However, certain positions can. And when you get one that has her screaming not "harder!" but your name, trust me. You want to keep that motion slow and tight to keep continual pressure on the spot she needs you most.
‘Cause what it comes down to (see what I did there?) is that if she comes, you're gonna feel it. And it's gonna blow your mind. And it's gonna tighten her up like a vise around you, and if you've never felt that before--get your sh*t together and get your girl happy.
Her ocean will thank you.
10
Why Apple Pie is Nothing Like Pussy
So I was watching TV the other night and a childhood classic came on- American Pie. I watched it for old times sake, and also because I lost the remote. But the longer I think about it, the more I think the pie was a lie.
Did the writers of this show ever have real sex with a real woman? It's hard to say. I like apple pie. I've eaten a lot of it. I have also had a lot of sex with a lot of women. Not one of them has had a vagina that ever felt like apple pie.
Texture, people. If I were a lady, I'd be insulted that someone thought my insides felt like that. The chunks of apple? The flaky crust? Delicious on a pastry. No way like a girl.
A nice French Silk, that's probably more accurate. Even the name sounds like a sexy womanly body. Sure it isn't warm, but you could probably put it in the microwave for a few seconds. Test it first though, for the love of God, don't burn your d*** because Logan O'Toole told you to try this.
And honestly, the only reason pie should ever go on your manhood is if a woman is going to lick it off. Actually, that sounds like a great movie. Stay tuned for me to film a scene of my own- I'll call it American O'Toole.
11
Why You Shouldn’t Date a Porn Star
So many reasons! So many reasons. First of which is that the heartbreak is inevitable. You fuck other people for a living. That requires you to have chemistry. I fall in love on every set, and everyone I know who’s worth a shit in this industry does the same. Because you can’t fake good sex. And you think to yourself, oh, hey, polyamory is a Thing! But let me tell you: I am a fucking expert in alternative lifestyles. And poly people either share partners or have separate time with their Others. You don’t watch them doing it. You don’t PAY for the privilege of watching them bang. ‘Cause if that option exists? I promise, you watch it over and over. Slow motion. Rewind. That--right there--they did that little thing you thought was just for you. That thing where they brush your hair back and give you the half-smile that was never for you. That was for everyone. Just like we all are. Porn stars are for everyone. Not for you.
So do yourself a favor--don’t date us.
Maybe if I say it enough, I’ll forgive myself for making this rookie mistake myself.
12
All the Slang for Your Schlong
Dick, cock, rod, turgid manhood, schlong;
Throbbing member, hardness, shaft, peen, wang, dong.
BOOM. Tanner owes me $20 for writing a love poem.
Bonus Scene Part One
I have my phone in my hand as I walk out of the bursar’s office, intending to call Logan. He asked me to “dinner,” which I’ve interpreted as reunion banging, but we didn’t make any concrete plans.
Before I can pull up his number on my contact list, I hear my name, and I look up to find him leaning against the wall in the hallway outside the bursar’s.
“I was just going to call you.” I hold up my cell as if he might want to see the proof. “But you’re here.”
“Where else was I going to go?” He pushes off the wall and offers me his hand. “We still on for dinner?”
Um, duh.
I’m capital H Horny and the throb between my legs has become almost audible. But I shrug, deciding to play cool. “I could eat.”
I slip my hand in his and the charge between us increases, like a light on a dimmer switch now turned to full wattage. My breath catches sharply.
“Wow,” Logan says, obviously feeling it too.
Yeah. Wow is right.
But, also, why the hell are we still standing here? The minute I saw him, I fully expected to be pushed against the wall, the length of his body pressing against mine, our mouths frantic to consume each other.
Yet, we’re still standing here, our threaded fingers the only point of contact. It’s...unexpected. Nice, too. I guess.
He starts walking, tugging me along after him. “Any thoughts on what you’d like to eat?”
Besides you?
“I was thinking maybe Japanese.”
Ah, this is it. He’ll pull me into the copy room. Or the Admissions Office. Or into the computer lab.
But we pass by the copy room. And the Admissions Office. And the computer lab. And we’re still only holding hands, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m not giving off the right vibe because, if I were giving the right vibe, he’d be on me by now.
I stop walking. “Logan?”
He takes another step before he notices my standstill. Then he turns to look at me, questioningly. “Devi?”
His gaze collides with mine, and at least now I’m sure that he’s as hungry for me as I am for him because the carnal things he wants to do to me are written all over his face.
It’s all the invitation I need. I take a step forward and press my mouth to his.
There’s no time for the kiss to become anything serious before he pulls away. “Hey,” he says, studying me, and something in his expression makes me think he’s about to give some speech about taking it slow or easing back into our relationship or some “nice guy” type of bullshit.
But then he says, “Fuck it,” and he’s on me, pressing his body against mine as his mouth devours me, his hands wandering possessively over my backside and down to my ass.
My lips are swollen when he finally lets up. He scans our surroundings, and before I’ve even had a chance to catch my breath, he’s drawing me into the stairwell. “I’d thought maybe we could make it past our first day of school before trying to get kicked out, but you’re too fucking sexy to resist.”
He pushes me back against the railing. “Put one foot up on the bar,” he commands. I do it, and instantly, his hand is under my clothing, searching for my center. “It’s awful lucky you’re wearing a skirt.”
“First day and all.” I was actually just thinking how inconvenient it was that I’d worn panties.
Then I’m not thinking at all, but panting as Logan rubs my clit through my underwear. With his other arm circling my waist, he leans in to kiss away my gasps. “Your panties are damp. Let’s see if I can get them soaked.”
Sounds like a fun game to me. One I think I’ll win by losing.
He slips his fingers under the material and brushes my bud with the pad of his thumb. “That’s a good girl.” His voice is a whisper. Any louder and it would echo off the steel and concrete of the stairwell. “Go ahead and squirm, but you have to keep quiet.” He kisses me again, swallowing my murmur of agreement, a sound that quickly turns breathy as he rubs me to pleasure.
After only a minute, my knees are giving out, even with one leg propped up. And I still want more--more of him, more of what I’ve been missing these long months.
Yeah, like that, I think as my hand finds the steel rod in his pants. I’ve definitely been missing that.
I throw an arm around his neck for support and rest my forehead against his so I can undo his jeans. When I finally release my favorite of all of Logan’s tools, a strange euphoric relief settles over me, and my shiver is as much from holding his thick cock in my palm as it is from what he’s doing to my lady parts.
“Devi, what are you doing?”
I wrap my hand around his member and tug up once. “Isn’t it obvious?” I ask as he groans. I release him momentarily to lick my palm, a gesture he watches with wide, ravenous eyes, then I rub across his crown before coiling my fingers around him and stroking down the firm length of his cock.
“Jesus, if you’re going to do that, I’m going to be t
empted to fuck you.”
“Maybe that’s the goal.” In encouragement, I spread my stance, inviting him between my legs. I’m well aware of our location, aware that at any moment someone could burst through the door behind us and catch us in an awkward position. I just can’t seem to care about anything except the arrow that is Logan’s cock and the wet, weeping bullseye of my pussy.
I draw him closer until he’s there, until it’s his cock sliding along the seam of my panties instead of his fingers. I tilt my hips up and pull the material to the side to position him at my hole.
“Christ, Devi.” Before I know what’s happening, Logan has spun me so I’m facing the railing, my wrists gathered behind my back in one of his large hands. He pushes up my skirt and cracks his palm across my ass. “You are being such a bad, bad girl. You know what happens to bad girls?”
“What?” I ask, pouting about the loss of both his fingers and his cock.
“They get fucked.”
Logan pushes aside my panties, notches himself at my entrance, then, with one deep thrust he’s inside me.
Damn. Holy. Shit. Fuck. A string of curse words floats through my head, but the only sound I can make is a low whimper.
“Shh.” He grabs my hair in a handful and pulls my head back toward him. “You have to be quiet, babe.”
Or we’ll get caught, I think.
But he goes on, “Or else I’m going to come. And I’m not even close to being ready for that yet.”
He’s inside me, thick and hot, and he still hasn’t moved when a door a flight or so above us bangs open and footsteps trip down the stairs, seeming to come in our direction.
Logan drops my skirt and tucks himself away in record time. Before the person reaches us, he grabs my hand and tugs me with him down the stairs.
Grinning, he glances over at me. “Is this going to be our thing? Getting caught fucking in public?”
“It probably should be. We do it so well.” Adrenaline is surging through my veins, as we skip down so quickly we’re practically flying. I’m giddy just being with him, so alive, that I momentarily forget the thick knot of tension in my lower regions.
We reach the bottom of the stairs and, together, push the door open and burst out into the cool Austin evening. Here, Logan stops and pulls me into him. Cupping my face with his hands, he says, “I missed you, Devi Daryani,” then he kisses me, working his tongue in my mouth the way I know he wants to work his cock inside me.
I’m dizzy when he finally stops. “Shall we go?”
“To dinner?” Because yes. He needs to take me somewhere that I can feast on him without being interrupted, right-the-fuck-now.
“Of course.”
I grin. “You don’t have to ask twice.”
* * *
Goddamn asshole takes me to actual dinner. In a restaurant. With food and people and a restroom that’s not conducive to a sneak quickie.
Don’t get me wrong--it’s not the worst forty-five minutes of my life, despite the gnawing ache of need between my legs. And I love just being with Logan, almost as much as I love fucking him. Over tempura and tea, we talk about things that should be talked about--like our class schedules and the books we’ve read in the last weeks and the upcoming movies we want to see. We dance around the more weighty topics like after-graduation plans and whether or not we really have to live in two separate apartments (though I do get from him that his lease is month-to-month), and I know we aren’t avoiding those issues because we don’t want to talk about them, just, for me anyway, too much of my blood flow is concentrated in my erogenous zones to have a serious conversation.
Actually, I’m buzzing so much from want that I can barely tolerate even the small talk.
“Keep sighing like that, and I’m going to assume you’re disenchanted with my company.”
Huh. I thought I was doing a good job hiding my frustration. Guess not.
I pause, my chopsticks hovering an inch above my california roll. “It’s not your company I’m disenchanted with.”
Logan throws a glance around. “Do you not like it here? The service has been decent. Yelp gave it good reviews.”
I sigh again. Is it really possible that he isn’t looking forward to our carnal reunion the way I am? Has his departure from porn decreased his whole libido?
Wow. That thought’s an unpleasant one.
I stuff my last piece of sushi in my mouth and toss my chopsticks down.
Logan leans back in his seat and crosses his ankle over the opposite knee. “Wanna tell me what’s bothering you, Cass? Whatever it is, I’m anxious to make it better.”
“Are you? Because it doesn’t seem like you’re anxious at all.” I try to keep my tone light and teasing, but I can’t help the bite of annoyance that slips in.
He raises a brow in question.
“Look at you!” I gesture to his calm, cool, collected routine. “I’m restless and buzzing and can barely get comfortable sitting because I’m so aroused and desperate to get you in a room without any clothes. And you’re sitting there chatting about the next Marvel movie and eating raw fish like sex is the furthest thing from your mind.”
A faint smile graces his lips. “You’re desperate? For me?”
I wad up my cloth napkin into a ball and throw it at him. “Yeah, and you’re not.”
“Not true in the least.” Deliberately, he straightens the cloth out over his knee, smoothing the wrinkles as he talks. “It’s actually been very hard to concentrate on much of anything when I keep imagining throwing you down on this table, ripping open your blouse, and licking duck sauce off your nipples. After I had you squirming and coming from some pretty serious breast play, I think I’d need to fuck your tits. Though I can’t quite decide if I’d come on your face or your neck or…” His eyes are glazed as if picturing it, but his focus sharpens as he looks up at me. “Thoughts?”
This time, I sigh with relief. “Why are we still here?”
He grins, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Anticipation is the greatest aphrodisiac, Cass.” He picks up a california roll and pops it into his devil of a mouth, and, I swear, if I didn’t love him so much, I might have to kill him.
I might have to kill him anyway. Or, at least, give him a dose of his own medicine.
The table between us is low--coffee table height--and our chairs are suede-upholstered wingbacks. So when I lift my pelvis to scoot my panties over my hips and down my legs, Logan can see exactly what I’m doing.
Still, he asks. “What are you doing?”
“It’s a fine restaurant. But I’m not attached to it. I won’t have any problem finding another sushi bar in the city to frequent.” I lift a foot up to the seat cushion and spread my legs to give him a full view of my pussy. “So I’m not going to be too disappointed if I get kicked out for indecent exposure.”
“I see that.” His eyes are fixed between my legs--exactly where I wanted them.
“In other words,” I slide a finger through my folds and then bring it up to my mouth to suck before going on, “ball’s in your court.”
The other advantage of the low table? I have a perfect view of Logan’s crotch and his thickening bulge. He sits up, adjusting himself, and says under his breath, “Oh, you’re going to pay for that.”
I bend to collect my panties, my grin wide enough to make my cheeks hurt, and try not to squeal when Logan raises a hand in the air to signal the waitress. “Check, please!”
Bonus Scene Part Two
Devi gasps as I push her against the flimsy door of her student apartment, taking the keys from her hand and unlocking the door while I keep her pinned against it. The cheap lock takes several wiggles, but finally the door swings open and Devi steps back over the threshold.
I follow her into the dark apartment, tossing her keys on a small stand by the door. I take in the environment quickly--sagging bookshelves, small telescope, terrible orange couch--but I keep my real focus on Devi as I stalk towards her.
“I was trying to be
a gentleman earlier, you know.”
A naughty grin. She’s walking backwards to lure me down her hallway, to her bedroom, and I can’t decide which one of us is the predator and which of us is the prey.
“Almost four months apart and you really wanted dinner?” she taunts.
“You fucking think I only wanted dinner?” I growl.
She bats her eyes, stepping back into the shadows of her bedroom. “If you didn’t, you were very convincing.”
I follow, slowing my steps. “Hunger is the best seasoning, Cass.”
“I think fucking is the best seasoning.” The back of her legs hit the bed and she stops.
I continue as if I hadn’t heard her, a deep and dangerous lust stirring in the cradle of my pelvis. “You were a very naughty girl showing me your pussy at dinner.”
“You were a naughty boy to stop fucking me.”
“Is that what you really wanted?” I ask in a low voice. “Did you want me to keep fucking you on those stairs? Did you want everyone to see what a dirty girl you are?”
“You can say it,” she says in an excited whisper. “I want you to say what I really am.”
Jesus. My cock strains against my pants, swollen and hot and rigid. “Did you want everyone to see what a slut you are?”
She shivers. I step closer--I can touch her now, but I don’t, my mind spinning into so many depraved directions that I can’t pick just one; the idea of picking just one fills me with despair, until I remind myself that I’m really here with her, that she really did take me back. She took me back, and now I have enough time to do everything I want with her and to her--and enough time for whatever she wants to do to me. So it’s okay to only pick one path tonight, to only take one tack, at least for now. I decide to roll with the punishment theme I hinted at earlier, in the restaurant.
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