Sex Sessions: After The Cut (Camera Tales #2)

by Charisse Spiers

  Kambry Ryvers, I love you. Never let the douchebags of the world make you believe any different. I know your heart and what you're thinking right now as you read this. Shit talkin' is easy when hiding behind a computer. You're my girl just as much today as you will be in thirty years, and the only one. When in doubt, remember, you're the girl that tamed the porn star. #BachelorNoMore #PussyWhippedAndProud #PussyPride #CouplesOnly #MyGirl #CandidMoments #NewYorkNights #MadisonSquareGarden #ACDC #RockandRoll #DateNight #ShesMine #iLoveHer #NoSexRequired #AskHerIfSheGotAnyTonight #DickOnLock #PussyOffLimits #JerkOffSessions #NotAllowed #ProvingPoints #FuckTheHaters #DontJudge #MindYourOwnBusiness #FuckYou #PornStarDiaries

  #WordPorn of the day is from one of the greats, #BobMarley, in paraphrase and it fits—'before you start pointing fingers, make sure your hands are clean.' —See you on the flip, Sax.

  P.S. If you're into #porn with meaning, and maybe a little #RealityTV, click here >>> http://www.kissntellfilms.com/movies/directstream/payperview/Saxton_Kambry/SexSessionsUncut/Premier

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  A laugh escapes. That man . . . I don't even know if I want to browse through the notes. My curiosity, I'm afraid, will always get the best of me.

  Buckeye80: Fuck the haters. Do you, dog.

  Weezy6: Bob Marley!

  LynnZLou: People suck. Judgment will never die, hence my backup account for stuff I like. You sound like an amazing guy, and she's lucky to have you. Found this page through a naughty-loving friend that follows your work and wouldn't shut up about the new release. Checking out the link. It'll make the hubby proud . . .

  I continue to scan the many notes; more in number than I would have thought, but don't see the lunatic. He's actually quiet for once. Imagine that . . . My stomach becomes full of fizzling nerves. I want to click the damn link myself, but the amount of time I've spent sitting on this very toilet is a little embarrassing. Where did he get that link? Why didn't I get one?

  In my effort to not get off my damn phone I somehow open a message box with a message inside from SinisterSlave, titled: Truce?

  "Tired of being a dick finally?"

  When the message opens I immediately squeal and toss my phone, making a loud thump as it hits the floor. It hits screen up, staring at me like an alcoholic stares at a bottle of vodka: relentlessly and hypnotic with no chance that either party will remove itself from the situation without help. No matter how sickening it is to you or how much you loathe that it's there, it still puts out some kind of invisible signal for you to look at it.

  One eye open and one eye shut, I grab my phone, my lips soured into a pucker. Lying on the screen is a dick—an ugly one at that. I didn't know such a thing existed really, but upon recent confirmation it does. The curly dark hair in a large, grown up patch encompasses the base, covering a good bit of the length, visibly similar to a Brillo pad. It reminds me of a stump, or a mushroom growing wild in a non-landscaped meadow. Why is it purple? Is it bruised? And bent? It looks like it's broken.

  My eyes finally take in the entire photo and my phone goes flying once again. "Dicky-do, dicky-do, no, no, no. Who would fuck that? She was so right. I don't want to see. Make it go away."

  The door to the bathroom opens in the midst of my dick pic meltdown. "What the hell are you doing?" He asks as he rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes. "It's loud as fuck in here."

  My blinders, also known as my hands, go back over my eyes where they came from. "It's dicky-do. I'm blind. It's the damn dicky-do disease in the flesh."

  "Disease? What the fuck, Kambry? What the hell is dicky-do disease and why are your feet on the toilet seat?"

  "His stomach sticks out further than his dick do!"

  The entire room becomes so silent you could hear breathing in the most relaxed state. My hands slowly fall from my face and I chance a glance at him to see if he's still in here, if he's angry, or if I just dreamed up that entire situation.

  Yep, he's still here. The look on his face is frightening. "Care to explain?"

  His voice sounds pained as each word leaves his mouth. "I was peeing, you know, minding my own business, and I was playing around on Tumblr and reading your posts and some of the nice comments and the not so nice one. I was really emotional one second and smiley the next with little hearts in my eyes and then I told myself I needed to get off the toilet because I was way past the girl safe zone, but instead somehow ended up in the message box and then saw there was a message so I opened it because it was from the lunatic and I thought he wanted a truce. But in reality it was a photo of a purple-headed mushroom slinger stationed in a bird's nest with a broken arm. I shouldn't have looked twice but it was ugly and then I realized it was a case of dicky-do disease to top it off and for the second time my phone became the hot potato. Then you walked in and the rest is history."

  He's standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his feet crossed at the ankles and his arms at his bare chest. There is no emotion flag flying. He's just there, staring at me like a damn loon. "Would you say something already? Scream at me! Show anger! Something! I cannot deal with this look of disappointment you're wearing. It's driving me nuts."

  He brings his hand up to rub the stubble that I want to lick. Not the time. His face doesn't change. "Just for the record . . . what is the girl safe zone in regards to pissing?"

  My frustration appears on my face. "Not the part I was expecting to discuss."

  "One thing at a time."

  "If you must know, it's that fine line between the time it takes to pee and poo. Never do I want you to think I'm doing number two. Girls must always remain the clean and reserved between the species of male and female. We do not do that."

  "I know you take shits, Kambry, just like all girls. It's a part of life. We already discussed that prior to me shoving a plug in your ass, so there is no need to have some ridiculous bathroom code on my account. I'm still going to fuck you, even in that ass, and I'm still going to marry you, whether I'm knowledgeable of the fact that you shit or not."

  "Not an argument you're going to win. Moving on."

  "Fine. Secondly, can I just get first thoughts when you looked at my dick?"

  "What? How is this even relevant? I thought you'd be upset that I saw some other man's disabled penile structure."

  I search his face long and hard for a crack in the mask he's wearing. Nothing. He's locked up tighter than a damn virgin in a room of hungry teenage wolves, also known as boys. I have no idea what is going on in that head of his. "I think it's completely necessary."

  My shoulders drop. My eyes close. And I go back to that night when I saw it for the first time in the flesh. When there is something he wants to know he's not just going to let it go. "I thought it was big when I looked at it, but not having any experience I wasn't sure what average, big, and small were in terms of dicks. Then you placed my hand on it and I realized in comparison to my small hands just how big you were. It was beautiful. I knew that even then. There were no scars, no imperfections in the build. It was made from a flawless mold. You really do have the most perfect dick there ever could be. The coloring is the right shade to match your skin, the ratio between your length and how thick you are is proportionate, and it even has a beauty mark that I love."

  "A beauty mark?" He's curious from his tone.

  "Yeah, the faded brown ring you have as a marker to show how much it's grown from soft to hard. I like it. Now I know how thankful I am that you shave. It's clean, it's manscaped, and it adds to its appeal. I also like running my hands along the veins when you're hard." My eyes open and lock with his. "It reminds me that you're hard for me. The head is soft to the touch and I like the taste of that little bead that comes from the center. Every time I look at it I get . . ." I swallow. "Thirsty."

  In one push his white boxer briefs fall to the floor and he grabs his dick in his hand, immediately stroking it. My eyes follow the back and forth motion of his strokes as he walks toward me. "This dick?"

  I clear my
throat, still watching him jerk off shamelessly. "Yes."

  He stops in front of me. "You want it in your mouth?"

  My heart starts to race. Even sitting spread eagle on this damn toilet I can feel the sudden onset of wetness down below. Him talking dirty and harsh is so hot. "Yes."

  "Open wide."

  Oh hell . . .

  I do as he says, my tongue inching forward as I do. He lays the underside of his head on the edge of my tongue. "Close."

  With his head in my mouth I do, swirling my tongue around it. The excess saliva is already being produced. "Suck," he says, and grabs the back of my head, slowly pushing himself inside of my mouth.

  I work to breathe in a way I won't gag as I do what he commanded of me. I like being his little slut sometimes. "Fuck yeah. Wet it, baby."

  He knows exactly how deep to go before recoiling. I work hard to relax my jaw to make room for his size. He pulls out just as I was getting comfortable. "Take your shirt off and bend over. Hands on the seat."

  The middle of my bottom lip scrapes against my top two front teeth in the midst of my smile. I stand, discarding my shirt onto the floor as I do. One foot in front of the other, I pivot, slowly and seductively until I'm facing the toilet. The toilet seat closes with command of my hands. I bend forward, gripping the edge of each side. My head turns just enough I can see him out of the corner. "Fuck me like you mean it."

  I feel his teeth sink into my butt cheek as my eyes fall to the top of the seat. Shit. "Like an animal."

  I can't even register he's ready before he shoves forward, submerging himself completely inside of me, hard. My body throttles forward, my hands reflexively positioning on the wall in front of me. His lips end just outside of my ear. "You sure you’re ready for this?"

  The light pain goes ignored. I'm disregarding the fact that I'm a little terrified of completely letting this tone in his voice go. It's one I can't explain. He doesn't sound upset. He doesn't sound angry. He sounds . . . hungry. We've had reasonably rough sex, even to the point of pain, but a part of me has always thought he held back a little bit because of his size and my lack of experience prior to him. This sounds like he's ready to push his limits, and well, so am I. Even though I'm nervous, I lie. "Give me all you fuckin' got."

  I sit down slowly, my hand cupped between my legs as I do. "I completely underestimated you."

  "You usually do."

  "No. This is different. You fucked it up. My V will never be the same. It hurts. I'm in physical pain. It's probably swollen. I'm not even sure that I can walk. If I do I'll be walking bowlegged. I'm broken. I think this means it's gone kaput. No more entry." I create the X with my fingers as I stare at him from the bed.

  He drops his towel to grab a clean pair of boxer briefs, black this time. My attempt to not look at his groin is unsuccessful. Even as I sit here in pain, I still want him between my legs. I feel like a sex addict: loving something that could kill you. Why is it that we love things that are bad for us? That man's dick is definitely bad for me. "Baby, I'm just now breaking it in."

  I lay back, my towel falling open as my wet hair hits the bed. "Oh my god, you're like a sweet tooth. I want you on a near constant basis, even when I feel the pain that you're causing."

  Once his jeans are up, he walks forward without zipping and buttoning them. His hands grip behind my knees and spread my legs. My knees try to press together on reflex, but he's stronger than me, holding them spread wide to look between. "There is nothing broken about that pussy. It's just a little overworked. A very brief time to recuperate and it'll be good as new."

  I prop up on my elbows. "So, are we going to finish this conversation from the bathroom? You know, the one that we started before you annihilated my girly parts with your warlike fuckery. That thing actually became a weapon for a while."

  "Such a dirty mouth." He smirks. Why would I expect anything less? "Are you complaining? Do I need to go easier on you next time?"

  "Uh, hell no. Did you see me waving a white flag? It'll take more than a few stab wounds for me to be overcome by your sex assaults. We will take it to the trenches before I surrender. Really, I just want to know . . . Are you upset?"

  He looks genuinely confused. "Why would I be upset?"

  "For real? Uh, well you really didn't have any expression at all."

  "I walked in on your pussy completely uncovered. There was nothing in my way. You kept rubbing on my dick last night and trying not to fuck you was the hardest thing I've ever done. It wasn't fun. I woke up with a one-track mind. I wanted to fuck you. Every few thoughts I heard something about a dick that was fucking up my wood. If you knew how hard I was trying not to laugh we wouldn't be having this conversation. The pain in my voice—me swallowing back laughter. All I can say is bless the poor bastard that sent you that photo, because if my dick were being cut down like that I'd never want to whip it out again. The weakness to a man's pride is his dick. It's no different than owning guns and knifes. No matter what kind of guy you are or how big your current is you always want bigger and badder. You can destroy a guy with a few words."

  I lightly kick him. "You ass. I was really distraught. I didn't ask for a dick pic. It was just there. Why did you make me go through all that shit about my first thoughts of your dick? Egotistical, compliment-fishing ass. I should cut you off. Like you didn't already know I'm a total Saxton slut and I'm addicted to your enormous dick."

  He leans forward, pushing me flat on the bed as he puts one knee at a time on the mattress. "I already told you. No man wants to hear about another man's dick. You were killing my wood and I was going to fuck you one way or another. I meant what I said. It was necessary." He smiles. "And it worked."

  "Fine. I'm not complaining." My legs lock around his waist. "It's better to get it in before your parents get here and we have to do without."

  "Who says we have to do without?"

  My face, I know, is gracing a look of pure and utter terror. "Sax, no. We aren't talking about your sister but your parents. That's just code. Are they staying here? If so, we are not having sex with your parents in the same apartment. Period. I will cut you off. I don't care how damn sexy you are, how much I love you, or how much I want it. I went eighteen years without it, a few days will be easy."

  He grinds his groin against my tender center. "You really think you can go without this?"

  "Oh god. Stop," I say, with a moan in the middle of the request, completely going against the very action of stop with, but I really mean continue. "We have to quit this. Don't make this hard."

  "I don't give a shit if my parents are here or not, in this very apartment or in a hotel. You don't think I've heard my parents goin' at it over the years? Payback's a bitch. Daddy may be quiet, but Mama is a screamer."

  "Saxton! Gross." I smack his shoulder. "Shut the hell up. Seriously."

  He laughs, his face lowering to kiss me. "Hey, the big dick had to come from somewhere."

  My face loses all emotion; except for the telling blush I'm sure remains. "I hate you sometimes. I have a love/hate relationship with you right now. How do you expect me to look at your dad after saying something like that? Every time my eyes wander innocently, I'm going to feel like they need to be plucked from the very sockets they sit in. I do not want to have the knowledge in my brain that your dad may or may not have an enormous dick like you! Shit, man. Not cool!"

  "He wears Wranglers too."

  "Saxton!"

  "And they're tight."

  I dramatically close my eyes. "Father, forgive me, for I have sinned. In the case that I kill him, I'm sorry. He provoked me until I had no choice."

  I open my eyes to him trying desperately not to laugh. "You know they say those that react defensively are guilty. Do you, Kambry Rivers, have the hots for Allen Cambridge?"

  My mouth drops. "I don't even know him!"

  "Old man may even like the attention; although, Lori might get a little jealous when she sees you all hot and bothered over her man. Thirty years can bring out
the claws, even in the sweetest person."

  "Do you feel the sting yet? 'Cause my hand print is about to be etched on the side of your face."

  He presses closer, pushing my legs back toward me. There isn't an inch of space between us. He bucks his hips against me, reminding me of the pain that is still very much there. "Oh yeah? You gettin' mad?"

  Good lord he's beautiful; every part of him. My heart cannot physically love him more than it does, or at least I don't think it can. On most days it feels completely full, like it's at maximum capacity. It's not often that you find someone that can make you angry and laugh within a millisecond apart, and then you turn around and want to screw his brains out before that pattern starts all over again.

  We never fight. Even the few times previously that we've had some kind of spat, it was more us just fighting against what we knew was inevitable: us. Every waking day I want him more than I did the one before. It's a crazy cycle that gives me some kind of nutty high I want more of.

  With him I don't care about my future, even though I do, if that makes sense. For the span of my life thus far, I've racked my brain wondering what I'll do, what I'll become, and if I'd be good at what I chose. We're raised with one goal: be somebody. But what if I just want to be? To exist in happiness should be an option. Everyone screams at you to choose an amazing career that you'll fill and follow along in the footsteps of people before you. Way back when, it was about life and living simply. Now, it's about a career and what we can acquire.

  Right now, technically, I have nothing. I have no ownership of residency, no car, and no plan. I’m a high school graduate with college off my radar at present. All I have is the money I've made so far and what I came here with, and you know what? I'm happy. Nothing about my life at current I would change if given the chance.