by Alexis Angel
“Fuck,” Aidan groans harshly and then, at the same time, erupts inside my mouth. His cum gushes into me in a torrent, filling me up completely in a fraction of a second. I’ve never seen a man cum so much, and I didn’t even know it was possible before meeting—well, fucking—Aidan. Grady only filled a condom from time to time, and I thought that all men were like that. Okay, sure, it’s not fair to compare anyone to Aidan, I know that … But still.
His cum starts dripping down out of my lips, heavy drops making their way down my chin and onto my neck. He cums so much that I can’t help but pull out, a stream of semen hitting me straight in the face as I do it. I keep grabbing his cock, aiming it at my open mouth, but he’s shooting so much that it’s almost impossible to direct his raging river of semen into my mouth only. I feel his cum on my face, mouth and neck. The shirt I stole from him is now stained with cum, but I take my free hand to it and just pull at the fabric, making the buttons pop out with one quick movement. The buttons scatter around the floor as his cum flies straight into my naked tits, and I feel my nipples hardening as he covers them with his juices.
“That’s it,” I whisper in a moan, the last strands of cum jumping from his cock onto my body. His cock spasms two last times around my fingers and then he’s finally done.
“Look at you,” he whispers, breathing hard. “I love your make-up,” he grins, his devilish eyes narrowing into slits as he takes in the sight. I can only imagine how I must look right now; I probably resemble a wax figurine, painted in white from the waist up. By now, his cum has started dripping down from my tits and over my stomach, and I can feel his warm juices reaching for that wet spot between my thighs.
Without even thinking about what I’m doing, I let go of his cock and grab my tits, sliding my fingers over his cum and squeezing my flesh as a moan bubbles up to my lips. As if my fingers suddenly gained a life of their own, they slide down the curve of my tits and then go over my stomach, easily sliding over the layer of cum Aidan kindly gave me. I take one hand to between my legs, and then bite my lower lip as I press down on my clit with two fingertips.
Grinning as he watches me do it, Aidan slides down from his chair and kneels right in front of me, taking his hands to my breasts and squeezing them. My flesh molds to his fingers, and he starts smearing his cum all over my naked body, spreading it around with the tip of his fingers.
“Go on,” he whispers, leaning into me and brushing his lips against my ear. “I want to watch you come,” he continues, and then crushes his mouth against mine. I start stroking my clit harder and, unable to resist it, take my other hand to my pussy. Parting my inner lips, I slide my middle finger in, curling it upward and taking it straight to my G-spot.
Fingering myself as Aidan’s tongue explores the inside of my mouth, I realize that it won’t take long for me to come as well. I feel strands of his cum coating both of our tongues as they dance around one another, and just thinking of that is enough to make the rhythm of my fingers speed up into a frenzy.
“Come, babe, come for me,” he whispers, now taking his lips to my chin and laying a gentle kiss there. He takes his mouth in a downward line straight to between my tits, scooping up his own cum in the way, and then his lips go straight for my right nipple. I moan loudly as he sucks it inside his mouth, lapping at it with a fierce intensity.
I press my finger against my G-spot and hold it there, feeling that sweet electricity pooling in my muscles. My other hand is busy with my clit, and a tidal wave of ecstasy already looms large on the horizon of my mind. It’s coming for me, and it’s going to pull me down into the depths of pleasure. And knowing that Aidan’s busy with my body, his lips and tongue scooping up his own cum, makes it all so much better. He truly seems to have no limits.
I have to remember to thank Cheryl. If it weren’t for her, I would've never accepted to sit down in front of Aidan for a meeting. But I did, and our meeting turned into this dance of sin and lust. God bless you, Cheryl, you’re the best agent money—or, well, friendship—can buy.
I press my legs together as that wave crashes against me, pleasure hitting me so fiercely that I throw my head back so fast I almost break my neck and fall backward. Luckily, Aidan places one hand around my waist and holds me in place, his lips never letting go of my nipple. Hissing through my gritted teeth, it feels as if I’ve just stepped on a live electric wire. My muscles are twitching hard, and I can even feel my eyes rolling in their orbits.
I’m breathing so hard it’s almost a miracle I haven’t passed out, but I’m still conscious—at least for the time being.
“Jesus, this was something else,” I say, more to myself than to him. His response comes without words; he presses his lips against mine, and this time his kiss is a gentle one. A kind one.
“You weren’t kidding,” he tells me then, both his hands going down to my waist. “This was probably the best blowjob I've had in my entire life.”
“Of course it was,” I respond, trying to sound as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. But, inside, I’m swelling with pride. It’s not every day that I hear something like that, especially coming from a sex god like Aidan.
Why don’t all my days start like this?
Aidan
"Are you even listening to me?" Abby asks.
We're sitting at the table, our laptops open—Abby's sitting directly across from me and I know we're supposed to be brainstorming the story for our book, but after receiving the world's best blowjobs the last few days, I can't keep my eyes off of her fucking tits. I mean, she's wearing this low-cut tank top that leaves nothing to the imagination. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. I'm fucking serious. It's white and I can even see the outlines of her perfect nipples under the fabric.
How does she expect me to concentrate?
"My eyes are up here," she says, waving her hands at me.
"Right," I say. "Back to the book."
"I know I've said this before," she continues, "but I want this story to revolve around guys with big dicks. The bigger the better. I'm talking a good 12 inches … and lots of 'em."
I laugh. "You know it's not jut about size, right?"
"I don't know what planet you're from Mr. Size Doesn't Matter, but it's always about size," she grins. "Mark my words. Always."
"Hear me out. It's not the size that matters, but what a guy can do with it."
She rolls her eyes. "How cliché of you, Aidan. Believe me, I've had a small cock, and it just didn't do it for me. I can promise you that."
"Can I be honest with you?" I ask.
"Of course. Always."
"I think you hold back."
She looks at me for a moment before responding, a confused look on her face. "What's the supposed to mean?"
I know I'm treading in uncharted fucking territory now, so I need to be careful. I don't want it to sound like I'm criticizing her, but I think honesty is the best policy in situations like this. If we're gonna write a bestseller together, some things have to be said.
I continue, "It just means that instead of letting yourself be completely in the moment, I think you suppress yourself. You hide. You want to let it all out, but you stop yourself around me."
"Okay, so what are you now? My sex therapist?"
I lean across the table and brush one finger over her plump lips before kissing her. "No, no—you've got it all wrong. I'm just trying to help. Here, let me explain it another way. Fucking someone—and I mean having exceptional fucking sex—is a lot more than some guy sticking his cock in you, am I right?"
I watch as she slowly nods in agreement, and I continue. "So much of it is mental. It's the chemistry between people—the way he touches you, the way he smells and smiles. It's the way he uses his mouth on you, and the way he talks, and moves. All I'm saying is, if you just focus on cock size, you miss out on all those extra things that make sex so much fucking fun. You're trying too hard. That's all."
"Trying too hard? What does that even mean?" she asks.
"It means you're
focusing on one aspect of sex—a guy's cock," I say. "You need to embrace it all if you don't want a book that flops on the market."
"I'm not sure I'm totally following you," she replies, grabbing a glass from the table and taking a sip of water. I can tell that I've got her thinking, though.
"I get that there's a full package to think about, but the cock reigns supreme in this equation. Don't kid yourself."
"You know what I think?" I ask, watching her take another drink. A grin is now spreading across my face. "I don't think you're really comfortable around cocks."
"What?" she bristles. "This coming from the man who just hours ago said that over the last few days I’ve been giving him the best blowjobs of his life?"
I continue, "You did. I meant that. And sure, you like to write about cocks, but a real cock cums. Are you comfortable with cum?"
I'm not sure if she knows where I'm taking this game, but I can feel my own cock twitching to life in my pants. It's beginning to strain against the fabric, like a caged animal threatening to break free. I stand up so that my cock is eye level with Abby, and I walk closer to her.
She's looking at the hard shape forming in my pants, but she isn't saying anything now. She swallows and remains quiet.
"I'm guessing that you really like cum, don't you?" I say, slowing unbuckling my belt. I slide the leather from the loops and undo the button, my fingers stopping on my zipper. I hold it there for a moment.
I look into Abby's eyes, but she still isn't saying anything.
I grab her now-empty water glass from the table in one hand and with the other I slowly drag my zipper down.
Anticipation is building in Abby's throat and she swallows again.
With my zipper down, I reach into my boxers and grab the thick shaft of my cock. It springs into the space between Abby and I.
Not wanting to waste any time, I spit on my hand and then begin jerking off. I'm stroking my cock from tip to root. I'm moving slowly at first, building tension, and then moving faster. I can feel my heart racing. My hand moves faster and faster until time and space become a blur, and I can feel my cock pulse. I angle the empty glass under the tip of my cock and I allow myself to explode—releasing my cum in a surge of steady streams. I keep stroking and watch as I fill the glass. Some of my cum spills over the rim. Now here's a cocktail I want to watch Abby place between her lips.
Abby shifts in her seat, staring hungrily at both my cock and the glass of cum.
I hold her gaze. "Drink it," I say.
She continues to sit and stare at me in silence, debating her next move.
"Go ahead. Play with it," I continue, my eyes daring her into action. "I want you to show me just how much you like my cum."
Abby
I look down at the glass in my hands, cum spilling out of it and making its way down the curved surface and onto my knuckles. Am I really going to do this? His words echo inside my head like a prayer and I realize that, yes, I’m really going to do this.
I’m going to show him.
He’s right, though, you know? Since I became a published author, I erected a wall between the real word and one made out of fantasies. But now the line has been blurred, and it’s up to me to decide what happens now. Do I keep on believing that the things I write will never happen in the real world? Or do I take the plunge and turn fantasy into reality?
Well, fuck it.
I raise the glass and, running my tongue between my lips, I take a deep breath. I’m doing it, I’m really doing it, I think as I take the glass to my lips, Aidan’s thick juices dancing inside the glass as I move my arm.
“That’s it,” he says, but his voice seems like it’s coming at me from the other side of the Universe. Right now I’m in a world of my own, mentally preparing to launch myself into outer space.
I close my eyes as my lips touch the rim of the glass, Aidan’s raw saltiness hitting me at once. Slowly raising the glass, I part my lips and let his cum flow into my mouth; his semen goes over my tongue, thick and warm, and my skin prickles as I feel it coating the inside of my mouth. I lower the glass then, savoring his juices with my eyes closed. Without opening them back up, I just swallow, that saltiness making its way down my throat and setting fire to my brain.
When I accepted the opportunity to collaborate with Aidan on a novel, I knew that it was very possible that we might end up fucking. I mean, I was single and he oozed sex—a match made in heaven, right? I just never thought that he’d take my hand and walk me straight into the badlands of pleasure. And let me tell you, these badlands are really, really bad. To the bone.
When I open my eyes, I look at Aidan, not knowing what to expect. But he just smiles, the soft creases around his eyes telling me that he’s enjoying every second of the show. And, hell, so am I. Smiling back at him, I raise the glass once more and take it to my mouth, but this time, instead of just pouring his cum into my mouth, I trace the rim of the glass with my tongue, licking it dry without taking my eyes off of Aidan’s. I can feel electric sparks flying between both of our bodies, the tension building around us.
“Seems like you’re enjoying it … At least for someone who hesitated so much,” he teases me, but I just grin at his words. He’s right; I’m enjoying this, but not just because of the physical aspect of it. As silly as it may sound, there’s a spiritual side to all this, as if, right now, what I’m doing is a rite of passage.
“I guess I’m becoming a different woman,” I purr, immediately taking my tongue back to the clear surface of the glass. I let it climb over the edge and dip it into the pool of white cum there. Scooping up a bit, I take it inside my mouth and swallow again, Aidan’s unblinking eyes following everything that I do.
He’s turning me into some kind of sex-crazed woman, and I don’t know how to stop it. Not that I care; I don’t want to stop. The moment the glass touched my lips I realized there’s no going back. And, again, I’m not just talking about drinking his cum. No, it goes way deeper than that. Somehow, Aidan’s forcing me to explore myself, to test my boundaries and discover who I really am… Sure, I know I’m sounding very new-agey right now, especially if you take into account that I’m drinking cum as if it were a cocktail, but stick with me.
“You’re changing,” he tells me, “and I think I like what you’re changing into. I like this new Abby,” he continues, lowering his voice as his hungry eyes seem to devour me.
“This new Abby feels the same about you,” I say, raising the glass and throwing my head back; turning my wrist, I start pouring all of his cum into my face, and it just streams down my lips and onto my neck, heavy white lines making their way over my body.
Taking the glass out of my hands, Aidan closes in on me, both his hands on my hips, and I flash him a bright smile; one full of cum, sin, and desire. With his body pressed against mine, I feel his cock twitching, his hunger making it hard once again.
I look straight into his eyes, that dizzy smile never leaving my face, and I go straight to his cock, wrapping my fingers around it. Moving my hand back and forth, I start stroking him gently as I feel his shaft growing and growing under my fingers.
Running my tongue between my lips, I tighten up the pressure of my fingers on his hard cock. “Don’t tell me you still want more…” I purr, the semen sticking to my lips as I speak.
“More? We haven’t done anything…” he whispers back at me, his glazed eyes never leaving my lips.
“Then it’s time we start,” I purr, my eyelids drooping as I lean into him. I press my cum-coated lips on his, and a shiver goes up my spine as I feel my pussy becoming as wet as it has ever been.
“Yes, it’s time,” he whispers, pausing our kiss just so that he can look into my eyes and run one hand through my hair. We just look into each other in complete silence, the sound of both our hearts beating drowning everything else.
By the time we kiss again, it’s as if both our minds and bodies have fused into one. More than making me a better writer, Aidan’s making me a better woman.
“Alright, I have a lot to learn about sex before we can write Big Dick,” I say to Aidan and he raises his eyes. This is the first time he’s hearing the title I think.
“Make me yours,” I whisper, and he just smiles.
“You’re already mine,” is his response.
Aidan
“Please, follow me to the Gattinara,” the same waiter from our last visit flashes us a smile and then, turning on his heels, leads the way to Del Posto’s private room. Abby enjoyed it so much the last time we were here, that it seemed the obvious choice for us to come back and have dinner with CJ and Cheryl.
Sure, I had to call in another favor, but that only got me the reservation this time. I’m paying for this out of my pocket, and I know that splurging on a dinner isn’t exactly the wisest financial decision for me right now. But what the hell, I know that coming here will make Abby happy, and that’s enough. No, I’m not turning into a fucking pansy—can’t a guy do something nice without being judged?
Besides, dinner seems like a perfect way to unwind; it’s been a week since Abby spent the night at my place and, fuck, what a week. Between the writing and all the sex, I barely have enough time to breathe.
And yes, I’m not being fucking facetious. There is a lot of fucking.
And a lot of fucking writing.
Come to think of it, being just a model is definitely easy—all I have to do is stand there, shirtless, and let others do the work. Most of the time.
Writing is a whole new ballgame, though. When you stare at an empty white page, all it does is stare back at you. No wonder most of the writing legends were raging fucking alcoholics.
Abby is a natural, though. She faces her laptop with a kind of steely-eyed determination, and all it takes is a deep breath for her to start banging at the keyboard. And I think that, part of it, is because of the sex we’ve been having. I don’t mean to brag, but it’s making a better writer out of her.