Now that our passion was somewhat sated, we were able to go a little slower and spend a little more time just taking it all in. He caressed my legs as he slid in and out of me and, surprising me, he said, “God I missed this.” It was unlike him to disclose anything that he was feeling, even that much. Hearing from his own lips that he’d missed me was like an aphrodisiac. As he slid his hands down my legs and cupped my ass cheeks with his hands he said, “Just thinking about this ass makes me hard. Just watching you walk around makes me want to crawl up between your legs and devour you.”
His words made me moan. I lay back, propped up on my elbows with my breasts out in front of me, and I wanted his lips on them again. Before I’d finished that thought, he slid out of me, suddenly dropping down to his knees in front of the desk, holding onto my thighs and shoving his tongue deep into my pussy. I whimpered and twisted my fingers into his hair.
“Oh my god, Tristan, oh fuck! Oh my god!” His tongue was doing a masterful job of enticing and delighting me all at the same time. He let it run around my clit and through my lips, over and over, stopping only to wiggle it inside of me and let it move in and out before moving back to my swollen clit. I crossed my legs behind his head and held him tightly between them as he worked me over. He started flicking against my clit faster and faster and then he slipped two fingers in between my folds. My mouth was making noises that even I didn’t understand.
I could feel my body tensing again and I knew another orgasm was coming. He knew it too, I think. He kept working his fingers into me and his tongue kept doing all of those divine things to my clit while I wriggled and writhed around on the desk. My fists were clenched hard in his hair and I was coming again—hard. I was riding his face with a frantic passion while my nerves exploded and my blood passed the point of boiling. My breath was coming out in explosive gasps and I wanted to scream so fucking bad!
When I was finally spent, I let him go. His scalp was probably going to be sore, but I hadn’t thought of that until I relaxed and unlocked him from my grip. He pulled his face up and looked at me. He was grinning and his face was shiny with my juices. He looked so fucking sexy. He grabbed his cock in his right hand and said, “He’s not finished yet.”
Barely able to speak I finally breathed out, “I’m up for more.”
He repositioned me and pulled me back down on his cock. I grunted loudly when he hit bottom and I realized he wasn’t any longer in the mood for slow and sensual. He fucked me quickly, holding my hips and slamming his body into mine. I had to hold onto the edge of the desk to keep from flying off, he was fucking me so hard. I could feel all of him tightening as he thrashed into me, over and over, deeper and deeper, until, in a frenzied rush of wild humping, he grunted loudly and came inside of me. For a fraction of a second, I worried that he hadn’t worn a condom. I was on the pill….fuck it; it felt too good to worry about right then. He kept moving, slower as he came down from the high of his orgasm. I didn’t want him to pull out. I didn’t want it to be over.
He opened his eyes and looked at me and sending another rush through my body he said, “You’re so fucking hot, Elly. So damn sexy!” He leaned forward now and gripped the edges of the desk. I could tell that he was unsteady on his feet. After his breathing slowed, he took a step back, releasing himself from my hold. I sat up, not knowing if he would just slip his pants on and go or what. With Tristan, it was always a mystery. Instead, he slipped his arms back around me and I wrapped mine around his shoulders. He leaned down and I happily brought my lips up to meet his in a long, deep kiss. In that second, all was right with the world.
I was covered in sweat and my body was still vibrating. The fire in my belly had been quieted, but not completely quenched. My head was dizzy still from the lack of blood and oxygen as I sat there on the edge of the desk, wrapped up in his arms. I felt his cock twitch against my leg and wondered if he could possibly be getting hard again so soon. I pulled back and looked at his face. He grinned at me again, and said, “I’ve been sober for a day and a half. I think I need a little more rewarding.”
I reached down and wrapped my hand around his semi-erect cock and began stroking it lightly; just to let him know I was game. I felt it growing again in my hand; he forced his tongue back into my mouth and I felt it probing around. I closed my lips on it and began sucking it in and out. I felt him shudder against me and I felt the big rush of blood fill up his cock once more. It gave me chills.
I slid down off the desk to my feet and then dropped to my knees in front of him. I smiled up at him before I lowered my mouth down to lick the velvety head of his cock. I could taste and smell myself on him and it was erotic. I moved my tongue slowly in a spiral pattern, licking under the ridge. Then I closed my lips around the head of his stiff cock and let my tongue work its way downward, caressing the shaft while still making eye contact with him. I loved the look of pure ecstasy on his face and I loved the way his hard cock felt as it glided in between my lips and across my tongue, all the way to the back of my throat. I adjusted the angle of my head just a little so that I could take it all the way in. I felt my throat muscles constrict around it as my tongue continued licking and stroking it; he let out the longest, sexiest moan I’d ever heard.
I raised my head back up and let it slide out until, once again, only the head of it was between my lips. I licked it vigorously and then lowered my head once more, deep throating him again. I realized that this was as arousing as having his cock inside my pussy. I wrapped one hand around his cock as I sucked on it and I was compelled to put the other one on my nipples. They were suddenly crying out for attention. I pulled and tweaked on them as I licked and sucked and even delicately nipped at his cock. Within seconds, I could feel the fluid flowing freely between my already sticky legs once more. It caused me to suck his cock with even more enthusiasm.
From the look on his face and the noises he was making, he was definitely enjoying it. He held onto my shoulders and twisted us around without breaking the suction I had on his erection. He leaned his ass back against the desk. I was getting off on the fact that I was making his legs shake so hard that he could barely stand on them. He gripped the edge of the desk as my head bobbed up and down and his cock slipped in and out of my warm, wet mouth. I squeezed him with my cheeks as my tongue ran the length of it, licking the head at the end of every stroke. My body took over then, and as I held him once again as deeply as he would go inside of my mouth and down into my throat, my hand slipped down between my legs and my fingers made contact with my clit.
“Oh fuck yeah, Elly! Oh fuck! Where the fuck did you come from? That’s it baby rub that clit while you suck me…oh god yes!”
Once again, the sound of his voice urged me on and I took my clit between my thumb and forefinger and squeezed it until it had lost some of its blood and was no longer too sensitive to touch. Finally, I was able to start stroking myself again, and I stroked my clit with the same slow steady rhythm that my mouth engulfed his cock. I continued like that for a long time, and then I finally pulled it out to rest my lips. When I did, I rose up higher on my knees and took his cock tightly in my fist and stroked it against my chest. I allowed the head of it to trace around my nipples; Tristan moaned his consent.
I was still rubbing my clit as I moved his cock back and forth from one breast to the other feeling another orgasm building up inside of me. He was writhing against the desk and moaning and I wanted him to cum before I came again. I increased the pressure of my hand around his cock and began to stroke faster as he thrust his hips in and out more quickly. I felt him stiffen even more and, once again, I engulfed him into my mouth. I started using longer, slower strokes with my tongue as I held my lips tighter around him. My fingers still fondled and caressed my clit, keeping pace with my mouth.
He suddenly let out a moan that could be called nothing less than blissful and the volcano began to erupt into my mouth. The first gush covered my tongue; I paused my sucking in order to savor it. I swirled it around in my mouth, coverin
g his cock in his own warm, thick liquid. Then I swallowed it and I stroked my clit even harder as I resumed sucking him, not letting even a drop of him dribble out. He let go of another spurt and as that one was sliding down my throat, he let go of another.
He was moaning loudly by the time he finished cumming, and I could feel the orgasm building higher in my own body as I rubbed my clit harder and faster. I continued sucking on him until there was nothing left and I felt the force of my own orgasm hit me like a ton of bricks. I let his cock slip out from between my lips. He reached down with shaky hands and pinched my nipples as the orgasm ripped through me. When I finally stopped moaning and shaking, he reached down and drew me up to him, giving me another deep kiss on the lips.
He turned around and leaned me back against the desk, knowing that I was the one now having a hard time holding myself up on my quivering legs. I stood there with them quaking, trying to catch my breath as I watched him get dressed. He was finished, and I couldn’t help wondering where we were going to go from here. I was beginning to think that I was addicted to him. I couldn’t seem to get enough. Since I’d met him, I’d had sex in a bathroom and a closet and on some random person’s desk. I’d let him fuck me in the ass and I’d let him do me without a condom. I swallowed his cum and I loved it. I wondered if I was turning into some kind of sex freak. No one had ever turned me on the way that he did.
When he finished dressing, I was still clutching onto the desk, still naked and shivering. He stepped up to me and kissed me again. It was long and sweet and I found myself not wanting it to end. But it did, with a bang….as it always did with Tristan.
He smiled and said, “You better get going; you wouldn’t want to get caught.” Then he scooped up the rehab papers I’d dropped and tossed them at me, hitting me in the crotch. I let myself think for a fraction of a second that it was over—he was finished with me and rehab. Then, just to prove to me that he was thoroughly unpredictable he said, “Getting clean is definitely going to be worth all that.” He grinned again, unlocked the door and left me in a mild state of shock.
MY ROCK #4
Chapter One
Tristan
I promised myself before I went to sleep that I was going to clean up the pigsty I was living in. Being that I was semi-sober, it wasn’t as easy to tolerate as it was before. I pulled my tired ass out of bed and, after a quick shower to wake up, I went to work. I started in the kitchen. I didn’t have many dishes, but I realized when I was trying to wash out the bowls I’d used for cereal, I’d have to buy more. The cereal was dried to the sides of it and there was no way it was coming off. I tossed three of them, along with the spoons that were sugar-glued to the sides into the trash. Luckily, most of what else I ate came in foam or cardboard containers that I could throw away.
After the dishes were taken care of, I found an old rag and wiped down the counters and cleaned off the refrigerator. It was funny when you sober up enough to realize how you’ve actually been living. I opened the refrigerator and saw that there were three beers and two bottles of water in there. Other than some ketchup and hot sauce, that was it.
I took out the beer and opened all three of them. I was sorely tempted to drink them, but I didn’t. I poured each one down the drain and tossed the bottles in the trash. I realized then how nasty the kitchen floor was. It was amazing I ever got girls to come over and have sex with me. Besides Elly, it spoke volumes about the type of girls I was dipping my wick into. Most of them had been too stoned or drunk to notice their surroundings. It took much longer than it should have to scrub the six by three foot kitchen and I was actually winded when I got done. I’d forgotten what the floor even looked like.
Next, I went to work on the little beat up dining room table. Every piece of mail or paperwork I’d received or brought home with me in the past few months was piled there. I couldn’t even tell you what most of it was. I sat down and started sifting through it all. I found a lot of past due bills that indicated soon I’d be living without heat or lights or water. I also found a nasty letter from my landlord. That month would be three months late. He was pissed and he made insinuations in the letter that he would be looking into eviction proceedings soon if I didn’t get caught up. He was basically a nice guy…thus, the letter. He wouldn’t be one that would enjoy telling me that to my face. I was surprised that he let it go that long. Him being a nice guy was probably all that stood between the street and me.
I sorted the bills into piles of ones I needed to pay—although I had no fucking money to pay them—and trash. The electric, gas, and water bills were all pink. I knew that was a fucking bad sign. The trash I threw away and the ones I needed to keep, I put into an empty drawer in the kitchen. Then I turned back to the table. There was still a mirror on it, covered with powder of course, and a couple of half straws. The box I kept my weed in was there too.
I went over and looked at the mirror first. There was enough loose powder there that if I used the blade to scrape it into a pile, I’d almost have a full line. A couple of days before, that and the beer would have thrilled the shit out of me. I had dumped the coke I had in the cabinet a couple days ago; I knew if it was there, I’d be too tempted. As I stared down at the mirror, I wondered if I’d be able to do this, knowing that was all there was.
I picked it up and carried it over to the sink. I stood there, turning it over in my head for a while before finally just turned it upside down and letting the powder fall off of it. I ran the hot water then to wash it down and I washed off the mirror. I wondered if it was true about all drains leading to the ocean. If it was, there’d be some happy fish later on.
The straws went into the trash and then I opened the box. There were papers and a baggie with enough weed for another two or three joints. Personally, I didn’t consider marijuana to actually be a drug, but I’d been down that road before. At rehab, they were going to extoll it’s evils to me and talk about how it led to other, harder drugs. With a heavy sigh, I took it into the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet. I threw the papers away and washed out the box. It was all gone. I wondered if tobacco was a bad thing. Maybe I’d buy a pack of smokes before I got locked away in no-drug land.
I cleaned up my bedroom and the living room, throwing away the bong. The crack pipe was already taken care of. I’d broken it to pieces the day I kicked it across the room. I carried a load of clothes down to the laundry room. Mrs. Stromboli was on her way out. She hadn’t made eye-contact with me once since the day she saw me naked in the hall. I tried smiling at her and saying hello, but she just walked quickly by like I was going to rape her old fat ass. I really didn’t give a shit if she liked me or not. It was easier that way; if people don’t like you, they don’t bother you. I remember how many people used to pretend they liked me, when I still had a little money and my name still meant something. I sure didn’t see those bastards around anymore.
I put a load in the washing machine and went back upstairs. It was weird, opening the door to a clean apartment that actually smelled decent, too. I had to use the broom on the carpet in the living room—I didn’t own a vacuum. That resulted in a huge pile of crap that I swept into the dustpan and threw away. Then I had to clean the kitchen floor again because I’d swept everything in there.
I saved the bathroom for last. It was so disgusting that they wouldn’t have even allowed it at the Chevron station down the street. I scrubbed for quite a while, finally giving up and telling myself it was going to take some bleach to get all the stains out. I didn’t have any bleach, so I’d have to come back to it. When that was done, I went into my room and got my guitar and the notepad I use to write my songs. I sat down on the couch and strummed the guitar a few times. I was spending so much time alone that I was running out of inspiration for new music. I thought about all the songs that other artists, like Elton John and the Eagles and the like had written and performed and made a billion fucking dollars off about drugs. I wondered how well one by me would be received. Maybe something good would com
e out of all of it.
I picked up the pen and started writing. I wrote and scratched out and changed the whole thing about ten times, and when I was satisfied that I was on the right track, the song I was writing turned out to be about addiction…and how it affected your whole life. It was pretty depressing, but it was a good song and it was true. So kind of cathartic.
I got a good start on that and felt like I was satisfied with it so far when I realized it was getting late in the day. I needed to start working on my music for round seven. I got that music book out and started marking the changes I wanted the musicians to make. As I worked on it, I played it myself on the guitar to see what it sounded like and sang it through a couple of times. I made changes here and there as I went, and just about the time I was really jamming on it, someone was banging on my fucking door.
Pissed at the interruption, I slammed the guitar down and went over and pulled open the door. Shit! It was my landlord.
“Hi, Tristan,” he said. He had a neat little stapled pile of papers in his hand. It looked like legal paperwork and I was already pretty sure that I knew what it was.
“Hey, Buck, what’s up?” I leaned against the door jam.
He didn’t make eye contact with me. “I like you, Tristan….”
“Shit, Buck, just tell me what the fuck is up,” I said. At that moment, I didn’t care how it was making him feel to kick me out of my home. I obviously had enough problems of my own.
“Okay, fine. I need the rent money. You’re three months behind. I would have evicted anyone else by now.” He handed me the papers and said, “I’m gonna give you thirty days to come up with it and then the eviction process starts.”
Dirty Maverick (The Maxwell Family) Page 85