by Vivien Vale
16
Kylie
Wes gets off me, and I want to protest because I want him back inside me. I want him to fuck me long and hard until I come and he comes. Sex with him is mind-blowing every time. Which is why I let him stop and get off the bed. He holds out his hand to me, and I take it, letting him help me up.
We’ve fucked often enough for me to know that unless he finishes as well, we’re not done, and he’s going to give a hell of a lot more to me.
I can’t wait. He can do whatever he wants to me.
Wes leads me into his bathroom. It’s a large bathroom with a jet tub in the corner, the faucet’s gold and I wonder if it’s real. A large mirror stretches across the wall to the right of the door with little lights built in, and it reminds me of a dressing room but much classier. The lights turn on automatically when the door opens. There are his and hers sinks even though Wes lives alone.
The whole bathroom is decorated in beige and white with large marble tiles and big fluffy towels. It’s the kind of place you want to spend the entire day in relaxing.
Opposite the mirror, a shower takes up one side of the bathroom. A glass wall with entrances on both sides blocks the shower from the rest of the bathroom, and it’s so clean you can barely see it. The tiles slope in the shower to a drain in the middle but it’s like a grid on the floor and not painful to stand on, I’m sure.
Wes turns on the water, and the shower head is large and square so that the water falls like rain. Compared to my little shower at home, showering in this every day must be pure heaven.
I sit down on the edge of the tub, my legs weak. My body feels hot, open, ready for more. I want Wes to take me. I always want him to take me, but more so with him naked and the water running and the promise of more sex. But my body also feels tired, well spent. An orgasm takes a lot out of me but Wes has a way of holding me on the edge every time, and I’m particularly drained when he’s done with me.
Which is delicious, but I need time to recover when he’s had me under his body for a while.
Wes comes to me after he makes sure the water temperature is right. He bends over and kisses me. His hand reaches between my legs, and I spread them for him automatically. When he presses his fingers into my slit and touches my clit, I shudder. I’m sensitive after my orgasm. Wes kisses me passionately, his tongue sliding into my mouth, tasting me, exploring me.
His fingers move around my clit in slow circles. The pleasure is greater than the discomfort, and I sigh against his mouth. Echoes of the orgasm course through me, making my muscles jerk lightly. Wes smiles through his kisses. He loves it when I respond like this when a touch of his fingers brings this reaction from me.
I’m inching closer and closer to an orgasm again. It won’t happen right away, but if he keeps at it like this, I’ll come again.
Of course, it isn’t Wes’s style to be this tame, and he doesn’t do it for much longer. He lets me go abruptly and straightens up. He takes my hand and pulls me up with him, leading me into the shower.
We step under the water, and it runs through my hair and over my body. The heat is absolute bliss, and I tip my head back so that my hair washes out of my face. When I look at Wes, his eyes are on me, and they’re hungry. He’s a sight, standing there with his muscular body, his cock thick and swollen and slick. His eyes slide over my body, and he steps closer to me. His hands go to my hips, and he pulls me against him so that his erection presses against my lower abdomen. He kisses me again, and he tastes like hot water and lust.
I put my arms around his neck. He guides me backward until my back is against the shower walls. I gasp, the tiles cold against my back and ass. Wes’s body is still halfway under the spray and the hot water leaks onto my body, a great contrast against the cold at my back.
Wes reaches down, lifting my leg with his hand on my thigh. He pulls it up and to the side so that I’m splayed open for him. I help him guide his cock to my entrance, and he pushes into me. I gasp as he slides into me. I’m tight and as sensitive as my clit is.
Wes groans when he pushes into me. His hand grips my thigh hard, and I brace myself with one hand on his hip and another on his shoulder. He starts pushing into me, pulling out, pushing in again. His eyes find mine for a moment. He picks up his pace, making eye contact while he fucks me harder and harder. I cry out, moaning as he nails me against the wall again and again. His cock is thick, and I’m hyper-aware of the feel of his body, his cock inside me, his hand on my leg. He leans closer with his body, so his chest is against mine, his face next to mine. I press my cheek against his.
Another orgasm starts building deep inside of me, at my core. I gasp and moan as he brings me closer to the edge with every stroke. He’s fucking me harder and harder. I’m gasping and moaning in his ear, and I know it’s turning him on because his breathing changes to match mine – shallow and erratic.
After a while, he slows down and finally pulls out of me. He lets go of my leg, and I lower it again so I can stand. He takes soap from the holder on the side and squirts some into his hand. He rubs it together to create a lather before he puts his hands on me.
Wes runs his hands all over my body, over my tits, my hips, my stomach, tracing the contours of my body until I’m slippery. His pupils are dilated, lips parted, and I can see what it’s doing to him, lathering me up like this.
It’s so hot. There’s something about being this slippery that’s wildly sexual.
Wes pulls me against him and moves his body, sliding himself all over me. We become a slippery mess as he presses me against the wall again. He slides his body over mine, rubbing himself against me. My nipples are hard, and my pussy is throbbing.
Wes reaches toward the soap container again and retrieves a handheld showerhead I haven’t even noticed. He turns it on and slowly starts rinsing me off, careful not to get the spray in my face. He runs the spray over my body, washing away the soap, using his hand to clean me. He moves lower and lower. With his hand, he urges me to widen my stance, and I do, opening my legs as wide as I can without slipping on the wet tiles.
He moves the spray between my legs and changes the setting on the head so that it becomes a pulsing massage.
The moment the water hits my clit I gasp. The sensation is so different from his mouth or his fingers. It’s hard and gentle, all at the same time. I shiver because it’s just this side of uncomfortable, but it’s so good. I close my eyes and tip my head back.
Wes puts his hand behind my neck and pulls me into a kiss. He holds me, pushing his tongue into my mouth and I’m balanced between his hand and mouth and the spray in my pussy.
He rolls the massaging water over my clit, toward my entrance and back again. The experience is something I’ve never felt before. I’ve fantasized about doing something like this for a long time and oh, my God, it feels a hundred times better than I could have imagined it.
My eyes are closed, and I’ve given myself over to the feeling. I need to focus on keeping my balance, but Wes is pressed up against me as much as he can be, his body against me where it still leaves room for him to play with the shower head. His body helps me to keep my balance a little.
The orgasm starts deep inside me, and I can feel it spreading through my body, slowly, reaching for my core and clenching tightly. A moment later I tip over the edge, and it washes through me, heat spilling over my body. I cry out, my breath forced out of my body as my muscles contract and my body shivers. I lean into Wes, and he moves his hand down to my back to hold me up. My face is in the water, and I must breathe carefully not to choke on it, but the orgasm rocks through my body and I’m not even thinking about survival right now.
Wes kisses me when the orgasm is almost over. When I can think clearly again his tongue is deep in my mouth, probing, pumping, the way he does it with his cock when he fucks me. The spray is pressed up right against my pussy, and I jerk, suddenly impossibly sensitive.
“Okay, okay,” I say, breaking the kiss and he knows what I mean. He removes the spra
y, turns it off and puts the handheld showerhead away again. I lean against the wall, breathing hard. I haven’t fully recovered yet when Wes is in front of me again in one long stride. He cups my cheeks in both his hands and kisses me hard. He leans against me, his body pinning me to the wall again. I shudder.
His hand slides down my neck, over my tit where he tweaks my nipple before moving down, over my abdomen and onto my hip.
With his hand on my hip, he spins me around so that I’m suddenly facing the wall and he’s at my back. I feel the spray of the shower where the water bounces off his skin, the droplets cool by the time they hit me.
Wes pulls me back a little with his hands on my hips. My hands are against the wall, my tits almost pushed up against it and my ass points to him, my back arched.
He puts his hands between my legs for just a moment, finding my entrance before his fingers are replaced by his cock. He pushes into me, and I cry out. I’m so sensitive, now. Sensitive and ready for more.
He’s so thick and long when he pushes into me I must be tighter than I thought after coming. He pushes into me and pulls out. The bit of discomfort after being so sensitive translates into pleasure as he fucks me, stroking in and out of me faster and faster. My orgasm comes back, echoing through my body and I moan loudly. My moans and whimpers border on screams, and it’s like it fuels Wes to fuck me harder and harder.
He suddenly shoves into me, burying deep inside me and he groans loudly as I feel him release, pumping into me. My orgasm repeats itself, and it’s even more intense than before. It shatters through me, and I scream. I fall apart and its only Wes’s hands and his cock inside me that stops me from collapsing completely. He pumps inside me, emptying himself out. We’re breathing hard, moaning, and the sound of the shower rains down around us.
Finally, after what feels like forever, my orgasm fades away. I hang my head, bracing myself against the wall with my hands and my wet hair falls over my shoulders.
Wes pulls out of me, and I gasp as he does. I straighten up, let the water wash my hair back to where it belongs. I run my hands over my tender body, between my legs, washing away everything that comes out again after he released inside me. When I’m clean, Wes turns it off. He steps out of the shower first and hands me a towel I wrap around my body. He hands me another for my hair – who says men are inconsiderate? – and I wrap it around my head.
He steps closer to me and kisses me. “I’ll be right back,” he says. “I’m just locking up the house.”
He disappears, and I proceed to dry myself off, blowing out my hair with a hairdryer I find in that looks like it’s never been used.
When Wes comes back my hair is dry enough. Wes heads for the bed. I realize he hasn’t asked if I want to stay. I would have stayed, either way. It’s not sentimental. It’s much too late to leave now. I get under the covers next to Wes, and he pulls me against him.
His body is warm, his dark hair slightly damp. This is not emotional, I remind myself. It’s practical.
17
Wes
I open my eyes and stretch. The room is dim, the sun filtering through my drawn blinds. My body feels great – a little sore the way good sex makes it feel and an echo of Kylie’s body on my cock.
I turn my head. Kylie lies on her side, bare back to me, hair splayed on the pillow. She’s still here, in my bed. She spent the night.
I watch her body rise and fall with her rhythmic breathing.
The last time I had a woman in my bed when I woke up in the morning, it was when I was still dating my ex-fiancée. Since she left me standing at the altar, wondering what the hell I did wrong, I don’t let women stay over. I fuck them, yes, but they have to leave after that. Sleeping next to them, spooning and cuddling and all that romantic shit is too close for comfort. When you let someone in you can get hurt, and I don’t have much of a heart left to be broken.
Melodramatic? Maybe. But I thought Marisa was the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I had given up the idea of sleeping around, of being charming and irresistible because Marisa had been the one. She was the one I had wanted to build a future with, the one I defined love by.
When I asked her to marry me, she didn’t hesitate. We were the happiest couple in the world. Both our parents were delirious about it when we told them. We had engagement parties and kitchen teas and parties that followed the protocol for getting married.
We did everything by the book, and by God, I loved her. When she wasn’t staying at my place, I was staying at hers. We didn’t live together before we got married, but we dreamed about the day we were going to share a space we could call our own.
On the day of the wedding, everything started out according to schedule. It was a big wedding, over three hundred guests, and it had been planned for a year. I stood at the front of the chapel, my entourage with me for support. We waited for her to come to me so that I could confess my everlasting love to her and prove it by making her my wife.
And she never came.
The bitch left me at the altar with no idea why. She didn’t once let me know something was wrong. I didn’t once doubt that we were going to go through with it.
In the blink of an eye, everything was over, and my life changed.
Since then, I only fuck women. I don’t fall in love with them. I don’t let them stay over.
This was an exception, and I expect to feel horrible about it. I wait for that feeling to pop up – the one where I want to wake Kylie up and ask her to leave.
It doesn’t come. I don’t mind that she’s in my bed. I don’t mind that she stayed over. Kylie is the type of person that I understand. I know what we are to each other and what we’re doing and that’s all that matters here.
And I’m not unhappy about it.
I get into the shower and let the hot water cascade over my body. I get flashbacks of what we did here – her body with droplets running over her skin, her pussy on display to me and her wet hair clinging to her cheeks. I close my eyes and shudder. My cock hardens again from thinking about her.
When I reach for the soap, I rub it over my body, creating a white lather. I slide my hands over my body, washing the sex from me. I cup my balls and slide my hand over my hard cock, but I don’t do anything more than just clean. I don’t want to jack myself off in here when she’s asleep on the other side of the door.
I don’t know why I want to respect her like that, but I want to.
I rinse the soap off and get out of the shower. With a towel wrapped around my hips, I walk into the bedroom again. Kylie is awake, her sheets pulled over her chest in a semblance of modesty and her liquid brown eyes are turned to me.
“Morning, sexy,” I say to her. Her mouth curls up into a smile. “How did you sleep?”
She nods. “Alright, thank you. Not a lot.”
I chuckle. We were at it until the early hours of the morning.
“What about some breakfast?” I ask. “We can go out and get something to eat.”
Kylie hesitates before she answers. “Is that really a good idea?” she asks. “I don’t think we should be seen in public together. Leon is already making life difficult for us.”
I nod. She’s right. We can’t go out together. There’s no way I would be able to keep my hands off her today if we do. Having her in my bed, naked, her hair a testament to how wild our night was and me knowing exactly what lay between those sheets I want to be all over her again. And there is no reason the two of us would be seeing each other on a Sunday morning for business.
“Let me go get something, then,” I say.
She smiles, unsure. “You want me to stay?”
I shrug. I know what she’s asking. She’s as unsure about spending the night as I was.
“We both have to eat, right? Might as well eat something together before we go our separate ways.”
She nods, apparently satisfied. I walk to my closet and find clothes to put on – khaki pants and a white polo shirt. I pull Italian loafers onto my feet and w
alk to the bed.
I kiss Kylie on the forehead before I leave the room.
Tartine Bakery is my favorite place to go – aside from the usual, they have French pastries, bread and sandwiches. It opens at eight on Sunday mornings, and I arrive just after opening time.
When I step in through the door, someone calls to me.
“Wes,” I hear, and when I turn, Leon is standing at the display case where they’re filling it up with freshly baked rolls.
“Hello,” I say. He’s the last person I want to see today – I’m in a good mood, and I don’t want it spoiled – but I can’t avoid Leon since he is an employee so I have to try to be pleasant.
“What are you doing here?”
I shrug. “Probably the same thing you are,” I say. I look at the rolls as they lay them out. The delicious aroma hangs in the room, and I can almost taste them it smells so good.
“I heard about this place from a friend,” Leon says. “I thought it would be nice to get Martha something.”
I nod. “I come here all the time. They have a great selection.”
We stand side by side, and the conversation is strained. Yes, I’ve known him the longest of all my employees, and I see him every day. But we’re not friends, and I know very little about his life other than what he shares in the office. I don’t have all that much to say to the man.
“My son said he comes here often, too.”
I nod. I remember he has a son.
“Of course, he’s not going to come here, today. He’s been out partying all night. He only came in at the crack of dawn.”
I chuckle, not knowing what to say.
“I think it’s good not to have your kids on too tight a leash,” Leon says. “Brad can talk to me about everything.”
I nod again. I don’t know what to say. I don’t really care about his son, but I must listen politely until he decides what he wants.
“Can I help you?” the woman behind the display case asks