by Tara Sivec
“Go ahead. Shake that ass for Mama,” I tell him with a smile.
He meets me at the chair and immediately starts to lift his foot. I smack it away and shake my head at him.
“You put your foot up on this chair and just start thrusting in my face and we’re going to have a huge problem. One that will leave bloodstains all over this white carpet.”
“You really suck at this teaching thing,” he complains as he starts bobbing his head to the music.
As much as I hate to admit it, he does look kind of adorable right now, standing in front of me trying to get into the music.
“This can’t be that hard. I just rip my clothes off and dance around, right?”
I shake my head at him, spreading my legs on the chair as I reach forward and wrap my hands around the back of his thighs, pulling him forward to stand between them.
“Stripping is not just about immediately taking your clothes off. It’s about anticipation and knowing how to turn people on. It’s about using your body to entice the audience and make them want more,” I explain, quickly removing my hands from his legs to place them on top of my thighs before I’m tempted to slide them up and grab his ass. “It’s about teasing. Think of it like foreplay. Sometimes what happens before can be better than the actual finale.”
At some point during my explanation, Eric placed both of his hands on the back of my chair, until he’s leaning over me, his face inches from mine. I can smell his skin and feel the heat from his body with his shirt still spread wide open, and I have to swallow a few times to get some much-needed moisture into my suddenly dry throat.
He bends his elbows, bringing his body even closer to mine, moving his head to the side of my face until his lips are brushing against the shell of my ear.
“Teasing and foreplay,” he says quietly, his warm breath in my ear making me shiver. “I think I can handle that.”
My hands immediately move from the top of my thighs to grip the seat cushion on either side of my hips as he trails his mouth down the side of my neck. The feather-light touch of his lips just barely grazing my skin makes me clench my thighs together as I close my eyes and my head falls back, giving him better access.
Removing one of his hands from the back of my chair, he wraps it around the other side of my neck while the tip of his tongue darts out against my skin. I have to bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning out loud.
His palm slowly slides down my neck and over my chest, stopping right over my heart, which is beating so fast I’m sure he can feel it. My chest is heaving as I take in deep, stuttering breaths, and I don’t even care if he thinks I’m trying to push my boob into his hand. Because I am. Sweet mother of God, I want his hand on my boob.
Eric moves a little further down my neck with a trail of kisses, his palm gliding over the swell of one breast, skimming down the side of it, and continuing its descent down the side of my body until it skates over my hip, and he grips my bare thigh. His hand is warm against my skin as he pulls my leg up until I’m hooking my foot around his thigh.
With his lips still gently sucking the side of my neck, he grabs both of my hands, which are still clutching the cushion of the chair, and brings them up and around his own neck, where I grab onto handfuls of his hair. He places his hands to the back of my chair again, and all of a sudden his mouth finds a spot on my neck I didn’t even know existed. His teeth gently graze over that spot, and it’s like he hits a nerve that is directly connected to my pussy.
My leg tightens around the back of his thigh, jerking him closer to me as my hips thrust up and off the chair, and it happens—a low moan flies right out of my mouth, and I don’t even care. He’s still biting and nipping at my neck right on the perfect spot, and it’s driving me completely crazy, until I’m basically humping the air because this stupid chair seat is in the way and I can’t bring him any closer between my legs. I’m clutching the back of his head and pressing him so hard into the side of my neck that I’m not even sure how he’s breathing as he continues to torture me with nibbling teeth.
“Tell me I’m better than Magic Mike,” he suddenly whispers.
I let out a little whimper when his teeth stop grazing over the skin of my neck and try to pull his head back down, but he won’t let me move him.
“Pshaw, you didn’t even shake your ass for me,” I mutter, my voice coming out all shaking and fucking needy.
“Are you turned on? Full of anticipation?” he asks quietly, teasing me with a gentle kiss right over that damn spot on my neck.
“I can neither confirm nor deny those rumors,” I reply, this sexual buildup starting to mess with my fucking head.
“If I slide my hand inside those tiny, sexy-as-hell shorts of yours, would you be wet for me, Ariel?”
Jesus fuck, slide your hand in there. Slide your hand in there right now and say my name again!
“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far.”
I’m so wet right now I might need to wring these shorts out and take another fucking shower.
He chuckles against the side of my neck and I’m seriously tempted to bring my leg that isn’t wrapped around his thigh between his legs and knee him in the balls.
“Just admit it: I’m pretty good at this anticipation and foreplay thing,” he says, giving me that delicious teeth-graze thing again.
“FINE! You’re good at it, oh my God! Can you stop being a cock tease right now?”
Before I can even blink, his hands are sliding under my ass, and he quickly scoops me up from the chair. As he holds me against him, he turns us around and takes my spot on the chair until I’m sitting on his lap, straddling his thighs.
With his hands still on my ass, he squeezes it tightly, bringing my body forward and sliding me right over what I can absolutely confirm are not bits inside his pants. He’s huge, and hard, and resting right between my thighs, and there’s nothing I can do to stop myself from thrusting my hips and grinding myself against him.
It’s Eric’s turn to let out a moan as he looks up into my eyes.
“It’s your turn, princess. Take what you want.”
Chapter 14: Ball Licker
“It’s your turn, princess. Take what you want.”
Eric’s quiet, muttered words as he looks up at me turn me into one giant ball of need. All of a sudden, he takes one hand off my ass and leans as far sideways as he can, grabbing his phone from the side table.
“Now really isn’t the time to be making a phone call,” I complain, the frustration evident in the tightness of my voice.
Everything between my legs is throbbing from sitting here, feeling his hardness against me, and not moving. I want to move. I need to move. But he’s fucking playing Candy Crush on his phone or some shit.
“Just putting on some more music so you can show me how this is done,” he tells me.
I realize that at some point during his neck biting that the music shut off and the boat is completely silent aside from the sound, coming through the open windows, of gentle waves lapping against the side. Eric taps the screen of his phone, tosses it to the carpet, and wraps his arms around me. One arm stays securely around my waist, and then he flattens the palm of his other hand, sliding it up my spine and against the back of my neck until he’s clutching my hair in his fist.
The slow, erotic beat of “My Superman” by Santigold starts pumping through the sound system, and I swear to God I feel the bass from the song thumping between my legs. Eric jerks himself against me, and I realize it’s not the bass I’m feeling, but his glorious, hard cock, bumping right up against my clit through both of our clothes. I am so worked up after him standing above me with his mouth against my neck that I have a feeling what’s about to happen isn’t going to take very long. I might just make it into the Guinness book of world records for fastest orgasm in history.
“Move, baby. Show me how this whole lap-dance thing works.”
I’ve always hated it when someone calls me baby. It sounds childish and weird. But com
ing from Eric’s mouth, his voice just as strained as mine was when I was bitching about him playing with his phone, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. I can feel my wetness in my shorts, and I want more.
“Like you’ve never had a lap dance before,” I mutter, gripping his shoulders and swiveling my hips, causing both of us to let out low moans.
“Not from you. I have a feeling there will be no coming back from this.”
He tightens his fist in my hair, making my head tip back just enough for him to lean forward in the chair and bite down on the side of my neck. That fucking nerve connected right to my pussy explodes and my body jerks. I immediately start rubbing myself up and down the length of him, trying to move to the beat of the music as I grind myself on his cock.
“Jesus Christ, the way you move should be illegal,” he whispers against the side of my neck.
As I continue slowly rocking the lower half of my body in his lap, I take one hand off of his shoulder, wrap it around the back of his neck and grab onto his hair, pressing him harder into the side of my neck.
“More,” I groan, shifting above him, the hard press of his cock hitting me in just the right spot.
His arm around my back moves, his hand coming between us and slipping under the edge of my T-shirt. He continues to suck and kiss my neck as his palm skims up my stomach, bringing my shirt up with it, until it’s bunched above my breasts. He pulls his head away from my neck to look between us, and I look down as well, watching the tips of his fingers pull down the cup of my black lace bra.
He lets out a muttered curse and dips his head, sucking my nipple deep into his mouth. The air leaves my lungs with a whoosh, and I rock harder and faster against him, the pulsing between my legs so intense I almost want to cry. It’s been entirely too long since I’ve had an orgasm that I didn’t give myself, and even then, it wasn’t anything to write home about. My ex wasn’t exactly the type of guy who was adamant that I come first. If it happened it happened, and if it didn’t, he just apologized and rolled over and went to sleep.
Eric’s tongue circles around my nipple before he puts his lips around it again and sucks hard, and I know this is going to be something I’m gonna want to put up a billboard about.
The feeling between my legs becomes hotter and more frantic as I grind and rock against him while his mouth is around my nipple. Both of my hands are now pressed to the back of his head, holding him tightly against my breast.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don’t stop,” I chant, my voice coming out breathy and like I can barely get air into my lungs.
I’ve never felt this way before. My spine tingles and heat pools in my belly, my thrusts against him getting faster and rougher. The thin barrier of my shorts lets me feel every hard ridge of his cock as I tighten my thighs and press down harder on him.
He moans around my nipple and the vibrations shoot right to my core, my orgasm exploding between my legs as I thrust against him, his fist tightening its hold on my hair when I shout his name up to the ceiling.
Wave after wave of the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt washes over me as I continue slowly moving my hips against him until he moves his mouth away from my breast and puts his lips on mine for a quick kiss. He presses his forehead to mine and squeezes his eyes closed, his hand letting go of my hair and clutching onto the side of my hip, helping me continue rocking against his cock.
“Jesus Christ, don’t stop. Fuck, I can’t . . . I’m gonna come,” he mutters.
I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and pull his chest against mine, swiveling my hips until he thrusts himself up between my thighs. His fingers dig into the side of my hip as he jerks against me once, twice, slamming his lips back to mine and pushing his tongue inside, swirling it around as he grunts into my mouth with his release. I deepen the kiss, sucking on his tongue as I start slowing the movement of my body until he slumps his ass back to the seat of the chair. With me still seated snugly on his lap, our kiss goes from hard and hot to soft and lazy.
He wraps both of his arms around me tightly and holds me against him, kissing me gently for a few minutes, until we both pull back to take in some much needed air.
Now should come the awkward part. The part where we laugh uncomfortably about how we just dry humped like a couple of teenagers, give each other a weird high five, and part ways. But as we sit here, staring at each other, nothing feels awkward about it. Until I catch something out of the corner of my eye and turn my head away from him.
“Why is he staring at us?” I whisper.
Eric turns his head to see what I’m looking at, and lets out a chuckle when he sees Derrick Alfredo casually sitting in the middle of the couch with one leg up by his ear and his tiny wrinkly balls on full display.
“He must have liked what he saw,” Eric jokes.
With his eyes never leaving us, that fucking cat bends his head down and start licking his balls.
I gasp in disgust, and Eric makes a gagging, dry-heaving sound.
“Okay, now that’s just wrong. Derrick! Stop it! Stop it right now, you disgusting ball licker!” I scold, removing my hand from Eric’s shoulder to point at the cat.
That ugly fucker just keeps right on licking and looking at us, without a care in the world.
“Ariel! Ariel, are you down there?”
A shout from above deck has me looking away from the nightmare happening on the couch to stare at Eric with wide, panicked eyes. I quickly scramble off of his lap when I hear footsteps moving across the deck towards the stairs, yanking my T-shirt down over my boobs.
“Honey, are you home?”
Another shout echoes down to us, and Eric gets up from the chair in confusion.
“Who the hell is that?” he asks, watching me run over to a mirror hanging next to the couch to check my reflection and make sure I don’t have orgasm face.
I don’t know exactly what orgasm face looks like, but I’m pretty sure it’s my face right now.
Eric comes up behind me and I glance at him in the reflection, whirling around and pointing to his crotch.
“Oh, my God! I thought you got rid of that thing!” I shout in horror when I see he still has a major tent in his pants next to a huge wet spot.
“It doesn’t exactly have a fucking on-off switch! It takes a few minutes!” he argues, throwing his hands up in the air. “Why are you freaking out? Who the hell is that?”
Footsteps are thumping down the stairs right now, and I glance around the room frantically.
“Why the hell aren’t there any pillows or blankets on this fucking boat?!”
I run over to the couch and grab the only thing I can. I scoop up the fucking ball licker, run over to Eric and thrust him in his hands.
“Here, use Derrick.”
“Use Derrick for what? Jesus Christ what is happening right now?”
Moving next to Eric, I do my best to smooth down my messy bun, which isn’t just messy after Eric clutched it in his fists. It’s a hot fucking mess.
“Right now, we are three seconds away from my dad getting to the bottom of those steps and seeing your dick trying to Hulk-smash its way out of your fucking pants!”
Eric’s face goes white as a sheet and his mouth drops open just as my dad emerges from the stairwell. I give my dad a big smile and out of the corner of my eye, I see Eric’s arms quickly drop as he positions Derrick Alfredo over his crotch.
Chapter 15: C King
“WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON DOWN HERE?!” my dad bellows at the top of his lungs, standing at the base of the stairs with his hands on his hips.
I see Eric’s entire body jerk in fright next to me and glance over to see him hugging Derrick so tightly to his crotch that I feel bad for the damn thing when he lets out a yowl of displeasure.
My dad can be a pretty intimidating guy when he wants to be. He’s around six feet tall and still pretty muscular, even at the age of sixty-five. He started going grey at a really young age and decided to just embrace it. He has a full head of white ha
ir now, which he pays a ridiculous amount of money to have styled at a fancy salon, and he uses more hair product than I do to keep it all slicked back away from his face. He also has a full white mustache and beard that he keeps meticulously neat and trimmed. He kind of looks like Santa Claus. If Santa Claus had muscles and tattoos up and down both of his forearms from when he was in the army.
“Dad—”
“DON’T YOU TAKE THAT TONE OF VOICE WITH ME, YOUNG LADY!” he shouts, crossing his arms in front of him and widening the stance of his legs as he glares at Eric.
“Dad—” I try again, immediately getting cut off. Again.
“NOT ANOTHER WORD!”
“That’s the only word I’ve said so far. Jesus Christ, Dad, give it a rest,” I mutter with a roll of my eyes.
After a few quiet minutes of my dad continuing to stare Eric down and Eric probably ten seconds away from pissing himself, my dad’s face breaks out into a huge grin and he throws his head back and laughs.
“I’m just shitting with you! Oh man, you should have seen the look on your face,” my dad chuckles, uncrossing his arms sides and hurrying across the living room with his hand outstretched. “Michael Triton, Ariel’s dad. But you can call me the C King.”
“Dad,” I groan as Eric nervously removes one of his hands from Derrick and holds it out for my father to shake. “No one calls you the C King.”
“Everyone calls me the C King,” he argues, shooting me an exasperated look while he vigorously shakes Eric’s hand before finally dropping it and stepping back.
“Really? Who?” I ask.
“People,” he shrugs, turning his face back to Eric’s. “C King. It stands for Car King. I’m kind of a big deal.”
“Oh, my God . . . ,” I sigh.
“Holy shit! Wait a second. I know who you are!” Eric shouts, finally finding his voice after my father scared him half to death. “You own all those used car lots and do those hilarious commercials on Sunday afternoons! Ariel, why didn’t you tell me your dad was famous?!”