yes. At least once.”

  I swallow, a dozen images swimming around in my head at once, vying for my attention, until there’s pretty much no blood left in my head at all.

  “Well, fuck, Daphne,” I finally say. “Which one are we going to use first?”

  Chapter Eight

  Daphne

  If there’s any part of Dane that wants to hide the enormous erection bulging in his pants right now, he’s not listening to it. He stands in front of me and the way he looks at me makes my heart race.

  Like I’m too good to be real. Like I’m fictional.

  Like I’m his fantasy.

  And I’m fine with being this man’s fantasy. As long as he promises to help me act out mine. Because the truth is, yeah, I’ve tested these toys. The butt plugs, the anal beads, the dildos and bullets and rabbits, but it’s been boring for the most part.

  I’ve always just wished that I could have someone to play with me while I enjoyed my collection. And Dane is clearly turned on by my collection, and that knowledge turns me on just as much. It’s time to play.

  “Pick something,” I tell him, wanting him to take the lead. His eyebrows rise like I told him he could have everything he wants for Christmas. At first, I wonder if he’ll need more prompting, maybe some suggestions, but then he turns back to the wall and his hand closes around something.

  Hot pink and tapered at one end, Dane has zoned in on one of my mid-sized silicone butt plugs. I smile and close the gap between us, allowing his arms to wrap around my middle as I press our bodies together and my lips against his. Dane is so solid, so effortlessly sexy and such a calm, but ridiculously hot presence. I feel so lucky in this moment that I was able to choose him for my fling.

  His tongue flicks between my lips and instantly I feel myself grow wetter, heat glowing from my core as he claims my mouth and squeezes my ass -- firmly but gently. He can turn me on so completely, so quickly. I can’t remember the last time anyone had this effect on me.

  “What are you planning on doing with that?” I tease, referring to the little silicone toy in his hand. He lifts it and turns it around, a smile playing on his lips.

  He takes the loose cotton dress I’m wearing in his hands and pulls it easily over my head. I stand there naked and tuck strands of hair behind my ears, fighting not to blush, but I do. I blush so easily for Dane.

  “Get on all fours, baby.”

  I never thought hearing someone commanding me to do something would turn me on so much, but Dane’s calm, confident order has my knees weak -- to the point that I might have wanted to sink to the floor anyway.

  I drop to my knees, not all fours yet, and unbuckle his belt, then unbutton his pants. He watches me silently, and I don’t know if he disapproves of my disobeying him or if he’s intrigued to see what I am going to do next.

  “All fours,” he says again, as I pull his long, thick cock from his boxers and lick from the base to the tip, looking up into his eyes as I trace circles around the head of his perfect cock. He lets out a muffled noise of pure pleasure, which sends more heat flooding between my legs, but then he takes his own cock in his hand and out of mine.

  “Turn the other way,” he says.

  Reluctantly, I turn 180 degrees away from him and settle onto all fours, presenting him with a full view of my butt. I’m shaking with anticipation. The fresh memory of his groaning; the flash of desire in his eyes whenever he looks at me. I’m so wet, I’m almost dripping. I can feel it between my legs even without using my fingers.

  I can also feel the heat of his gaze on my exposed body. I must be glistening with arousal. Just one touch from him and I know I’ll start to twitch; I wonder if he’ll be able to see that or if he would have to slide inside me to feel it.

  Suddenly his hands are on my butt; his large, strong hands. They’re warm and solid and just feeling them against my skin makes my hips push backward, desperate for his fingers to slip inside me and give me some kind of relief.

  He pulls away, leaving my skin cold without his touch, and then a sharp but gentle smack lands on my right buttcheek. I twitch as the vibrations -- a good inch away from being pain -- drive right to my core, and make me wild.

  He knows exactly what he’s doing because he waits just the right amount of time before touching me again. He waits until I’m just about whimpering with need for him, but just as that desire peaks before it drops again, his fingers are sliding inside me. Instantly, I clench around his knuckles as he pushes in further, and then he slides out, wet and slippery with my juices, and then circles his fingers over my other hole instead.

  I haven’t been touched like this before, ever, by anyone but myself. And even then, it was tentative; unsure. So, when Dane rubs me in tight circles with his fingers without any hesitation, I’m almost undone by his confidence just as much as by the sensation of his fingertips skating small, wet circles on my flesh.

  Just when I’m settling into the intensity of that sensation, his fingers are swiftly replaced by his tongue and the cool solidness of his finger is suddenly a hot softness making those same tight circles.

  I could almost completely come apart just from this sensation… almost. It feels so good, my legs are shaking, and my pussy is wetter than I think it ever has been before, but I need something inside me before I start whimpering and moving my hips.

  Dane is perfectly aware of what I need; I shouldn’t have doubted him. He gives me one final playful lick and then pulls away, smoothing lube that he has warmed up with his hands over my hole and then pressing the toy against me.

  I may not have done much kinky stuff with anyone in the past, but I write about it enough to know what to do to emphasize pleasure. Not to mention those practice sessions I’ve had in the past.

  So, I relax as soon as the plug pushes against me. It slides inside me with only minimal resistance from my tight, twitching muscles.

  Almost immediately, it makes me feel so full, my muscles squeezing it tightly before I take a couple of deep breaths and relax the way I know I need to. The pressure gives way to an intense kind of pleasure instead, but my pussy is still aching for attention.

  As soon as the thought enters my mind, though, Dane’s cock head is pressing against my eager slit. As the plug fills me up in one way, his thick shaft fills me up in the other until I’m full and seeing stars.

  I’ve never felt so good. I feel like I would already trust Dane to do anything with me. I want him to guide me through the maze of my own secret desires.

  He fucks me harder while I’m still filled with the hot pink butt plug, and I feel the most intense orgasm of my life start to build deep inside me. Almost instantly, before I can tell him or even tell myself, I’m leaning forward with his cock buried deep inside me, sliding in and out and stimulating every bit of me, and I can hear myself crying
out as if from so far away.

  Dane lets out something not too unlike a growl as I come hard, clenching his cock over and over as the sensations crash through me, filling me, and then releasing me bit by bit.

  He grips me as I reach my peak, inside me as far as he could possibly be, and then he slowly, gently, withdraws while I tremble against his firm touch. The butt plug is pulled out too, slowly, and I wiggle my hips from side to side, panting and unable to talk yet but trying to make my meaning clear.

  We’re not finished yet…

  He seems to agree. More warmed up lube tingles against my tighter hole until it’s almost as wet as my dripping pussy, and then he pushes his cock head against it, eager and urgent and waiting to slide all the way inside where no other man has been.

  It’s good he warmed me up with that butt plug first because Dane is not a small man -- not in any way. He stretches me to my limits and then pushes beyond them, and I crash through barriers as pleasure, the likes of which I’ve never known before, ripples outward through my body.

  Soon he’s moving inside me, slow and gentle at first to make sure I can accept as much of him as possible. Then he moves faster and with longer strokes until he is bottomed out inside me. I groan and lean forward, pressing my forehead against the soft shag carpet while Dane ravages my ass from behind.

  I don’t know if he’s done this before -- I know I haven’t -- but I wouldn’t have wanted to lose my anal virginity to any other man. He knows exactly when to be gentle and when to be rough.

  “You feel so fucking good, baby,” he growls from behind me, and I can do nothing but whine in response. I am seeing stars from whatever he’s doing to me. He grabs my hips and rams into me and I come completely undone all over again. Once again Dane is the only thing holding me up because my arms and legs go weak as pleasure rattles through me.

  It’s a different kind of orgasm from the last ones I’ve had with him, but it’s new and exciting. If it had a sound it would be a lower hum, singing through my body and gripping all of me tightly. My muscles tense and release out of my control and I roll my hips in the air, clenching Dane’s thick cock until he releases everything he has deep inside me. I can feel it, hot as it shoots in, filling me up; his cock jerking against my own pulsing walls as we come together. So loudly, I wonder if the whole quiet suburban neighborhood can hear us.