by Anna Chillon
“...Unsettled?” I couldn’t think of anything more intelligent than that stupid word. In that position he could’ve strangled me, but I wasn’t afraid of that, I knew he’d never do that. But I knew he wouldn’t have any qualms about doing a lot of other things.
He released me by leaning his palm against the wall beside my ear. “Are you hungry? Do you want to eat something?”
I shook my head, lowering my gaze to his chest. “No.” “Maybe go out and get a bit of fresh air, then?” He said with a murmur.
I shook my head again. He was so close that my vision doubled.
“Do your homework, then?”
I swallowed. “Absolutely not.”
“What do you want to do?”
I drew a wobbly little circle with my index on one of his shirt buttons, playing with the button without opening it. “What do you think?” I asked shyly.
His thumb pressed on my lower lip making my mouth to open a little. “Do you want to be my dirty little girl?” in a growling whisper.
I nodded.
“Do you want to see what I do to naughty girls like you?”
“Totally,” I admitted, disgracefully.
“Right answer.” At least I got that right.
The new goatee, wider than the previous one, framed his thin mouth giving it all the importance that it had for me at that moment. He touched my lips with his and kissed me so lightly just making me smile, then he put more effort in, enough to warm me up and make me realize I was naked from the waist down. I went to pull my jeans up, but Vincent grabbed my wrist.
“You don’t need trousers on. Come with me.” He pulled me by an elbow without giving me time to do anything. I jumped and tripped until we got to the table where we had lunch and family dinners. I was pushed to bend over the table. My buttocks in the air didn’t have time to cool down before more spanking ensued. Vincent gave them energetically, from below, on top and from side to side. There were four or five, I didn’t count them, I just screamed because his hand felt like a heavy shovel. They stung more than you could imagine.
“This is what I do to the naughty girls.” After a last slap, he pressed against me with his hips and thighs, soothing the slaps. “And then this...”
I heard the belt jangling and immediately the stiff object reached out toward his target.
He had stopped punishing me, but the burning didn’t cease, it spread to my belly and flowed to my brain. It intensified as the tip of his penis penetrated.
There can’t possibly be more, I thought as he kept advancing, taking my breath away.
“Mum...” like a child I pleaded to my mother, the woman who would be horrified if she knew. She would’ve been more disappointed than words can express.
My palms sweated, slipping, unable to cling to the smooth surface. Bent in two, I was held against the walnut surface, the bones of my hips digging into the wood at every stroke. I saw Vincent's big hands leaning on my backs of my hands and he intertwined his fingers with mine as he stretched out across my back. He kept my tremors under control like that as I still wasn’t used to sex, and he was almost taking my virginity again.
He clenched his fists and gave a vigorous thrust emitting a manly cry. More followed, each more obscene than the former, delving painfully deeply. There he stopped, putting his weight in and on top of me.
I felt the nerves of my legs stretched out to the extreme, his cock pulsing with involuntary spasms, my eyes threatening a river of tears. Yet I never said anything to him about what an immense effort it was for me to take what he was giving me. I liked the feeling of being taken over completely without being able to do anything, freeing me from any sense of guilt.
“I know you're strong,” he murmured, holding my head under his chin. He rubbed his jaw against my temple. “Keep me deep inside you, little one. I know you can do it.”
Unexpectedly, he pushed a little more again expelling a yelp. To say that I did it would be optimistic, I simply had no alternative. With my ribs pressed on the hard surface I could barely breathe, I thought I was going to faint when the weight lifted and the air returned to my lungs. For a moment I felt his mouth between my shoulder blades; the sharp beard and the soft tongue made my spine vigorously shiver. Then I was abandoned: I hated feeling him pulling out and moving away, he left me feeling destroyed.
I stayed as I was, laying like a helpless doll, as he’d left me, while a cold breeze blew up my bare legs. I couldn’t move them, I didn’t even try.
I watched him take a condom and put it on, as if what he had done so far was the prelude of what was to follow. I moaned in spite of myself, opening my eyes wide.
“Don’t worry, I'm not going to go over the top.” He came over and lifted me into his arms.
He took me to the couch where we nestled into one side. His caresses were shameless, easing the penetration that he made more gently this time. Spooning together, protected by the arch of his body, he cradled me swaying in my belly, moving like a tidal stream.
The spiky kisses, the exploration of my curves, the little squeezes and above all the knowledgeable circular pressure on my secret nut, started to make me moan without me realizing: after the initial momentum, all his attention brought me back to earth ten times over.
We stayed on that couch for hours, stuck together, while thanks to him I fully discovered my womanhood in the most sublime sense. He reassured me in my reluctance, obliged me to accept his moves imprisoning my hands and my legs every time I tried to stop him, leading me to surrender to the pleasure. He knocked down the barriers that would have opened up anyway without being forced, but I didn’t want to wait, and nor did he.
I just wanted to pretend there was an exclusive universe just for us where things were right and beautiful like this. I feared that my dream could be shattered all of a sudden.
“You told my Dad to take me away” I voiced my fears in a moment of illusive silence. “You don’t want me here.”
He stroked his lips on my neck, biting my earlobe, sending me little shivers of pleasure.
“When on earth would I have said that?”
“I heard you in the studio. You told him it wouldn’t be a problem for me to leave Rome.”
“You misunderstood. Do you see now that it’s a bad idea to eavesdrop?”
“So you don’t want me to leave?”
“No. Otherwise, how would I do this?” He turned me face down and pushed inside me, made a couple of decisive plunges into me, stopping suddenly. His contraction made me realize he was ejaculating in silence. It was strange, controlled and morbidly exciting at the same time.
Wanting to see our bodies together, I looked at our clear reflection on the plasma screen of the TV which was turned off. My slim figure almost disappeared, overwhelmed by him. It scared me because I saw exactly what other people would see: the ogre and the maiden, two different worlds that met in a perverse way. I had to hurry up and get older so that the difference between us wasn’t so obvious, or we’d have to pretend to be father and daughter for the duration of our relationship.
Shut in the house, however, we were fine, we didn’t have to act and could be ourselves. So we stayed there all afternoon; Vincent didn’t even bother to go to work, he was more worried about showing me which obscene ways he could stimulate every part of my body, making me go crazy.
I was sweating, my hands were clawing the arm of the sofa under my head, as he had ordered me to do. “Grab hold of it and don’t let go of it under any circumstances,” he said with a determination that convinced me to follow orders.
I tried, but it was impossible to keep still as he sank his fingers into my thighs, making me expose myself, and used his mouth right in that forbidden spot, making me go out of my mind.
Inside I was in pure chaos. I felt tremendously vulnerable, my innards all muddled up, I wanted him to stop and carry on forever. Certain moments I felt molten, my body weak, coursed by lava streams that joined to flush my perturbed face. I twisted my head to one side an
d the other, looking for shelter, pushing it in the nook of my elbows, suffocating my groans, all without leaving the couch.
That tongue and those lips moved like those of a devil who knew where to find me when I was lost. From time to time he looked up to my face, but didn’t need to see my expression to know that he’d taken me to another dimension.
It was pleasure, but it also became a torment because he kept me too close for so long, so close to an orgasm that I wasn’t ready yet to experience with anyone other than myself. I pulled a hand away and grabbed his hair to make him understand that he could stop. He pushed it away roughly, almost viciously, pushing it back where it was supposed to be, so it wouldn’t get in his way.
I almost wanted to cry, but Vincent didn’t hesitate; tireless, meticulous, animated by relentless confidence. He focused on the point that at that moment seemed to encompass the whole universe, he insisted, as my breath increased. Fast, faster still, his head getting farther away, lost in the remote place where a scream was building up. It was at that moment that he got up and hurled his penis deep inside me.
And it happened.
The scream became reality, shaking me from top to bottom, exploding inside and out of me, deafening. With unique mastery, Vincent managed to get orgasm out of my body.
It was the first one provoked by a man and it was as if the others, the solo ones, had never existed because they were completely incomparable. It was a bit like having always eaten sweets and suddenly discovering the taste of chocolate: pure dark chocolate with an aroma that permeates your mouth and turns your eyes to the sky.
My eyes were spinning too, seeing the moon and stars instead of the ceiling. For a few moments everything was silent, leaving me in orbit in immense space, empty, because filling myself with him had emptied me, my powers, my thoughts, my ego.
Then Vincent moved.
“Now I understand where you put all that sugar,” he began, rising from the couch and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You're so sweet.”
Somehow returning to reality, I huddled lazily on the pillow, lethargic and exhausted, pleased with what I considered to be a compliment. With an attentive eye, though partly concealed by the pillow, I perused his slender body, his long, powerful legs, the mass of pubic hair and the semi hard penis despite having had his orgasm before me. It wasn’t hard to look at him at all; he wasn’t bewitching, his skin wasn’t as toned and young as mine, but he had no shame. He was like a wild animal with its scars, bones well visible and protruding at the joints and on the sharp face, the outline of the compact muscles, with his own original way of moving, always alert: safe steps on safe ground.
“You’re not angry anymore?” I asked, looking at him with one eye.
“How could I be, after you let me taste you?”
I grabbed another cushion and squeezed it over my stomach. “What are you talking about? I didn’t let you do anything. More like you just took what you wanted... you spanked me and you put me on the table.”
From now on, during family dinners, I wouldn’t have been able to think of anything else.
“And did you like it, sugar?”
That nickname made me blush because of what he was referring to, which certainly wasn’t the amount of sugar I could eat. “Zoe would say that you’re a bully, you control me making it sound like punishment.”
“Not at all,” he said, removing the condom he’d come into. “I just think that you and I have come up with a good way to understand each other and personally I appreciate it when you keep your mouth shut, panting, waiting for me to give you what you want... because you want it.”
“I don’t do that.”
“Oh, you so do, since I found you with the scarf wrapped around your wrists, confirming my suspicions about your tastes, totally different from those of Aaron and your mother.”
“Different how?”
“It's simple: they love to be gentle, fair, and retreat before the contrasts of the roles, the ‘animal’ instinct. But you’re not scared, you’re attracted by it. Unfortunately you understand your parents, but they can’t understand you.” What a novelty: I couldn’t even understand myself, at least not how Vincent could.
“And what about you, what do you like?” I asked.
He gave me a cunning smile. “Do you really need to ask?”
I shook my head, watching him head towards the kitchen. He was the wolf, he was made of animal instincts and he had amply demonstrated it.
He was obviously attracted by people who were willing to be thrown into his mouth. People like me. That was what he had been trying to tell me that first night, giving me the choice to stay with him or give up everything that would follow.
“Am I really so different to my parents?” I raised my voice to reach him, realizing that he knew my father better than I did.
“Quite a lot. Are you sure you’re their daughter?” He asked jokingly as he came back wiping his cock with a few sheets of kitchen roll.
“I don’t know, you were there when I was born. Mum says you saw me before Daddy.”
“Fortunately I never had Adele, otherwise I’d start to have horrible suspicions.”
OK, this discussion was taking an unsettling turn, especially the idea of Vincent with my mother. I squashed the cushion down to see him better. “Have you never had any children?”
I knew the answer, but I wanted confirmation.
“Absolutely not.”
“Not even by mistake?”
“I can be distracted on many topics, but on this no, most categorically.”
He had always been a free spirit, he didn’t really like the idea of being a parent. Yet at his age most guys would’ve liked to be. “Would it be so horrible to be my father?”
“Seriously? As things are now it’s atrocious being his friend. I don’t think you realize how serious this is,” pointing to himself and me with his finger, putting his trousers back on.
He was right. I wasn’t entirely aware of how difficult the situation was for him and how difficult it would be for Aron if he found out about us. “Is it very difficult to lie to Dad?”
“What a lot of questions.” He sat down on the couch, taking the pillow and pushed me back, so that I was wrapped around him. “I’ll try to explain it simply. Imagine being attracted to a fire so much that you can’t stay away from it. One day you give in and grab it with your hand. You finally get to the fire, feel its heat, enjoy the live flame, but you burn your hand so badly that you can never use it again, you've destroyed it. Yet you look at it, smile and pretend that it never happened. Meanwhile, your hand still doesn’t realize it, but you know it's already gone, that you'll have to amputate it one day. And you're already incomplete inside.” His eyes were those of a man who was already alone. “To lie to your father, Giada, for me is like lying to my hand.”
I put my head against his arm. “I'm sorry.”
“But you don’t want me to be honest with him.”
“No, please...” If no one knew, no one would have to suffer and nothing would be over. “Please...” I took his hand and put it to my mouth, kissed it, and gave him a mischievous lick.
“Little minx!” He snarled. “If I'm not careful you’ll end up giving me the run around.” But then he gave me his hand back again. “Carry on licking, but look into my eyes as you do it.”
He stroked my head while I did it, huddled against him.
“More” he demanded.
I pulled my tongue out to give him a long, slow lapping, still fixed on his gaze. In the meantime, he tugged at my nipple, making me screw my eyes closed and pant on his hand.
He sighed. “It’s going to be a nightmare, minx. A huge nightmare.”
***
The next morning, when I woke up, Vincent wasn’t there. The cover was crumpled on the couch and a sheet of paper stuck with sticky tape to the sugar bowl, said: “Only one teaspoon, no more!”
I didn’t know where he was, or whether he would come back, but resisted the t
emptation to send him loads of messages like a worried wife. In my room I tried to study, moving from a mood of disappointment to one of impatience, and finally I realized I was angry. I felt a gnawing at my liver that stopped as soon as I heard the door being unlocked.
“Giada?” He called.
The plan was to ignore him and so I did for a moment, staying still on the bed listening out.
“Where's my little girl?”
Oh, damn it!
I closed the notebook, jumped down from the bed, ran down the stairs, and jumped into his arms. He held me as I wrapped my legs around his hips, his laughter resonating was the most beautiful noise I’d ever heard; His manly perfume was subtle, but it was making me lose my head. I delved my face into his neck to get a better whiff.
Vincent placed his hands well under my buttocks. “I’m thinking of slipping your panties to the side and fucking you right away, you know, to start the day on a good note.”
“I don’t know if I agree. I'm in a mood with you for leaving me alone all morning.”
“All right. I'll let keep your moody face on while I fuck you. The important thing is that you get rid of it by tonight, because we’re going out.”
I jumped on him. “We’re going out?! In Rome?”
“That's what I said. We'll take advantage of the fact that your parents come back on Monday.”
At that moment I glimpsed a wooden box on the kitchen island. I pointed to it biting my lip. “Is that for me?”
“Yes, it’s for you,” he replied distractedly, more intent on pulling my panties aside. That’s what happened when I wore a skirt in his presence: he couldn’t think about anything except getting to base camp.
I jumped down immediately, undoing his efforts. “A present for me?”
Being free of my weight, he picked up the box and gave it to me. “Listen, it's not exactly what you think.”