It was all the encouragement I seemed to need. I continued to pull against her hair, thrusting myself in and out of her forcefully as the sound of our bodies slapping against each other echoed throughout the room. Every few strokes, she let out a wail or groaned in pleasure. Her moaning seemed to provide fuel for me to continue, and continue I did. After several minutes of uninterrupted fucking, I found myself tugging against her hair with much more force and pounding myself inside of her without an ounce of restraint.
As I watched her begin to shudder from the force of my hips pounding against her ass, my eyes eventually went unfocused and I slowly took every bit of her perfectly shaped body into memory. Her tattoos, her shape, her smell, the sounds she made, how it felt to feel myself inside of her tight wet warmth…I absorbed it all.
And, as my mind came back into focus, I recalled her desire to be bitten.
I continued to methodically work myself in and out of her, bending at the waist as I did so. Maintaining pressure on her hair, and pulling against it until her back arched from the force, I leaned forward and encompassed her ear with my lips.
“Son-of-a…” she moaned as I nibbled on her ear lobe.
I bit into the fleshy lower lobe of her ear as I held myself deep inside of her. The harder I bit, the louder she groaned in pleasure. I cinched the lobe in my teeth and pulled against it slightly. In return, she wailed in pleasure. I released her ear and moved my mouth along her neck, dragging my teeth against her skin as I did so. Her continued moaning provided assurance I was doing exactly what she had hoped.
As my mouth slid to her shoulder, I bit into the meaty upper portion of her back until I felt the muscle tightly bound between my teeth. A string of blubbered expletives and a few gyrations of her hips later, she arched her back and moaned loudly into the open room.
Her pussy contracted around my swollen cock as she bucked her hips back and forth rhythmically. Within a few seconds, she went limp.
“Oh…Fuck…” she whimpered as she collapsed onto the bed.
After a few seconds of silence, all of which included my dick still being buried deep inside of her, she raised her chest from the bed and peered over her shoulder.
Her eyes were incapable of completely hiding the slight worry which obviously filled her mind.
“You’re not done?” she asked.
I wanted to be that man. The guy she proudly told her friends about in the bar over a bottle of beer. The one she came back to time and time again, the man she was afraid each and every time just might fuck her to death, but she was incapable of walking away from. The person, when the time was right, she eventually would fall in love with, knowing he was completely willing – and capable – of satisfying her each and every desire.
I wanted to be the one.
“Far from it,” I growled as I gripped her waist in my hands.
“Where have you been all my life,” she breathed.
Whether she realized it or not, she had already placed me atop a pedestal. I felt like a complete success, and was filled with an unbelievable sense of pride. Her remark left me feeling even more so. Now with an inflated sense of sexual self-esteem, I gazed down at her, fixed my eyes on her, and responded in a manner much different than I ever would have expected.
“Waiting to meet someone who could take all the sexual punishment I like to deliver,” I responded.
She buried her face in the comforter and screamed in apparent joy. After a few seconds of silence, she raised her head, glanced over her shoulder, and grinned.
“Your search is over, Wilson. Whether you know it or not, she’s bent over in front of you with your fat cock throbbing inside of her,” she said.
With her waist still in my hands, I slowly began to work myself in and out of her wet mound. As I did so, I grinned in return, fully believing her stubborn nature and my self-pride would prevent either one of us from giving up.
But I was prepared to find out.
STEVIE
I had always believed people were like oranges. Peeling away the outer layer - the protection - was required to find something tasteful. Proceeding without doing so would always produce a bitter taste.
And, so far, no one had bothered to peel away my outer skin.
Until now.
“Ready?” I hollered.
“I’ve been ready, what are you doing in there?” he shouted.
I pushed the door open and walked across the tile floor with as much grace as possible. After walking past him, I paused, turned, and allowed the purse to swing at my side. The shoes had a 6”heel, but with a 2” platform they were very easy to walk in. The dress was black with a colorful floral print, and although I recognized none of the designer’s names, everything was obviously very high quality.
“Well?” I asked.
“Speechless,” he said.
“I like these heels, but I really liked the ones I had on a minute ago. With the studs,” I said over my shoulder.
Sitting on the edge of the couch, he crossed his legs and rested his hands in his lap. “Personally, I preferred the leopard shoes you wore with the tattered jeans, and the sleeveless black dress. I guess it’s good you don’t have to just pick out one outfit.”
“I seriously get to keep all of these? Everything?” I asked.
He grinned and nodded his head.
“I don’t know what these shoes cost, but everyone sure talks a lot about them,” I said as I twisted my foot to the side and gazed down at the red sole.
“I didn’t pay attention. It’s irrelevant. All that matters is that you like everything,” he said.
“I love everything,” I responded. “What possessed you…”
He cocked his head to the side and shrugged his shoulders. “I was just daydreaming, and it spawned an online shopping spree. I’d see a beautiful dress, and couldn’t help but wonder what you’d look like in it. I knew if it was beautiful without you, it couldn’t do anything but become more so if you were wearing it. And, there was only one way to find out that I knew of,” he said as he stood from his seat.
I had heard people say in my past that we are a product of our environment. I never really paid much attention to the phrase, or gave it any thought. Now, I believed it made perfect sense. The person I had been all my life was a result – not wholly, but definitely primarily – of my financially inability to produce change.
My finances had always been limited to paying my rent and supplying my boyfriends with beer, drugs, and motorcycle parts. Not once was my financial focus on myself, nor did I have the ability or desire to really make it so.
Standing in the living room of Wilson’s mansion wearing my new dress, holding my new purse, and wearing my new Red Bottom shoes, I wondered if everyone on this earth was able to live their life without financial restraint, just who they would become.
The clothes and the car didn’t change who I was, but they allowed me to feel the way I had always wanted to feel.
Beautiful.
“So you think I make the clothes even more beautiful?” I asked.
He shook his head from side to side as he slowly walked in my direction. “I believe the clothes are a means of allowing you to believe you’re as beautiful as you truly are.”
He was truly a wonderful man. I swallowed the lump in my throat, but I wasn’t able to do anything about the butterflies in my stomach or my rapidly beating heart. I felt like crying. To go from a man who would punch me in the face for not having dinner ready to being treated like royalty wasn’t an easy thing. As my eyes welled with tears, I gazed down at the floor. He continued to slowly walk toward me. I pivoted on the balls of my feet and turned away.
I had to.
“Thank you,” I murmured as I walked away.
You’re beautiful, too.
I got undressed, placed the clothes back into their boxes, and put on the jean shorts and flip-flops I had worn previously. As I looked in the mirror and attempted to fix my hair, I felt like less of a woman. I gazed at mysel
f blankly in the mirror feeling slightly confused. Wearing the clothes Wilson had purchased made me feel different. I felt beautiful, worthy of his praise, and although the clothes didn’t transform me into someone else, I definitely didn’t feel like I was my normal self while wearing them.
As I had paraded through the home wearing the new clothes, I was filled with pride.
And I liked it.
I got undressed and opened the boxes until I found the sleeveless black dress. After putting on the dress and the leopard shoes, I tossed my jean shorts and flip-flops in the empty box. Feeling the strange sense of pride again, I turned toward the mirror and studied my reflection.
I had never been a woman who required praise nor was I one to appreciate it when people provided it. Generally, I met people with a snide comeback or a cocked eyebrow if they made a comment about my beauty. Looking at myself in the mirror, however, I needed no one to tell me I was beautiful.
I could clearly see it.
After another quick study of myself in the mirror, I reached under the dress, pulled off my panties, and tossed them on top of the boxes. I fought against the smile my mouth was curling into as I walked out into the living room. Wilson sat in his chair, facing away from me and talking on his phone. As I carefully paced my steps and approached him, I made every effort to keep the heels from clicking on the wooden floor. Half way to where he was seated, he glanced toward me. His eyes fell to the floor, slowly rose upward, and stopped as his gaze met mine.
“Andrew, my apologies. I’ll have to call you back,” he said as he stood.
He tossed his phone into the cushion of the chair and ran his hand through his hair nervously.
“Magnificent,” he said. “You look magnificent.”
I did my best to curtsy. “I picked your favorites.”
“You’re my favorite,” he said with a smile.
I silently mouthed the words “thank you” and attempted another curtsy.
“If you were able to pick your favorite thing to do in the entire world, what would it be?” he asked.
“You,” I responded.
He shook his head lightly. “No. Your favorite thing to do. Let’s do something.”
“You,” I responded. “I want to do you.”
We had been together for almost three weeks, and he had become quite used to my sexual advances. He really didn’t have a choice; I forced myself on him as often as I could. He had yet to ask me for sex or initiate it himself, which I dismissed to his constant concerns of doing everything in a proper manner.
As he stumbled to find words, I grabbed the hem of the dress and began to lift it. As the dress slowly revealed more and more of my naked body, his eyes went wider and wider. I continued to lift it until my hand was even with my face, at which point I stopped and did my best to look innocent.
It wasn’t easy.
I cocked my head to the side playfully. “Is it breezy in here?”
He shook his head. “Hot, it’s getting hot.”
“Maybe it’s my wet pussy catching the breeze from the air conditioner. You know how wet things feel cooler than dry things?” I asked as I swiveled my hips back and forth.
He nodded his head like a little boy who had been asked if he wanted a second piece of cake.
He stood statue still with his eyes focused on my bare hips.
I needed no invitation. Parading through the house for the last hour in various dresses, pants, and jeans made me feel like a beautiful little bitch, and it was time I rewarded him for a job well done.
The windows in the rear of his house went from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling, giving a wonderful view of the lake his house backed up to. While attempting to maintain some degree of innocence, I released the hem of the dress and let it fall. As his eyes fell at the same rate as the dress, I carefully placed one foot directly in front of the other and attempted my best Victoria’s Secret runway model impersonation as I walked to the large glass wall.
Being subtle had never been a strong point of mine. Upon reaching the wall, I hiked the dress over my hips and slapped my hands against the glass at shoulder height. While positioning my feet and arching my back, I saw him slowly walking in my direction out of my peripheral. Satisfied, I turned toward the glass, closed my eyes, and sighed.
My persuasive tactics were no longer necessary. While I was certain he was going to fuck me, I had no idea what foreplay, if any, may lead up to it. I wasn’t prepared for what ended up happening when it happened, but in hindsight, it was exactly what I needed at the time.
Although I later found that he wasn’t totally undressed, at the time, I had no idea. Standing with my eyes closed and my forehead resting against the glass, his chest against my back was the first indication he had arrived. His body pressing against me lasted all of half of a second before he shoved me completely full of cock. It was exactly what I wanted, and everything I had hoped for, but I was in no way ready.
“Harrumph,” I grunted at he pressed me into the glass.
His hand found my chin and gripped it tightly. He turned my head to the side and pressed his lips against my face, kissing carelessly along my cheek and jaw. As his mouth met mine, he bit my lower lip and thrust himself a little deeper.
“You little tease,” he said through his teeth.
He released my lip and moved his mouth to my ear.
“Not…a…tease,” I muttered.
“Raise your arms,” he breathed into my ear as he pounded his hips into my ass.
I raised my arms above my head in compliance. He slowly pulled himself from inside of me and raised the dress over my head. As he tossed it aside, he guided himself into my now soaking wet pussy.
I couldn’t count how many times I had been fucked in the past; I had been the girl who every other girl in school called a slut. It was far from the truth, my problem was that I really enjoyed sex, and fucking was something I rarely felt I could get enough of, no matter how many times I did it.
Being fucked by Wilson was an entirely new experience. I now felt like all of my other sexual encounters were me being fucked with, and not being truly fucked. With Wilson, there was no doubt in my mind what he was doing. He was fucking me.
And he was fucking me good.
Standing in my Red Bottom leopard heels with Wilson pounding himself into my pussy as if he were punishing me, the balls of my feet were on fire and my head was spinning.
In the past, reaching climax was difficult, infrequent, and time consuming. At best, it happened once during sex.
And then I met Wilson.
I found out through him that my orgasms could be multiple, more satisfying, and quite draining of my desire to continue.
His hands pressed hard into my torso, and slowly worked their way to my boobs. As his fingers began to pinch my nipples, I flinched from the pain. I loved having my nipples pinched, and it seemed to be somehow directly tied to my reaching climax if done at the right time. As I wagged my knees back and forth and rocked on the toes of my shoes, he continued to twist my nipples in his very capable fingers.
“You’ve got a tight little pussy,” he growled into my ear.
My response was broken and choppy. “It’s…your…fat…cock,” I breathed.
I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. His warm breath in my ear, his fingers twisting my nipples, and my little pussy stuffed full of his throbbing cock was more than enough to bring me to quick climax.
The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the living room was the deciding factor. As I became almost hypnotized by the sound, our scent, and the feeling of his long thick dick sliding in and out of me, I began to tingle from my nipples to my soaking wet twat.
“Oh…fuck…” I howled.
“Oh fuck is right, you little tease,” he growled as he bit my ear.
And that was it.
The minute he bit my ear, I burst into an earth shattering, mind-blowing, muscle numbing orgasm. As my legs began to quiver and I fought to stay on my
feet, he continued to fuck me until I finally collapsed on the floor.
With the inside of my thighs and the crack of my ass covered in my juices, and my legs still quivering, I gazed up at him. Standing over me with a twitching stiff cock and his slacks around his knees, he grinned.
“What the fuck?” I whined as I attempted to raise myself to my feet.
He placed one hand on his hip and raked the fingers of his other hand through his mop of hair.
“Wasn’t done,” he muttered.
“Didn’t mean you had to fuck me into retardation,” I said as I attempted to raise myself to my feet.
He gazed down at me and chuckled. “If you stand up, I’m going to fuck you. Look at it like a boxing match. Just stay down.”
“Seriously?” I said in a smart-assed tone.
He gripped his massive cock in his hand, shook it at me, and nodded his head.
I liked this side of Wilson. It was not a huge change from when we met, just enough to remove a thin layer of his upbringing and expose his true inner being. If he thought for one minute I was going to stay on the floor, he was wrong. I pressed my palms on against the floor, straightened my elbows, and raised myself onto my quivering legs.
“Should have stayed down,” he said as he grabbed a handful of my hair.
“You gonna fuck me this time, or play around like you did last time?” I asked.
He pulled my hair tight, causing me to arch my back and tilt my head rearward. As he pushed my chest into the glass, he pressed his lips to my ear and exhaled sharply.
“Pardon me?” he breathed.
The strain on my hair was almost enough to make my eyes water, and I fucking loved it. I clenched my teeth to ease the pain and responded.
“You gonna fuck me this time, little boy?” I grunted.
The inside of each of my new Red Bottoms was quickly smacked with the edge of his dress shoe, causing my legs to go wide. Still pulling against my hair, he pressed his other hand against the center of my back. I eagerly bent at the waist and hiked my little ass in the air.
I knew he had every intention of teaching me a lesson. If I kept my mouth shut, and was a good girl for the next thirty minutes, I felt I may be able to walk to the car when he was done with me. But my personality wouldn’t allow it.
S is for SEX Page 41