by Ana Sparks
But there was still the rest of her dress and her bra and underwear between me and her. I undid and removed the bra easily and she helped slip off the dress and underwear. And then, there she was, completely naked and completely beautiful. My Kristin. Her porcelain skin was as soft and cool as marble, although her pussy was hot to the touch. I only brushed against it with my fingers as my lips devoured her neck.
Her moans were soft, but my dick was hard. I guided her hand to its spot in my pants, and she began running her fingers along it. While she undid my belt and pants, I teased her, slipping one finger in her pussy and out, enjoying the blossoming wetness. When I slipped a finger all the way in then all the way out, she paused to give me a desperate, furious look.
“What’s that?” I asked, teasingly, doing the same full in-out pump.
She pouted and the word came out: “More.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, repeating the motion.
Lips parting, hands working away at undoing my pants, she nodded. Grabbing my bare dick now, she got up in my face, bit my lower lip.
“More.”
So, I did it, I pushed both fingers in and got pumping while her delicate little hands slid all over my dick.
“Spit on it,” I instructed her, “Make it wet so you can jerk it nice and smooth.”
She did as she was told, and now I was groaning too. Both of our hands moving and our pelvises twisting with pleasure, the next thing to do was obvious. Taking both her hands in my one hand, I pressed myself onto her in a kiss. As my lips met hers, so did my dick meet her pussy, the tip nudging into the tight cleft.
Pushing me back, Kristin’s gaze on my now rock-hard dick, she directed her demand to my dick: “Now.”
I tilted her head so it was face to face with mine.
“What was that?”
In response, Kristin shoved her pussy onto my cock. Gazing into my eyes with a wild, desperate look, she murmured, “Fuck me. Please.”
I had no choice but to comply.
In and out I thrusted, while her pussy clasped my dick. Her pussy was so tight, such a perfect fit, I thought I was going to cum right then and there. But when I heard her breathing go shallow and saw her start to arch her back, I knew I had to keep going. So, on I pounded her, as hard and deep as I could. And—fuck, it felt so good—I was almost there, but she was almost there too. Her whole body was shaking with the oncoming orgasm.
I kept going until we were both on the edge, breathless with pleasure, locked in motion, thrusting and clasping and thrusting and I grabbed her hair, looked her in the eye and shoved my tongue down her throat. Pulling away, she came—in gasps, in body-shuddering cries. As our bodies continued their harried pulse, as I streamed load after load into her, as she cried and I groaned, and we came as one beautiful body of pleasure.
Afterwards, both of us trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, I slipped out of her. And then, she naked and me half-naked, we sat there on the limo’s cool leather seats, probably supposed to leave minutes or maybe even an hour ago. It didn’t matter. Now, there was nothing to do. My arms were around her, her body leaned into me, this was enough. There wasn’t another thing we wanted to be doing. Just her and me—that in itself was enough.
The rest of the night in my house was more of the same. Our bodies were never not touching, except when one of us slipped off to the bathroom. Eating, bathing, sleeping—everything was just an opportunity for more physical contact, for more adoring looks and soft smiles. We talked but of what I couldn’t tell you. It was a constant conversation, a never-ending laugh, and a grin in word form. We were love incarnate; we were making love in between whispered conversations in bed. We fell asleep the same way, clasped in each other’s arms and talking until the sun came up and we passed out.
When we woke up, she looked so beautiful; I had to devour her once more. My kisses made their way to their favorite place.
Her pussy was just as drowsy as she was: under half-open eyes she watched me kiss and suck her outer lips. I thrust my tongue into her slit, rubbed her clit with my finger, and then switched, pumping her pussy while I licked her clit. In and out and around and around I went.
She opened her legs further, thrust her pussy into my face, her soft landing strip rubbing against my forehead. I, however, was locked in motion already, deep in her sweet-tasting pussy, licking and sucking every part of it, always returning to the finger thrusting and clit licking that had her twisting in pleasure.
On and on, I thrust and licked and sucked, my pace building gradually, irresistibly. Her coos intensified into moans, moans which became howls, which grew to one shriek as she came, hard; her whole body tensed, then, finally flopped back.
I let her lay there for a bit, allowing her recover and open her eyes before I told her: “This is where you’re living now, you know.”
A lackadaisical smile slid onto Kristin’s glowing face. “Oh yeah?”
Nodding, I took her hand.
“Yeah.”
“So, I have no choice then?”
I tapped the tip of her nose.
“Exactly.”
She giggled.
“What about my cats?”
“I thought you didn’t like them anyway.”
“Yes, but still.”
“They can make friends with Nala. The girl needs a new outlet for ignoring me, after all.”
We laughed, then Kristin continued “And all my stuff?”
Leaning in to kiss her, I whispered in her ear “Kristin, have you seen this place? I may have an extra room or two.”
And then I helped her up and we stood there, me looking at her and her looking at me. This time she was the one who kissed me and, after taking my hand, led me down the hallway, to the empty room with the big window. She opened it, sat down and patted the spot beside her.
When I sat down, smiling, she declared, “Well, I guess that settles it.”
Epilogue
Who would have thought to celebrate our one-year anniversary that we’d have ended up here, of all places?
As I looked down the table, I smiled to myself at the improbable scene. On one end of the table was my family, Mom, Dad, Billy and Diana; even Veronica had graced us with her presence. It had taken my family some convincing, but half a year ago they had agreed to give Clark a chance, for me. Now, as they all threw their heads back with laughter at something he’d said, you’d swear they were old friends.
On the other end of the table was a group that would have been equally unlikely a year ago: Clark’s family. His brother Eugene, and his sister Yvonne, sipping their drinks with slight smiles, his mother beaming. These days, every other word she said to me was “thank you.” For the change Clark had undergone, the caring and giving man he had become.
I watched him now silently, reflecting on the hundreds of ways these past months have transformed him before my eyes. The former workaholic who now had to stop himself from taking too many breaks to kiss his girlfriend (I took most of the credit for this). The closed-off man who now shared his views with anyone who’d listen. The distant son who now visited his family every week and called his mother every few days. Yes, everything had ended up wonderfully, better than I could’ve even hoped for.
“Are y’all ready to order?”
Our waitress was here, the same one as last time, with even the same strawberry blonde pigtails. And this time, we all chorused, “Yes!”
Once she had taken our orders, Clark raised his glass.
“To our upcoming vacation,” he said.
Everyone, including me, gaped at him blankly. But Clark’s smile was unwavering.
Turning to me and taking my hand, he announced to the table: “This should come as no surprise, but this past year has been the best one of my life. And I owe it all to this incredible woman here. From day one she has been steadfastly supportive and patient, honest and caring. This woman whose hand I’m holding has done nothing less than single-handedly save my life. So, today I wanted to announce to everyo
ne, the little I’m going to give back to her.”
Clark turned to me, beaming.
“Babe, we’re going back to Cancun.”
There was a stunned silence, and then the whole table broke into excited whispers and murmurs of approval. Clark held up his hand.
“I should probably mention that we leave tomorrow.”
At this, both of our families whooped, raising their own glasses with smiling faces.
I turned to Clark with a searching look.
“Babe, what about the cats, work?”
He tapped me on the tip of my nose, grinning.
“It’s been taken care of.”
And just like that, it was official. We were going back to Cancun and I was, without a doubt, the luckiest girl in the world.
The food was as delicious as you’d expect; everyone tried bits of everyone else’s dishes, although the general consensus was that my ravioli was the best. Conversation flowed as easily as the wine; it was hard not to enjoy yourself and eat a little bit too much when Clark was footing the bill. By the time dessert had arrived however, Clark’s leg had started brushing mine in that way he did when he wanted something very particular.
“Well,” I said, rising, “We should get back home and pack.”
Everyone protested, but in the end, waved to us with big smiles. Clark drove us home and, once there, in our bedroom, I stopped in the door.
Eyes on him, I took off my blouse and let it drop to the floor. I slipped off my skirt and let it drop around my ankles. Next was my bra and then, finally, my panties. Now, standing in the doorway stark naked, I raised an eyebrow.
“We should pack.”
With his eyes all over me, Clark strode up to me and took me in his arms.
“We really should.”
The next thing I knew, his lips were over mine, his hands fondling my breasts. One breast, then the other, then both; soon he had me pressed to the wall. Slipping my nipple in his mouth, he slipped his hand between my legs. He stopped his sucking to say, pleasure lighting up his eyes: “So wet.”
Then his mouth was sucking my other nipple, his fingers pumping me, slowly, lazily, unhurried. As I moaned, he turned me around and continued pumping my pussy with his finger from behind.
“What do you say?” he murmured into my neck, “We try something a bit friskier?”
I pushed my ass out in response and, as he slid his fingers in and out of my pussy, his other hand started kneading my ass. Long, leisurely massages that had my whole body trembling. Meanwhile, he had upped the pace of his fingering and had started running his other finger up and down my crack.
I froze. Was he about to try what I thought he was about to try?
Clark rubbing his finger against my asshole was my answer.
“It’s okay,” he said, patting my head, “We’ll go slow.”
More pumping in my pussy, deeper pressure of his finger into my ass. It felt weird, wrong and yet…the deeper in he went, the better it felt.
Clark’s finger was vibrating inside my pussy now, and his other finger was in deep too, and it felt weird and wrong—but I liked it. Suddenly, Clark paused.
“Want me to stop?”
In response, I shoved my ass out further, warm and fuzzy with pleasure. Behind me, I heard a squirting sound and I turned to see Clark lubing up his dick. He caressed my wide-eyed face, whispering in my ear, “Slow and easy, that’s how we’ll go. Nice and slow for the tight little ass.”
And now, his fingers were inside me again, in my pussy and in my ass, pumping faster and faster now. My moans were something of an unending howl at this point, they didn’t even sound like mine at all. It was the weirdest sensation, this painful pleasure. And yet, I was twisting around on the carpet with the glory of it. When Clark paused to slip out his fingers, I knew it was time.
My body tensed, and for a moment I wasn’t sure what I wanted. And yet, when Clark said, “I don’t know, maybe we should just leave it,” my body reacted on its own. My ass shoved higher, and a desperate, “Please, Clark” gurgled out of my lips.
Pressing his dick against my hole, he paused and said, “You sure?”
I shoved my ass out further.
“Okay, if you say so…” Clark said, pressing his dick inside me.
Jesus fuck it was tight and it hurt and yet, if it didn’t feel really fucking good too.
Together we thrust, forward and back, in deeper and deeper. And it was crazy, it was dirty. It didn’t make sense—but the deeper in he went, the more painful it was—and pleasurable. And by the time he was in all the way, it was my ass that was rocking back and forth on his rock-hard dick, needing it deeper, harder, howling for deliverance.
Clark’s whole body was draped over me, pressing me into the floor. His dick was merciless, in and out, and over again, my whole body was throbbing with pain and pleasure, some blissful fusion of the two. Together we rocked, harder and faster, and better, until, with one final thrust to end all thrusts, Clark came. His pulsing rod shook an orgasm into me too, so it was both of us cumming, him on top of me, his cum spraying into me, while I soaked onto the carpet below.
We lay there for a while, and when Clark finally slid out of me, he told me to wait. I did as I was told, even as I heard water running in the bathroom. When Clark came back, he picked me up and carried me into the bathroom. There, he deposited me into a tub that was filled with rose petals. He climbed in after me and wrapped his arms around me. There we were joined once again, there was no need for conversation now that our bodies had said so much.
Now was the time to feel: the hot oblivion of the tub water, the cool breeze from the open window. Now was the time to smell the flush of the rose petals floating all around us. Now was the time to be thankful for it all, to thank God for Clark Denton, for all the hard years I had endured so that now I really appreciated what I had.
“I love you, Kristin Blair,” Clark said suddenly, and the whole room echoed with it, our little tune, our big love.
CLARK
The next morning, I served her breakfast in bed.
“I made your favorite: raisin toast and scrambled eggs,” I whispered and she kissed me.
We ate it together, the eggs and margarine-saturated bread, she feeding me when I wasn’t feeding her. By the time we were supposed to be leaving, Kristin was still naked and I had nothing but my boxers on. A quick call to the airport fixed that, however; I had bought my own jet a few months ago.
“We have another hour,” I announced to Kristin as soon as I hung up the phone.
“First, let’s check on the cats,” she said.
We went to our office, the felines’ current favorite hangout. As if it wasn’t enough that Kristin and I worked there (with breaks for sex and cuddling), lately the cats had taken to flopping together there, too.
This morning, sure enough, Kristin’s instincts had proven correct: all three cats were now curled in a warm pile of fur and fat. We surveyed them with incredulous grins.
We had introduced the cats to each other gradually, sure there would be conflict. But Romeo and Juliet had welcomed Nala as easily as if they had always known her, and Nala had quickly taken to eating like mad and curling up with the couple. Now, months later, she was just as fat and just as likely to be curled up with them.
“Okay,” I said after a few minutes of our amusing fat-cat cuddle show, “Should we get dressed now?”
But Kristin shook her head.
“There’s one more thing I want to do.”
“Oh?” I asked, but she only took my hand. Leading me up the stairs, she took me to the empty room with the window.
“It’s a while since we’ve been here,” she said softly.
She opened the window, climbed up and sat down in our old position, her legs hanging down over oblivion. I climbed up beside her, put my arm around her. I was reminded of why she liked it up here.
“It’s not just the beauty of the view, or being out in the fresh air, is it?” I asked. “It’s be
cause sitting here like this reminds you of it, doesn’t it?”
Kristin nodded.
“It reminds me of sitting here just over a year ago and feeling the view reduce me to an insignificant speck, reminding me of just how lonely I was. Now, though, it makes me feel even more lucky to be sitting here and feel so differently, to have such a different life—such a full, vibrant and exciting life.”
I turned to her, because her words were as good as mine—better, because it was like our brains were hooked up on the same weirdly high wonderful line. And I kissed her because it was the only thing left to do to her, my Kristin Blair, my soulmate, and the love of my life.
And, as I drew back, I surveyed the landscape, clasped my love’s hand and thought: today was the day.
Yes, today was the day that nothing could get better.
The End
The Boss’s New Plaything
Layla Valentine
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Copyright 2017 by Layla Valentine
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.
All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.