by Gage Grayson
We’re looking at each other in the mirror.
I’m not a superstitious man, but I’m starting to worry about how the mirror is holding up. There’s no chance in hell that mirror ever reflected a scene worth a fraction of the blazing heat radiating from both of us. Just looking at the reflection, I feel like I’m about to fucking melt, but the mirror holds strong.
Macy has one hand on the glass as she rocks back and forth, gradually allowing me inside her.
For those first few moments, my mind clears again, and time slows almost to a standstill. I hear both our moans echoing softly.
As we adjust to the overbearing pleasure, we both start moving more freely. As Macy’s movements become more aggressive, she also relaxes in a way that lets me go in completely.
I stop, balls deep, and grind against her, pushing her tits against the glass.
Her moans are escalating as I bottom out and grind. “Are you close, baby?”
“Yes,” she gasps as she pushes against me.
“How’s the spray?” I’m hovering in just one spot.
“Perfect—but quit talking and start fucking.” Her free hand grabs my ass and yanks me in deeper.
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say, ma’am,” I tease as I pull out slowly to slam back into her.
Starting slow, I pick up the pace. It soon becomes clear that I just need to keep up with her. She’s insatiable, so tight and perfect that I don’t want it to end.
“Yes, Aaron. Yes. Just like that.” Her words are starting to tip me over the edge as I feel myself tense and harden even more.
“Fuck, yeah, Macy.”
Her face reflects a feeling of gorgeous, heavenly bliss as she comes, and I’m getting so goddamn close hearing her yell wildly and seeing her toss back her hair.
She tightens, she twitches, and I hold on as long as I can, which at the moment is not long at all as I explode with a force that takes me by surprise—along with the rolling swells of gratification that slowly flood my entire body as I groan uncontrollably and start losing coordination.
When I come to, I realize she’s flattened against the glass, watching me in the mirror.
“Fuck me! I’m sorry if I was too rough.” I straighten back slowly and pull her flush against my chest.
I’m relieved when she starts laughing. It feels incredible on my cock and I can’t help joining in.
“No, it was perfect. I was just keeping an eye on you to make sure you didn’t have a heart attack.” She smirks and winks.
I love this woman.
Macy
I can’t stop smiling.
From the night I lost my virginity to Aaron, I kept convincing myself that there’s no way this could possibly get any better.
And I’m always wrong.
Still smiling, I clasp my chest dramatically, teasing him as he lathers up some soap under the warm spray.
Not only does it keep getting better and better, but we’re only just getting started.
Wiggling his eyebrows up and down, he rubs his hands together maniacally. “Do you want to stand under the spray or sit down while I wash you?”
“Hmm,” Tapping my lips with my index finger, I pretend to consider before leaping the two feet over to him. “I’m here.” Rubbing my tits on his arm, I hug him from the side.
Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me tightly to his chest and leans in to kiss me.
It keeps getting better, and we’re just getting started. Is it any wonder I’m smiling so much?
Slowly, tenderly, he licks and sucks on my bottom lip before sliding his tongue into my mouth and making me swoon.
Yes, it’s ridiculous.
But as his arms loosen, he starts stroking my back and migrating down to knead my butt. I just want to climb on him.
“Let me wash you,” he whispers as he pulls back. Gently, he tugs me under the spray and picks up the soap to lather his hands again.
Starting with my neck, he slowly works his soapy hands across my skin.
Starting at my neck, he circles down methodically onto my arms and continues down to my hands.
Pausing, he steps closer, and reaches his arms around me.
Rubbing my neck and going down my back, he works his sturdy, masculine hands into any tension he comes across.
When he reaches my butt, he circles back up to soap his hands up again and then kisses me lightly on the lips before kneading and caressing my breasts.
“Have I told you how much I adore your chest?” Pulling my nipples lightly, they pucker immediately, begging for more attention.
“No. I don’t believe so.” I push my tits out to smoothen the transition for whatever Aaron has in store next.
Caressing the areas just around my nipples with his lips and tongue, Aaron is demonstrating his adoration in a way that could only be clearer if he stopped fucking teasing and got around to using his remarkable tongue on my nipples.
Which he does next, starting on the left and staying there as my eyes roll back at the wonderful intense sensation.
Then, he moves on to my right nipple.
I still cannot stop smiling.
He then circles his hands down, massaging a slow, steady path down my chest, all the way to my stomach, lingering for a few seconds; then another few seconds, teasing me, letting the anticipation build as I protest.
“Come on!”
Aaron laughs, and moves down leisurely.
When he reaches my cunt, he slowly works his hand between my legs, parting my folds and honing right in on my clit. “How is it?”
“Perfect. Happy.” I circle his neck and kiss his lips gently. “I’ll rinse and then it’s my turn.”
Snagging the shower spray, he holds it up like a gun. “I’ve got it.”
“I see you do.” I’m giggling as he slowly works his way around my shoulders and neck and then runs his hands slowly behind the spray.
The spray has migrated down to my pussy where he’s rubbing and working his fingers inside me. His cock has perked up and I reach out to stroke him along to the rhythm he’s setting with his fingers inside me.
“Let me clean you up now. Why don’t you sit down?” Motioning to the bench, he reluctantly lets go of me.
Backing up a foot, he sits, spreading his legs and pulling me in closer and in between them.
“This is perfect.” He smiles and leans for my tits, which happen to be at eye level. I step back and grab the soap.
“Yes, you are perfect.” I start by rubbing the soap along his shoulders.
Taking my time, I use both my hands to move down his arms and back up to his chest.
Dropping his head back, he smiles at me as I slowly work the tense muscles along his pecs and admire his cut chest.
I know right where I’m heading and I’m getting impatient with myself. But he’s spent a few minutes on me and I want him to feel as relaxed as I do.
As I get closer to his cock, he is definitely just as happy to see me, and he rises to the occasion.
I can’t help rubbing against him and he encourages me by pulling me in tighter, sucking a nipple and trying to distract me.
It feels fabulous naturally, but there’s something I want in my mouth and he keeps side-tracking me.
Pulling away, I drop to my knees and take his cock in both hands. Grasping the base, I lean in to lick the tip, never breaking eye contact. He breathes with his mouth, as I draw him into my mouth and circle the head with my tongue.
“Mmmm.” Exactly as I remember.
Reaching for my face, he slowly strokes my hair back and gently moves his fingers on my scalp.
He feels hard but silky as I tighten the seal and begin working him slowly further inside my mouth, all the while cupping his balls.
Gradually, I work him back into my throat while tightening my fingers and pumping with my hand. I enjoy his moaning as he hits the back of my throat.
Keeping him in deep, I swallow and pump. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me and when I begin to deep th
roat him, both his hands come to my head.
“Oh, Macy. Oh, baby…Oh, God.” He’s starting to tilt his hips, pressing deeper and I feel his balls tightening in my hand.
“Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.” I moan around him, adding some vibration to tip him over the edge.
“Fuck. Baby...here I come.” Tensing, he noticeably hardens even more before he explodes in my mouth. He shoots down the back of my throat as I swallow.
So. Fucking. Good.
It’s perfect. I can’t get enough as I slow my pumping.
His head drops back against the tiles as he slumps. Spent.
Licking the last of his cum off his cock as he softens, he watches me with lazy eyes and a contented smile.
“Damn, Macy. You rock my world.” His praise makes me laugh.
“You like?” I ask coyly. Batting my eyelashes, I lean in to kiss his chest.
“You have no idea.” His breathless answer tells me all I need to know. “I was so tempted to pull you off and fuck you against the shower wall. You have no idea. I kept thinking, in another couple of seconds. But you sucked it right out of me.”
Standing up, I lean over him to straddle his legs on the bench. “I’d like to try sex on a bed next.”
“True. We do have the night to use the bed. Are you sure that won’t be too boring for you?” Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls my cunt down to his softening cock.
“Well, once I’ve done it in a bed a few times, I’ll let you know if I think I’m bored with it.” Smiling, I lean down to take his lips in another passionate kiss.
He pulls away with a puzzled look.
“Wait, are you saying you’ve never had sex in a bed?” His voices rises with incredulity at the end of the sentence.
“Yes.” My short answer just adds to the hilarious yet endearing confusion on his face.
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but don’t be offended.” Putting some space between us, he holds his hands up in front of himself defensively. “It doesn’t matter, of course, but how is that possible?”
“What do you mean, how is that possible?”
It starts out as playful, a tease, but as I hear myself say the words, I start to feel actual indignation.
Why is that so unbelievable? But, I decide to cut him some slack by letting the question slide and asking another.
“We haven’t done it in a bed yet. Is it because it’s too boring for you? Too vanilla, as they say?”
Maybe he’s into something kinkier, more interesting than what we’ve been doing, even. If that’s the case, I think I can handle it. I’ve really enjoyed everything we’ve done so far. But, I can tell he’s still caught up with that last revelation, and he confirms it with the next question.
“Are you saying that when we had sex on the island, that it was your first time?” There’s more than just confusion on his face—there’s something approaching shock.
“Why, yes, I am.” I grab his face and kiss his lips gently.
He’s turned to stone under me.
“Don’t act so surprised.”
I thought he would be smug, somehow. Or cocky about it, for whatever reason.
Instead, he pulls me in and hugs me tightly. His voice in my ear is filled with regret.
“Oh, Macy. I had no idea.”
“Yes, I was hoping you didn’t. That’s what I planned.” Duh.
Pulling back, he cups my face. “But why? I could have been gentler. We could have done it in that massive, soft bed…”
“Don’t be a dummy,” I interrupt. “It was perfect. Intense. Passionate.” Kissing him, I pull away an inch. “Ineffable. Undeniable.”
Looking into my eyes, he stares at me hard as his jaw tightens.
Standing with me in his arms, I wrap my legs around him, clinging to his wet body with my own.
Stopping the shower, with one hand, he steps out and marches into the bedroom.
“Where are we going?”
Dropping me on the bed, he follows me to the mattress, framing me in his arms.
“To rectify this great injustice immediately, of course!” Our wet bodies rub together perfectly, and I can feel his hardening cock brush against my pussy.
He kisses me and all thoughts float away as I succumb to the barrage of passion.
Aaron
And I thought one fucking guy with no camera from Variety was bad enough. A million cameras, maybe fucking literally, pointing their flashbulbs at us all at once as numerous shouted questions fly at as from all directions is a whole lot worse.
We’re more than used to it by now—we fucking feed off this. It reminds us of that first night at Radio City.
Working her way down the line of photogs, Macy blows a kiss to one camera, looking so good doing it with her mahogany red lipstick and chocolate brown leather gloves, sticking her tongue out at the next and then just giving the finger to the growing crowd of paps trying to get an exclusive shot.
What I call our first night at Radio City, I’m talking about more than just the premiere of Believers—as I’ve taken to calling it—I mean it fucking literally.
That night is now our anniversary. Macy still likes to acknowledge it every month by giving me a plush stuffed coconut.
There are now a dozen stuffed coconuts in my collection, so…you do the math.
Macy impatiently gestures for me to join her before ascending the steps into Palais des Festivals et de Congres.
After hearing about the stuffed coconuts, you may be wondering what I give Macy for our monthly anniversaries—is it ever a stuffed shark?
The answer is that she’s never asked for a stuffed shark, and what I buy her is whatever the fuck she asks for.
Like her own movie studio, for instance.
I think she asked as a joke, but I had the capital, and—especially with the buzz surrounding Believers—I had the clout, as well.
The cameras start going fucking nuts after I catch up with Macy and we walk up the stairs arm in arm. They love to get shots of us together, which is totally understandable seeing as how we’re fucking photogenic.
And, as Macy pointed out, we’ll never have to hire a couple’s photographer—a Google search can give us the same thing for free.
“These stairs totally work for me,” Macy says softly as the cameras click behind us, “getting to burn nearly two calories on my way to attend a screening? Yes, please.”
“Does looking insanely fucking sexy also count as a benefit?”
“Are you talking about me? Or you?”
“Well, I was talking about you. But now that you mention it…”
The last thing the paparazzi cameras capture before we disappear inside is Macy playfully hitting me with her Louis Vuitton handbag.
There was no official release of Believers after the Radio City premiere—I realized that there were a couple of changes that should be made.
Putting the kibosh on the planned limited run drove buzz into the stratosphere, and investors were happy to come along for the ride. The decision to open a studio, with our own distribution, made the changes much easier to make.
Soon after we take our seats at the Cannes screening, the lights dim and the atmosphere becomes electric.
Finally, those words appear on the screen:
HarpSwim Productions.
Hey, do you know how hard it is to come up with a name for a film studio?
How about one that’s not too generic sounding, and that everyone involved agrees on?
Macy and I know what it references—that swim with Harpo—but we’re happy to let everyone else think it’s abstract poetry or whatever the fuck people think it is.
It’s just the words on the screen for now—we’re still working on a logo.
Everything else about the movie is the same, except I have a writing credit, and Macy Evans has story and executive producer credits—along with someone named Cara Milligan.
I don’t recall anyone of that name working on the film, but when Believers wins the Palme D’or and
hits big with a wide release, she’s going to be one fucking seriously wealthy lady. And whoever this Cara Milligan is, I bet she has an awesome best friend, as well.
Macy and I have sat through this entire picture countless times by now while preparing for Cannes and its wide release. But it wasn’t in a darkened theater, with a huge audience, surrounded by a charged cloud of anticipation.
Cannes audiences are tough and fucking honest, and they’ll start booing and heckling during the movie if they don’t like it.
They don’t during this screening.
When the line is delivered—What we have is something real, and it’s not worth walking away from—the electricity in the room almost becomes tangible, and there’s a smattering of sincere applause.
When the house lights come back up, as I suspected, a standing ovation is already starting.
To be fair, that’s also nothing new at Cannes. What makes this one special is the chance to stand up with the woman I love, as she’s surrounded by adulation for the creation she inspired.
I watch Macy absorb the applause, and I start applauding for her myself as she wipes away a tear, then another, and maybe, for a moment, fully realizing the rare beauty she possesses.
A beauty that comes from inside. A beauty that radiates, and exhilarates, and can even drive someone crazy with its power.
Realizing everything that’s so astonishing about who she is, everything that can’t be defined in a single word, or even at all, but which I still feel so strongly, nearly brings me to my knees every time I look at her…Her power to inspire, to encourage, to challenge somebody to find the good in themselves, and strive to be the best person they can be.
She even encouraged and inspired someone like me, and it’s something she still does every day. As the applause for her goes on, showing no signs of letting up, I hope that this makes her realize its strength, if only for a moment.
And if it is only for a moment, and she lets go or forgets all those realizations, I will be there always, to remind of all those things and more.
Hawaii Big-O
A Second Chance Romance Prequel
By Gage Grayson