“Do I get a choice? Well, in that case, here, put it in my ass,” I teased, knowing he wouldn’t do it. He didn’t. Sam took me from behind in the spooning position while his fingers danced on my clitoris. I complained when he went with me the first time, telling him I wanted three. He laughed and made me get up, explaining he had a full day planned for us.
Oh boy…
When Sam said he had a full day planned, he meant he had a full day planned. We cut up fruit together and had oatmeal first, then we walked hand in hand along the shore to where he was staying to get his truck. I tried my best to get him to drive my car, but he refused. I think he was afraid of it. I teased him about it being too much car for him.
I stood at the door of his one-room little hut while he changed into shorts. He wasn’t even a quarter mile from me and I didn’t even know it. Then again, I never really asked him anything about anything. I didn’t want to know.
“This is a nice place,” I said, trying to think of something to say.
Sam snorted, “Nice for what?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m being serious. I like it. It’s cute. I never noticed these before.”
“Uncle Fat owns them. There are ten of them, five are one rooms like this, and five are three bedrooms for families.”
“He rents them out?”
“Yeah, except for the Fourth of July week. We have a big family thing here.”
“You’re supposed to take us out on the boat for the Fourth. We have a big get-together, too.”
“I won’t be the captain that day, but don’t worry, my uncle will make sure you’re covered. I’m going to be out there on that beach, drinking cold beer and playing beach volleyball.”
I only smiled. It was better that way anyway. I really didn’t want Sam around my rich, arrogant friends, and most definitely, not Garrison’s parents. Sam wouldn’t be able to keep his ignorant mouth shut, I was sure of that. He would offend them in two minutes.
“Really, Sam?” I protested, seeing the antique pickup truck, the dirty, filthy pickup truck.
“Get your high-class ass in there,” he ordered opening the door for me.
I protested again when we pulled up to someone’s house. Sam told me to stay in the truck while he ran inside. I was fine with that. I didn’t want to meet any of his family. There was no need for that. It was what he did next that I wasn’t fine with. I watched him open the doors to a big garage away from the house and then he climbed in.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam ignored me and twisted in his seat, backing us up to the garage.
“What are we doing with that? I’m not getting on that thing.” No way in hell was I riding on that off road thingy. No way. No how. Again, Sam ignored me and hooked us up to the trailer.
“Sam, I’m dead serious. I’m not getting on that thing.”
“Yes you are.” He smiled a deviant smile, picked up my hand, and kissed my knuckles.
Not only did Sam force me to ride the stupid thing, but I loved it. We followed trails I didn’t even know were around the Malibu area. Having my arms around Sam’s waist, riding along desert-like trails, while overlooking the sea was probably the best day of my life. I was sure I had more fun than I ever had my entire lifespan.
I had my second orgasm of the day on the seat of the ATV. Facing Sam, I rode his steel rod, parked behind a briary bush. We didn’t even care when we heard other four wheelers pass above on the trail. The giddy smile never left my face as we drove back to drop the ATV off.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sam asked, getting back in the truck.
“Eh, it was okay,” I replied with a shrug.
Sam laughed, knowing I was full of shit. He knew I had a blast. I just wasn’t at liberty to show it. People in my class didn’t really show that kind of emotion, let alone run around on an ATV.
Sam dropped me off at my house and then went to his little hut to shower, telling me to be ready in an hour. I knew I should have told him no, that we were done for the day, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to just sit inside by myself. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to be with Sam.
I called Garrison while I was alone, but of course, he couldn’t talk. He was busy. Sam and I spent most of the evening on The Strip, eating, dancing, and getting drunk on beer. I wasn’t the party pooper. Sam was, and I made sure to let him know that fact with my slurred words.
It was barely past nine when we were back in and I had to answer my husband’s call.
“Hi, Garrison. What’s up?” I giggled.
“Kendra? Are you drunk?”
“I am very drunk. I’m drunk on Bud Light.”
“You’re drinking beer? Why?”
“I like it.”
“You like it?” he asked in his condescending, arrogant-ass tone.
“I do,” I admitted, looking over to see Sam looking back. His eyes were full of emotion while he stood, hands in pockets, staring at me with nothing but want. My playful, drunk tone changed with Garrison. “How are you? Everything okay there?” I asked, looking deep into the eyes of trouble.
I leaned against the island and popped the button on my shorts, unzipped my zipper, and slowly pulled it down.
“Kendra, I don’t like this. What are you doing there? We don’t drink beer,” Garrison quizzed.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay, Garrison?” I responded, hitting the end button.
“What’d you do that for,” Sam asked in some kind of wicked, sexy tone—or maybe that was just the way I was hearing it, or maybe I was drunk. Nonetheless. I wasn’t interested in Garrison Ashby. I was interested in Sam—
“What’s your last name?” I asked in the same melodramatic tone he used. My chest tightened as he took a step toward me.
“Wesley,” he answered, taking another step and pulling me to him. I could kiss Sam Wesley for the rest of my life, or at least the rest of the summer.
Sex with Sam was unexplainable. Even without a contract telling him what to do, Sam was good at it. He lifted me to the island and kissed the crevice between my breasts. I helped by lifting my shirt over my head. Tilting my head, Sam devoured my neck and throat until I released both my breasts from the restraining bra right to his lips.
My pussy was ready to explode. My pussy wanted Sam. I laid back on the cool gray countertop and lifted my hips, sliding out of my shorts. Sam pulled me toward him by my legs and licked me. What in the world was I going to do once I was back home and didn’t have anyone to do this to me? This was heaven, this was amazing, this was—Aahh. Aahh. Yes. Yes. Yes. Screaming over and over, I held Sam’s head to my crotch by a fistful of hair.
Once I was coherent enough to speak, I slid down his body, rubbing my hand along the left side of his now too-tight jeans.
“Spank me, Sam,” I requested, spinning out of his arms, and laying my torso over the counter I had just been eaten to bliss from.
“No, Kendra. I don’t want to do that.”
I turned and wrapped my arm around his neck, kissing him long, deep, and hard. “You have to. We have an agreement.”
“Kendra, we don’t have an agreement. Not after last time. Isn’t this enough? I’m pretty sure you just had one hell of an orgasm.”
“It was amazing, but you still have a contract to fulfill. I’d like it fulfilled,” I taunted, turning once again, leaving my ass begging for the hand slaps I so desperately wanted. “Come on, you can be my teacher. I’ve been a really bad girl.”
“I don’t want to spank you, Kendra.”
“Why, Sam? I know for a fact the last time you did it your cock got harder than it ever has. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it, too.”
“I didn’t enjoy it the other night. Does Garrison hurt you? Does he make you do stuff like this?”
Or for fuck’s sake…
“Fine, Sam. Don’t spank me. Let’s do what you want. I’m used to it. What would you like? You want to take me from behind, or would you rather I sit on you
r cock like we did on the ATV today.”
“Why do you have to go and ruin it?”
“Me? You’re joking,” I accused, pointing to my chest. “You’re the one that can’t seem to follow the rules. You knew what I wanted you for before you ever signed up for this. You knew I had needs I wanted to be fulfilled before you ever agreed. You’re the one turning it into something it’s not.”
Suddenly, I was face down on the countertop, bent and exposed. Sam held a fistful of hair and I instinctively covered my ass, shielding my damp crotch. Aahh—I moaned, feeling the first slap of Sam’s hand.
“Is that what you want? You want to be punished like kinky trailer park trash? Does that feel good to you, Kendra?”
“Yes,” I whimpered.
Sam casually moved my hand from covering my ass, pinned it to my back and brought three more blows. My engorged clitoris pounded with the beat of my heart, begging for the same ample attention. I could feel each handprint on both my cheeks. Every hand that landed on my bottom was felt in my drenched pussy. One little touch would be all it took. I waited and waited for that moment.
Having enough of the ass beating, I wanted to direct Sam what to do next. I wanted to tell him to make me come, but was afraid to after begging for him to do what he was doing. The erotic sting had turned into a very distinct pain, one I remembered from Adriana. I could take her hand seven days a week, all day long. It was the three-foot yardstick or the hairbrush I hated. Those hurt—a lot. That was how this was beginning to feel. I squeezed my eyes as tight as I could, trying to rid the thought of holding my ankles while my bare ass was struck with the thin long stick. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t a helpless child. I wanted this.
Just like I would never do with Adriana, I held my own and took twenty-three cracks to my ass from Sam before I finally sighed, feeling Sam’s fingers being moistened, massaging my responsive clit.
“Don’t move,” Sam whispered in my hair, kissing the back of my shoulder. I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. I was in another land, a glorious, magnificent, enchanted, faraway place. I never wanted to return.
Both my hands grasped the other side of the island when I felt the buzzing. Sam held his hand on my back as he slid the vibrating device in and out, in and out. Oh sweet, sweet, sweet, baby Jesus. “Ahhh…” I cried out in pleasure as the device was removed and gliding effortlessly through my slit, back and forth.
“Does that feel good, baby?” Sam rasped. That’s when I noticed he was no longer standing with me. My pussy thumped harder, knowing he was on his knees, staring so close as he played with me. I mumbled some sort of incoherent yes, begging for more. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any more intense, I found myself on all fours, ass displayed like the Fourth of July meal that would cover that very countertop in a few short weeks.
Sam continued to play with me that way, doing everything he could to torture me with the powerful toy. “You ever squirt?” he asked, running his hand up leg, my back, and to my neck where he pulled my head to his lips and kissed me. I didn’t reply with words. I couldn’t, they were long gone, replaced with the anticipated orgasm.
Staying by my side, Sam lowered my body to a resting position. Curled in a ball with my ass in the air, I heard the motorized buzzing stop and felt his fingers slide into my pussy where they stayed. At first, it didn’t really feel like anything. It felt good, just not amazing, and then something else came over me, something that came in segments. My body began to shutter a little and my eyes rolled back. Sam seemed to have sensed the change, and stopped with the come here motion of his fingers deep inside me.
He pumped fast, in and out of me, grunting as though he, too, was about to come. “Ready? Here it comes, baby,” he panted, frantically working his hand. Never had I ever felt like that in all my life. It was so different from any orgasm I had ever experienced, and I was sure with every sensation I felt, I was, indeed, squirting.
Gasping in the best post-orgasmic glory I had ever endured, I turned my head. “Wow, Sam. What the hell was that?” It was at that moment that I caught a glimpse of myself in the black refrigerator. Why did I suddenly feel sad? I wanted down. Being on display wasn’t turning me on like it had before I saw myself.
“Let’s go up to my bed,” I said, sliding off the island.
“No. I want you right here, right on this island,” Sam said, kissing me. Jesus. What was wrong with my emotions? Why did I want to cry all of a sudden?
“Please, Sam,” I asked, pulling away.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked, kissing my eyelids. He sensed the mood change, too. If it were possible, I would say I had PMS. I didn’t get PMS. Not really. I was beginning to think it was SMS—Sam’s Mind-fuck syndrome.
“Yes, my knees hurt.” I smiled, trying like hell to cover up whatever it was I was trying to hide. I didn’t know myself, but he smiled and bought it. I screamed when he scooped me into his arms and carried me up the stairs.
We had the most amazing sex, missionary style. The sex position I hated most, because of Garrison not wanting to do it any other way, was becoming my favorite position with Sam. I loved the way he was so attentive with me, constantly kissing me, running his hands down my body, and staring at me like he truly wanted me, not for himself. For me.
Sam was gone when I woke the following morning. I smiled when I read the note, telling me he had some things to do and for me to meet him at his hut at noon. I laid there for a long time, contemplating the time I had there. Summer was going to be over before I knew it and I would be back in my Connecticut mansion, being a snob and working for some charity I pretended to care about. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t okay with it.
I had done everything Adriana taught me to do. I catered to a man I hooked in college. A rich man that would take care of me the rest of my life. I was sure of that. Garrison would never go anywhere, not even if there were a way for him to find out the truth about us not having a baby. Garrison was a creature of habit, he hated change, and I was sure he would take care of me with lavish gifts, vacations, and anything else I asked for. I knew he loved me in his own sort of way.
He was no different than I was. His hang-ups may have come from two very different parents than my own, but just the same as me, he was conditioned to believe life was meant to live a certain way, and he was doing it. Just like I was, only different.
Taking a deep breath, I rolled to my stomach and moved my fingers to my already alive pussy. I faced the wall, closed my eyes, and let the inevitable happen.
Once I was over the after-effects of my morning orgasm, I used my alone time to call Garrison.
“Ah, you’re sober now, I presume?” he questioned. Any other husband would have called back the night before. Any other man would have had a tone, a pissed off tone. Garrison didn’t. He spoke to me in the same straight-lined tone that he always did.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I had one too many.”
“I would appreciate that not happening again. I’m still not sure I shouldn’t send, um…”
“Olivia,” I helped. “I don’t need Olivia. I’m fine. I met some friends on the beach a couple days ago and had some drinks with them. It was nothing. Are you coming here this weekend?” I asked, hoping that he was not.
“I’m trying. I’ll let you know. I have to go. I’ll call you tonight. You’ll be home and sober, right?”
“Yes, Garrison. I’ll talk to you later.”
I had another first that day, too, against my will, of course. We went out in the ocean and boogie boarded back. It’s a lot harder than it looks. Every muscle in my body hurt. The next day I rode a horse, and the next, I beat the pants off Sam racing go-karts. I called Garrison between the fun that I was having with Sam and the sex. Oh, the sex…
We spent plenty of time out on the yacht, and just as much time doing other things. Things I would have never thought about doing, like riding a horse. For real? A horse? I’m never doing that again. The go-karts were fun though, and I would gladly
gloat over beating Sam at it again, any day.
Garrison came to stay with me again on the weekend. I didn’t want him there. I feigned a period to keep from having sex with him Friday, and told him I didn’t feel like going out on the boat the next day. I could tell he was fine with both. I don’t think he really liked the yacht that much. I think that was more for me than him. The sex didn’t even seem to bother him. He read some serious book about a mafia case back in the thirties and I read my smut, and texted Sam.
I wasn’t sure what was going on with my mind, I mean I knew, I just didn’t understand it. I was bored out of my mind. I was never this restless. By Saturday night, I thought I was going to go bonkers just sitting around. I tried to shop online, but that didn’t work, either. I found myself shopping for jeans, casual tops, and somehow, I ended up on a cowboy boot site with the cutesiest cowboy boots ever. They were pink and brown. Aye, yai, yai. I got off the internet and went to find Garrison.
He was engrossed in his office with books, folders, and his computer, chewing on the earpiece of his glasses. Walking behind him, I wrapped my arms around his neck. The response was exactly what I thought it would be. Puzzled, he turned to look at me. I had his full attention.
“What are you doing?”
“Let’s go for a walk,” I said, massaging his tense shoulders. It wasn’t what was on the tip of my tongue at all. I wanted to tell him I was trying to feel something. I didn’t. It wasn’t fair to Garrison to put him in that spot. Nothing had changed between us. This was the way things always were between us. And he wouldn’t understand me telling him I needed to feel something. This was my hang-up, not his.
“I don’t have shoes for that. I only have what I wore.”
“You have sandals upstairs. Want me to get them for you? Or you could go barefoot.”
He smiled up at me and patted my hand. “You go for a walk. I really need to stay at this.”
Again, I wanted to ask him why the hell he bothered to come, but I didn’t. I let it go, hoping Sunday came really fast so he would leave. I missed Sam. I left my husband to more important things than me and went outside to the heat. The air was sultry, instantly filling my lungs. Not that I needed help feeling sultry. I was doing a good job of that myself.
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