by Nikki Sex
Fascinated, I swallow hard as I watch him pleasure himself. Could anything be more erotic than this?
The desire to taste him, wrapping my mouth and tongue around his big, gorgeous cock is overwhelming.
I lick my lips.
Eyes widening, Grant notices, which thrills me.
He fondles the rigid length of his erection, shifting closer, his beautiful shaft points toward my mouth. Is he teasing me with it? I bite back a moan and clench my thighs together in a fruitless attempt to ease the growing ache between them.
“You’re so mean!” I gasp.
“Am I?” he murmurs, raising a dark, mocking eyebrow.
The rat! Is that a satisfied glint of mischief I see there in his eyes? Playfully teasing and taunting, Grant’s a quick learner. In my opinion, sex is definitely the most fun you can have with someone you care for.
God, I love his hungry grey-blue eyes—eyes that are dark with desire.
What is he thinking behind that weighted stare? I wish I could get into his head. I want to know everything about him. So far, he’s surprised me at every turn.
Is he imagining his cock in my mouth or in my pussy? Does he have dark fantasies that he’s ashamed of, like burying himself balls deep into my ass? I seriously hope he's not fantasizing about the scary, kinky stuff André is into. Somehow, I doubt it, yet anything that gets Grant off will do it for me, as well.
Grant’s steady rhythm doesn’t change. Up and down. Up and down…
My gaze remains fixed on his raging hard-on as I follow his lazy, practiced movements.
His huge shaft has stiffened further, growing thicker and larger than it was before—and that’s saying something. His cock is a freakin' work of art. It’s engorged, primed and ready with the healthy male need to mate.
Seeing him so hot for me drives me wild.
Clear beads of pre-cum drip down his solid, veined shaft. Grant licks his palm, adds the moisture from his pre-cum and continues stroking himself until his cock glistens. His smoky gaze stays locked on mine as he rubs his hand over his length. His fingers slide to the head, squeezing lightly and then moving over the wide, rounded crown of his penis.
“Jesus,” I whisper softly.
He hasn’t even touched me yet, but I’ve never been so turned-on in my whole life.
God, I want this sexy, gorgeous man! I'm so hot for him that I fear my pussy's about to burst into flames. Maybe spontaneous human combustion really DOES exist. This is what causes it.
As he continues to stroke himself, his abs, stomach and hips flex and contract, flex and contract. The intensity of his breathing increases. I hear the air moving in and out of his lungs. Initially he breathed slow and deep, but he pants as he becomes more and more aroused.
So am I.
Originally, I'd planned to keep talking to him as he stroked himself—to tantalize him with sexual suggestions. This proves to be virtually impossible because my brain is stupefied by erotic sight and sensation.
Has all of my blood travelled south? It sure as hell feels like it. Heavy and swollen, my sex pulses with arousal. I feel as though my heart has moved between my legs too. My clit is pounding. I doubt that I have enough blood left circulating through my brain to enable me to form words, much less sentences.
Still, I decide to give it a shot.
With great effort, I say, "I bet you’ve got bucket-loads of cum for me in those big, heavy balls of yours.”
Grant arches a brow.
Breathless, l continue, “I can’t wait to see it, feel it and smell it. I swear I could climax just from watching you come.”
“When I’m good and ready, you’re gonna get your wish,” he replies darkly.
Talk about animal instinct! I honestly think I can hear the man growl. I shiver as the primal, sensual sound he makes skitters across my flesh.
My face heats with both a jolt of surprise and lust. Where does all of Grant’s sudden self-confidence come from?
I open my mouth to speak, but shut it again. I have no idea what to say. I’m dumbstruck—that’s the word.
I’ve been rendered speechless by his hot, alpha male dominance.
Apparently, there’s a sensual core of authority built inside of Grant. He’s a masterful, stubborn, hot-blooded man who knows his own mind. I admire that. Much to my surprise, I crave his control. It feeds my arousal.
As a people-pleaser with often shy, mouse-like tendencies, I’m jealous of this powerful facet of his personality. I doubt I could ever have the same type of cool authority that Grant displays. I’d love to have that kind of self-assurance. It adds even more to his appeal and his presence.
Confidence is so unbelievably sexy.
I’m seriously turned on by Grant, even more so now than when we first met. He drew me from the moment I first laid eyes on him.
I’m mesmerized by the carnal thrill of watching him work his big erection and the sounds of his now ragged breathing. He smells fantastic. Everything about him screams strong male animal, bursting with testosterone and lust.
Watching him masturbate is so far beyond hot.
Riveted, I sit here on the bed before him, enjoying the steamy, erotic display he puts on for me. I can't understand why I'm suddenly so short of oxygen. How can I be out of breath without being touched or even moving? It’s as though I’ve been running a marathon.
Desperate for a taste of him, I lick my dry lips.
I'm so turned on, I desperately need relief. I slide my hand down under the waistband of my panties to find my swollen clit. The first touch makes me groan. My pussy quivers as I begin to circle it and stroke myself. Tender and heavy, my breasts throb, aching to be touched. I reach up and squeeze them, temporarily easing my need.
“God, I want you,” I moan.
Despite his stony expression, I can tell how much my words affect him. Grant’s dick jumps in his hand. He continues working his cock, keeping that smooth, slick skin sliding up and down. He says nothing, but the rhythm of his movement increases.
Mouth parted, his chest heaves as he greedily sucks in air. From time to time, his body tightens as his muscles coil with building sexual tension.
My own body hums, vibrating shamelessly with anticipation and lust. Watching the primitive action of a male in rut is such a turn-on to me.
Grant stares at me through hooded eyes, his pupils are dark with passion.
“You’re going to kill me, Grant,” I say, my voice harsh with need. “I’m aching and empty. I want you inside of me so badly it hurts. If we didn’t have this blasted ‘no touch’ rule in place tonight, I’d come screaming from just a single brush of your hand.”
His jaw clenches, but again he says nothing.
With deliberate intent, he stands up and steps closer to the bed, until he’s standing directly in front of me. Naked heat sizzles between us. He stills his hand and then begins thrusting into it, using his hips and thighs, his tight muscles working as he pumps.
I can read what he’s thinking—it doesn’t take a detective to connect those dots! His actions closely mimic the in and out movement of sex.
Nostrils flaring, breathing hard, Grant is fucking his own hand.
Is he imagining pumping that thick cock of his into my dripping wet slit? Or does he want to fuck my mouth? He shifts restlessly, his hips flexing as he bucks.
There’s a faint liquid, slapping sound of flesh on silky flesh as he works, driving himself rapidly toward orgasm. I wish he’d slide his body into mine.
I need him inside me—I don’t care where. Between my lips, in my pussy or up my ass. God, I just want him anywhere and everywhere.
My internal muscles pulse and I moan loudly. “Grant?” I gasp.
“Yes?” His voice is rough with lust.
Fascinated, I watch as he continues to jerk himself off, picking up speed. It’s so fucking hot! A soft whimper comes to my ears and I suddenly become aware that the sound came from me. Heated and urgent, my entire body quivers.
“I want
to put my mouth on you,” I pant, while desperately working my pussy. “I want to suck you so hard that I pull every drop of cum you have right out of your cock. Oh fuck, Grant, I want to suck you dry.”
A low guttural noise comes from deep inside him. His jaw flexes from his violent inner struggle. The man has been fighting to maintain control of his urges, but I think he just lost the battle.
My naughty words have driven him right to the brink of orgasm.
“I’m gonna come,” he gasps.
As his control breaks, his eyes open wide with both surprise and pleasure. The cords and veins in his neck stand out as visible evidence of the strength of his passion. Grant wants me, and he wants me badly.
“Yes! Yes! Please let me see you come,” I almost sob with frustration and need.
This is what I’ve longed for—this is where I’m supposed to be.
I realize that I crave being desired, being lusted after. I long to be needed and wanted, even more than I desire my own release.
Needed and wanted, but not by just anyone.
I only want Grant Wilkinson.
I need him.
I love him.
What in the hell is wrong with me? How can I be thinking such crazy thoughts when I’m teetering on the brink of an orgasm?
No one ever said that falling in love was a sane thing to do.
Chapter 13.
“Only poisonous people or poisonous situations prevent a person’s natural journey toward personal growth or healing.”
— André Chevalier
~~~
Renata Koreman
“You want it?” he bites out the question. The strength of his need turns his words into an urgent, harsh demand. “You want me to shoot my cum all over your beautiful breasts?”
“Damn right I do,” I say, as I furiously begin to rub my clit in earnest. My body strains as I edge toward my own breaking point. I’ll climax just from watching him orgasm. With one touch of his semen, I’ll go over.
“Give it to me. I want to feel your hot cum on my nipples,” I cry, pushing my breasts out toward him. “Now, Grant. Now! Give it to me!”
“Yes,” he growls.
Grant’s shaft is throbbing, standing proud and long. His hand stays near the head of his dick, working it faster and faster.
His eyes focus directly upon me.
Suddenly his balls pull up tight.
“Uh, uh, uh, uh,” lips parted, Grant grunts out the sweet agony of his erotic pleasure in a long, guttural groan. Throwing his head back, he squeezes his eyes closed. His handsome face contorts and his body shudders as a wave of pleasure runs through him.
“Renata,” he gasps, as a rope of his hot, milky seed bursts from his swollen cock. It splashes across my breasts, just as he opens his eyes.
“Yes, God, Yes!” I cry out, finger-fucking myself toward my own release. Liquid from my pussy has already soaked my panties. Now it’s dripping along my thighs and onto the sheets.
Two, three, four… five lengthy spurs of hot sexy cum. Grant guides his pulsing cock to precisely where he wants his seed to land. His beautiful shaft continues to jerk and convulse until he’s completely emptied himself over me.
I’ve been burning with lust while anticipating this moment for so long. The reality is far hotter than any fantasy I’ve imagined. The sight, the sound, and the heady male smell of him is beyond euphoric.
My body tightens, then suddenly erupts. An electric jolt flows through me in rhythmic waves.
“Oh, God, Grant,” I call out as I climax, shuddering and convulsing in pulse after pulse of excruciating pleasure.
Twitching, my legs quiver as I’m rocked by orgasmic tremors. The man hasn’t even touched me, but all of this erotic foreplay makes my release mind-blowing anyway.
When he’s finished ejaculating everything in his balls, he stares at the long white strands that now cover my breasts. The delicious scent of sex fills the air. My nipples are pebbled, the skin on my chest is wet and warm.
Collapsing, I recline backwards on the bed. Grant falls heavily back onto his chair.
Limp and sated, I’m floating in a haze of post-orgasmic languor.
I look down. My eyes flutter and then widen at what I see. Holy Christ, there was a shit-load of cum in this one man. I stare at his heavy balls. Just how long has that truckload of cargo been in there? I know he’s been saving it up, but this is ridiculous.
My nipples are buried in semen.
I grin. Grant is definitely a good shot.
As the aftermath of orgasm finally begins to drift away, I smile up at him. His skin is covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. It gives him a strikingly healthy glow.
“Feel any need to jump up and run off?” I ask.
“No, ma’am,” he grins. “Not a bit. I’m fixin’ to stay right here.”
“Is that right?” I grin.
“Hell, yes,” he says, his voice low and seductive. “I don’t think we’re done yet, do you? Not by a long shot.”
We grin stupidly at each other for an extended moment of happy bliss.
My gaze drifts lower. Grant is still impressively semi-hard. I suspect that his poor neglected cock is eager to make up for lost time. He reaches for tissues to wipe off his cum, but I shake my head from side to side.
“No, leave it,” I say, running a finger through his essence. It’s thick and warm. I put my cum-coated finger into my mouth and suck it clean, enjoying his unique musky taste.
He eyes open wide, but I can tell that I’ve pleased him.
I lick my lips. “Yum,” I say happily. “I want to keep this beautiful memory right here where we can both enjoy it. I think it’s an outstanding work of art, don’t you?”
His mouth falls open. Shock and confusion cross his face before his generous lips purse.
As always, Grant is a thinker. He has to send any thoughts concerning sex through a bunch of his mental filters. His brows draw down for a long moment and then they lift. I see his eyes light up as he begins to understand.
“Not mind. Not spirit. We’re working through the body, right?”
“You got it.”
“It’s kind of an unconscious or instinctive, animal thing.”
“Sure is.”
“I don’t know why leaving my seed right there on your skin makes me so damned happy,” he says contemplatively. “I don’t understand it, but there’s something right about it. It isn’t logical. Is it… primal?
I raise an eyebrow but say nothing, letting him work it out.
He remains silent for a bit longer, but then he nods. “I’ve marked you sexually with my scent—I’ve marked you with me and you’ve accepted it. You’ve even enjoyed it. Sort of like possession or ownership.” A concentrated frown mars his face. “Can this be compared to a dog peeing on his territory?”
I laugh. “Only if his territory can sigh with the satisfaction of sensual bliss.”
We both choke on a short, quick burst of laughter, but I see real joy reflected in the sparkle in his eyes.
Powerful emotions flit across his features too fast for me to read. He says nothing, yet I suspect he’s reached some new awareness about himself or about life. All I’m certain of is that whatever it is that he’s feeling, on a scale of 1 to 10—I think Grant is sitting on a hundred.
Some understandings are so deep and compelling they can’t be explained by mere words.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice low, his expression open, exposed and profoundly grateful. Our connection in this endless moment is beyond intense. He’s flawed and he’s perfect—just like the rest of us.
I understand then, that this seemingly broken man is not truly been broken.
There’s a bright, enduring soul inside him that has never been defeated.
My heart kicks. I bite my lip and school my face. I’m so moved, I have to stop myself from an overwhelming need to weep from the beauty of it. I don’t want to break the spell or ruin the moment by giving Grant the wrong idea.
>
I’m not up to explaining it.
He’s extraordinary. This gentle, yet powerful man affects me as deeply as I affect him.
What a perfect beginning.
Breathing out a happy sigh, Grant picks up the deck of cards and hands me half.
Chapter 14.
“Courage is the beginning of victory.”
― Plutarch
~~~
Grant Wilkinson
I sprawl in my chair, buck naked. Bare, except for her light blue panties, her generous breasts bouncing—Renata gets up.
“I’m going to get a drink,” she says. “You want anything?”
“I’ll have Coke,” I reply, and I watch her leave the room.
I’ve never experienced anything like the way I feel when I’m with Renata. My cock twitches—I’m already hard again. In fact, I’m half-mad with wanting her. What is this insatiable torment? I’ve lived my life in a sexual drought, yet instead of easing my need, Renata has increased it a hundredfold.
I thought I would continue to live an isolated life of quiet desperation. Not anymore. Renata’s changed everything.
My father helped me build my prison, but I was the one who locked myself inside of it. I didn’t know any other way. Maybe now I can break free from my self-imposed confinement, or at least open the door and let her in.
Except for that shit with the police literally ‘digging up’ the past by exhuming my dead father, my future seems full of endless possibilities.
Hips swaying, naked and sexy as hell, Renata strolls back into the room.
“Hey,” she says, and hands me an open bottle of Coke. “Briley is so cute!” she gushes. “He’s sound asleep, I just checked on him. God, I just love looking at him and listening to him breathe.”
Uninhibited in her nudity, she sits down across from me, crosses her legs Indian style, and leans forward in a comfortable slouch.
The woman leaves me breathless.
I stare at her, just drinking her in. Renata’s blonde hair is striking against the background of greys and blues in my room. I’m fascinated by her soft, feminine curves. I love her perfect smile and her laughing eyes.