After I lubed the dick up, I laid her back and braced on one knee to enter her. She smiled as I drove it home the first time. Once I had a good rhythm established and knew she was fully stretched for me, I lifted her to straddle my lap so she could ride me like a thoroughbred.
She was light and in shape. The way she rocked her hips slammed the pillowy base that was made to resemble a mouth against my pussy again and again. One of my hands was on her ass working her up and down while the other was between us massaging her clit.
“You fuck me so good – and having our tits pressed together makes me even wetter.” She grabbed one and sucked on it. “You fuck better than any man I’ve ever been with. You know when to be hard, when to be soft…oh, just like that.”
She was licking my nipple and I was beyond ready to come. “And your dick is always ready to fuck me when I want it…harder, baby. Oh yeah.”
We always came fast the first time. She was usually still worked up from the massage at the club. Then things would slow down and the real fucking would begin.
Over the course of the night, I held her up and fuck her against the wall, while she told me, “This is your pussy. Nobody treats this pussy good like you do.”
Then I’d eat her until she begged for release while fucking her with another vibrator. Once in a while, I’d get the tables turned on me; she could work a fake cock beautifully for such a small woman. She also loved to watch me play with myself.
But we always saved my favorite for last.
After she got a little rest in the hot tub after hours of hard core play, I’d clean the strap-on and add the narrower attachment that sat just above the dick. Turning her around to lay face down on the padded bench along the tub, I’d smear oil all over her ass and between her legs. Working my fingers into her tight anal star and making sure she was ready for me.
From behind, the larger dick slid into her pussy while the smaller one was buried in her beautiful ass. She loved being fucked in both places at the same time.
I would start off slow, stroking in and out…letting her adjust while the tension built for her. I’d watch her in the mirror behind the hot tub; her full breasts swinging in rhythm with my thrusts. I loved reaching under her to grope them or finger her clit while I worked the strap-on.
“Sarah, I’m getting close…so close…just a little harder…I want to feel your smooth legs every time you sink that cock in me…that’s it, baby. Fuck me hard!” Sometimes, I’d slow down and make her beg me. I loved hearing it and she always knew I’d give in eventually. “Baby, please give me the dick, please don’t make me wait. I want it bad. Put it on me, baby. Fuck me ‘til I can’t stand up.”
Then I’d slam that cock into her full force and work her fierce, holding one of her knees on the edge of the tub to hit her deeper. “Oh god, I’m coming.” And she would come so hard she’d collapse against the hot tub, completely wrung out.
I was never far from wrung out myself since I carried and lifted her so much during our time together.
I’d considered bringing an additional escort for one of our future appointments so we could hit it from both sides at once. I decided against it because I wanted her pretty ass all to myself.
Who said I couldn’t enjoy my job?
She hated for me to go and I always tried to make it easier on her. We saw one another every couple of weeks and she often acted like she wanted more. It was something I couldn’t give her, even though she matched me so well sexually.
I was a natural giver, and she needed someone to give to her for a change.
I finally got her to the point of looking forward to our next appointment and not being sad. I returned to Vivienne’s penthouse and took a cool shower then a twenty-minute power nap listening to Harry Connick, Jr.
When I knew I couldn’t sleep anymore, I decided to see if I could find something for breakfast. An hour later, Vivienne and Paige came downstairs looking like they’d been up all night. We all ate breakfast together while I told them about my night.
I still had some stiffness in my upper thighs from fucking Tricia against the wall for almost an hour and Paige ran to her bag for Tiger Balm. Needless to say, once she finished applying it, I was in the mood for a little relaxation after a long night at work.
Paige and marmalade made their first acquaintance that morning, and it was an experience I don’t think she would have missed. My fondest memory of that morning was Vivienne relaxed back, playing with herself at her little kitchen table as she watched me eat Paige very slowly and with incredible attention to detail.
Chapter Seven – Lemons and Lemonade
July 1999
I graduated with honors mid-June and ended up taking almost six weeks off due to an elderly woman who cut me off in traffic. My bike slammed into her back bumper when she swerved into my lane and braked suddenly.
I was going the full 40 mph posted speed and flipped up her trunk, over her roof, and down her hood. I was just thankful the poor blind thing didn’t gas it and run my ass over after I hit the pavement.
While I lay on the ground and tried to get my bearings, the woman got out of her car, and came around to look at me. She was going on and on about almost missing the shopping center she’d been looking for and thank goodness I was wearing a helmet. She was about 4’5” and had glasses thicker than one of my fingers. She was clearly confused. I kind of wanted to throttle her, but restrained myself, mainly due to the fact that I was getting very fuzzy.
My jeans were torn up from my left ankle and my shirt was filthy. My hair spilled from my helmet as I pulled it off to give myself some air. It also felt like it weighed about three hundred pounds. I left it lying on the street and used the front of the woman’s car to brace myself.
My face was damp from the effort to simply stand up. The pain was hell but I managed to get to my feet, stumbling around like I was drunk.
I limped slowly around her car to take a look at the damage to my bike. My front fender was cracked in half, blocking the tire. I popped my saddlebag, pulled a small screwdriver out of its sleeve, and removed my fender, throwing it back in the carrier with the tool. There was serious scraping through the paint along the entire left side from dropping after I was no longer steering.
The woman was standing next to her Cadillac with her hands folded, looking like she’d been pulled over for a speeding ticket. She kept calling me Sharon. I had tried to give her my name and information several times but was starting to forget what the hell I needed to tell her. She kept asking me if we were in front of the plaza with TJ Maxx. I had no idea.
I straddled my bike and tried to get it started. It didn’t cooperate the first few times, but eventually kicked over. My pride and joy sounded like it had the flu. I settled on the seat and pressed my palms against my temples. There was a raging headache there already. I had to get to the hospital.
I slowly pulled into traffic, did a u-turn, and headed down Sample Road. I doubt the woman even noticed I was no longer there.
I honestly don’t remember how I made it to North Broward Medical. I was told I passed out as I walked in. I woke up an hour later with a broken ankle, several broken ribs (not my first), a fractured wrist, and a concussion.
They kept me for a couple of days for observation and couldn’t believe there were no internal injuries. I was bruised from head to toe but had a high pain tolerance I’d developed over the years.
A Broward Sheriff’s deputy on his lunch break had seen the whole thing from a diner across the street from the accident. He’d followed me to the ER, blocking other cars from getting near me. I never noticed him behind me, but he told me I was driving about 20 mph the whole way and he didn’t know how the hell I made it.
After they patched me up and I was waiting for my room, the deputy entered the screened area to talk to me. He’d gotten the old woman’s plate information and another car had intercepted her as she pulled into a parking spot in front of TJ Maxx.
I’d forgotten my helmet in front
of the woman’s car. I patted the top and asked him if he’d set it next to my clothes on the chair.
“You were very lucky, ma’am. Why didn’t you wait for an ambulance?” The young officer asked me. “Jones” was the nameplate on his BSO uniform. His first name turned out to be Jake. Jake Jones. Sounded like a great name for a porn star.
I was feeling the effects of the Percocet the nurse had given me and sporting a wonderful buzz. “I have no idea. I don’t remember what the hell was going through my head except getting out of the street before I passed out.”
He laughed and I realized he was very cute. Dark blond hair cut close and dark green eyes. Beautiful physique, not a tall man, but solid as a rock in the upper body. He took my statement and chatted for a while before asking me if I’d go to dinner with him after I was released.
“Let me answer you when I can think straight, okay?” He agreed and smiled his adorable dimples at me again. I took his number. I really couldn’t resist between the dimples and the pain killers.
Vivienne came to visit me that night, and she was pissed. She sat beside me on the bed and promptly told me I looked like shit, could have been killed, and should get a car like a normal person. Then she held my hand and cried a little and said she was so relieved I was okay.
There was a small swollen area on my cheek where I’d smacked against the inside of my helmet when I hit the woman’s windshield as I topped her roof. Vivienne delicately traced her fingertips down my face and shook her head. “You are so stubborn about that motorcycle.”
I admit surprise at how upset Vivienne was. I’d been in many accidents in my life; from tractors, hay bailers, cars, ATV’s, and sometimes by the hand of other people. I’d had my share of broken bones, cuts, and bruises. No one had ever come to visit me, much less worried about my safety. It was interesting and a little scary.
When I was released a couple of days later, I was told she’d paid all my medical bills, for which I sent her a beautiful bouquet of roses and a letter expressing my thanks for all she’d done.
Decklan stopped by with wings and beer one night and waited on me hand and foot; which I admit to taking full advantage of. We watched one of my favorite old movies, Murphy’s Romance, and he rubbed my shoulders.
I was getting a little emotional and wasn’t sure why. To hide it, I made a sarcastic quip about us seeming very domestic. He laughed and patted my shoulder.
A few minutes later he said he could use an iced coffee from the Dunkin Donuts in front of my apartment building and went to pick two up. When he came back he was careful not to touch me again.
I was glad and upset at the same time. Over the next few weeks, he called every day but didn’t come by. I felt like an idiot for feeling like I scared off someone I wasn’t even interested in.
I hobbled around waiting for the wrist and ankle to heal, with strict orders from Viv to recover fully before trying to push myself back to work. After four days of resting, I was bored out of my mind. Most of my school friends had gone away for the summer or started college already.
There was one girl I could call, but she usually wanted more than I was willing to give.
In the end, I decided to call Jake, the adorable cop with the dimples. He came over after his shift ended and brought movies. He seemed to be a natural caregiver and helped me haul my laundry downstairs. When he asked me out again for a real date, I said yes. I had no intention of dating him seriously but I needed some outside stimulation.
Our first date was strange for me since I hadn’t dated a male in months. I wasn’t nervous. Men were fairly similar in nature and I genuinely enjoyed them for the most part. I took my time getting dressed and applying light lipstick. I wore a pretty sundress so I wouldn’t have to fight my casts and a sandal on one foot. I left my hair loose because I honestly couldn’t be bothered.
Jake picked me up for dinner just as the sun was beginning to set and drove to Whale’s Rib on Deerfield Beach. He asked me to wait while he jogged around the back of his Expedition and opened my door.
He guided me slowly up the walkway, held the restaurant door, helped me into my chair before he sat, and did all the chivalrous things women of my generation were supposed to hate. I didn’t. I was raised in Texas, where real men are taught to be gentlemen at their mother’s knee, and I didn’t mind meeting one.
Dinner was relaxed and easy. He never asked me what I did for a living and I didn’t pry into police business either. It was strange, but comfortable, to avoid the awkwardness.
Jake ordered us margaritas and oysters which we enjoyed while people-watching the tourists along the beach. He had a sarcastic sense of humor that showcased his intelligence, which I admit was a bit of a surprise at first.
After dinner, we sat on a bench just shy of the sand so I wouldn’t have to struggle. He commented about how much attention I drew from many different people and I laughed in disagreement. He casually pointed out a seasoned surfer, an elderly man, and two young boys about age twelve who couldn’t stop staring at me.
I told him it was likely the casts and he shook his head. “You have a spark. Everyone other than you sees that.” True to form, I turned red and changed the subject. When we got back to my apartment, he lightly brushed my cheek with his lips at my door and returned to his truck. I noticed he waited until my inside lights were on and my door was closed before he pulled away.
Very impressive.
After that first date, I started seeing him every couple of days. We watched a lot of movies and ordered take-out the first couple of weeks since the normally active stuff was off limits for me at the moment. We talked a lot which was new for me with a man.
Eventually, we got around to a sexual relationship but he didn’t push for it and I was grateful for that. When the time came to take our friendship to a friendship with benefits, he let me call the shots. He was easy to please sexually, very mild compared to my most recent lovers, and didn’t give me a bunch of meaningless lines. That shit would have turned me off fast. We were well-matched with no long-term expectations.
Jake had an ex-wife he was still madly in love with, and he’d been very honest about that from our first date. We’d talked about their relationship and where he thought things had gone wrong. After a couple of weeks, I felt comfortable enough to tell him the main problem was that he was too nice. He didn’t seem to understand what I meant. He figured it was because his ex enjoyed her independence.
“Jake, your wife was raised in Georgia. Have you considered maybe she was looking for a man to take charge, and take care of her in more than the typical ways? You’re so masculine but more like a gentle giant. Maybe you should let your more rugged side show.”
Men can be a little obtuse and he simply didn’t get it.
I break it down like this: as a society we’ve become so afraid of males who use their strength to bully, we started wiping the good kind of strength out with the bad. Women pretend they want the romance, flowers, and candy, and it’s nice sometimes. But human beings are primal and that part of our nature has to come out, one way or another.
With Jake, I intended to show him what I meant. I was going to make him release the beast.
After four weeks, I was put in soft casts and most of the bruising was gone. Jake called to say he was coming by with Chinese food and I full-body tackled him the minute he walked through my front door. He was startled and barely managed to put the bag of food on the table before I toppled him over.
I think he was afraid to hurt me but I kept at him…taunting the big strong man to come out. I played with him and backed away, teased him and pulled just out of reach, working him up and leaving him to stew. He held on for almost an hour before I finally saw the alpha male shift in Jake’s eyes and he came for me.
I couldn’t have been more thrilled.
“Come here…god, I have to fuck you right now.” He growled as he grabbed me like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder, stormed into my bedroom, and tossed me on the bed. My face cont
orted as my still-healing ribs met the mattress. “What are you doing? I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to fuck you.”
My smile said it all as he pulled off my sweat shorts and t-shirt and climbed over me. He had my hair, gripping it as he entered me, and I spurred him on. “Don’t play with me, Jake, fuck me.” He met my eyes and his glazed. He began slamming into me, using the posts of my bed for leverage to work me over.
“Is this what you want? Is it?” he asked inches from my face. In response, I bit his shoulder and raked my nails down his back. “Oh my god, you are so fucked.” He flipped me over and pulled me onto my hands and knees. His large hand was flat across my abdomen, keeping most of the weight off my injured wrist.
I felt him position his dick at the opening of my pussy but he didn’t enter me. I figured he was over-thinking his actions again. I looked over my shoulder, my hair falling across my face, and said, “If you don’t fuck me…hard…right now, we might as well go play checkers.”
He needed no further goading but I did it anyway, “Fuck me, Jake, make it hard, and add a little pain to my pleasure. Come on, you can fuck me harder. Big strong man can tap a pussy better than that. Show me how hard you can work that cock.”
He fucked the hell out of me, several times, before finally collapsing in a gasping, sweating pile of male flesh beside me. I’d worn him out and it made me happy. I didn’t mind the sweat. I certainly didn’t mind a male who knew how to use his cock, but needed to work out the kinks on me. I was pleasantly sore.
He was quiet for a long time. “That’s what you meant. About me being too nice…isn’t it?”
“Yup. Making love is nice, Jake, but women are just like men…sometimes, a good fucking is in order.” I propped my head on my good wrist and stared down at him. “Have you talked to Tracy since the divorce?”
He shook his head. “At first, I was too mad. Then it hurt too much to think about seeing her, and maybe finding out she was with someone new. Eventually, I settled into the daily routine and just tried not to think about it.” I could tell he was getting emotional about the subject so I changed it for a while.
In the Service of Women Page 7