by K T Morrison
This was the first woman he’d ever touched and the yielding hot flesh under his hand got his stomach fluttering—he stifled a groan. He stroked her up and down, let his finger slip inside her, reeled at her hungry mouth and how it sucked and tugged on him, hungry for deeper penetration.
Things were urgent between his legs, and as one hand teased at his Mary’s most intimate place, the other fumbled with his belt. She felt him, knew what he was doing, and she scrambled to her knees, wormed her way between his open thighs. Her hands took over, getting his zipper down and opening the fly of his boxers, her frantic grip reaching in and pulling out his steely manhood. She sighed when she saw it, her eyes rolled with lust and she made a girlish little sound in her throat.
What he had was thicker than Royce’s, longer than Teague’s, but they were all dwarfed by Moose. Mary loved it, he could see it before she even said, “Jack, it’s glorious, it’s… glorious,” and as her fingers teased and squeezed, a clear stream poured anew from his tip and Mary aimed his erection downward and sunk him in her mouth.
The feel of his length slipping into the warm wet of her mouth had him falling back as a hot sheet of pleasure fell over him. Glorious! Glorious, indeed! “Oh, Mary,” he sighed, then righted himself, sitting and watching the back of her raven head bobbing in his lap. Pressure built in his core, a swelling balloon expanding below his stomach, threatening to burst a firework of wet pleasure in Mary’s mouth—so he guided her up.
With her head held in both his hands, she watched him anxiously, licking her swollen lips, eyes quivering. He asked her, “Does it taste like the ocean?”
She winced and tried to pull away, but he held her firm. “Oh, Jack, don’t, oh, I’m terrible…”
“No,” he said.
“I’m so ashamed…”
“You’re a dirty, dirty girl…”
She whimpered again, her body sagged against the inside of his thighs. “Jack, no, tell me, please… Do you hate me…?”
He smiled and traced his thumbs on the contours of her perfect face. He shook his head no.
“No? For real, Jack?”
He nodded.
“But I’m dirty…”
“Yes…”
“Do you think… Do you think I’m unworthy… Do you think I’m… I’m a whore?”
“Do I love my Gram?”
“What?”
“My grandma. Do I love her?”
She furrowed her brow. “Yes.”
“At my grandparents house, in Papa’s library, sitting on a pedestal, three shelves up where the morning sunlight falls, there is a band of silver and diamonds…” His fingers traced the shapes of the tiara nestled in her hair. “Engraved on this band is the phrase Miss Kappa-O 1905. Do I love my grandma?”
Her face scrunched, her chin dimpled, and her eyes twitched. “But she’s… she’s your grandma.”
“Papa and Gram have been inseparable since college and I would fight to the death any man who called her a whore.”
She shied away. “Jack…”
“Get up here on the bed—and keep that beautiful tiara on.”
He helped her up and lay her on the bed. With Mary on her back, he explored her body, touching every bit of her. The whole time she kept her eyes on his. His hand found her pubic bush, and he raked his fingers through it. “Open your legs wider for me, Mary.” She complied, and he slipped two fingers inside her; she gasped and struggled to keep her eyes focused on his.
In the softest, sweetest voice, she whispered, “You don’t hate me, Jack, please, tell me if you don’t…”
“Mary, it’s safe to say I love you and I’ve loved you for a long time—but I never knew I could want a woman so bad. You make me ache for you.”
“Oh, Jack,” she cried, “I love you. I love you, too.” She caressed his cheek.
With the wet and slippery pads of his fingers, he traced a slick line upward from her sex, went around her navel, between her breasts, and sunk them between her lips. She sucked him. He said, “That’s sperm on your fingers, Mary. Another man’s sperm.” She whimpered while she suckled. “You know what that means?”
She hummed No around his fingers. He withdrew them, watched her face as she stared at him expectantly.
“It means, Mary,” he said, “that I’m going to make love to you now and I’m going to come inside you.”
She gasped with excitement and began to squirm.
“Do you understand?” he asked.
“I want you so bad, Jack.” Her hands had come to her chest and now she coddled her own breasts. He rose to his knees and removed his shirt and tie and kicked off his pants. The whole while Mary writhed with horny, eager energy.
He said, “Those men left you unsated?”
“You’re the one I want, Jack.”
Hand on each of her knees, he opened her legs wide and lowered over her. “You’re mine, do you hear me?”
“I hear you, Jack. I love you.”
“I own you, Mary McConnell, I own every square inch of this beautiful body.” He aimed his tip against her slit, felt its tangle of hair, its wet and glorious heat. He pushed himself inside her. She was tight but so wet. And now he was no longer a virgin.
Mary clutched his arms, dug nails in them. She whined and arched her back to his penetration, cried out, “Yes!”
“You only sleep with the Quad…”
“Oh!”
“And only when I’m there.” He withdrew and plunged deeper. She was heaven around his hardness. Her pussy squelched around him and wet seeped.
“Yes, Jack, yes, oh…”
“And if you make me go last again, make me use another man’s sperm as lubricant I swear a spanking will you be your lightest humiliation…”
She clutched him tighter and began to tremble. “God, I love you, Jack, you’re my man, you’re my man…”
“We’re going to own this school, Mary…”
“We are, Jack, we are…”
Now he gathered her hands in his and stretched them above her head as his hips speared his hardest erection in and out of her. She panted and groaned but looked in his eyes; her big breasts swayed on her chest.
“Kiss me, Jack, kiss me…”
They made love like that, passionately, hands intertwined, mouths locked, hips pumping in unison. Soon she grunted and cried, locked tight against him, then wailed like a banshee—louder than the other men had made her cry. It was too much to bear. Everything he’d seen, his newfound lust, his love of domination, his bad girl’s need of domination, the feel of her naked body against his, her tightness, her wetness… He roared like a lion when he came inside her without even the smallest measure of regret. It shot from him with shocking force and volume, jet after jet tightening and pulsing his cock. His orgasm lasted minutes and his seed overflowed their connection and spilled down her seams. Mary urged him, commended him, scratched his back and that hairy slit below had a grip on him that milked and massaged his manhood.
Still connected, still deep inside her, they kissed again, passionately and lovingly. When he let her go at last, she held his hand, and he kneeled between her thighs admiring his man’s work. He’d left her engorged and shining, sweat and semen beaded her snatch, a thick trail of his seed spilled from her. His bad, bad girl lay there with her legs open and let him look as long as he wanted.
He said, “If you’re pregnant, at least the baby will be an Omega. And there’s a fifty percent chance it’s mine. I’d raise that child with you.”
She pulled him back down to lay with her. “I won’t be pregnant, Jack.”
“You’re sure?”
“Practically positive.”
He kissed her lips, stroked her hip. They lay and looked in each other’s eyes and he wondered how she could be like this and he’d never known. She’d hid it from him out of respect for his own prudishness. And now that useless purity had been dashed away, a bright line shone on it and extinguishing the shadows—he feared he might be worse than her.
/> While he looked in her eyes with honest love, he was scheming all the wild and terrible things he was going to do to her body. They were perfect for each other.
23
“You’re something else,” he said and smiled finally. Her eyes lit up, and she smiled, too. He slapped her haunch, sat up and pulled his shirt on.
She watched him, puzzled. “We’re not staying here?” she said, still laying on the bed.
“We’re going to the movie.”
“Jack, maybe… maybe we could ask them if it’s all right to stay here a little longer.”
He threaded his tie around his collar and looped the beginning of a knot, saying, “Ask them, Mary? You’re talking to a Quad. I get anything I want.” He regarded her over his shoulder, bursting with pride at the admiration on her face. “Now get your clothes on. We’re going to the movie because I told your den mother that’s where I was taking you, and Jack Kingsway does what he says.”
“Yes, Jack,” she said breathlessly, slipping off the bed and gathering her clothes.
He slapped her ass over the handprints he’d already left, stood up and got close behind her, whispered, “Don’t you dare wear your underpants, though. We’re sitting in the back row.”
She gasped and trembled. “The back… back row, Jack?”
From behind, he slipped his hand through the crack of her ass and along her undercarriage. He slid two fingers inside her and felt her body weight slump against him. “And you’re going to soak the seat with the sperm you let Omega men put inside your dirty hole.” He watched the expression his words gave her, his stomach and balls thrilling, his heart filling with love.
“Are you going to do terrible things to me, Jack?”
“Awful things, Mary. So dirty you’re going to wish you’d never started with me.”
“I hope you make me regret this day,” she said, meeting his eyes, her soft breath on his cheek.
He held out his hand to her, and she plopped hers in it. He squeezed her little fingers between his and kissed her knuckles. “Get dressed. I hear Judy Garland is wonderful, so it’s a pity, Mary, you won’t see a minute of the movie.”
THE END
Afterword
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