HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  His mouth pressed to my ear. “Reach up and get ahold of the showerhead. Both hands.”

  I did as he asked, arching my back in the process.

  “Spread your feet apart.”

  I stepped to the side with each foot.

  As the water cascaded down along the length of my body, his hips formed against the curves of my butt. I felt the tip of his dick against my swollen pussy. The sensation sent my mind reeling, and then he pulled it away.

  Please.

  Give it to me.

  “I want it,” I muttered.

  The stubble from his jaw tickled the side of my face. “Did you say something?”

  I didn’t want him, I needed him. I swallowed hard. “I want it.”

  “Want what?”

  “Your dick,” I muttered.

  It felt so good to say it. The water that dripped from me hid the fact that my pussy was absolutely soaked.

  And it had nothing to do with the shower.

  “Where do you want it?” he breathed.

  “In me.”

  “In your mouth?”

  I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth in anticipation. The hot water, his muscular body against mine, knowing his dick was between my legs, and the countless minutes of teasing was killing me. I wanted him so badly, I’d accept anything. Sucking him to completion in the shower would satisfy me entirely.

  My lips parted slightly. “Sure.”

  “In your ass?”

  “I don’t. I…” The thought initially frightened me. Then, it excited me. I needed him inside of me, and at that moment, anywhere would satisfy me. “Sure.”

  “In your tight little pussy?”

  I wagged my knees back and forth, released the showerhead, and turned toward him. “Please.”

  “Get your hands back up there,” he said, his voice more demanding than normal.

  I grabbed the showerhead as if my life depended on it.

  He reached around my left hip, and slid his hand between my legs. I felt the tip of his finger penetrate me.

  I sucked a breath.

  He pulled his finger from inside of me, and then slid his hand up my stomach, over my breast, and along my neck. It came to rest with the web of his hand against my chin and my jaw gripped between his thumb and forefinger.

  He turned my head to the side. “Tell me one more time. What do you want me to do?”

  I couldn’t take it any longer. I needed him to fuck me so bad I was in pain. My entire body felt as if it were on the verge of bursting.

  “I want you to fuck me,” I growled.

  “Atta girl,” he said.

  He pushed the tip of his cock into me in one thrust, taking the breath from my lungs when he did so. Despite my pussy being overly ready, the shower’s water seemed to make things slightly more difficult.

  With one hand still holding my jaw, and the other now alternating from one boob to the other, he moved his mouth to my ear. “Arch your back.”

  I gripped the showerhead firmly, and arched my back, hiking my ass as high in the air as I could.

  In return, he shoved me full of dick.

  “Oh God,” I cried out.

  I was stretched to the point of being torn in two. His dick filled me completely, hitting spots inside of me that I had no idea existed. Clenching my jaw firmly in his hand, he turned my head to the side and pressed his lips firmly against mine.

  He kissed me aggressively, withdrawing himself partially while he did so. Before giving me ample time to mentally recover, he shoved himself inside of me again.

  Oh God.

  Our mouths parted. He looked me in the eyes. “That’s where you wanted it, right?” he asked. “In that tight little pussy of yours?”

  “Uh huh.”

  He pulled away, paused, and then drew a breath. “Ready?”

  “Oh God.” My muscles tensed. “Yes. I’m ready.”

  His hips pounded against my ass, bringing his dick with them in the process. The air shot from my lungs and my mind went to jelly.

  “Hold onto that shower head,” he demanded.

  He gripped my hips firmly in his hands. And, while I held the showerhead in mine, he began to fuck me like he was teaching me a lesson. I wondered just what I did to send him into such a furious frenzy, only because I needed to know how to do it again.

  The heat from the shower, my increased heart rate from the sex, and the fact that I was getting a stroke of dick per second proved to be too much for me to handle over any measurable period of time.

  A tension built within me that cause me to fear what might follow.

  It was apparent he liked it when I was vocal, and although it wasn’t natural for me to be so, I chose to step out of my comfort zone for a moment.

  “I want you to come,” I said.

  “Come inside of me,” I begged. “I want it.”

  The hot water beat down against my chest, each drop feeling like a small needle against my tender nipples.

  His hips continued to pound against my ass, filling the shower with the sound of our sex. My clit was being pummeled by his balls with each full stroke, and I wondered just how much longer I could take it.

  “Come, please,” I said through my teeth. “Fill me with it.”

  I felt him begin to swell.

  His breathing changed.

  Thank God.

  He released my hips, but continued his fast-paced pounding. His hands slid up my body and came to rest on my boobs. He gripped the wet flesh in his hands, and began to knead them as he pinched my nipples.

  Yes.

  Please.

  When I felt that I couldn’t possibly last another second, I felt my inner walls contract against his thickness.

  “Come…please…come.”

  He erupted inside of me with such force that that it sent a sensation through me I was sure to never forget.

  Then, I followed.

  “Oh…my…God,” I wailed.

  The orgasm shot through me from my toes to my nipples, and then returned, repeatedly. It wasn’t simple, it wasn’t short, and it wasn’t an orgasm.

  Whatever it was, it was the plural form, because it continued for some time. Over, and over. With it came a wave of emotion, and when it ended, the emotion remained within me.

  My legs went weak.

  He caught me in his arms.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, as if he’d asked the dumbest question ever. “You just boned me until my brains turned to mush.”

  He cradled me in his arms. “I was trying to prove a point.”

  “Which was?”

  “I don’t know. I think I wanted to make sure you were never going to leave me.”

  The fact that he mentioned it was aggravating. “After that speech I gave, you weren’t sure?”

  “Not completely, no.”

  “Maybe I ought to do the same thing to you.”

  His brow wrinkled. “What’s that?’

  “Try to bone you senseless, just to prove a point.”

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he said with a laugh.

  “It’s going to be a while,” I said.” I still can’t feel my legs.”

  “We’ll need to get that resolved. If you’re never leaving me, I’ve got someone I want you to meet. And, I’m not carrying you.”

  I liked the thought of meeting more of his friends.

  “Well, then stop punishing me with sex.”

  He scrunched his nose. “Forever?”

  “No,” I said. “Just until we get back from wherever we’re going.”

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Four

  P-Nut

  I sat at the edge of the couch with my legs crossed and a bottle of beer dangling from my fingertips.

  The sound of her muffled voice came from behind the bedroom door. “Ready?”

  “I’ve been ready,” I shouted.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Damn it, Joey. My bones are getting brittle.�
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  The door opened. A flat-bottomed shoe extended beyond the door, and then a leg followed.

  “I like what I see so far.”

  Dressed in a blue sleeveless shirt and black yoga pants, she emerged into the hallway. The shirt accentuated her breasts, and stopped just shy of the waist of her pants. Her normally straight hair was curled into a big wad of fun.

  She looked breathtaking. I stood up and swallowed heavily. “Jesus Fuck.”

  “What? Bad?”

  “Bad? There’s not a damned thing you’ll ever wear that’ll look bad. But some things will sure look better than others. That outfit’s one of ‘em.”

  She spun in a circle. “Do you like it?”

  She was the type of woman that could walk into any room and gather the attention of everyone within eyeshot, regardless of what she was wearing. Sometimes, however, she looked far better than others.

  This was one of those times.

  “I fucking love it. You look adorable.”

  “Thank you. What do you think about the clothes? Do you think they make me look good?”

  “The clothes don’t make you look good, you make the clothes look good.”

  She giggled. “Thank you. But do you like the outfit?”

  “I love the outfit. You ought to model that shirt for whoever makes it. Looks like it was made for you. And that little ass of yours is killin’ it in those yoga pants.”

  “They’re not yoga pants, they’re leggings.”

  “Whatever they are, they were made for that cute little butt of yours.”

  She looked embarrassed. “Thank you.”

  I raised my bottle of beer. “Thank you.”

  “Okay, I’ll be back.”

  She disappeared into the room. After a few moments, she opened the door. “Ready?”

  “Stop asking. Just surprise me.”

  Out she came in a pair of painted-on jeans, a short-sleeved fitted tee shirt, and a pair of heels.

  “Jesus jumped up Christ.”

  Her eyes shot wide. “What?”

  “Take that shit off.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “Actually, I love it. But if you keep it on, you’re gonna get it.”

  “Get what?”

  “The dick.”

  She cocked her hip. “You’re going to give it to me if I don’t take them off?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Fine.” She took a step toward me. “I guess you like it?”

  “I mean it.”

  “Do I look scared, mister?”

  “Joey…”

  She took a few more steps toward me.

  “Joey…”

  Her curly hair bounced with each perfectly placed step. She looked like a model. The living room was her own personal runway, and I was her audience. Although in the seven years that I’d known her I’d never seen her wear heels, she sure knew how to navigate in them.

  She paused at the far end of the couch, pressed the web of her hand against her waist, and arched her back slightly. “You’re going to give it to me, huh?”

  Her hourglass figure was far more pronounced in tight jeans and tight tee shirt than it was in baggy pants and a hoodie. She could wear a garbage sack and be stunning, but in the clothes she wore, she looked gorgeous.

  I set my beer on the end table. “God damned right.”

  She nodded toward the bottle. “I thought you weren’t going to drink beer on the new couch?”

  “I forgot.”

  “You said, this cost too damned much money to stain it.”

  My cock was begging to be freed of its restraint, and I wasn’t planning on keeping it waiting any longer. I reached for my belt. “I’ll finish the beer in the kitchen. First things first. Get your ass over here.”

  Watching her parade around in various outfits for half an hour had me so sexually frustrated that I felt like I was going to explode. I pushed my pants to mid-thigh, got my cock in my hand, and pointed toward the couch.

  “Get over here and bend over.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You’re going to give it to me from behind?”

  It came to me we’d never done it doggy style, and realized I should take it slow. I maintained my stern voice nonetheless. “I’ll give it to you however I want. Now, get your ass over here and bend over. I’m done fucking around.”

  She motioned toward my cock-filled hand. “We’re doing the pants around the thigh thing, are we?”

  “God damned right.”

  “Okay.” She walked the length of the couch, and then unfastened her jeans. After she pushed them to her thighs, she bent over the couch and peered over her shoulder. “I’m ready.”

  “No panties?”

  “Why bother?”

  I stroked my cock and gave a nod. “Good attitude.”

  She pressed her boobs against the couch cushion and hiked her ass high in the air. Her inner thighs were touching and her pussy was all but cinched closed. With her jeans around her thighs, spreading her legs was impossible.

  My level of sexual frustration was at an all-time high, leaving last minute changes out of the question.

  I placed my hand against the small of her back. After guiding my cock between her legs, I slowly pushed myself into her wet pussy. A few cautious short strokes later, and I slid myself into her fully.

  “Holy crap,” she gasped. “I like this.”

  “Finally getting that little pussy of yours broken in.” I gave her full strokes as I responded, each one of them as slow as I could go. Not jackhammer fucking her wasn’t as easy as one might think. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

  Truth be known, her pussy was incredible. Not because she was young, or that it was tight from lack of experience.

  It was because it was hers.

  “It feels incredible.”

  “Because I really like your hair, and because I think those jeans are in-fucking-credible, I’m going to give it to you slow.”

  “Will you come in my mouth?”

  Jesus fucking…

  Christ.

  “I might.”

  “Please?”

  I felt like I was living in a fairy tale. “We’ll see.”

  Watching myself fuck her wasn’t in the best interest of guaranteeing sexual longevity, but I gazed down her perfectly shaped ass nonetheless. I watched my cock disappear into her folds over and over, her pussy clenching me like a warm wet vise each time I pushed myself into her.

  A few strokes later, and the combination of my previous sexual frustration, her magical pussy, and my ridiculous decision to watch caught up with me.

  I was ten minutes into sex, and I was on the verge of a monstrous orgasm.

  “Are you going to come?” she asked. “I want it in my mouth.”

  I couldn’t make it one more stroke. I pulled out and squeezed my cock in my fist, hoping I could buy another few seconds of time.

  Before she could turn around, I exploded.

  Cum splattered all over her back of her new shirt, into her perfect hair, and onto the back cushion of the new couch.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Did you just come all over me, and the couch?”

  I widened my eyes, twisted my mouth to the side, and shrugged. “Sure looks like it.”

  “That means you were super excited, right?”

  I raised both eyebrows and let out a laugh. “Something like that.”

  “That’s awesome,” she said.

  I should have felt embarrassed, but oddly, I didn’t. I looked at the cum-soaked couch, and then at Joey. She provided me a degree of comfort I’d never really known. The change was comforting for many reasons, primarily because I could see myself actually making it a lifetime with her without any effort at all.

  “You’re right. It is awesome.”

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Five

  Joey

  The driveway that led to the two-story house was lined with various shrubs and decorative flowers. The yard was green and lush,
unlike the homes in the city where we lived. The large lawn was filled with trees, most of which I didn’t recognize, but there were a few I did.

  The orange trees were difficult to miss.

  “Those are oranges, right?”

  He glanced at the trees on my left and grinned. “Yep.”

  A stone birdbath in the center of the yard seemed to be a popular place for the neighborhood’s birds. It was filled with them, each of which was singing the praises of having a place to bathe in where there was normally very little water.

  I climbed off the motorcycle and pointed to it. “I’m surprised that doesn’t dry up.”

  “Gets filled almost every day,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “So, who lives here?”

  “Come on,” he said. “You’re getting ready to find out.”

  We walked to the front porch, and instead of knocking, he poked a key in the lock. After turning it, he pushed the door open.

  “Just me, Karen,” he shouted.

  A voice from the rear of the home responded. “Good morning, Percy.”

  We stepped inside. A large living room on the right was filled with antique furniture. In a chair beside the window, an adorable older woman sat. She was dressed like she was preparing to go to church. Her gray hair was curled, and her hands rested in her lap.

  She turned to face us. “Is that her?”

  “Take it easy, ma. We’re barely inside the door.”

  Awwe.

  You brought me to meet your mother?

  She glanced at the door and then at him. “The door you haven’t closed yet?”

  “I was getting to it.”

  He closed the door. “There, see?”

  “I can see just fine. What are you doing here? It’s Saturday. You stop in Monday through Friday.”

  “You wanted to meet Joey, so I thought we’d come by.”

  “Joey,” she said. “That’s different.”

  I waved.

  “Come here and let me have a look at you,” she said.

  I walked to where she sat and stood beside the chair. “Nice to meet you, I’m Joey.”

  “I’m Beverly. Percy’s mother.”

  “Nice to meet you, Beverly.”

  “Call me Bev.”

  “Okay, Bev.”

  “He brought you on that motorcycle, didn’t he?”

  “He did.”