Look Closer: No Safe Words Here 1-4 out of 5. Boxed Set

by Mercy Walker

  I did this a few times, since Jake groaned and rumbled so expressively, his hands twining in my hair, but not grabbing and holding, just letting my hair run through his fingers. I nuzzled my face down low every time, licking and sucking at his testicles like they were the sweetest candy, before traveling back up to his jerking, throbbing cock.

  Jake was breathing hard like he had been running or his life. I made him gasp and stop breathing all together for a few beats. I opened my mouth and drew the head of his manhood into my wet, warm mouth. My tongue lapped and swirled at the soft, tapered head of him, feeling that flesh pulse and grow even harder in my mouth.

  I had my hand wrapped around the base of him as I pulled more of him into my mouth. He tasted spicy and exotic, but there was his warm, smooth taste underneath it, a soothing balm against the fiery pulse of my heartbeat.

  I felt my gag reflex kick in about four inches down his gorgeous, thick shaft, and truthfully, my mouth was starting to stretch to its limit with just that in my mouth, so I backed off, running my lips and tongue over his cock, and then headed back in. This time I made it farther, but almost choked as I tried to push past it. I tried until my eyes water and tears ran over my cheeks. So I moved back out again and swirled my tongue around the head of his prick again.

  He was moaning and groaning incoherently as I cocked on his cockhead like a lollipop. But when I opened up wide again to take him into my mouth, I felt his hands fall from my hair and grasp my shoulders, their rough flesh wonderfully abrasive against my skin. He pulled his hips back, pulling his manhood unhappily from my lips.

  “Good god, woman…” he gasped breathlessly. “Keep that up and I’m going to cum right now.”

  I smiled up at him. The thought of him climaxing in my mouth was a pretty good thought.

  He saw the look on my face and grinned, shaking his head admonishingly. “I’m not near done with you, Lila Sherwood.”

  He bent at the waist, gripped me under my arms and pulled me to my feet. My legs were working now, and I merely swayed dizzily on my feet, falling and sliding against the smooth, slickness of his wet chest.

  His erection rolled and rubbed against my belly and slid down over my hip. I gulped as he pulled me up under the hot spray of the shower, soaking me and him. He held one arm around me, his hand rough and strong at the base of my spine, the other touched my face, fingers grazing my cheek as he leaned in and kissed me, this time so deep, so dark, so demanding. His free hands caressed down my neck, over my collar bone, and then dipped down to fondle my breasts. Squeezing, pinching, and rubbing their tender flesh until I cried out into his mouth. He ate my cries, my gasps and moans like they were his favorite desert.

  His other hand slid down and grasped one of my ass cheeks as the other felt down my ribs, over my clenching stomach and then lower. His fingers pushed up into me, two, maybe three of them, and his thumb played with my clitoris as his strong, calloused fingers opened me up and searched out the lay of the land between my legs.

  “Oh, god…” I rasped, my head falling against his shoulder as his fingers wriggled and explored my sex. And then his hand fingers pulled out of me. A heartbeat later I felt his hard manhood pushing at my opening, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and my legs around his hips, as he pushed his cock up into me, one wondrous inch at a time, until I was full to bursting, and his groin was locked flush with mine.

  He’d pinned me to the tile wall of the shower, and my back arched at the cold feel of it.

  It had been a pretty long time…hell, I couldn’t even remember when it last had happened, So it hurt for a few mind numbing seconds, until my vaginal walls relaxed and stretched to accommodate him. He moved his hips with a gentle rolling motion, and those small, lovely movements brought me over to pure pleasure. I felt myself turn slick and wet around the girth of him, my body self lubricating itself to make mating all the easier, and enjoyable.

  I mentally rolled my eyes at my own thoughts. I was channeling some sex education program masquerading as soft core porn I’d watched once on HBO. Or had it been that hysterical Canadian woman on the Oxegen Network? She’d fielded sex question via phone-in viewers, her answers frank and rooted in her own nursing expertise.

  I had a clear, funny flash of her slightly accented voice saying, “Now is no time to be a lady.” She was talking about giving better blowjobs. “Go ahead and drool. Then you can use that as lube as you stroke the part of him you can’t fit in your mouth.”

  I was going to have to use that technique the next time I “went down” on him.

  But then Jake rocked his hips back, pulling his hard cock out of me until only the tapered head of him was still inside me, and then he thrust back into me, all the way, yanking a cry of ecstasy from my lips as my arms and legs wrapped all the tighter about him, and my insides tightened like a vice around his huge, throbbing shaft.

  I lost control and sank my teeth into the tasty tanned flesh of his shoulder as he pulled his hips back and repeated the thrusting impaling of my body and soul.

  I tasted blood and immediately jerked back. I had barely broken the skin, but still, I’d injured him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I gasped, shaking my head, my eyes transfixed on the shallow, bloody marks my teeth had inflicted.

  Jake stretched his neck and looked where I’d bit him. A proud, crazy grin played at his lovely lips.

  He looked to me, deep into my eyes. “I’m not.” And then he kissed me again, hard and deep and oh-my-fucking-god incredible.

  He kissed me, long and gentle, and hard and demanding, as he rocked and thrust and fucked himself up into me. My legs, hips and butt were flexing and pulling, trying to make each and every one of his thrusts into me harder and deeper.

  That overwhelming feeling of searing hot liquid bubbling through my blood began to rise again. But this time it just kept getting hotter, my heart throbbing and pounding faster and harder, until I was sure I was about to burst into blames—whether I was under the spray of a shower of not.

  And then I felt that wave of release building in the distance, like a great wave growing deep in the unseen ocean, before it comes barreling to shore to crash on the parched sans of an unsuspecting beach.

  Was this an orgasm?

  I’d thought I’d had an orgasm before, with Tom. That tingly feeling I’d get right before he would pour himself into me. That feeling of satisfying him…

  That wasn’t an orgasm?

  No… my mind cried out as the inferno inside me howled for that mighty wave of release to drown it. This is what they were all talking about. This was the real thing, the Big O.

  I felt Jake shift his weight, his body flexing and thrusting against me. He started stabbing his cock up into me with utter abandon, uncontrolled and wild. He was going to cum too.

  Yes, yes, yesyesyes…

  And just like that I felt myself orgasm, and the world exploded around me. I was flying, my body writhing feral and unfettered against Jake’s, and I felt his body tighten and clench as he pounded himself up into me until finally he thrust into me and howled hoarsely against my throat, empting himself inside me, clinging to me for dear life as his manhood jerked and throbbed inside me, his hips rocking slowly back and forth, stroking himself inside me as he twitched and gasped against me.

  I sighed, licking his shoulder where the blood had welled up to little droplets.

  It tasted sweet and metallic, and I hadn’t a clue as to why the hell I had just done that.

  Of course, why the hell had I just done any of this?

  And then I looked to where Jake was panting, the side of his face pressed against my chest, nuzzling against my breasts.

  That was why…because I had finally taken what I really wanted. And I had wanted Jake.

  He was still hard and inside me as I looked around me, at the shower I’d bathed in so many times. Tom had never allowed for us to have sex anywhere but in out bed…and it had hurt like hell when I’d watched him having sex with Marcus Wilkes in the
pool. And then it had been absolutely unbearable when I’d found the evidence that he’d brought that boy into our bed and had fucked him in it, leaving the damn duvet stained with their lust.

  So this was good. My first time having sex with someone other than Tom. I’d finally gotten to have it somewhere other than flat on my back in a bed, and I’d come not just once, but a magnificent, heart-stopping duo of times.

  I kissed Jakes hair and inhaled his scent.

  This was heaven.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Michael

  My stupid head was swirling with thoughts...I couldn’t even decide which of my eleven t-shirts to wear. I kept on going back to a crisp blue Burberry button-down dress shirt my mother had bought me for Christmas a couple of years ago. I’d worn it once, while it still fit properly. The occasion had been my grandmother’s seventieth birthday, and I’d never received so many complements on my appearance before. That had been nice.

  That was until three different female cousins of mine hit on me. Gina Lee had at least been my age. Carol Anne was thirty-two. And to top it all off, a woman old enough to be my ancestor—forty-seven years old…I still shiver at the thought—had not only patted my behind like I was a Chippendales Dancer, but stuck her tongue in my ear.

  So I’d retired the blue Burberry shirt.

  But I’d already tried all eleven of my t-shirts on, and I looked like a lanky kid in every single one of them. If I wanted Marcus to take me seriously when I asked him to lose Mayor Pervert and build a relationship with me, I had to look the part of a serious suitor. That didn’t mean holey jeans, a worn t-shirt (no matter what awesome band’s logo was smeared across the chest) or my well worn Fubu cross-trainers.

  So I finally took the cousin-magnet blue shirt out of the back of my closet—luckily I’d kept the boring black slacks that went with it on the same hanger—and picked up the pair of serious black leather loafers.

  The problem was that these clothes were bought two years ago. And though I looked like the same skin and bones kid, I must have grown. The pants went on alright, but they were practically painted on. I was afraid they’d tear open in the back if I sat down too quickly. The shoes were so tight I was in agony the entire five minutes I wore them. Instead I changed to a pair of Nike’s Mom had insister I needed at the beginning of the school year, and I’d managed to wear not even once. But they were black, so they were the least obnoxious or physically painful choice of the bunch.

  But it was the infamous blue shirt that had me hyperventilating, staring at myself in the mirror.

  What had looked like boring business attire then, now looked like I was ready for my close up on Queer as Folk. The damned thing had shrunk somehow, every inch of me was crammed tightly into the damned thing, and the buttons were straining.

  I looked ridiculous.

  But for the first time in my life, I actually looked at my body. I was still thin and tall, and to terminally gawky. But I had to admit that I’d gained some muscle in the last year…maybe that had been why Marcus had ogled me big time yesterday? After all, he’d never had that reaction to me before, so it had to have been something.

  Though, I might have been giving off some powerful pheromones. Marcus had definitely bulked up and leaned down. He was…sublimely good looking now, and it had taken everything in me not to tear off his clothes when we were in his living room.

  Especially since he was only wearing swim trunks.

  Mmmmmm…those swim trunks…talk about clothing being painted on.

  So even with my buttons and seams dangerous close to the tearing/popping point, I checked my hair, chewed up an Altoid, sprayed a little Cool Water on, and then walked the one hundred and thirty-five paces between my house and his. I nervously cleared my, wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, and rang the front door bell.

  But when the front door opened, it was Natalie—and she looked like a horror.

  Hair in curlers, green goop a hideous mask on her face, and I swear to god she had toilet paper stuck to her bare legs. Shaving her legs must have been a painful, bloody experience. I cringed just looking at them.

  I tried to smile, and was just about to piece together a complement of some kind, when she hurumphed and told me, “You’re too late, peeping tom-boy. He left for his date with destiny.”

  “Who’s destiny?” I asked, confused and hating that I could barely breathe in the get-up I was wearing.

  “Oh…Marcus didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  She genuinely looked pained to say it. “That computer hacker I told you about yesterday…well, He found your little tape of my brother and the Mayor, and decided he really liked what he saw. So he blackmailed Marcus into popping his cherry for him…tonight, in Phoenix.”

  I stood there for what seemed like forever, trying to comprehend what Marcus’ little sister was telling me. And then, all at once, it just hit me in the forehead so hard I staggered back a few steps.

  To her credit, Natalie reached out her hand to me, trying to grab me before I fell backwards down the porch steps. But she hadn’t been fast enough, and I went right over those steep little stairs like I was barreling over Niagara Falls.

  Technically, I didn’t fall down the stairs: my feet hit each and every step, they just didn’t land on the sidewalk when I did. My shoes made a scraping sound, and I yelped. But then when the rest of me met up with the concrete walkway leading from the porch to the sidewalk, I made a distinct grunt and a long suffering groan. And then everything went still and dark for a while…don’t know how long, but when I opened my eyes again Natalie was knelt over me, and she had my head in her lap.

  Even with the nasty green goop on her face, and the gnarly pink rollers in her hair, she was still so freaking pretty.

  “Are you alright?” she said, her voice rough and throaty, as if she’d been screaming or crying. “I think you hit your head.”

  The moment she said the word “head” I reached up and placed my hand on my offending appendage and felt around. Nothing hurt, and nothing was raised up; but I agree with her that I must have hit my head on the way down.

  I couldn’t remember why I’d fallen.

  But then the world and my mind caught up with me, and the insides of my brainpan just roared with rage, and hurt, and fear.

  Marcus had gone off to sleep with someone else, and not me—yet another virgin!

  I swear! If I’d known that being a virgin would’ve been such a crowded club, I wouldn’t have bothered. I’d saved myself for that special someone…for this?

  I sat up too fast, and my head finally started to hurt. I lurched up off the concrete and staggered yet again, but only until the world stopped tilting and shaking under my feet.

  Natalie was still knelt on the walkway, peering up at me with sad eyes. No, not sad. Her eyes swam with pity. I looked away from her and clenched my eyes shut. She was right, I was fucking pathetic!

  “I can drive you to the hospital…” she whispered roughly, and then cleared her throat. “You really did hit your head. You need a doctor, and some x-rays…I’m not sure. But you shouldn’t just go home and go to bed—”

  “I won’t be sleeping anytime soon,” I snapped at her. I breathed in deeply and my head hurt even more. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. I’ll be fine.”

  “Michael,” she said, all too seriously, and hearing someone use my full name made me look at her again. I expected her to be mad, or at least annoyed, but she just looked worried. “You’re wobbling around on your feet just standing there.”

  Oh, that was why the world was starting to tilt and turn on me again. Maybe I was concussed?

  “I’ll get my mom to take me to the hospital. She’s still awake.” And she’s a nurse. She’ll probably keep me awake all night with a marathon of I love Lucy, or Mash. I cringed at the thought of her going all maternal on me, bringing me chicken soup, and admonishing me for taking the stairs backwards.

  Didn
’t I used to roll head over heels down the steps at home when I was like five? Mom was going to freak out about this.

  “Are you sure?” She pulled herself up from the walkway and brushed off her bare knees.

  I nodded my head and cringed from redoubling of pain it caused. “I’m sure. You have plans tonight anyways.”

  Natalie suddenly looked stricken, her skin turning snow white around the garish green of her face mask. “I don’t have any plans!” she insisted, shaking her head over and over. “I’m plan free.”

  Huh, isn’t that interesting…

  “I just mean you look like you’re getting ready for a hot date.” Why did she look so freaked?

  She just stood there, looking tiny, her eyes bugged out with some sort of panic. Then just as abruptly she shook her head and snapped out of it.

  “Yeah, I’ve got a date.”

  “Shaving can be a bitch.” I said, looking down to her toilet paper dotted legs.

  The flesh around her facial-mask turned crimson now. “I’m nervous.”

  “You’ll look great,” I said. “You always do.”

  She looked up at me and smiled. She had the cutest dimples.

  Then her eyes gave me a once over, and then realization dawned on her face. “You’re all dressed up for Marcus, aren’t you?”

  It was my turn to blush. I took a step back, as if that would hide my shame.

  “He’ll probably back in an hour or two. You know, after he…”

  I closed my eyes and gave a small, painful nod. “Yeah, I know.” Fucking hell on earth I knew what he was doing. And with a total stranger…at least he’d known Tom fucking Sherwood for most of his life—which is icky to the tenth power—so I could shrug off his lack of moral fortitude there.

  But now he was off somewhere deflowering some gay guy that wasn’t me…it was humiliating, and it hurt like hell.

  I felt my eyes start to burn, and Natalie started to blur in my vision. I was about to cry, and I didn’t want anyone to see me do it. So I turned around and started walking back to my house, where I’d show my mom my booboo and she’d take me to the hospital—to the emergency room where she worked, so all her friends could coo over her so grown up son. And giggle that he’d fallen on his head.