Two Beasts: A Dark Fairytale Menage Romance

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Two Beasts: A Dark Fairytale Menage Romance Page 88

by Dark Angel


  I inch closer to her, and grabbing her thong, I pull on it as harshly as I can, against her outer thigh. The sound of ripping fabric comes immediately after, and I throw her torn underwear to the floor. I place my hands on her ass, squeezing and grabbing, and then I smack her as hard as I can with the back of my open hand. A muffled cry of pleasure reaches me, and I look down, seeing her with her head buried against the pillow, trying to silence her need to moan.

  This isn’t exactly the smartest thing we could be doing, fucking while my father is asleep on his own bed… But what the fuck, it’s not like he’s going to find out about us anytime soon. He’s probably happy to have the bed all to himself.

  I don’t fucking get it; how can my father marry a woman like Jocelyn just to keep her trapped in a marriage like theirs? Sure, he might be fucking gay, but what the fuck? To keep a woman like this without sex should be fucking illegal. Fuck it; if my father is happy to have his bed all to himself right now, I’m also happy to have his wife all to myself, as fucked up as that may sound. Yes, I said it. I couldn’t be happier to be fucking my own stepmother. Fucking sue me.

  I lay on top of her, one hand moving under her body and grabbing one breast while I position my cock against her ass. My fingers gently playing with her hard rosy nipple, I place my lips against her ear.

  “How bad do you want it?” I whisper, pressing my cock between her ass cheeks. She immediately starts to thrust back, grinding and stroking me with her cheeks. “Tell me.”

  “Bad,” she murmurs, turning her head to the side. “I want it so bad, Lance.”

  “Are you sure?” I tease her, grabbing my shaft with one hand and pressing it down, moving it between her thighs so that my tip is brushing against her wet folds. I have to take a deep breath so that I don’t thrust right away. It takes all my fucking willpower just to keep talking. “I’m not hearing you beg.”

  “Please…” she mutters, struggling to get the words out. “Please… I want you to fuck me. I need you to.” I oblige, pleasure washing over me. But I don’t go all the way in. I only feed one inch into her pussy, her folds hugging the tip of my cock as she tries to thrust her hips back. “Please… I need you inside of me. Fuck me… As hard you can,” she purrs, each of her words feeling like someone is driving a fucking knife through my heart. I can’t resist this anymore. No fucking way. Teasing time is over.

  I grit my teeth and thrust hard, my shaft burying itself deep inside of her. I go all the way in, closing my eyes as I feel the warm embrace of her pussy. My hands are on her ass, grabbing it as I start to rock my hips against her. She has her mouth on the pillow once more, moaning against it as I thrust. The sound of her muffled voice caresses my eardrums like a spell, and I feel my rational mind shutting down. My mind goes blank, and my fucking thought process turns into incoherent whispers of decadent lust.

  I don’t even bother with building up the fucking rhythm: I go hard right from the start, my thighs slapping her ass as my cock fucking ravages her. My shaft goes in and out of her incessantly, beads of sweat starting to pool on my forehead; I just fucking ignore them and keep moving, fucking her as if I had never been with a woman like her. And it’s true; I’ve fucked my way through countless, nameless women… But I’ve never found someone like her. Never.

  Maybe it has something to do with the fucking age difference; after all she’s much older than I am… Older and fucking delicious, that is. Or maybe it has to do with the fact that she’s married to my fucking father. Whatever. I don’t give a fuck about the fucking why; all that matters is that she’s here, her pussy aching for my cock.

  “Oh, God…” she moans, turning her head to the side and grabbing at the sheets. “Please, don’t… Don’t stop!” she cries, breathing loudly through her gritted teeth. I do exactly what she fucking asked me, and I keep fucking her until her pussy tightens around my cock like a fucking vice. Her muscles start to twitch, and I feel the delicate, and yet violent, spasms of her pussy around my shaft. I remain in place as she burns in pleasure, only sliding my cock out when I notice her breathing returning to normal.

  Rolling to the side, I lie on my back and turn to her, placing my hands on her waist and pulling her into me. Moving with fast cat-like movements, she climbs on top of me, straddling me while she grabs my cock with both of her hands. I have to hold my breath and close my eyes so that I don’t come right here and now. Somehow, I manage to resist.

  “You can’t go,” she whispers, her eyes locked on mine. Her lips are slightly parted, an expression of anxiety on her face. I feel the fucking gears inside my head starting to turn as I try to decode her words.

  “What?” I ask, having no idea about what’s she fucking talking about all of a sudden. I’m not going anywhere; you’d have to fucking drag me out of the bed for me to leave right now.

  “Europe… Don’t go.”

  “Why not…?” Europe, so that’s fucking it. Of course.

  “Because if you go…” She raises her hips slightly, angling my cock so that my glans is rubbing against her pussy lips. “Then who’s going to take care of you like this?” She continues to rub my tip against her pussy, moving it up and down with slow teasing movements. I can feel desire fucking pulsing through me, my cock straining against the grip she has on it. “If you leave, then you won’t be able to be in me like this any longer.” As she speaks, she lowers herself over my cock, allowing one inch to slide inside of her.

  She’s getting back to me, fucking teasing me just like I did before… But, in a sense, this isn’t teasing at all. Although her voice is honeyed and sensuous, her words couldn’t be any more fucking honest. If I leave, there’s no Jocelyn anymore… No more of her body, of her pussy and tits. No more mind bending orgasms, and no more of that tender warmness I feel inside my fucking chest whenever she looks at me...

  I thrust upward, trying to ram my cock deep inside of her, but she resists.

  “No,” she says, a commanding tone in her voice. She’s fucking torturing me and she knows it. “If you have to leave, maybe we should stop right now… It would only make it harder for you, to remember how it feels to have your cock in my tight pussy.”

  She has a point in everything she’s saying, but it’s not like it’s going to make me stop now. I hook my fingers on her hips and pull her down as hard as I can, thrusting upward at the same time. My cock pushes past her folds, and straining against her inner walls, goes all the way in. Jocelyn throws her head back, her hair cascading down her shoulders as she sighs heavily.

  I reach for her breasts, squeezing them both as we start to rock our bodies against one another. She places her hands on top of mine, making me grab her harder; swaying her hips wildly, she then takes the lead and rides me as if this is the last time she’s going to be with a man. My cock nestled deep inside of her pussy, I close my eyes as I feel her body moving, my hands going down from her breasts to her ass. I slap her cheeks—once, twice—and then I squeeze them both as hard as I can, moving my hips upward and trying to match her movements.

  It only takes a few seconds for the motion of our bodies to match, almost as if we were one. She leans into me then, locks of her hair brushing against my chest, and presses her lips against mine. We kiss as if our mouths were drawn to fit in one another, our tongues dancing in circles as I start to thrust harder.

  “You’re not getting rid of me this easily,” I whisper into her ear, suddenly realizing that I can’t just pack up and leave to Europe. Not now… Not after Jocelyn. It’s dark, and all I can see is the vague outline of her figure, but I can feel her smile. A wide one. A happy one. She starts riding me harder, moaning louder as if she didn’t care any longer if my fucking father hears us. “I’m staying,” I say, this time out loud. I’m saying it to her as much as I’m saying it to myself. I’m actually staying, and I’ve decided this with my cock twelve fucking inches deep inside of her.

  What else can I fucking do? Leave the States after meeting a fucking woman like Jocelyn? Sure, it doesn’t look li
ke our situation is going to fucking improve much more, but still… I just can’t move on as if she didn’t exist. I can’t be that fucking stupid.

  “You’re staying ...” she whispers, bucking her hips with such viciousness that I can’t help but groan. “Here...” she continues, getting the words out despite her hard breathing. “With me!”

  With that, she explodes again, her pussy spasming and massaging my shaft as she digs her fingernails into my chest. Breathing heavily while her body convulses, she claws at my chest, her fingernails leaving red marks across my pectorals. I keep thrusting while she comes, feeling my own body close to the breaking point.

  Two hard thrusts and I’m almost ready to join her, my cock spasming harshly against her inner walls. In a heartbeat, I’m gushing a torrent of cum inside of her, each spasm of my member sending electric waves of pleasure up my spine, every single muscle in my body tensing up to the point of ripping apart. It’s almost unbearable.

  “Fuck…” I mutter through my gritted teeth, fireworks going off behind my eyelids. I keep cumming for what seems like forever, thick strands of semen dripping from her pussy and onto my shaft.

  Sighing, she waits for my cock’s spasms to subside, and she finally climbs down from my body. But instead of simply rolling to the side, she goes on her knees and leans forward, her parted lips meeting my now sensitive glans. She takes it in her mouth and sucks hungrily, moving her lips down my shaft and cleaning it dry. As she goes back, my cock pops out of her mouth; she grabs it gently, tilts her head sideways and starts licking the whole length of my shaft before finally scooping up all the cum that pooled at the base.

  I lay back as she licks me dry, still trying to catch my fucking breath. I say nothing; fuck, I can’t even think straight right now, pleasure still coating my mind. Jocelyne goes to my side as she finishes, one arm across my chest as she inches closer to me. I turn to her, and she loses no fucking time; she presses her mouth against mine, the salty flavor of my semen hitting me immediately.

  We kiss as if there was nothing else in the whole fucking universe but us, the cum in her mouth dripping into mine as our tongues wrestle against one another. When she pulls back, there are a few drops of cum on my chin, making their way down my jawline; smiling, she scoops them up with the tip of her tongue.

  “I’m not the only one in need of some cleaning up,” I whisper, my heart still beating like a motherfucker. My hands on her waist, I turn her around and pull her into me; she doesn’t take long to realize what I intend to do, and climbs on top of me, easing herself down on my mouth. Swaying her hips, she rubs her drenched pussy against my lips, cum dripping down from her folds and into my open mouth. I open it as wide as I can, feeling my warm semen sliding from inside of her and down to my tongue.

  We remain like that until her pussy is dry, my mouth brimming with cum. Only then does she roll to the side, looking at me with anxious eyes. I know what she fucking wants, and so I just go ahead and fucking do it. I swallow, the saltiness of my load fucking clawing at my throat on the way down. Fucking Jocelyn… This woman drives me fucking insane, that’s a fact. Every time I’m with her is like fucking Christmas.

  Throwing herself back on top of the mattress, she presses her body against mine. We say nothing for a long fucking while, simply staring at the ceiling as we hear our own ragged breathing, exhaustion lacing our bodies.

  Then, hesitant, I feel her reaching for my hand. She grabs it, gently squeezing my fingers, and I squeeze back. We remain in silence, the long shadows in the room tumbling over our bodies as if they were trying to caress our naked skin. I’ve never been what I’d call a romantic, but this… This right here, this is fucking perfection. Forget everything you have ever heard about poetry, music or paintings; the only art form that can explain love is good old hard fucking. Trust me.

  “You’re right…” I finally manage to say, the words coming out of my mouth as if I wanted to say them all along. “There’s no way I’m leaving. No fucking way.” She responds by squeezing my hand harder and I smile absently, knowing that for once I did the right fucking thing. “I can’t be away from you.”

  “Neither can I,” she says, whatever there is between us suddenly becoming very fucking real.

  New York Daily Journal

  From the Desk of Amanda Adams, the Professional Gossiper of Page Two.

  Welcome to Page Two Gossip, here’s what we’re hearing around the halls of power:

  That’s right, New Yorker, the people have spoken and apparently you can’t get enough of Lance and Jocelyn Anders.

  At least that's what internal tracking polls have shown within the Anders For Mayor campaign. Sources inside the campaign are confirming for me what the majority of us think when we’re alone and watching the television: Hizzoner’s bad boy son is hot. And his new wife of less than a year isn’t too bad either. In fact, the photogenic family is one of the major reasons that Mayor Anders is retaining a slim 5-point margin of victory in most head-to-head matches against his mayoral rival, Jim Jenkins.

  That’s right. Bad boy Lance better get a car for Christmas, because his good looks and hot body, on display at his father’s side throughout the campaign are attracting New York City voters and propping up his dad’s campaign. His stepmom, Jocelyn, is doing her own good among male voters as well.

  When asked in a Fordham University poll who the sexiest person out of both the candidates and their families were, New Yorkers had no divisions among them. 89% agreed that Lance Anders was the sexiest man involved in the mayoral election. An even greater 94% of respondents agreed that Jocelyn Anders was the sexiest woman involved in the race.

  49% of New Yorkers even admitted that the reason they showed up to events or tuned in to the news was to catch a glimpse of Lance or Jocelyn Anders.

  In fact, my spies inside the Anders campaign tell me with numbers like this, they’re a bit concerned how much people must dislike Hizzoner for the margin of advantage to only be 5% over Jim Jenkins.

  We’ve always known that Lance was a bit of a handful. As the prodigal son of the mayor, his biological mother died when he was only 10 years old, and his stepfather has raised him. Over the last several years, the two have been estranged according to family sources, but they’ve seemed to put whatever issues aside for the election as son has been next to father every step of the way. In college, sources tell us Lance lived up to his bad boy credentials, partying and living it up in a big way while also excelling at his studies and playing varsity football for Yale. After college, he went to work at the White House as an intern, but you’ll remember he was caught having sex with the First Daughter and almost started World War III, leading to his dismissal.

  Jocelyn, on the other hand, comes from the politically connected Carter clan. Her brother is planning on running for Governor of New York State in two years time. The marriage between Jocelyn and Michael was certainly a whirlwind, and the two tied the knot in a private ceremony in Westchester. While they’ve been seen in public together, a few close to the family hint that there may be troubles beneath the surface between Hizzoner and his wife. But nothing that we’ve found out enough to confirm and print.

  But whatever the case, we know we’ll all be watching Lance and Jocelyn as they stand behind Michael. Will that be enough to lead us to vote for Michael? Only time will tell.

  That’s all for today, but we’re digging up as much as we can about this election. Till we hear more, this is Amanda Adams signing off. Keep your ears open, New York.

  Jocelyn

  Four.

  That’s how many months ago Lance Anders set foot into Michael’s Upper East Side townhouse. How many months since I opened that door and set my sex-starved eyes on that gorgeous body of his. That’s roughly the number of months since I tried walking into his room when he was in the shower. Since I almost gave up on the sofa after he rescued me in the Park. Since my birthday. Since I saw him at the gym and went over to touch his shoulder. Then invited him to my dressing room at Saks. F
our months since he first put his giant cock inside of me and shot me into orbit. It’s like I haven’t come down since.

  Zero.

  That’s how many times Michael has asked and wondered why Lance is still here even though the election is just shy of a month away. Lance was supposed to only stay the summer. But Michael doesn’t care about anything except staying as Mayor. Who knows what he has planned after that, he doesn’t tell me.

  Zero is also the number of times that Michael has tried touching me. He just doesn’t care about me. I know I’m beating a dead horse and you get it—Michael may not be into me. Michael may be gay. You’re aware. But listen to me, hun, because this is important to me. I need you to understand this. I’m not the kind of girl who goes around cheating on her husband. I’m not some slut who sleeps with her stepson because there was nothing good on television during the day. If Michael hadn’t been cheating on me, and it’s pretty obvious nowadays when he walks in, or if he hadn’t forced my father to give me up for marriage, or even with all that, if he had shown me even the slightest bit of affection I would have never looked at Lance as hungrily as I do now.

  OK, well, let me rephrase that. I would have looked at him hungrily. I mean, he’s young. And he’s so hot. But I would have controlled myself. I wouldn’t have flirted at the gym. If Michael had even given me a hug in the six months we were married. Forget about fucking. I don’t even want a kiss. A hug. Or a caress. Even a nice word of affection. Anything.

  Can you imagine what it’s like to be treated like an employee in your own marriage? To sleep next to a stranger? And if you wake up with your arms and legs wrapped around them to have your partner look at you with disdain and scorn? So much so that you put a pillow between the two of you so it doesn’t happen again?

 

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