by Abby Angel
One harder flick of his tongue against my clit and a thunderstorm consumes my mind. I pull him into my pussy so hard that I can even feel his teeth against my flesh, and I come just like that. My whole body trembles as I thrust at him, goose bumps all over my skin.
He pulls back, leaving only his finger inside; instead of taking it out as I come, he keeps on fingering me without mercy. My whole body is trembling and there’s a violent pressure mounting on my insides. Something inside of me is clenching and I try and grab Lance’s hand; he looks up at me, a grin on his face, and redoubles his efforts.
“Lance, I think I’m…” I think I’m what? I don’t even know what I’m feeling! But, judging by the look on his face, he knows exactly what he’s doing. I grit my teeth, close my eyes and… Oh God, what is this? My whole body is contracting, and it seems as if I’m about to explode. Really explode.
And that’s exactly what happens.
My pussy clenches around his finger and an orgasm spreads through me like a flood. And I mean that quite literally; I’m gushing! I’m… I’m squirting! Oh, God, I really am squirting, and in a way I never thought was even possible. The pleasure is so intense I feel all of my muscles burning. More than three decades in me and I never experienced anything like this. Warm fluids shoot out of my pussy and drip down my folds, pooling between my thighs on the leather seat.
My limbs flailing, I throw my head back against the seat, breathing hard. He comes up, sitting by my side, and touches my cheek, caressing it, and lays his lips against mine. I can still taste my pussy on his mouth and by god I love how it feels.
But he isn’t done yet. His finger is still inside of me and, instead of pulling it out, he starts sliding it in and out of me. He starts slowly at first, almost as if he’s trying me, but I’m as wet and ready as I can be. He goes faster, faster, faster, and soon I’m pressing my legs together, locking his hand into place as he fingers me toward insanity.
When he pushes one more finger inside of me, I have to grit my teeth. My body is still trembling and shaking, and even so, I can already feel that storm of pleasure building back, the roar of delight inside my mind.
He starts biting at my neck, pinching my nipples at the same time with his free hand. I throw my head back, my hair falling over my shoulders, and I choke down a scream as something explodes inside my mind. I come... I come really hard. But he doesn’t stop. This time, I know he’s not going to allow me any kind of rest.
We’re going for it all the way. No brakes, no nothing.
I grab his cock, and wanting to have him inside my mouth just once more, I lean toward him and engulf him with my lips. He pushes his cock down my mouth, pushing through his last inches until my lips are almost touching the root of his length. It’s hard to believe that I can actually fit all of his impressive length in my mouth.
But, more than having him in my mouth, I need him inside me.
“Fuck me, Lance… I need it now,” I simply whisper. Before I know it, he pushes me back on the seat, laying me down; pushing my knees apart, he settles his body between my legs.
“Oh, you’ll get everything you need from me,” he tells me. I look in anticipation as he edges closer to me, his thick glans reaching for my inner labia. I shudder as he presses it there, rubbing his tip along my pussy and up to my clit. He then slaps his shaft against my pussy—once, twice—and I almost bang my head against the door in my madness.
“Then give it to me… Because I need your cock right fucking now,” I say, opening my legs wide. I cover my mouth with my hand as I let out a scream: he enters me fast, his shaft sliding deep inside of me and sending shards of absolute rapture from my pussy to my mind.
He thrusts at me like that for God knows how long, his body pressing on mine; I lace my legs behind his back, not locking him into place but allowing him the freedom to move in and out at will, which he does. His thrusts are so strong and violently delicious that I feel the car start to sway from side to side, almost like a plane going through light turbulence.
He continues until all strength leaves my body, my legs sliding down from his back to the floor as all muscles in my body become taut. He pounds me even strongly then, feeling my weakness, and I have to bite hard on my forearm so that I don’t scream as I climax again. The car keeps on swaying harder with each passing second, but Lance either doesn’t notice it or doesn’t care.
I want to scream. I want to do it loud and mindlessly. Only God knows how I’m still capable of controlling myself right now.
Any other man would have stopped by now, succumbing to exhaustion. But not Lance—young as he is, there are no brakes on him. He won’t stop until his hunger is sated, and I bet that even then he’ll still be aching for more. How do you even satisfy someone like him?
My limbs flailing and my mind burning, he keeps on ramming it inside me; with the last ripples of ecstasy still receding from my mind, a new and bigger wave crashes on me, numbing not only my body and mind, but my soul as well. Everything in me is on its knees and praying for rapture.
I don’t know how many orgasms he wants to inflict upon me, but I want to turn the game around. I escape from under him, and before he can even realize what I’m doing, I’m on all fours on the seat.
He doesn’t need to be told what to do. I don’t even have the time to breath out; he’s already behind me, slapping my ass and rubbing his thick fat glans over my pussy as I wiggle my backside. He rams it in me in an instant, and before I can even control myself, I let out a violent scream. He’s ramming me so hard I lose all notion of where I am. I don’t care about anything anymore. My universe is pleasure, and pleasure is Lance.
His body moving in a frenzy; I have to place my hands on the door’s handle so that I don’t fall forward. He keeps ravaging me, his thrusts turning the sway of the limo into hard rocking. I feel the car’s body going from side to side, the metal screeching subdued as it moves. It feels as if we are not in a limousine, but on a boat during a storm.
I let myself go and, as my pussy tightens like a vice around his cock, I cum my brains out all over again. I have to grit my teeth as hard as I can, my lungs begging for me to scream out.
“Sir? Is everything okay?” I hear the driver say through the intercom. I look back at Lance over my shoulder, my eyes widening as I realize that the driver noticed the ruckus we were causing. How could he not? We almost turned the limo into the Titanic! “The car… Well, something was happening to it right now.”
Lance doesn’t seem fazed by it, though. He simply shrugs and reaches for the intercom, pressing down on the main button.
“We noticed it as well,” he manages to say, a fake calm on his voice. “That’s not normal at all… You should take this limo for a check-up once you drop us off. This car is in no condition to be driving anyone around.”
“Yes, sir. Will do,” the driver tells Lance. He looks at me with a carefree smirk and whatever fear I had of being caught vanishes away immediately.
I jut my ass back at Lance and start thrusting back in his direction. He grabs my hips and starts pounding me again, this time not even bothering to start slowly; he just goes all in right from the start, his whole length sliding in and out of me so fast I’m seeing white lights behind my eyelids. The car starts to rock from side to side again, but this time the driver doesn’t say a thing. Maybe he suspects what’s happening in the back, maybe he doesn’t. By now, I couldn’t care less.
I want to scream, and this time, I almost do it. I moan, my voice quivering as Lance fucks me senselessly. The screams trapped inside my body travel all the way to my brain, almost making me explode.
“You’re going to come…” he says, slapping my ass with the back of his hand. “And you’re going to come hard.”
“Make me…” I reply, rocking my backside against him with the same brashness he’s pounding into me; no more than thirty seconds and I go from my hands to my elbows, hair falling down on my shoulders as I feel the thunder of climax drawing close.
; Sweet pleasure courses through my veins, but I don’t stop. Somehow, I think that Lance’s insatiable hunger is rubbing on me; he just makes me feel younger. I push past all my limits and continue thrusting back at him until I can feel an ungodly pressure mounting inside of me; if I don’t come soon, I’m going to really explode. But before I can come, he laces my waist and pulls me back.
Still with his cock in me, he lies down on the seat as I roll into a sitting position over his cock, my back turned to him. I let the orgasm come then, grabbing Lance’s ankles while I sway my hips back and forth, left and right, all over his cock. Electricity and flames devour me, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Only when my body becomes completely spent will I do it, and only because I won’t be physically capable of carrying on.
“So good…” I moan, not even knowing if my heart's still beating. “I want more.” Instead of swaying my hips, I stop doing that and prepare to use what little energy still remains inside of me. I start jumping on his cock, and I do it hard. He’s cupping my ass as I go, and I lean just a bit forward, slightly bending his cock down and imagining the pressure he’s feeling right now.
“Fuck,” he exhales sharply, slapping my ass again.
His whole body becomes rock solid and I can’t help but jump on him with all the strength that I have in me. Suddenly, he hooks his fingers on my waist and pulls me down onto him. I sit on his crotch as his cock goes as deep as it has ever been inside of me.
Oh my God!
OH FUCK!
Suddenly, I become nothing.
Pleasure rages through me in a way I’ve never felt before, utterly consuming my mind. I’m high on sex; I’m high on Lance. And as his cock spasms again, his load shooting deep into me, I moan so hard that my voice starts quivering. He keeps cumming for a long while, the seconds ticking away as a torrent of semen takes hold of me.
Only when he becomes still, do I roll to the side and lay back against the seat, my limbs sprawled. I didn’t even notice it, but I’m covered in sweat, locks of hair plastered to my face. I want to speak, I want to move, but there’s not a single reserve of energy inside of me. I gave it my all, and in return, I’ve been sacrificed at the altar of pleasure.
Lance turns to me and kisses me on the cheek.
“Just lay back… I’ll take care of you.”
“Yes...” I nod, Lance’s lips travelling down my neck. His mouth hikes down between my breasts and over my stomach, only stopping when he has his head right between my legs. Tenderly, he starts licking my folds, taking care of the cum that’s dripping down my thighs. Pushing his mouth into me, he sucks my folds in, wrapping his lips around them and taking in every single drop of cum I have on my pussy.
Satisfied, he goes up, lying back with his body pressed against mine. “There… Much better now,” he whispers, smiling at me. I run one lazy finger over his lips, an errant drop of cum still hanging there.
“Yes… Much better.” With him, everything’s better.
I close my eyes and smile, taking a wicked sense of pleasure in knowing that Michael is riding the limo in front of us, completely oblivious to what just happened between his son and I.
Serves him right, I think with an exhausted grin.
New York Daily Journal
From the Desk of Amanda Adams, the Professional Gossiper of Page Two.
Welcome to Page Two Gossip, here’s what we’re hearing around the halls of power:
If you think this election is getting nasty, you’re not the first to think that and you’re not the only one. Cheer up though; every day that passes is one day closer to the election. But, one thing everyone is thinking and asking me is this: If we’re already so low less than a month into the election, how much lower and dirtier is it going to get before we get to the voting booths?
Let’s do a rundown of what we’ve seen so far.
The campaign of Mayor Anders has accused Jim Jenkins of being a Socialist, scaring voters into thinking that should Jenkins get elected, police will no longer be able to use guns as they patrol the streets. Mayor Anders' campaign surrogates said in speeches all last week that Jim Jenkins is so opposed to gun control that he would ensure that police start doing their beats with TASERS, night sticks, and stun guns.
Not to be outdone, at a major campaign speech, Jim Jenkins suggested that should the Mayor get another term, his policies would include shutting down public schools that run on taxpayer money in support of private schools, raising the price of educating our little New Yorkers in training.
“Do you want to have to choose between a broken, burned, and underfunded public school, or a private school? Because that’s the choice under Michael Anders!” Jonathan Franks, the campaign manager for Jim Jenkins was quoted as telling this paper afterward.
The Mayor's campaign shot back that Jim Jenkins' policies would include not prosecuting most crimes and opening up the prisons and letting out hardened felons.
“You want that man locked up for being a child sex offender to start looking at apartments next to public schools? Because with Jim Jenkins as mayor, they’re going to be able to do just that,” the Anders campaign manager retorted when asked for a follow up.
With Jim Jenkins being portrayed as a soft-on-crime bleeding heart liberal and Michael Anders being portrayed as a corporate fascist, voters aren’t left with much of a choice of picking the better man. Instead, they’re left with finding the least of two evils. That’s right, fellow Gothamites, it’s not about who we love anymore. It’s about who we hate the least.
But one thing is becoming pretty abundantly clear. With the policies being twisted so badly, both campaigns are relying more and more on their families to burnish their credentials and raise their favorability ratings. Jim Jenkins showed up at Coney Island on Saturday with his wife Martha and their daughter Jennifer to eat at Nathan’s Hot Dogs and ride the Cyclone before taking some pictures.
And Mayor Anders has brought out his family plenty of times, bringing his son and newly married wife to every single one of his campaign rallies and making a big show of taking them out to dinner at Bubba Gump’s Shrimp Factory in Times Square.
So, it looks like this campaign is going to be won or lost based on who is hated the least. And a lot of that can be based on who has the most lovable family.
That’s all for today, but we’re digging up as much as we can about both families. Till we hear more, this is Amanda Adams signing off. Keep your ears open, New York.
Lance
I knock on the door to dad’s office with a fucking weight in my stomach. It’s been three days since the limo. Since I was balls deep into Jocelyn. Just thoughts of my hands holding her supple, curvy, lithe body inspire my cock into a frenzy of twitches. Fuck. I can’t be thinking like this because while my cock doesn't seem to care, I’m dying of fucking guilt here.
That’s right. I’m feeling guilty. I hope that doesn’t surprise you.
I’ve never in my life done anything like this. This goes way beyond just fucking a married woman. First, she’s older than me. I’m 15 years younger than her. I would have never considered anything like this before coming back to the city. Second, she’s married to my dad. That makes her technically my stepmom.
Now hold on there. I know based on everything you’ve seen so far, you’re going to tell me to calm the fuck down. That 15 years is nothing. You probably know a couple where the woman is 15 years older than the man and they have a happy marriage. And then you’re going to move on to tell me that Michael Anders married my mother after I was already born. That when she died a year later, he assumed the role of guardian, but he’s not technically my biological father.
Fine. From a technical standpoint, no one is related, okay. You fucking got me.
But we’re not talking about technicalities here.
This is the man who fucking paid others to raise me. The man I resented my whole life for always being busy and never having time for me. The man who was always wrapped up in his life and viewed me as an accesso
ry to trot out to make him look good by talking about how he was raising the son of his dead wife.
In short, he’s the only father I’ve ever fucking known.
And so what do I do? I fuck the one woman who maybe he thought he would find happiness with? Really? Is that what I’ve come down to?
Have I fucked so many women in my life that now I need to do things that shock the senses? Has normal fucking just gotten too boring for me?
“You going to stand there or are you going to come in, Lance?” dad asks from his desk. He's staring at me, an annoyed look on his face. He’s got two tablets and a computer open in front of him and it’s obvious he’s busy. The television is on in the far corner of the room and he puts it on mute.
I step into the office and walk to the desk. What am I even going to say here? Hey dad, how’s the mayoral race coming? By the way, I’m fucking Jocelyn. Just thinking you should know because it's the right thing to do.
How do you even go about telling another man you’re sleeping with his wife?
“What do you need?” dad asks, cutting through all the clutter in my head and going straight to the point. “I’m busy so I can’t give you that much time. So be quick.”
I sigh. He looks at me with sharp eyes.
“I wanted to talk to you about Jocelyn,” I say after a moment.
He looks at me and sighs as well. Does he know?
Dad leans back in his chair. “Sorry I didn't invite you to the wedding, Lance,” he says and takes off his glasses. “But there really was no wedding.”