I saw his cock move in his pants. It was so easy to manipulate men. He gulped. “I thought I saw your car on the shoulder of the road.”
“I saw you drive past. I was finger-fucking myself at that exact moment. If you had stopped, I would have let you put it wherever you wanted.” I thought his cock was going to rip his pants open, like a ten-inch version of the Hulk. I touched my slit, using two fingers to spread my lips apart a half inch. Peter’s peter flexed in his pants, and he licked his lips. “Come get it, Pete. Give me what I need.”
“Darcy, I’m finally getting things back to normal with Kim, I can’t do this.” He was trying to fight me off, but I knew his little head would win.
“Sure, you can, Pete. You’re harder than you’ve ever been. You want to. Tell me you don’t want to fuck me.”
“Of course, I want to. I shouldn’t.”
I slid a finger into my pussy. “You mean you’re going to leave me unfulfilled twice in one day? After I got Kim revved up for you again? That’s not very gentlemanly.”
He watched me playing with myself, and I could see his resolve crumbling. I reached out and undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He didn’t even attempt to stop me. “Oh, Pete, good for you for trying. You’re a good man.” I pulled his pants down, letting his long, hard cock spring out. “Now, I want to you pretend I’m your wife.” I shrugged out of my dress and put four fingers inside myself, getting them good and wet, then wrapped my hand around his cockhead, slickening the sensitive skin with my juices and pulling a hiss from his lips.
I turned and bent over the arm of my couch, my hand still wrapped around him, and guided his cock into my pussy from behind. He moaned and leaned forward, sliding five inches into me, backing out, then slipping in all the way. I lost my balance and fell forward, my face getting buried in a large pillow.
His instincts took command, and Pete drove into me, over and over, forcing my face into the pillow, fucking me so hard I couldn’t get upright. I felt him deep, deep inside me, then he’d pull back for what seemed like an age, but still leaving three or four inches inside me, only to drive back in until his balls slapped my clit. Every thrust felt like it was throwing off sparks. My body was a slave to his, but my mind was on someone else.
Kim had worked me up so much earlier in the day I had to stop on the way home and play with myself to release the tension, but it was never the same as having someone else release it for you. I imagined what it would be like to finally have Kim’s soft, full lips on my pussy, her tongue running over my clit, her fingers inside me. She’d look up at me and see my chest turning red as I climbed the wave, losing myself in the pleasure. I’d look down and see her hungry eyes staring at me, her nose pressed into my clit and her tongue piercing my pussy, and I’d cum, and cum, and cum. “Oh, Kim, fuck me!”
Pete slowed down his rhythm. “What?”
Oh, my god, I’d said that out loud. I made an attempt to cover it. “I said, ‘I’m Kim, fuck me!’ Don’t stop, Pete!”
He renewed his pace, and when I heard him moan and felt the stroke change as his cockhead thickened, I knew he was close. He came inside me, and that first detonation was enough to push me over the edge, and I came too, my pussy clenching and squeezing hard on his exploding cock. He was grunting, pushing into me to the hilt, shooting load after load deep into my pussy. Six, seven times, he pulsed inside me, every time eliciting a tremor of orgasm from me in return.
He leaned over, gasping for air, resting on my back, his cock still inside me. His breath was hot and rapid in my ear. As he spoke, I could feel his aftershocks, and I clenched on him every time he had a tremor. “Darcy, holy shit. Where did all that ‘I’m Kim’ stuff come from? Jesus Christ, that was hot.”
I turned my head sideways. “I wanted you to fuck me like you fucked her today. I want you to come back whenever you want to and do to me what you do to her. If you do her from behind, you’ll know you can be doing me from behind later that day. If she rides you, reverse-cowgirl, you’ll imagine me doing it too.”
“You’re the devil, Darcy Ford. God help me, you’re the devil, and I can’t stay away, no matter how hard I try. You always find a way to make me crave you. To cave into you.”
“Mmmm… you wanted to fuck me. That’s why you came over. You can admit it.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I think I knew, deep inside, that if you offered it, I would take it.”
“I told you, Pete, you can have me whenever you want me. But if you come over here, you’d better be ready to give me the D.”
“You’re the devil. No question.”
I whined as he withdrew from me and pulled his pants up. I lay there, ass in the air, face in the pillow, completely sated for the time being. He stroked my back, making me purr. “I need to get back to work. And forget everything I said before. You’re right, I have no say over who you spend time with. You seem to have a… beneficial effect on Kim. You can hang out with her as much as you want.”
That’s the plan, I thought. Not that I needed your permission.
Best Of Both Worlds
G emma set her glass on the table. “I have a question, and I want an honest answer.”
I gulped. With how serious her face was, this couldn’t be good. I braced myself. “Have I ever not been honest with you? Fire away.”
She gestured at the armrest she was leaning against. “On which end of the couch did this happen? Am I leaning against it right now? Because you could have warned me.”
She tried to keep a straight face, but I could see her smirk winning out. “Fuck you, Gemma. You had me scared you were getting all serious on me. And of course, that’s the arm I was bent over. You think I want to sit in that spot? There’s jizz everywhere.”
She laughed that disarming laugh that I loved to hear. “Darcy, I’m starting to think Pete was right. You are the devil!”
“I told you that you would end up not liking me by the time this sordid tale was over. I refilled my glass from the pitcher of margaritas and offered it to Gemma. There was enough left for one more drink.
She waved me off. “No, I have to get home. But before I go, I’m going to say something controversial.”
I gave her a wary look. “Nothing good ever follows that.”
She chuckled. “Well, I know this situation with Kim and Pete isn’t going to end well. But did you ever consider that most of your problems stem from a lack of underwear?”
“Hey, isn’t that blaming the victim or something?”
“I’m just saying, it seems like every time you take off your underwear, you get into trouble.”
“Well, can’t you say that about every woman? Or every man, for that matter?”
She laughed again. “Touché! Now that you mention it, I guess most of my relationship troubles started that way too. So, I know something must go horribly wrong, but it seems like you had it all figured out.”
“You might think so—in fact, I thought so, too. And for a few glorious days, it really seemed like I had the best of both worlds. But it wasn’t long until the wheels came off.”
“That will have to be a story for another day. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“It’s Saturday, so… nothing. I was maybe going to lay out in the yard and get some sun on this pale Irish skin.”
“Come over to my place. Our HOA just remodeled the clubhouse and pool. Better yet, I’ll come to get you. Pack your pool gear in a backpack, but dress for a motorcycle ride.”
I was puzzled. “Why?”
“Because I’m picking you up on my bike. I’ll be here at eight-thirty.”
I stared blankly for a minute. We were going for a motorcycle ride? I didn’t even know she had a motorcycle.
“I think the phrase you’re searching for is ‘sounds like a blast, Gemma! See you then.’”
I smiled. “Sorry, I was just thinking about how little I know about you.”
“We’ll change that. After your story is done, I’ll tell you everything you want
to know about me.”
There was something about this woman that made me want to do whatever she commanded. It bothered me a little—it was a powerless feeling, and I don’t like feeling that way, not that I wasn’t used to it. It happened more than I cared to admit. And I really loved spending time with her. I still didn’t know what direction this relationship was going, but if we just became good friends, I’d be okay with that. “Sounds like a blast, Gemma. See you then.”
Gemma got up, unfolding her long, dark legs, and stretched. “Let me help you clean up.”
She reminded me of a cat as she moved. Graceful, with purpose, but unassuming. It wasn’t an effect she tried for, but every move she made was somehow sexy. “No, you’re my guest, you don’t clean.”
“I’m your friend, and friends help clean up.”
I knew better than to try to talk her out of it. It took all of ten minutes, and we had all traces of dinner cleaned up, the dishes in the dishwasher, and the pans in the drying rack next to the sink.
I walked her to the door, and she surprised me by turning and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for the story. I don’t want it to end badly, though I know it does. See you in the morning!”
I watched her get into her car and get moving before I shut the door. After I brushed my teeth and hair, I stripped down to my underwear and climbed into bed. As much as I wished things hadn’t ended badly, too, I was glad they did. For if they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met Gemma, and that would have been a shame. I ran my hands over my bare breasts. Would her hands ever be where mine were? And how did she sleep? Topless, like me, because she hated being restricted by a shirt while she tossed and turned? Or was she a shirt-and-underwear kind of gal? Maybe she wore a teddy. I almost laughed out loud at that one. No one wore a teddy to bed unless they were trying to get laid. And it only stayed on if they were unsuccessful. And—did she think about me while she lay in bed? I smiled at the thought. I hoped so. I’d told her so many of my darkest secrets, she’d have a lot to think about. I drifted off, happily believing that she was in bed at that moment thinking about me—maybe touching herself—and I realized I was really looking forward to the next day.
Get Your Motor Running
I was wearing a pair of jeans over black boots, a white long-sleeved shirt over a sports bra, and had my hair pulled back in a ponytail. I didn’t know what kind of motorcycle Gemma had—so I had a denim vest ready in case it was a bike—like a Harley; I also had a form-fitting black-and-white leather jacket in case it was more of a crotch rocket. I’d had the leather jacket forever but seldom wore it. I got it when I was going through a bit of a Kill Bill phase. Thank god I didn’t have the money or the guts to get the yellow outfit Uma wore in that movie.
Gemma, as usual, rolled up a couple of minutes early on a Triumph. I knew nothing about them, but I decided the leather jacket was the better way to go since it more closely matched her outfit.
She wore a pair of jeans that, to my chagrin, looked way better on her than mine did on me, knee-high boots, and a black leather jacket. She took off her flat-black helmet and started up the walk. I shut and locked the door and met her halfway.
“Nice jacket!” she said. “And why do you look so much better in jeans than me? It’s not fair.”
“I was just thinking the same thing! You wear them way better.”
“Well, agree to disagree.”
We approached the bike, and she handed me a silver helmet she had strapped to the back seat. “It should fit you. It was my first helmet. Are you ready?”
I smiled and pulled the helmet over my head. It was a good fit. “Let’s do this!” I shouted.
She pulled away from the curb, rocketing past the twenty-five mile per hour speed limit in what seemed like a half a second. We leaned hard into the curve that merged onto the larger street that exited my neighborhood, past the spot where Kim said she stopped to masturbate after she left my house that first night several weeks ago.
Gemma took us out of the city and up into the mountains, speeding through the curves, slowing down behind tourists who feared driving on the twisting mountain roads. I clung tightly to her, pressing myself against her back and wrapping my arms around her waist. When she leaned, I leaned. When she straightened up, so did I. At this moment, she was very much the alpha.
We were going to head into the national park, but the line stretched more than a half mile into the distance and vanished around a bend. She turned her head and shouted at me. “Good idea, but bad timing! You want to just head back down to my place?”
“Sure!”
She turned us around and headed back down the hill, going through the mountain town that guarded the national park, and down the opposite valley from the one we ascended. If going up was thrilling, going down was fueled by adrenaline. We didn’t encounter much traffic because everyone was still heading up for the day, so Gemma let the bike run. I got a peek at the speedometer, and it was just under one hundred twenty miles per hour. My adrenaline spiked, and I felt the quickening when I saw that crazy speed as we leaned hard into each turn, only to straighten the bike and bend the other way for the next curve.
She slowed to a more prudent pace as we edged our way back into town. We wound through the traffic, finally crossing into her neighborhood, and moments later, we pulled into her driveway and rolled to a stop in her garage.
I climbed off the bike and took the helmet off. “That was amazing! It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a motorcycle.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I love getting out and just riding. Everything else just fades away. It demands focus, but it feels like flying.” She set her helmet on the seat, so I placed mine behind it. She started toward her house but turned and looked back at me. “Are you still down for going to the pool?”
I pointed over my shoulder to my backpack. “I’ve got all my pool gear. Let’s do it!”
“Great! Let’s get a quick snack and change, and we’ll walk over!”
Inside, we each had Greek yogurt and half an apple, then went to her room to change. While Gemma disappeared into her closet, I sat on the bench at the end of her bed and slipped my boots off, shimmied out of my jeans and let my panties drop to the floor. I slipped on my black string bikini and tied it over my left hip, then wrapped a sheer black sarong around my waist. I took off the white shirt and sports bra, and slipped my top on backward, tied the string, spun the cups around to the front, and got my breasts adjusted in the small triangles of fabric.
I was tying the string around my neck when Gemma came out of the closet in a red bikini with gold chains on each hip holding the skimpy bottoms on, and another one wrapped around her neck to secure the top. “Oh, I love the black on you, Darcy. It looks gorgeous with your burgundy hair.”
“Thanks! Red is definitely your color, too.”
“You don’t think the chains are too much? Too ‘look at me’?”
“God, no. It’ll be boner town over there when the guys see you.”
She cracked up. “That gave me a mental image I’ll have a hard time clearing out of my brain. Thanks for that.”
I folded my clothes and set them on the bench. Lastly, I slipped my feet into a pair of sandals with a modest one-inch heel. I had a smaller bag in my backpack with my e-reader, phone, Bluetooth headphones, and a little bit of cash in case there was a concession stand at the pool.
Gemma grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and held one out to me. “You ready?”
I said that I was, and we walked out the front door and headed left at the sidewalk.
“It’s just ahead here,” Gemma explained. “We go up this path and through a small park, and we’re there. It’s really something. Since I’m new to the neighborhood, I don’t know what it was like before. Apparently, it was run down and closed more than it was open last summer so they could do repairs. I guess they raised the HOA dues to pay for the renovation over the winter and this spring, but everyone seems happy with it.”
She was right. As we walked through the park, I could see several different water slides on the other side of a long white fence. She used a keycard to open a gate, and we arrived at her neighborhood’s pool. Or two pools. One was massive, had four different water slides dumping into it. It was packed with kids and surrounded by parents yelling at them. Thankfully, we walked right past that one.
The next pool was about three-fourths the size, but with no water slides. It had a diving board on one end where the depth marker read twelve feet. The shallow end was four feet and had a long bench on each side, allowing you to sit and enjoy the water without having to go all the way in. After twenty feet, the seats disappeared, and the floor of the pool dropped away to its ultimate depth.
Several tables with massive umbrellas sticking out from holes in the center were scattered around the perimeter, and dozens of chaise lounges lay everywhere. We grabbed two and pulled them to the area with the best sun, but away from the handful of people who were frolicking in the water.
We put sunscreen on, both of us preferring lotion to the spray-on kind. Gemma handed me her tube. “I hate to be a cliché, but would you do my back? Of course, I’ll do you.”
Whether she meant it as a double entendre or not, that’s how my brain interpreted it. She didn’t correct it. She stretched out on her stomach on the chaise while I squirted lotion into my palm. I rubbed it between my hands to warm it up, then started spreading it across her back, rubbing it in circles.
I remembered one of my first trainers talking to me about fitness. “There’s a big difference between being skinny and being fit, Darcy,” he said. “Both look good, but being fit feels better for you and your partner.” I think he assumed I was gay, even though I had only been with one woman—at the frat party—and was dating a man at that time. I didn’t correct him, though, because it kept him from hitting on me. But I never forgot what he said, and it’s in part why I’ve spent so much time working out. As I rubbed the lotion into Gemma’s dark skin, I could feel her muscles underneath. She wasn’t just skinny, she was fit. I ran a hand under her strap and an inch or so under the borders of the swatch of fabric that covered half of each of her ass cheeks.
Tell-Tale Hearts Page 11