by Nikki Sex
Grant stares at me through hooded eyes, his pupils are dark with passion.
“You’re going to kill me, Grant,” I say, my voice harsh with need. “I’m aching and empty. I want you inside of me so badly it hurts. If we didn’t have this blasted ‘no touch’ rule in place tonight, I’d come screaming from just a single brush of your hand.”
His jaw clenches, but again he says nothing.
With deliberate intent, he stands up and steps closer to the bed, until he’s standing directly in front of me. Naked heat sizzles between us. He stills his hand and then begins thrusting into it, using his hips and thighs, his tight muscles working as he pumps.
I can read what he’s thinking—it doesn’t take a detective to connect those dots! His actions closely mimic the in and out movement of sex.
Nostrils flaring, breathing hard, Grant is fucking his own hand.
Is he imagining pumping that thick cock of his into my dripping wet slit? Or does he want to fuck my mouth? He shifts restlessly, his hips flexing as he bucks.
There’s a faint liquid, slapping sound of flesh on silky flesh as he works, driving himself rapidly toward orgasm. I wish he’d slide his body into mine.
I need him inside me—I don’t care where. Between my lips, in my pussy or up my ass. God, I just want him anywhere and everywhere.
My internal muscles pulse and I moan loudly. “Grant?” I gasp.
“Yes?” His voice is rough with lust.
Fascinated, I watch as he continues to jerk himself off, picking up speed. It’s so fucking hot! A soft whimper comes to my ears and I suddenly become aware that the sound came from me. Heated and urgent, my entire body quivers.
“I want to put my mouth on you,” I pant, while desperately working my pussy. “I want to suck you so hard that I pull every drop of cum you have right out of your cock. Oh fuck, Grant, I want to suck you dry.”
A low guttural noise comes from deep inside him. His jaw flexes from his violent inner struggle. The man has been fighting to maintain control of his urges, but I think he just lost the battle.
My naughty words have driven him right to the brink of orgasm.
“I’m gonna come,” he gasps.
As his control breaks, his eyes open wide with both surprise and pleasure. The cords and veins in his neck stand out as visible evidence of the strength of his passion. Grant wants me, and he wants me badly.
“Yes! Yes! Please let me see you come,” I almost sob with frustration and need.
This is what I’ve longed for—this is where I’m supposed to be.
I realize that I crave being desired, being lusted after. I long to be needed and wanted, even more than I desire my own release.
Needed and wanted, but not by just anyone.
I only want Grant Wilkinson.
I need him.
I love him.
What in the hell is wrong with me? How can I be thinking such crazy thoughts when I’m teetering on the brink of an orgasm?
No one ever said that falling in love was a sane thing to do.
Chapter 13.
“Only poisonous people or poisonous situations prevent a person’s natural journey toward personal growth or healing.”
— André Chevalier
~~~
Renata Koreman
“You want it?” he bites out the question. The strength of his need turns his words into an urgent, harsh demand. “You want me to shoot my cum all over your beautiful breasts?”
“Damn right I do,” I say, as I furiously begin to rub my clit in earnest. My body strains as I edge toward my own breaking point. I’ll climax just from watching him orgasm. With one touch of his semen, I’ll go over.
“Give it to me. I want to feel your hot cum on my nipples,” I cry, pushing my breasts out toward him. “Now, Grant. Now! Give it to me!”
“Yes,” he growls.
Grant’s shaft is throbbing, standing proud and long. His hand stays near the head of his dick, working it faster and faster.
His eyes focus directly upon me.
Suddenly his balls pull up tight.
“Uh, uh, uh, uh,” lips parted, Grant grunts out the sweet agony of his erotic pleasure in a long, guttural groan. Throwing his head back, he squeezes his eyes closed. His handsome face contorts and his body shudders as a wave of pleasure runs through him.
“Renata,” he gasps, as a rope of his hot, milky seed bursts from his swollen cock. It splashes across my breasts, just as he opens his eyes.
“Yes, God, Yes!” I cry out, finger-fucking myself toward my own release. Liquid from my pussy has already soaked my panties. Now it’s dripping along my thighs and onto the sheets.
Two, three, four… five lengthy spurts of hot sexy cum. Grant guides his pulsing cock to precisely where he wants his seed to land. His beautiful shaft continues to jerk and convulse until he’s completely emptied himself over me.
I’ve been burning with lust while anticipating this moment for so long. The reality is far hotter than any fantasy I’ve imagined. The sight, the sound, and the heady male smell of him is beyond euphoric.
My body tightens, then suddenly erupts. An electric jolt flows through me in rhythmic waves.
“Oh, God, Grant,” I call out as I climax, shuddering and convulsing in pulse after pulse of excruciating pleasure.
Twitching, my legs quiver as I’m rocked by orgasmic tremors. The man hasn’t even touched me, but all of this erotic foreplay makes my release mind-blowing anyway.
When he’s finished ejaculating everything in his balls, he stares at the long white strands that now cover my breasts. The delicious scent of sex fills the air. My nipples are pebbled, the skin on my chest is wet and warm.
Collapsing, I recline backwards on the bed. Grant falls heavily back onto his chair.
Limp and sated, I’m floating in a haze of post-orgasmic languor.
I look down. My eyes flutter and then widen at what I see. Holy Christ, there was a shit-load of cum in this one man. I stare at his heavy balls. Just how long has that truckload of cargo been in there? I know he’s been saving it up, but this is ridiculous.
My nipples are buried in semen.
I grin. Grant is definitely a good shot.
As the aftermath of orgasm finally begins to drift away, I smile up at him. His skin is covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. It gives him a strikingly healthy glow.
“Feel any need to jump up and run off?” I ask.
“No, ma’am,” he grins. “Not a bit. I’m fixin’ to stay right here.”
“Is that right?” I grin.
“Hell, yes,” he says, his voice low and seductive. “I don’t think we’re done yet, do you? Not by a long shot.”
We grin stupidly at each other for an extended moment of happy bliss.
My gaze drifts lower. Grant is still impressively semi-hard. I suspect that his poor neglected cock is eager to make up for lost time. He reaches for tissues to wipe off his cum, but I shake my head from side to side.
“No, leave it,” I say, running a finger through his essence. It’s thick and warm. I put my cum-coated finger into my mouth and suck it clean, enjoying his unique musky taste.
He eyes open wide, but I can tell that I’ve pleased him.
I lick my lips. “Yum,” I say happily. “I want to keep this beautiful memory right here where we can both enjoy it. I think it’s an outstanding work of art, don’t you?”
His mouth falls open. Shock and confusion cross his face before his generous lips purse.
As always, Grant is a thinker. He has to send any thoughts concerning sex through a bunch of his mental filters. His brows draw down for a long moment and then they lift. I see his eyes light up as he begins to understand.
“Not mind. Not spirit. We’re working through the body, right?”
“You got it.”
“It’s kind of an unconscious or instinctive, animal thing.”
“Sure is.”
“I don’t know why leaving my seed right
there on your skin makes me so damned happy,” he says contemplatively. “I don’t understand it, but there’s something right about it. It isn’t logical. Is it… primal?
I raise an eyebrow but say nothing, letting him work it out.
He remains silent for a bit longer, but then he nods. “I’ve marked you sexually with my scent—I’ve marked you with me and you’ve accepted it. You’ve even enjoyed it. Sort of like possession or ownership.” A concentrated frown mars his face. “Can this be compared to a dog peeing on his territory?”
I laugh. “Only if his territory can sigh with the satisfaction of sensual bliss.”
We both choke on a short, quick burst of laughter, but I see real joy reflected in the sparkle in his eyes.
Powerful emotions flit across his features too fast for me to read. He says nothing, yet I suspect he’s reached some new awareness about himself or about life. All I’m certain of is that whatever it is that he’s feeling, on a scale of 1 to 10—I think Grant is sitting on a hundred.
Some understandings are so deep and compelling they can’t be explained by mere words.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice low, his expression open, exposed and profoundly grateful. Our connection in this endless moment is beyond intense. He’s flawed and he’s perfect—just like the rest of us.
I understand then, that this seemingly broken man is not truly been broken.
There’s a bright, enduring soul inside him that has never been defeated.
My heart kicks. I bite my lip and school my face. I’m so moved, I have to stop myself from an overwhelming need to weep from the beauty of it. I don’t want to break the spell or ruin the moment by giving Grant the wrong idea.
I’m not up to explaining it.
He’s extraordinary. This gentle, yet powerful man affects me as deeply as I affect him.
What a perfect beginning.
Breathing out a happy sigh, Grant picks up the deck of cards and hands me half.
Chapter 14.
“Courage is the beginning of victory.”
― Plutarch
~~~
Grant Wilkinson
I sprawl in my chair, buck naked. Bare, except for her light blue panties, her generous breasts bouncing—Renata gets up.
“I’m going to get a drink,” she says. “You want anything?”
“I’ll have Coke,” I reply, and I watch her leave the room.
I’ve never experienced anything like the way I feel when I’m with Renata. My cock twitches—I’m already hard again. In fact, I’m half-mad with wanting her. What is this insatiable torment? I’ve lived my life in a sexual drought, yet instead of easing my need, Renata has increased it a hundredfold.
I thought I would continue to live an isolated life of quiet desperation. Not anymore. Renata’s changed everything.
My father helped me build my prison, but I was the one who locked myself inside of it. I didn’t know any other way. Maybe now I can break free from my self-imposed confinement, or at least open the door and let her in.
Except for that shit with the police literally ‘digging up’ the past by exhuming my dead father, my future seems full of endless possibilities.
Hips swaying, naked and sexy as hell, Renata strolls back into the room.
“Hey,” she says, and hands me an open bottle of Coke. “Briley is so cute!” she gushes. “He’s sound asleep, I just checked on him. God, I just love looking at him and listening to him breathe.”
Uninhibited in her nudity, she sits down across from me, crosses her legs Indian style, and leans forward in a comfortable slouch.
The woman leaves me breathless.
I stare at her, just drinking her in. Renata’s blonde hair is striking against the background of greys and blues in my room. I’m fascinated by her soft, feminine curves. I love her perfect smile and her laughing eyes.
I think I could fuck her twenty times tonight and it still wouldn’t be enough—but it isn’t only her body that draws me. It’s her mind, or her indomitable spirit.
There’s just something about her that makes me feel so damn grateful to be alive.
I’ve spent my life paying for sex—I didn’t want to defile a ‘normal’ woman. I was a monster that didn’t deserve love. I can’t think that way now, not when Renata sees me so differently.
As I drink my Coke, I study the exquisite woman who’s helped to change my life. A full load of my cum is still there, drying all over her perfect breasts. What a sight! And what an incredible idea it was of hers to leave it there.
I used to be repulsed and disgusted by semen. Not anymore. My cum looks earthy and primal and right on her. How did she know what I needed when I didn’t know myself?
“What are you thinking?” Renata asks. Her lips curve in a Mona Lisa smile, while her vivid blue eyes shine with desire and affection.
“That my cum looks good on you,” I reply, basking in the warmth of her gaze. The woman genuinely likes me—I’ll never get over that.
“Oh, I agree,” she says enthusiastically.
Her pronouncement is followed by a quick snort of laughter—an inelegant and unapologetic sound. It makes me grin. Scorching hot and blatantly aroused, or open and playful—Renata is who she is. Why is this so easy for her? How can she so shamelessly be herself with me?
Tilting her head, she studies me. “What else?”
“So many things.”
“Mmm?”
“I’m happy.”
I can’t tell her any more. I’m buzzed and I’m in the zone. Forget mind and spirit. From now on, I’m up for carnal urges all the way.
The air surrounding us is a fog of sexual tension, yet we smile at each other in companionable silence.
It’s a strangely balmy night in Dallas. A soft, cool breeze flows through my open window. Summer evening sounds of crickets and bullfrogs softly fill the air.
Today while we were shopping, Renata’s powerhouse of a personality was buried behind a shy exterior. It rocked me, completely taking me by surprise. Meek is not who she is.
I know the real Renata. She’s sitting on the bed across from me, expectant and ready to play.
“I see you’re hard again already,” she says, raising an eyebrow and eyeing my cock. “I like that in a man.”
I laugh and stare at her crotch. “And you don’t need to get caught in the rain for me to know your soaking wet,” I reply.
“You’re not wrong!” she admits, laughing uproariously.
“Shall we keep playing?” I ask.
“Of course,” Renata says, putting down her Coke. “First I’ll have a very quick shower.” Her eyes lower, glancing down to her breasts. “I think it’s time for the semen to go.”
I chuckle. “That’s OK. It’s served its purpose. I’ll never think of ejaculate the same way.”
She grins at me with a teasing, knowing smile. “That was the idea.”
“It was a really good idea,” I say, as she walks into the bathroom.
I hear the shower running. When I think of cum now, I’ll think of how I sprayed it upon her like bestowing a gift. I’ll also remember Renata’s pleasure in receiving it.
They say ignorance is bliss, but it wasn’t in my case. Intimacy is bliss. Understanding is bliss. Having the courage to speak out—that is bliss.
I’m not dirty, ashamed or disgusted. I’ve been with Renata for hours, laughing, flirting and enjoying myself.
It’s beyond belief. I never thought sex could be fun. Physically, I felt compelled to engage in it from time to time. Afterwards, I hated myself.
For me, sex was akin to going to the hospital for a surgical procedure: something that had to be done, but there was never any real joy in it.
Now there is joy.
I never thought I'd be capable of feeling this way. Something inside of me has shifted. I’m already changed.
When Renata returns, my cum is gone and she’s still wearing her blue underpants! Too bad. Hopefully, I’ll get her naked soon. She sits
down across from me, on the bed.
“You start,” she says.
I lean forward and flip my card over. It’s a six of diamonds—too low. Shit. I want to win this one. Will she throw something lower than a six?
Renata, bless her, flips a two of hearts. Laughter bubbles out of me at my win. I’ve never laughed so much in my whole life combined as I have during this one evening with her.
“Truth or dare?” I immediately ask.
“Dare,” she smirks. Renata already knows what I want.
“Lose the panties,” I say in a throaty growl.
Chapter 15.
"Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer."
— William S. Burroughs
~~~
Grant Wilkinson
Directly in front of me, Renata stands up and stretches gracefully. She acts so innocent, but her tits are almost right in my face, the mischievous tease.
Shoulders back, hips swinging, she gracefully saunters to the center of the room and positions herself into a tempting, provocative pose.
What the hell is she up to now?
Captivated by her performance, filled with anticipation and excitement, I turn toward her, shifting to get comfortable in my chair. A flush of warm pleasure rolls over me as I focus my attention on her.
“You want me to lose my panties?” she asks, regarding me innocently from beneath her lashes. “Do you mean… you want me to take my panties off?” Her voice rings with shock and surprise.
Renata’s index finger inches up to touch her moist, parted lips. Her expression is priceless—she looks so modest and unsure of herself.
Yeah, right! She's wholeheartedly enjoying the ‘nervous virgin’ act. The woman’s in her element.
Her eyebrows arch with a shy question, giving the impression that she’s a little flustered. “Do you…” she says shyly, “do you think I should?”
Her behavior is so unexpected that I throw back my head and laugh out loud.
Renata grins, gives me a playful wink as she begins a very slow and sexy striptease. You wouldn’t think she could do much, not with only one tiny article of clothing to take off—but she easily draws it out.