by Carly Keene
I pour another glass and hand it over, and our fingers touch. Electricity shoots through me, so insistent that my knees almost buckle. My panties are starting to feel slick between my thighs. I’m glad I wore the pink satin ones, along with my favorite outfit—a soft gray cashmere sweater, this full ponte skirt in ballerina pink, and my black riding boots. I wanted to feel pretty.
He comes a little closer to me, and I can smell him. There’s a faint hint of woodsmoke hovering around his hair, and he smells of sawdust and pine needles and warm manly skin. I nearly swoon, he smells so good.
“Want to dig in now? Ladies first,” he says, and hands me a plate.
My stomach growls again. We stopped at this little hole-in-the-wall place and picked up pit-cooked barbecue and sides, and it all smells so good I want to crawl into my plate and live there. Then I look at Dakota, at his lean, impressive muscles, and I restrict myself to small portions. He fake-frowns at me. “That ain’t enough to keep a bird alive. You get some real food on that plate, missy.”
I suppose that after all our discussion of the various kinds of barbecue available in East Tennessee, he knows my very favorite is this Western Carolina pulled pork shoulder with thin, spunky vinegar-tomato sauce. I suppose further that he has eyes in his head, and it should be pretty clear by now that I’m not exactly going to get invited to do the cover for Shape magazine.
“Hey,” he says, soft and urgent. “Hey, what are you thinking? You look so sad.”
I can’t say all this. “I . . . I guess I’m not all that hungry after all.” I take my lightly-loaded plate to the table and sit at the side. I sigh.
When Dakota sits down at the head of the table, I see that his plate is piled high with deliciousness: savory-tangy pulled pork, baked beans, cole slaw, and the collard greens he insisted we needed to order. He promptly proceeds to scoop some of each item onto my plate. “There,” he says firmly. “You eat. I know you’re hungry, so don’t pretend you’re not.”
Tears just spring from my eyes, and I wipe them with a napkin. “I am hungry,” I admit.
“But?” He puts his hand over mine.
I let the tears flow, even though I know they’re ruining my careful makeup. It’s not going to matter, I realize. We’ll have this nice meal, and then he’ll take me home and I will never see him again, and this feeling that has been flowering in my heart all night is going to come to nothing. Because romance is not for fat girls. “I don’t know why you asked me out,” I say, miserable.
There’s silence, and when I look at him he seems stunned. He blinks twice, and his mouth pulls in. “Because,” he says, in a husky voice that strums all the way through my body, “because, Angel, you are my dream girl.”
I want so badly for that to be true. I shake my head.
He takes both my hands in his, leaning closer to me and speaking softer. “You are. You are the sexiest girl I have ever met, and the sweetest. How could I not want you?”
“I know what I look like,” I whisper.
“Well, I do too,” he says vehemently, “and I can’t help the way my body reacts when you’re around.”
My mouth drops open, and my gaze drops from the table to his jeans.
There’s a bulge there. Quite a substantial one. He does want me.
I look up at his face again. He shrugs, his mouth pulling up at one side. “I know. It’s pretty caveman.”
We teeter there on the cusp of that moment, looking deep into each other’s eyes, and I want to ask him to take me to bed. My panties are so instantly wet that they might as well not be there; I can feel moisture at the tops of my inner thighs, and I can’t breathe. His stomach chooses that teetering moment to growl again, however, and I pull back. He laughs almost soundlessly, and shakes his head.
“Let’s eat, then,” I say.
He lets out a big sigh, and nods.
So we dig in. It’s delicious, of course. I eat with care, savoring every delicious bite and trying to keep my sweater free of barbecue sauce stains. Dakota demolishes his plate and gets another serving of pork and greens while I’m working on my own plate. When he’s finished and I’m eating the last of my crunchy-creamy cole slaw, he gets up and starts putting the food into the fridge.
“I can help with that,” I protest.
“No ma’am,” he says. “You’re a guest. You go relax in front of the fire.”
“Well, what are you gonna do?”
He grins at me. “I’m gonna scrape these plates and put them in the dishwasher, and then I’ll come join you. It’ll take me three minutes. Time me if you like.”
I go sit on the leather couch and look at the fireplace, and my brain keeps superimposing the image of that long, thick bulge in his jeans over the dancing flames. I shiver a little at the rush of heat through my groin. I feel hot all over, and I know it’s not just from the fire in front of me. It’s him.
He turns off most of the lights and comes to sit near me. Takes my hand in one of his, and puts the other around my shoulders, pulling me close. “Is this okay?”
“Very comfortable.” The smell of his skin is making me dizzy, and reckless enough to reach up and stroke his beard. It’s soft and thick, and I shiver again at my own thoughts.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, face close to mine.
“Please kiss me.”
6
Night With an Angel
Dakota
“Please kiss me,” she says, and I cannot hold back any longer. I claim her soft pink lips with my own, and the sweet smell of her intoxicates me as much as the feel of her mouth open to mine. My dick springs back to immediate, straining need, and my jeans are so tight they might cut off my circulation, but I can’t stop kissing her. We go on kissing for a long time, and her hand slides through my hair, over my beard. She says my name against my mouth.
I say hers. I stop restraining my hands from doing what they have wanted to do ever since I saw her this evening, and they move over her fluffy sweater to cup her generous rounded breasts. I moan a little at how warm and alive they are, and she moans too.
It’s not like I planned any of this in great detail, but it all seems to happen very naturally. One minute we’re kissing sitting side by side on my leather couch, and the next my hands are under that soft sweater, unfastening her bra, and her hands are unbuttoning my shirt. I have one moment of regret for not having showered, but the way she’s touching me, it won’t matter so much. I want her desperately.
I just don’t want her to feel like I’m taking advantage of her. I tug her sweater off, and her satiny pink bra slides completely off one breast. Breathless and hard as all fuck, I pull it off the other side too and get my first glimpse of beautiful Angel’s glorious tits. Her skin is like white velvet, except for her pale-pink nipples, and those amazing breasts are round and soft and bouncy. I caress and squeeze gently. She’s breathing hard, and when I lean to take one nipple into my eager mouth, she moans and unbuttons my jeans.
She is so beautiful that I’m going to have to slow myself down, or I’ll come way too soon.
She unzips me, and the sudden release of pressure from my jeans is a great relief.
A way to slow myself down, of course, is to pay attention to her. I move her hands away from my boxers, and lean over to her. I kiss and lick those lovely round tits, and I slide my hands up the insides of her thighs, under the full skirt. Near her crotch, her thighs are damp, and when I feel that I get even harder. “Angel, you are so beautiful,” I whisper to her. “So lovely. So sexy. I can’t wait to really touch you.”
“Touch me,” she says, panting. She moves her legs apart for me, and my fingers find her silky panties.
“God, you’re wet,” I say, and kiss her mouth as I stroke her through the cloth.
“You feel so good,” she whispers back, and my prick jumps again. “Can’t I touch you too?”
Head rush. “Be over too soon if you do. Let me . . . Just let me do this for you, please, my angel.” I get on my knees on the floor
and slide her skirt up, exposing her soft thighs, before reaching to push the crotch of her panties to the side. Her pussy is delicate, palest pink, and just looking at her I feel precum oozing from the head of my stiff aching cock. “So beautiful,” I whisper, touching her slick folds gently and then with more purpose. Her thighs tense, arching her hips toward me.
I tug the panties, and she lifts her hips to allow them to come off. I look for a long moment at her pretty pussy framed in a light dusting of barely-there blonde fuzz, above those sexy black boots, and those glorious full, pink-nippled breasts above. I shake my head in amazement, not able to look away.
“So beautiful,” I say again, and lean forward to take my first taste of her. She’s sweet, a little salty, utterly addictive, and when she starts to make little panting moans I settle in, licking her clit over and over with little flicks of my tongue, teasing just at the entrance of her cunt with one finger. She gets wetter and wetter, and then a long satisfied moan escapes her as she comes, her inner walls pulsing on my fingers.
“Oh,” she breathes out. “Oh god. Dakota, that . . . oh.”
“Feel good?” I ask, and kiss her, letting her taste herself on my tongue. “That was about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” My cock is deeply appreciative of her wet warmth pressing against my boxers, but also deeply impatient. “Do you want to go to my bedroom? Or stay here?”
“I don’t know,” she says, looking worried for the first time since dinner. “It’s warm here, but . . . I guess the bedroom would be more private,” she decides.
“Probably more comfortable too,” I say, and palm my desperate dick. “Plus, I have condoms upstairs.” I stand up and hold my hands out for her to take. I pull her into my arms, loving the feeling of her warm soft breasts against my chest, and then I lead her up to the master bedroom on the top floor, turning on the hall light so we won’t be stumbling around in complete dark.
She gasps at the sight of all the windowed walls. “It’s so pretty! Don’t you get cold with no curtains?”
“Nope,” I say, and pull back the covers on my king-size bed. “I bought the extra-thick glass. No neighbors on this side of the house, either, so don’t worry about that.”
She blushes all the way down to her belly button. I pull her close to me again, my dick once again rock-hard at the feel of her against me. “Let’s lose these,” I say, pulling her skirt down over her hips and then marveling at the beautiful contrast of her fair skin with the hard black leather of her tall boots. They’re super sexy, but I want us naked together. I kneel and unzip each boot, take them off her. Then I stand and pull off my own clothes.
Angel turns her face up to be kissed, opening her sweet mouth for me. She runs her hands over my chest, around to my ass, then back to cup my balls while I let my hands roam all over her as well. “Bed,” I say. “Now.”
Her hands stop and she pulls back. “There’s something I have to tell you.” I lean down to kiss her nipples. She gasps in appreciation and clutches my head to her, but keeps talking, in her soft voice. “Seriously, you need to know this.”
I stop licking, suddenly worried. “What?” Please God let there not be a boyfriend she forgot to mention.
“I’ve never done this.” At my confused expression, she elaborates. “Had sex. Gone all the way. I mean, I’ve messed around some, but I just . . . never . . . it was just never right, before now.”
She’s a virgin. A virgin. I fumble for something to say. “But it would be right for you now?”
She nods. “Yes. Now. With you? I want it to be you.”
I will be the first man to fuck her, ever. Hunger devours me, instantly. “I would be honored,” I say, my voice hoarse with need. I will have to go slow, to be gentle, and it would be the last thing I could do if I didn’t also want our lovemaking to repeat and continue beyond the first time. I pat the bed. “Here, sweetheart.” I open the bedside drawer and pray that the condoms are still there.
They are. I put one on my aching phallus, still weeping precum from my excitement, and for the first time am grateful that I’ll have this small layer between me and her. Because if I didn’t? I’d come like a shot, like a cannon, blowing my hot jet everywhere in point-six seconds. I need to make her climax again first, so her body will welcome me.
She’s looking at my cock with her mouth open, shaking her head. “That is not going to fit. It’s too big. I’ve never seen one that big.”
I smother a grin. She’s already nervous, I don’t want to make it worse. “Sweet girl, it’ll fit. If I take my time, it will. If I can, because you’re so fucking sexy.”
“I am?” she says.
“You definitely are.” She smiles. I get back on the bed and settle between her legs, kissing her again. I caress her glorious tits, bringing her nipples to tiny peaks with my fingers, and then I kiss my way down to her delicious pussy. She’s so ready that her thighs are wet halfway down with her juices, and when I start teasing the little bud with a finger her hips buck toward me. “More,” she pants.
I give her more. More tongue, more fingers. When her head is tossing on the pillow and her hips are jerking under me, I lick her clit light and fast, and she cries out loud this time as she comes. I get to my knees and slide the head of my desperate cock over her pussy lips, feeling the amazing slickness even through the condom. She moans with pleasure.
“You ready, baby?” She nods. “Hold on to me and relax as much as you can. I’ll go easy.”
If I can. I’m still going to finish really fast this time. I use my hand to guide my cockhead just inside her entrance. Shallow, slow, gentle. I pull out, then slide back in a little further. “Okay?” I ask, and she nods.
“You feel good,” she whispers.
I go on like that, working my way in, keeping iron control over my treacherous greedy dick. She’s so tight. And so hot. I can’t hold on much longer. Finally, I’m fully seated inside her, and I stay for a second or two, knowing that if I start moving too soon I’ll explode. “You okay?” I ask again.
“It feels weird,” she whispers to me. “It’s weird to feel so—full. But it does fit. It feels good. I like it.”
Even if I don’t move, I’m likely to finish just like this. Inside her, the first man ever to be inside these sweet almost holy walls, inside my Angel, shit, I have to move—
It doesn’t take much. Maybe thirty seconds of gentle thrusts, not even moving my hips very far. This is Angel, I think, and then I’m over the rainbow, stars bursting behind my closed eyes, my heart bursting in my chest, my cock bursting inside her cunt.
Slowly, I pull out, making sure to keep the condom snug around my relieved penis. I dispose of the condom and come back to bed, pulling the covers over us. “You sure you’re okay?” I ask, and kiss her all over her face. She’s smiling.
“I am magnificent,” she says. “It was good for you?”
I have to laugh. “Magnificent is a good word.” I lie next to her and pull her head onto my shoulder.
7
Love in a Snowy Night
Angelina
In the warm aftermath of the second orgasm I’ve ever had with another person involved, and the delight of discovering that having a penis in my vagina feels even better than I'd imagined, I fall asleep on Dakota’s shoulder feeling so special.
When I wake, it is utterly dark outside. No moon or stars. There is a gentle light from down the hall, and I can see how beautiful Dakota is in his sleep. He’s snoring a little bit, but I don’t care. Wind is rushing past the windows. I raise my head from the pillow and squint outside. Is that—
It is. It is snowing! Snowflakes are whirling around outside on that blustery wind. It’s unusual for us to get this much snow, this early, but sometimes it happens, and it is always a joy to me. I lay my head back down on Dakota’s shoulder, and he stops snoring, adjusting his body to make room for me.
“Angel,” he slurs, still mostly asleep. “Don’t go.” He snugs me in tight to him, arm around my stomach. I can feel a
slight pressure along my bare hip, and then the pressure is greater, and Dakota makes a hum of satisfaction. “Mmm. Not dreaming, then. You’re really here.”
“I am.” And I am, I realize, very happy. I am taking up a lot of space in this man’s bed, and he wants me here.
I’m also beginning to realize that he really wants me. The pressure against my hip becomes even more, and I know it’s his dick, hard for me. I feel that heat down low in my body again.
“Hey,” he whispers. “You feel okay? Want me to make you feel good again?”
“Oh yeah,” I whisper back. “Why are we whispering?”
He laughs very quietly, and now I can see the gleam of his eyes in the dim light. He’s awake now. “Because it’s the middle of the night?” He raises his head a little, and then a little more. “Looks like it’s snowing.”
“Yes,” I say smugly. I turned my phone off when we pulled into the gravel driveway of Dakota’s house, and if I text Manda tomorrow morning that I’m snowed in, there’s not much she can do to me.
Kick me out? Maybe I need to leave Daddy’s house. I can live on my own, even if it’s sharing an apartment with a couple other people. There are tons of students, and sublets galore, in this college town. Maybe I need to stand on my own two feet, buy a cheap little car by myself, pay for my own rent and groceries and my own everything. I don’t have to drive a Lexus.
“Good,” he says. At first I think he’s maybe heard my thoughts about being independent, but he’s just realizing that we might be snowed in. “If it snows a lot, I won’t have to work at the tree farm tomorrow. And you won’t have to go home. We can stay in bed all day.”
“In bed?” I ask, my heart speeding up.
He rolls to his side and caresses down my arm, then back up to my breasts, first one and then the other. He kisses me. “Yeah, in bed. Not sleeping.” Then he stops. “Unless you’re too sore.”
It wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought it might be, after that first little nip of pain. “I don’t think so,” I say, and then I reach down to touch myself. There’s one little stinging place, but no worse than a hangnail or something, and the pleasure he gave me more than made up for it. “No, not too sore.”