S is for SEX

by Scott Hildreth

  Either from intending to do so or by accident, and I didn’t really care which it was, the tips of his fingers were rubbing my g-spot each time he pushed them deep inside of me. I closed my eyes and turned my head to the side, resting it flat on the table, and allowed myself to relax onto the heels of my feet.

  “Holy shit that feels good,” I said softly.

  And it did. My love for Vince and his desire to please me made me perpetually wet for him, but being in the back yard while everyone prepared for dinner was book boyfriend dream land for me.

  Within what seemed like seconds, but was more than likely minutes, I began to tingle from head to toe.

  “Come on, Sienna,” he breathed into my ear.

  Just shut up and keep going.

  “Come on, babe,” he breathed.

  Shut up. Just…hit…that…spot…again…

  “Come on, do it,” he said.

  Please, be quiet.

  His fingers continued to massage my g-spot, and I did my best to filter out his requests to have me come. I was almost there.

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” I heard his mother shout.

  I opened my eyes, fully expecting to see her. Still sheltered by the waterfall, and out of view of the door, I was safe. I closed my eyes, and realized my heart was beating ten-fold of what was normal.

  A few more strokes of his fingers, and my breathing was louder than anything else in the yard. I raised myself onto my toes, lowered myself, raised up again, and relaxed.

  “Oh holy fuuuuuuuck…”

  I collapsed onto the table and gasped for my next breath.

  The faint sound of what I thought was his zipper was followed by his hand pressing on my back. Him fingering me in the yard was one thing, but him fucking me was another. If he thought for one minute that I was going to let…

  I inhaled a slow breath as I felt the pressure of his massive cock slide inside of me. As it reached bottom, I exhaled and grabbed the edges of the table in my hands. As I held the table firm in my hands, I turned and looked his direction over my shoulder.

  His jeans were around his thighs, and his perfectly pressed white tee shirt was all bunched up around his mid-section. I felt like I should protest, and really didn’t think fucking in his mother’s back yard in the evening sun was the best idea I had ever heard, but it wasn’t necessarily the worst, either.

  Without speaking, I sighed, turned around, and held the table tight.

  It must have been all the confirmation he needed.

  He began to fuck me. Not the type of fucking he had given me in the past when he really wanted to prove a point or show me who was boss. Not like the day he drove the couch into the wall, or the evening he fucked me across the living room carpet until he had scabs on his knees and my ass was covered in carpet burns.

  Not like that.

  But a good, solid, steady, deep, predictable stroke.

  The kind of stroke a girl can get lost in feeling. The kind of stroke only the right man can give; a man with a big, thick, long cock.

  The slow stroke that allows a girl to feel every inch of the shaft as it slides in, and every inch of it as it slides out, almost counting the inches with each stroke, anticipating feeling the rim as it passes the lips each time. The stroke that is so predictable she can bite her lower lip just before the head bottoms out, because it’s impossible for every inch of that big thick cock to penetrate her fully.

  Yeah, that stroke.

  “Fuck yes,” I grunted as he fucked me. “Right there, that’s it.”

  His hands gripped my waist, and pulled me back ever so slightly as he pushed himself into me. As he pulled his hips back, he pushed me with his hands, making sure his cock slid right to the point of tickling my pussy lips.

  He continued to fuck me in the same manner until my head was spinning and I was close to reaching my second back yard orgasm.

  “You two coming in?”

  I opened my eyes, recognizing the voice as Axton’s. Vince didn’t change his pace or slow his stroke, but kept fucking me as if nothing was going on. Although I really couldn’t hear our breathing, our skin touching, or his grunting, everything seemed to be amplified now, and I could hear everything.

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  Shit, he’s getting closer.

  Vince’s cock continued to slide inside of me, slide out, and slide back in. The same pace, the same intensity, and the same great fucking feeling.

  Fuck it.

  I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip. The thought of Axton walking around looking for us was weird, but with my eyes closed, it really didn’t matter. Strangely, I felt comfort in not knowing where he was or what he was seeing, but while Vince was fucking me, I imagined Axton standing behind the waterfall watching Vince fuck me.

  And I liked it.

  I clenched my eyes tight and focused on the feeling of his thick cock.

  “Food’s ready.”

  Yeah, so am I.

  A few more strokes and I was done. My pussy began to clench around his cock and I felt him begin to swell inside of me. His rhythmic thrusting continued as his hands gripped my hips a little tighter, and I felt my muscles begin to tighten.

  I lifted myself onto my tip-toes and held it for a second…

  And relaxed.

  The intensity of my orgasm was beyond anything I had ever experienced with Vince or alone. I felt as if my head exploded as he held his cock deep inside of me. For a few seconds of heightened hypersensitivity, I could feel his cock throbbing inside of me.

  Eventually, my climax lessened and I opened my eyes.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered as I turned and glanced over my shoulder.

  Vince slowly pulled his cock from inside of me and started to stroke it rapidly.

  “What are you…”

  He raised his left hand to his lips. “Shhh. Watch.”

  With his jeans around his thighs and his wrinkled shirt dangling at the base of his cock, he jacked it like his life depended on it. Watching him stroke his cock was something I always wanted to see, and seeing it was quickly exceeding my expectations.

  Within a few seconds his breathing increased and he leaned back onto his heels.

  “Oh fuck,” he sighed.

  And he began to erupt.

  Cum spurted out of the tip of his cock, landing six feet away onto the concrete deck Another spurt, this time landing a few feet away, followed by a third, landing at his feet.

  Holy fuck that’s hot.

  He opened his eyes and grinned.

  “You didn’t…” I whispered as I nodded my head toward his waist.

  He shook his head. “I wanted you to see what you do to me.”

  I tugged at the bottom of my dress, attempting to minimize the wrinkles and the soon to be asked questions.

  “That was fucking hot,” I said.

  He pulled up his jeans, buckled his belt, and did his best to make his shirt look neat.

  “Come on before we get in trouble,” he said as he walked past me.

  I glanced down at the puddles of cum on the concrete. “Uhhm, what about all that? Someone will slip and fall.”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  I shrugged mine and followed him into the house.

  Everyone was standing around the table talking.

  “Glad you could make it,” Axton said.

  “We were just taking a tour,” Vince said.

  I grinned at Avery and immediately felt guilty, so I shifted my eyes to the table.

  “Been talking to Otis?” Axton asked.

  I glanced up. Axton’s eyes were fixed on Vince’s.

  “Who’s Otis?” I asked.

  Axton shifted his eyes toward me. “He’s one of the fellas. His Ol’ Lady’s got a flower garden and gazebo just like what’s out there. They sure like it.”

  I nodded my head and grinned. Axton shifted his eyes back to Vince and smiled. “They use it a lot. I was just wondering if ol’ Vince here had been talking to Otis a
bout it. Maybe getting a few pointers.”

  Axton chuckled and turned to face me.

  “So how you doing, Kid?” he asked.

  “Good,” I said.

  “I bet you are,” he said with a nod. “I bet you are.”

  EX-CON

  (Selected Sinners MC Romance Book V)

  Buy Ex-Con Here

  EMILY

  June 13, 2006

  We had ridden for some time, and the air cleaner never rattled. After a long period of wondering when we might stop, Jackson pulled over for a cup of coffee. We relaxed outside Starbucks in the early evening’s blazing sun, watching people walk in and out and talking about everything under the sun.

  Everything except whether or not we were making progress toward a relationship.

  As I baked in the sun and sipped my glass of mango tea, he sat in his chair and quietly watched people pass. I watched him intently as he studied the people coming and going, but I couldn’t tell what he was looking at unless he made a comment about it. Knowing what he was thinking was another thing altogether, he was impossible to read. As I sat and waited for the next word to spring from his lips, it became very apparent I wanted more from him.

  Much more.

  “I don’t like not seeing your eyes,” I said under my breath without looking up from my glass of tea.

  “Too fucking sunny to take ‘em off,” he said as he waved his hand toward the western sun.

  I nodded and gazed down at my glass.

  He tilted his head in my direction.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  I nodded my head reluctantly, leaned forward, and sucked the remaining iced tea through my straw. Still slightly disappointed at our lack of progress, I stood from my seat, grabbed my empty glass, and turned toward the trash can. As I walked toward the corner of the building, the sound of motorcycles caught my attention, and I shifted my eyes toward the noise and out into the street. Two men wearing leather vests similar to Jackson’s were slowing down in traffic to enter the parking lot. I tossed my empty cup into the trash and quickly turned around.

  Although I hadn’t realized it, Jackson somehow had positioned himself immediately behind me. As I turned to face him, he reached up, gripped my neck lightly, and pushed me into the wall of windows which separated the patio area from the inside of the coffee shop. With my back pressed firmly to the glass and his hand gripping my neck, he pushed his sun glasses on top of his head and leaned in for a kiss.

  I opened my mouth slightly and waited, feeling like a complete novice and hoping my knees would continue to hold me up. This was at least one of the moments I had been waiting desperately to arrive, but for some reason I had no idea what to do, and time seemed to be standing still.

  Our lips finally met, and as they did I closed my eyes. He kissed me aggressively, pressing himself against me fully as his tongue explored my mouth. He kissed me deeply and passionately, biting my upper lip each time he pulled away for another breath. The waiting for this moment and the weeks of longing for his embrace all came rushing from me in an instant, and as all of the uncertainty of the first kiss escaped me, my pussy began to throb.

  His free hand gripped my butt cheek and his fingertips sank deep into the skin of my inner thigh. My entire body started to tingle as I fought to stay on my feet. My head started to spin, my stomach went into a mild frenzy, and he continued to kiss me as passionately as I had always expected women in some corner of the world were being kissed by someone who loved them.

  But that person had never been me.

  As the passage of time slowed to a point that seconds seemed like a lifetime, our mouths parted. He bit my upper lip lightly and released it. I opened my eyes and glanced upward. As our eyes met, he narrowed his slightly, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. His hand still gripping my neck, he squeezed with a little more force as if to remind me he was the one in charge.

  He leaned back and studied me.

  “God damn, Killer, get a fuckin’ room,” a voice behind me growled.

  Still gazing into my eyes, he lifted his free hand in the air as if to silence his friend. As they stood at our side staring, his eyes never shifted away from mine. His intensity was apparent, and it was ten-fold of what I had previously witnessed. He tightened his grip on my neck and tilted his head to the side ever so slightly.

  He released my neck and slid his hand upward slowly. As the web of his hand met my chin, he squeezed ever so slightly, resting his thumb along my jaw and his index finger on my cheek. As he lightly tapped the tip of his finger against my face, his eyes widened a little.

  “You’re mine,” he breathed.

  The moment I waited for was upon me. I had considered all of the possibilities of when and where it might happen, and rehearsed what I would say and do when the time arrived that he realized we were going to take the next step. At that moment, as I gazed into his eyes, my mind was blank and I was an emotional disaster. Incapable of speaking, I swallowed heavily and simply nodded my head.

  “Mine,” he repeated as his finger tapped lightly against my cheek.

  My eyes fell closed and I nodded my head in agreement, satisfied I was nothing less than his. As I felt the tip of his finger tracing along my jaw, I wondered what was next. Where I was and who I was surrounded by mattered not one bit. As the anticipation of what was to come built inside of me, his hand gripped my neck once again and he pushed me into the glass.

  As he pressed his lips against mine, my mind drifted away. At that moment, as he kissed me, I knew very little, but I knew one thing for certain.

  He was absolutely right.

  And as odd as it might have seemed to a conventional woman, Jackson had somehow taken ownership of a very large portion of my heart.

  And nothing else mattered.

  EMILY

  June 27, 2006

  Being deprived of my eyesight wasn’t something I had ever dreamed of happening to me, nor was it something I ever thought could or would be sensual. What little I knew of being blind was that the remaining senses, according to my understanding at least, were heightened or more refined.

  I now had first-hand information to support my previous beliefs.

  Long after he walked out of the room - and he had done so several times already - the smell of his cologne lingered. When he returned, his footsteps echoed throughout the house until he reached the carpeting in the bedroom. His breathing sounded as if he were a bull preparing to charge the matador in some third world country - even though I realized it was no different than any other breathing that had gone unnoticed on previous nights we had spent together. I had no idea of how long I had been deprived of my sight, but I suspected it had been at least a few hours.

  I knew one thing and one thing only.

  The size of the wet spot my overly aroused pussy had deposited on the comforter was large enough I could feel it against my hips.

  With my hands and feet secured to each corner of the bed, I was face down, naked, blindfolded, and whatever the polar opposite of exhausted would be. I felt the way I suspected a meth-head would feel after smoking a paycheck’s worth of rock over the course of a weekend. As my heart continued to beat out of my chest in anticipation of what may or may not be happening next, Jackson startled me as he dragged something along the skin of my inner thigh.

  My every muscle tensed and my pussy ached as if it were going to pop.

  I bit my lower lip and pressed my face into the comforter. Enveloped in complete darkness, I could hear the springs in the mattress creaking as he shifted his weight from side-to-side on the bed.

  The tickling of my inner thigh ceased. Short of the ceiling fan and his breathing, the room was now silent. In the distance, I heard the refrigerator humming. The sound of the ceiling fan whirring above me became the center of my focus, the dull drone comforting me, slowly bringing me back down to earth with each rotation.

  I flinched as I felt something pressing against my aching pussy. Whatever it was slid inside
of me without much effort what so ever. As I moaned into the surface of the cool comforter, I wondered if his decision to not gag my mouth was by mistake or part of a careful plan he had devised.

  As I became lost in what I now believed was his finger inside of me, I decided nothing Jackson did would be without thought.

  Having him not speak to me the entire time was something that took a little getting used to, but looking back on the entire experience, his initial demand of ‘unless I speak to you, do not say a word’ answered my question of whether or not the lack of a gag was intentional.

  He was testing my ability to follow his demands.

  Or something of that nature.

  As his finger slowly worked my pussy into a lathered up little mess, I decided I really didn’t give a fuck if he planned it or not. Whatever he was doing was working and working well. I had never been so sexually aroused in my life, and I felt as if each minute would certainly be my last, my death a result of some profound reaction of my brain’s inability to process my aching twat’s signals into meaningful feelings. His finger continued to torture me, the tip tickling my g-spot with each stroke. An odd tingling sensation began deep inside my pussy and rang throughout my body, eventually making my overly sensitive nipples feel as if they were being mildly electrocuted. I had officially reached the point of climax, a heightened feeling of sexual bliss I had never known to exist. All as the result of a little light tickling, slapping my ass with a paddle, and his finger inside of me.

  I bit into the down comforter and prepared for an earth shattering orgasm which was slowly building within my soul.

  He pulled his finger from my pussy and wiped it on my cheek.

  Fuck.

  His breathing came closer and closer until I felt it against my neck. As the warmth of his breath against my ear caused me to wince in anticipation, he spoke the first words I had heard in hours.