Game of Throbs Complete Series (Books 1-3)

by Piquette Fontaine

  It did feel pretty good, I had to admit as I laid there, captive to his love. But I wanted his long hard D more than anything in the world in that moment, and my eyes kept flashing repeatedly down to his crotch as he nibbled on me, at the stiff shaft and the tulip shaped tip bulging pronouncedly through his underwear up at me, a large, dark stain of jizz beginning to spread out across the fly of his boxers.

  It was beginning to drive me up the flipping wall...

  Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore, and the sex goddess inside me was at last unleashed. I could tell he was stunned when I pulled out from beneath his pecking lips, then pushed him playfully over onto the bed in the warm, wet spot in the blankets where my own prone body had just lain. Then I climbed up on top of him, beaming darkly into his eyes with a mischievous smile across my lips, and bringing my hands down to the waistband of his undies.

  Slowly, I peeled him out of the things, dredging the fabric from his ass to his thighs, down to around his knees, and at last bringing them to his shins, where they were out of the way and wouldn't obstruct us. His cock sprang enthusiastically out into the open, swaying this way and that and hypnotizing me, glossy and throbbing and every bit as devastatingly beautiful as I had imagined it might be. I loved its thick pinkness, so rough and so veiny, and in such violent contrast to my own soft, delicate pussy, the two units fitting together perfectly, corresponding in such a glorious fashion that it left no doubt in my mind that there was a wise and perfect God up there who designed such interlocking parts for mankind's enjoyment.

  With a trembling hand, I reached cautiously up, and slowly let my fingers collapse around my husband's erection, unsure exactly what I was expecting or what my game plan was, but excited as hell to experience the majesty of sex for the first time. His shaft was hot as hell as I let my fingers ensnare him, almost burning my skin in my surprise, but I began to love the heat of the thing, and to savor it accordingly. Bryan stared down, hypnotized, as I began to stroke his shaft, to push and to pump, to stretch out the skin of his dick to his base and then push it back up to around his tip again, and to watch the fluids course along him as I stroked and stroked and stroked.

  And like liquid, my panties began to dissolve from my body as well, slipping to the floor as I lifted my pelvis up over him, and spread my legs wide.

  I lowered myself onto him, straddling him with my legs around his sides, and mounting him. I held onto his dick with one hand as I carefully inserted his tip into my pussy, the communion of our warm wet spots causing me to close my eyes tightly with pleasure, and the prospect of consuming him fully turning me on like hell.

  I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter for him by the second as I lowered my body down onto him, and beyond a certain point it did begin to hurt just the least bit. But it wasn't anything like I'd always been told, and before long it all it went away, and I found myself sitting down hard on top of him, his tip lodged all the way up inside me, and my eyes wide at the realization of what had just taken place.

  From here on out I wasn't a virgin anymore...

  I waited for a minute, taking this all in (in more ways than one) and inhaling deeply as I attempted to gain my composure. Then slowly, I began to thrust, to grind my pussy up against his body, loving the feeling of being stretched out as his hot, strong shaft sliced through me. For Bryan's part, he was leaning forward, mesmerized, watching as his cock whisked its way through the distorting folds of my privates, his eyes wide, as though he was as astonished as I was that the two of us were at last doing this.

  And from there on out, I only found myself growing more and more invigorated by the joys of our body being united so thoroughly. My grinding began to shift into bouncing, so that soon I was popping up and down on him, riding his cock like a damn pogo stick, repeatedly plunging his immensity up into my body, and drilling him so deep into my insides that I began to see stars from the pleasure of it all. I began to moan, hair swaying and glistening as my body shifted and jostled, breasts bouncing around like basketballs and his eyes now tracking the hopping flecks of my nipples as they swung around his field of vision. My flat stomach heaved, sweat pooling and dripping from the soft indent of my navel, my fingers curling up into his flesh as I struggled not to go flying into my own destruction, my breathing labored as I fucked my own lights out on him, and the torrents of pleasure streaming nonstop from my lips, “Oh, oh yes, oh, oh, oh yes, OH!”

  And I drove him into me one final time, at just the right moment, at just the right angle, smashing against every perfect spot inside me, and setting us both clean over the edge. I held myself pressed on top of him, trembling, trying not to burst as he did just that inside me, pouring out his load, and filling me clear to the brim with his hot, wet, sticky essence. His ejaculate coated me, claiming me as his own beyond a shadow of a doubt, pulsing deep into my body and dripping back out in its abundance.

  And I, in turn, began to come, my entire body lighting up with vigor and enthusiasm, the muscles of my vagina tightening around him, and my shoulders quivering so fiercely as the orgasm gripped me that I might have been having a seizure.

  And at last, when I could take no more, I collapsed, my wet, naked body crumpling on top of his own, black on white, both of us gasping and heaving for breath, wide-eyed, and needing at least a moment or two to wrap our spinning, dizzy heads around what the hell it was we'd just done to one another for the first time.

  Eventually, we managed to snap back into reality, looking up at one another, each trying to gage the expression of the other, mutually wondering if the sex had been as good for the other as it was for us personally. And, apparently, almost astoundingly, it had been, and we both found ourself smiling cautiously, and then laughing, and then at last he took the initiative, reaching over toward me, pulling my body into himself, and gouging me with an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue swirling around my cheeks, and his body rolling over on top of my own as we readied ourselves for round two.

  And Lord, what a honeymoon it was from there on out...

  Chapter 2

  “Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree, how beautiful your branches...”

  Almost ten years later, the sound of the Christmas carol rang hollow in my ears, everyone around me, I felt certain, far more engaged in the lighting of the town tree than I was. Almost ten years... An entire damn decade of marriage... In some ways it seemed like it, but in others... I just couldn't believe it... Bryan and I, in our late twenties at this point, and where the hell had the time gone? And what the hell could you consider the present state of our lives?

  Bryan, at present, seemed as mesmerized by the goings on of the event as anyone, smiling with his recently grown lumberjack beard and seeming as enthusiastic as could be, oblivious to my discontent. Or was it discontent? Maybe dissatisfaction was the better word, or maybe not even that... It wasn't so much that I had any particular bone to pick with the way things were, it was just... Like there was something... Something... Something that I wanted, or that I imagined I should want... I didn't even really know...

  I looked around at the other happy couples in the square, hip young couples almost all invariably dressed in pea coats and scarves, much like Bryan and I were. And they, for their part, seemed mostly in their element, some of them with little kids by their sides, all cherishing the time spent with family and loved ones, while I was somewhat sourly damning the situation myself in my mind.

  Bryan and I had discussed having kids, on and off anyway. I wasn't entirely sure why we hadn't yet, really. I mean, there wasn't really a good reason for it- just like getting married, it was another box to be checked in our life together, and after eight or nine years together, there was really no sense in putting it off any longer. But, then again, it seemed like there was as little reason to have a kid as there was to not have a kid, and although the talks tended to resurface around birthdays and holidays, it seemed like we brought it up more out of a sense of obligation than anything. He seemed to harbor just as little urgent enthusiasm about
the idea as I did.

  I have to be completely honest, and say that part of what was getting me right here and now was an unfortunate case of the wandering eye. I think it's something that every girl gets at some point in her marriage and I guess it's not an inherently bad thing. Sometimes, I'm sure it's just a sign that you need to get a little bit more excitement in your marriage, try new things, and get those bells jinglin' between you and your husband again.

  I mean, for a long time, Bryan and I had enjoyed a tremendous life in the bedroom together. As awkward as that first time had been, the two of us had gotten a hell of a lot more adventurous in the ensuing years, and for a while I had felt that my every want and need were being satisfied to the fullest. Because of our old-fashioned ways, we almost exclusively stuck to vaginal intercourse for the longest time. I mean, we would throw a handjob or two in there as well, because realistically, if you're having sex, your'e going to have to get your hands into the action at some point along the line, and we didn't think that would qualify as sodomy by any stretch of the imagination to the Man Upstairs.

  Unexpectedly, though, as the years went along, the two of us had cooled off quite a bit in our religious fervor, and our beliefs had become more like a comforting force for us rather than the set of strict guidelines that it had always been before then. I mean, we still went to church together, but it was a much more liberal and accepting congregation than the one at which we'd met, and its standards were a lot more lax and forgiving.

  And so, for at least the first half of our marriage, we'd been able to keep the spark alive between the two of us by introducing these slightly more taboo acts into our bedroom escapades, mutually engaging in oral and anal sex together from time to time- and by mutually engaging in anal sex, I mean sometimes he even requested that I strap on a dildo and peg him back there, much to my surprise and extreme titillation.

  I had become quite the freak in the sheets for a while there, I had to say, and in spite of my initially prudish and undersexed nature. I loved how often the two of us tried new things with one another's bodies, and each roll in the hay only left me wanting more and more and more.

  But, here's the thing- this loosening of standards had become just a little bit of a double edged sword for me. By the time I found myself unlocking my full sexual potential, and now that I was less concerned about sinning and doing something offensive that might tick off the Lord God almighty, Bryan and I’s marriage was beginning to cool down, and I was left in something of a predicament.

  The two of us worked, way too often, and so often our schedules conflicted in such a way that sex, or really, bonding of any kind, took a back seat to getting done what needed to be done. And I mean, when we were together, things were still pretty good, but it seemed like there was just this separation beginning to take hold in our marriage, driving us from one another, and it began to make me feel isolated, and hungry for so much more than I had.

  Now that I was more separated from my youthful standards of excessive morality, I almost began to feel mournful that I'd limited myself so much in terms of sexual partners over the years, marrying young, and only ever knowing what it was like to experience the touch of a single individual. Not that I didn't love Bryan but... Realistically, there were a hell of a lot of other guys out there, and I was gradually beginning to accept the truth of the fact that I'd primarily married Bryan just so I could start having sex.

  And I knew that I still had it, too... And by “it,” I mean my allure, the one that had turned all the boys' heads back before I was married. I mean, I'm guessing I still got checked out even after I was married, but I'd been so content in my life with Bryan that I hadn't really paid it all any attention. Now, though, that I was feeling discontent and hungering for something more in my life, it felt like men's eyes were almost constantly on me, checking me out and mentally undressing me, and it took me an incredible degree of willpower to resist flirting back with them whenever it happened.

  And even now, as the snowflakes fell gently around and as men with families sung happily to the tree in the square, I could spot a great number of the handsome studs glancing slyly at me from the corners of their eyes, tempting me almost more than I could stand as I gazed around the crowd. There were mostly white dudes there, but a few of the darker persuasion as well, though each set of eyes titillated me equally, as I stared off into the distance and fantasized about viciously bedding each and every last one of them, sometimes even getting extra adventurous and imagining being with more than one of them at a time.

  And suddenly, I froze, as I caught sight of one sexy stud in particular. He didn't see me, or at least I didn't think, but I felt myself suddenly struggling to breathe as I watched him pass, my blood running cold, and an inexplicable feeling of jealousy washing over me. On his arm, was some taut bodied little wisp of a platinum blonde bombshell of a girlfriend, throbbing her plump ass all over the place with every step she took in her tight candy cane striped leggings, the pattern mesmerizing me for moment until I managed to tear my gaze away from the figure that had just managed to wholly ruin my evening.

  “Hon... Hon...” I tugged on my husband's arm, and it took him a moment to notice me.

  “Huh? Yeah what is it, hon?” he answered distractedly.

  “Don't you think we should be going home soon?” I prompted him in a whisper for some reason.

  “What? Well, why don't we wait until they put the star on top first?”

  “It's just... My feet are starting to get really tired...” He didn't seem to really pick up on or care about my desire to go, and I knew it would be useless to try and redirect his attention. He was just so dense these days, I thought...

  When he said nothing for a while longer, I then tried again with, “Well, could you just give me the keys and I'll go wait in the car?”

  “Yeah, here you go,” he said absently, jangling the keys my way, and I took him without thanking him and headed off for the safety of the car, feeling like my skin was crawling as though I might be sick to my stomach.

  “You alright?” Bryan asked some time later, when at last he'd made his way back to the car and found me slumped over on the seat.

  “Yeah, just a little bit tired,” I lied, “It's been a long day.” It had, actually, but that wasn't really the reason for why I was feeling the way that I was.

  Bryan pulled out onto the road, tires crunching lightly through the snow, as we set off in the direction of home. Frosty the Snowman was playing on the radio, and I was staring out the window at the sweeping flashes of Christmas lights as we passed, trying to let them numb my disquieting thoughts, but all they really did was work up a cynicism in me that people spent so much damn money on Christmas lights every year.

  But again, that wasn't the real source of my frustration.

  Deep down, it was because the young man I'd just seen with his cute little girlfriend at the Christmas tree lighting was from my church, and for weeks, maybe even months now, I had been harboring a secret crush on him. Zach was the kid's name, and there was so much wrong with the way I was feeling about all of this that I'm almost ashamed to admit all of it.

  For one thing, there was the fact that he was only nineteen years old- an entire decade younger than myself, the age at which Bryan and I had first met for the first time. It was almost insane, I knew, for a married woman to be falling for someone like that, and someone from my damn church no less.

  But God, how I wanted him, more than I wanted any of the other men I saw pass in and out of my life every day, tempting me, but never luring me in quite as thoroughly as this young stud. Christ, he was wonderful... To me he seemed tall for his age, and extremely well built, with muscles that could compete with my husband's and such a sexy manner about him that he seemed like the type of guy you would hang a naked poster of up on your wall. He had tattoos, I could tell, on at least his forearms and back which led me to fantasizing about just where else he might happen to have a few of them stashed. And every so often, during Sunday serv
ices, I would catch the little twerp looking back at me, staring with unmistakably seedy intentions in his eyes, and taking my breath away.

  Or at least I thought that was what it was...

  To even indulge this fantasy seemed perverse, to be so certain that this young buff hunk spent what was supposed to be his time with God gawking back at me across the pews, lusting after my forbidden fruits... I almost had to be imagining all of it, hadn't I? Was I really that desperate, that self obsessed, that I would believe that sort of lie to myself? And anyway, I knew it was wrong. It was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong... If it wasn't a sin against the God that I wasn't all that sure about anymore, then I knew for certain it was a sin against my husband, and I felt terrible for allowing myself to fall so far down into my own cravings that I could consider breaking apart my marriage and my life for a damn twenty year old.

  But still, somehow, these glances exchanged in the most taboo of places, church, for crying out loud, they gave me hope, they invigorated me, they let me believe that I could still find the sort of excitement and fulfillment in my life that it seemed like I'd somehow lost in my marriage with Bryan.

  But then, to see him there in the town square... With that blonde little bimbo...