by Penny Wylder
I imitate him, push his boxers down to fully expose his cock, but even prepared as I think I am, having seen him before and touched him just now, I still gasp when he springs free. His cock is fucking huge. The veins bulge along the sides of his shaft, and the swollen head of his cock pulses with lust. There’s a bead of precum gathered at his tip already and I trace my thumb across it, trail it back down the underside of his cock, tracing the vein there.
“You like what you see?” Grant smirks, knowing. “You like my big fucking cock, City Girl?”
I swallow hard, eyes still focused on his length, his width. “Fuck yes,” I whisper.
“You think you can handle me? Think your tight little city pussy can take it? Because I don’t know…” He grins, and with that, pushes one finger inside me.
My whole body arcs up off the bed. I gasp aloud, arching into his hand, and my clit digs into the heel of his palm as I do, only doubling the sensation. His finger feels so thick inside me, twisting as he runs it along my inner walls, a different one with every stroke as he begins to push it in and out of me. “You feel pretty tight to me, City Girl.”
“Maybe,” I admit, my voice low, breathless. “But I’m wet for you too…” I buck up into him, stifling a groan as the motion forces his finger deeper into me.
He crooks his finger, drags it along my front inner wall until his fingertip finds the hard, sensitive graze of my G-spot. Then he works back and forth along that, even as I tighten my fist on his cock and reach up with my other hand, using both now to pump along his length harder.
“You think that’ll be enough?” He smirks. “Let’s see if we can’t get you even wetter…” He strokes faster, and I moan aloud. Then he adds a second finger, and my pussy tightens, tenses around the width of his fingers. With his thumb, he grazes my clit, over and over with each stroke, hitting my G-spot and the edges of my clit at once. The sensations threaten to send me over the edge, but I tighten my grip on his cock and fuck him faster, not ready to give in yet.
I’m rewarded by a faint groan, deep in the back of his throat, as his eyes go hooded and feral with lust.
“You like that?” I whisper, grinning.
In response, he rolls over, positioned on his knees above me, and continues to finger me hard, fast. I keep fisting his cock, with it aimed right at my chest now, using both hands, my eyes on his balls as they swing beneath him.
Fuck, I want to take him into my mouth. I want to suck him until he’s about to come, and then let him come all over my chest, my mouth. I want to taste him, feel him, make him lose control.
But his fingers are too distracting, and his body, arched up like this above mine, tears away too much of my attention. Before long my hips are bucking against the bed of their own accord, and my mouth falls open, my head twisting against the sheets as I moan and writhe under him.
“That’s right, you’re close now aren’t you, Sasha? Fucking come for me, City Girl. Come on my fingers.”
I gasp and arch up against him. He curls two fingers inside me, presses his thumb over my clit and thrusts those fingers in, once, twice…
I can’t stave it off any longer. I cry out, my voice shaky, as the orgasm hits me. It tears through my nerves, sets my veins on fire, and my whole body bucks along the bed with the force of it.
“That’s right, come hard City Girl. Keep coming.” Grant, for his part, doesn’t stop stroking me. Even when my hands fall away from his cock so I can twist them in the sheets, lost in pleasure. He keeps fingering me until I fall back against the sheets, panting, my body sheened with sweat.
He draws his fingers out of me with a faint pop, and I feel the slick of my own juices along my inner thigh. He leans back, sitting on his heels as he watches me, a satisfied smile on his face, even though his eyes are still dark with want.
“Now there’s the orgasm you so desperately needed,” he comments, smirking. “You were so thirsty for it you couldn’t help touching yourself right next to me, huh? Didn’t listen before when I told you you were courting trouble.”
I swallow hard, but reach for his hands. Grab them and pull him down until he’s leaning over me on all fours. “I still want trouble,” I tell him, eyes locked on his.
“Good,” he replies without missing a beat. “Because at this point, Sasha, I can’t help but fuck you. You’ve driven me too fucking wild for too fucking long.”
I lick my lips. Trace my eyes down his chest. Straight to that thick cock of his, stiff and hard as ever, pointing so low between his legs now that it makes my eyes widen.
“Yeah,” he says, following my gaze. “That’s the problem, though. I still doubt your city pussy can handle my big country cock.”
I lift my chin, stubborn, and lock eyes with him. “I was born and raised here same as you, Grant Werther,” I point out. “I think I can handle what you’ve got to give.”
He laughs, low and throaty, in a dangerous way that makes my belly tighten. But he bows his head, eyes locked onto mine, nevertheless. “Fair enough then. Let’s find out how you take it.”
With that, he grabs both of my ankles at once and pulls me down the bed, flat onto my back beneath him. He kneels between my thighs and I wrap my legs around his waist, arching up until my pussy is pointed right at the tip of his cock.
“I’ve waited too long for this,” he murmurs, his voice a low, possessive growl as he lowers himself toward me, positions the tip of his cock at my entrance.
I clamp my mouth shut to avoid moaning, but when he pushes the tip of his cock between my lips, his head slowly penetrating my pussy, I can’t help it. My mouth falls open and I moan aloud at the sensation.
He takes it slow, steady, pushing himself into me a centimeter at a time, letting my pussy stretch and adjust to his girth slowly. I groan as he keeps going, the stretching, tightening sensation driving me wild. It hurts, but it feels fucking amazing too, to be stuffed so fully, have someone so huge inside me. With every inch deeper he goes, my muscles tense and release, tense and release.
When he’s finally buried fully inside me, I reach up to grab his shoulders, running my hands down his back, along the sharp curves of his muscles as he lies along me for a moment, letting me adjust.
He’s breathing hard too, a catch in his throat. “Fuck,” he groans softly beside my ear, his voice sending another thrill through my nervous system and making my pussy clench—which in turn makes his thick cock jump inside me. “You are so fucking tight it’s unbelievable.”
With that, he leans back and starts to draw out of me again, and I cry out once more, already missing the feeling of his thick cock deep in me, filling me up. He only pulls out an inch though, before he rocks back in, slow at first, steady, letting me adjust to him.
I buck my hips up against him, but he drops his hands to my hips and pins me flat against the bed.
“You think you can take this?” he murmurs, grinning. He pulls back again, two inches this time, and drives into me once more, a little faster this time, a little harder.
“Fuck yes,” I pant. “Give it to me.”
“You want me to really fuck you, Sasha?”
“Yes, Grant. I want you to fuck me with your big cock.”
He smirks. “How hard do you want me to fuck you?” He pulls back again, teasing, three inches this time. Then he drives into me once more, fast enough to make me gasp.
“Hard,” I hiss through clenched teeth, distracted by pleasure.
“How hard?”
“Fucking hard. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk straight. I want you to fuck me so hard it hurts.”
His grin widens, and that animal lust in his eyes goes darker, wild. “I underestimated you, City Girl.”
“I told you,” I manage to pant, also grinning, and I’m sure the look in my eyes right now is just as hungry. “I’m just as country as you, big man. So fuck me like I am.”
He pulls all the way out of my pussy, then drives back into me, his full length now. I scream and dig my nails into his ba
ck, pleasure and pain tearing through me in equal measure. He cups my ass with both his big, rough hands and lifts my hips off the bed, holds me in the air between his legs as he starts to fuck me fully, though still slow at first, his hard shaft stretching my pussy, stuffing me whole.
I grip his shoulders with my hands, nails out, and tighten my thighs around his waist. With every thrust, he makes me cry out louder, makes my body ache for release.
I glance down to see his cock thrusting in and out of me, and feel the slap of his balls against my ass cheeks with every fuck. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. We’ve pushed straight through any pain there was before—it’s all pleasure now. The feeling of being completely full, stuffed so full I can barely take it. The walls of my pussy ache where they strain to hold his thick cock, and it drives me wild.
He picks up the pace, lifting my whole lower half off the bed now, and I arch my hips with him, thrusting against him. His cock drags against my inner walls and I groan every time his head grazes past my G-spot, the pressure mounting so high it makes my pulse beat at the edges of my vision.
“You like that, Sasha?” he pants through a hard smile, his eyes still full of that same hunger, that same lust.
“Fuck yes.” I grind my hips up against his as he pounds into me, moving faster now, harder. It drives me wild, after so much build-up, so much unreleased tension.
“You want more?” His voice is a growl, barely contained. He’s holding back, I can tell. But I don’t want him to. I want to see what this Country Man is made of.
“Fuck yes,” I repeat, my own voice a growl too. “Give it to me, Country Man. Fuck me as hard as you can.”
He speeds up, fucking me harder, faster. I’m stretched out wide enough to take him now, and it doesn’t hurt at all—it only drives me more wild as his thick cock fills every inch of me completely.
It doesn’t take long before I’m nearing the brink, my breath coming hard and fast, my hips bucking in time with his.
“You want to come for me?” he asks, low and fast. “You want to come on my big cock?”
“Make me come, Grant. Make me come with your cock.”
He leans back and unhooks my legs from around his waist. Flings them over his shoulders to angle his thrusts so the head of his cock drags down the front inner wall of my pussy. I cry aloud at that, unable to stop my body from twisting against the sheets. I lose my grip on his shoulders and fist the sheets instead, trying to thrust back against him. But all I can manage to do is hang on as that fat cock of his drives me straight up to the brink of orgasm.
When it hits me, I scream so loud it would wake half the neighbors if I were back in New York City. But I’m not in the city—I’m in the country, getting fucked like I’ve never been fucked before, and out here, there’s no one to hear me for miles.
Thank fuck.
Grant keeps going, pounding into me as the orgasm fades. I recover enough to pull him back down against me, wrap my arms tight around his waist and pin him against me as I thrust up in time with him.
He speeds up, and his voice is throaty when he pulls me hard against his chest to growl against my ear, “I’m going to come. I’m going to fill your pussy with my cum, Sasha.”
“Come in me, Grant,” I gasp, pulling him closer, tight against me, his hard muscles slick with sweat, his body hard everywhere I’m soft. “Fuck yes. Fill me up,” I moan.
His hands tighten almost painfully on my hips, and with a few last thrusts, he groans my name and comes hard, still pumping into me as he finishes. I thrust up against him and tighten my pussy muscles, contracting around him to milk every last drop of hot, wet, cum from his thick cock. He moans when I squeeze him, so I do it again, and he growls, pulling me so hard against him that I can hardly breathe for a second.
When he finishes thrusting, he lies along my body, our sweat mingling. I can feel his pulse in my chest, and it echoes my own, both racing hard as hell.
He draws back just far enough to look between us, and slowly, slowly draws his cock out of me. He’s still huge, even now, and I gasp with a faint pang as he pulls out of me—I loved the feeling of having him inside me, feeling so full.
There’s a hot rush as his cum trickles out, mingled with my own juices, and rushes down my thigh. I gasp softly, and Grant grins, glancing from that back to me.
“That’s the only way to fuck,” he says. “Raw and real.”
My pussy aches—a bone deep ache that I fucking love. It’s the feeling of having been thoroughly fucked, harder than I’ve ever been fucked before. I feel satisfied, in a way I’ve never known.
“Fuck yeah it is,” I whisper, the loudest I can make my voice go now, my throat raw from the screams earlier.
Grant catches my eye and smiles. For a moment, I think I catch something else in it. Something more than just lust.
Then he lies back in bed beside me. I stretch out too, staring at the ceiling for a quiet moment until he reaches across to pull me against his side. I roll over and let him spoon me, his big, strong arms comforting, safe and secure.
I fall asleep with my head pillowed on his bicep, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest against my back, and all I can feel in that moment is completely and utterly content.
7
Sasha Bluebell
I wake up alone. That doesn’t seem strange at all—it’s pretty normal for me, actually, par for the course. Until I stretch, and my whole body screams in aching protest, and I remember what the hell actually happened last night.
Fuck.
I roll over and check the bed beside me. It’s empty. Cold. But right there on my side of the bed is a wet little puddle, the evidence of what we did last night. It’s mostly dried now, but I can’t help staring at it, wondering if I’m a complete idiot. I’m on birth control of course, but what was I thinking? I barely know Grant. I don’t know if I should be fucking him—how did he put it?
A shiver runs down my spine at the memory. Raw.
But it feels better that way, I have to admit. It felt right having him inside me, nothing between us. Feeling his hot cum fill me up.
I rub my temples and sit up. My ass and my pussy protest with an aching throb. Yep, he was true to his word. He definitely fucked me so hard that I’m going to have trouble walking today, let alone finishing yard work.
Not that I’m complaining. I’ll take that ache any day. When I clench my pussy, the pressure makes me feel as though he’s still inside me. It’s the echo of the sensation of his wide girth filling me up, and I fucking love it, I can’t lie.
I roll out of bed and sleepily reach for my suitcase. I should probably unpack it, I think, before I remember with a faint pang that I’ll be leaving again in just four days now anyway, so what’s the point?
Four days. Can we really get this farm back in shape in less than a week?
What do I do if we can’t? Ask for more time off work? My boss would let me, but… Do I really want to spend more time here than I need to? More time in this crappy little town that I couldn’t wait to escape as a kid, and that I can’t wait to get out of all over again as an adult?
Hell no. I’m just going to have to step up my game. Work as hard as I’m playing.
But something about the thought of leaving makes my chest feel funny now. Before, all I wanted to do was run. Now… I don’t know.
I shake my head. I’m just being ridiculous. One good fuck and I want to hang out in this Podunk place longer? What am I thinking?
I grab a change of clothes and pad out to the shower. The house is empty, silent, even though the roosters outside are only shrieking about dawn just now. Grant wakes up early, even for a country man.
In the bathroom, I squint at my reflection. My hair is an absolute mess, and I still smell like a mix of sweat and sex after last night. But there’s an undeniable shine in my eyes, color in my cheeks. The look of a girl who’s recently had the fuck of her life.
I exchange a grin with the girl in the mirro
r and turn the water on hot. As I soap up, I brush my fingertips over my mound, and suppress a gasp. Yeah, definitely sore. But that lovely, deep, aching kind of sore that reminds me all over again how fucking fantastic last night felt.
I can’t stop picturing Grant above me in bed, his body arched over mine. The way he grabbed me and picked me up off the bed like I was weightless. The way he claimed me, fucked me hard and possessively, and came inside me, no shame about it. Just like the big rough and ready Country Man he is.
My heart starts beating faster, and I have to slide a hand between my legs just from thinking too hard about last night, a curl of pleasant memories tingling in my brain.
I stroke my clit, but even the lightest touch makes it flare red-hot. So I tease my fingertips across my mound, pressing just hard enough to turn my clit on without pushing too hard or getting sore.
All the while, I picture Grant fingering me. The way he rolled straight over and claimed my pussy without any hesitation. I picture him storming in here right now and taking me all over again in the shower, pinning me against the wall as he fingers me.
My clit throbs again, and I add a second finger, rubbing just hard enough to get my legs trembling, my knees shaking and my breath coming fast. When I come, I have to sag against the shower wall to hold myself up, and there’s another rush as my juices, mingled with what was left of Grant’s cum inside me, rush down my inner leg. I groan aloud, loving that hot sensation, loving the feeling that he was still inside me.
I finish washing, and once I’ve toweled off, I feel steady enough to walk at least semi-normally, though my legs still have a tendency to bow outward, a telltale giveaway of exactly what we were up to last night.
Not to mention I was already sore from the farm work.
Well, I’ll just get more sore today, I resolve. So I might as well get used to it.
I dress in my now-favorite jean shorts and another throwaway T-shirt, one of the many ragged ones I brought with me on this trip, intending to throw them away at the end. I hadn’t worn jeans and a T-shirt this often since… Well, I can’t even remember now. But there’s something relaxing about it. Something that feels really at home, no matter how much I don’t want to admit it.