Текст книги "HATE Sex"

Автор книги: Billy Storm

Соавторы: Sidda Lee Rain
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

Her eyes look around seeing if anybody heard. “I’m Sunny here, got it? Call me Sunny.” She whispers.

Taking a long pull of the beer she brought me I look over her shoulder at the naked flesh on the stage. Not that I really give a shit but she doesn’t need to know that. There’s absolutely no faster way to get an uninterested woman interested, then, showing your disinterest. Trust me works every time. When she goes to walk away I reply. “What’s with the name change?” Her shrug is oddly submissive for such a spirit. “Skye—“

“Shhhh!” Her eyes are back to blazing except it’s from her temper rather than desire. I’d prefer desire, lust, want, take your pick. “It’s just safer to not give out my real name here.”

“What’s your real name—“

She stares at me for second before opening her mouth. “I’ve gotta get back to work—“

“Just answer the question.”

Leaning closer my hand automatically reaches up to tuck a few strands of her hair out of her face.

“Skye, my real name is Skye. Please, don’t use it here.” I was about to give her some more shit but there was a seriousness on her face and something else. Fear possibly? I like fucking with her, firing her up but I don’t want to see fear from her….ever. “Do you want a private lap dance?”

Umm….whaaaaaaa? Took me a second to even realize what she asked. Do I want a private lap dance? From her? Ahh yeah, I did. Fairly certain that would be the only way I could get her alone for a few minutes without Pacino or one of his apes returning I agree. “Why not?” Last thing I wanted was her thinking I was eager.

“Follow me.” Woman had a roll to her hips and a sway to her ass that spoke measures. If Skye moved like that outta bed she’d rock the fuck outta a man in bed. “Right in there. Set your drink on the side table and sit on your hands.” I see her nod to ape number two, I’m pretty sure she called him Charlie? “Two minutes.” Then, she walked away. Probably to slip into something more comfortable. I do as she said and wait. I would’ve never guessed there’d be a crowd waiting for fat chicks to give them a private dance but….then again, here I am waiting. Touche’, Touche’.

Suddenly, the music starts and it’s loud enough that my head pounds with the beat. Only light in the small room are two red lightbulbs on either side of the room. Fucking chair probably had all kinds of std’s growing on it. I’ll bleach my ass when I got home. “Shit!” The blonde that had just been on the stage sauntered in and closed the door behind her. Not who I was expecting….at all. “Look, I thought—“

“Shhh….just enjoy, sexy.” The chick straddled me like I was a fuckin’ gynecologist table and started to grind her pussy on me like she had an itch only my dick could scratch. Fucking ‘A’, I’m gonna have to bathe in bleach. Leaning against my chest I hold my breath as she turned towards me and spoke. “I knew you liked what you saw when you came in. I felt your eyes on me.” Bending forward she put her hands on the floor between my feet and bounced. Fucking bounced. My cock is not a pogo stick, especially for this bitch. Her hot pink g-string left hardly anything to the imagination—not that I was imagining shit about her. That’s when it hit me….the smell of her arousal. C’mon on! This bitch is creaming and my dick is trying to crawl back inside my body. I can’t take it anymore, I just can’t.

“Thanks, but I gotta go.” I slide the folding chair back as she shimmied in front of me basically feeling herself up for my viewing pleasure, I guess. Wasn’t working. I open the door, toss two twenties on the now vacant seat, and walk straight past Charlie.

My seat near the stage is now occupied—not that I planned on sitting there again. I need a fucking drink. Something stronger than a Miller Lite. Walking up to the bar I see her. Time her and I had a little talk. Without so much as a squeak in the floor I cage her body beneath mine and when she jumps beneath me I whisper in her ear. “You think you’re pretty funny, don’tja sweetheart?”

“What are you talking about? Get off of me!”

I rub my quickly inflating cock over the swell of her ass before settling right between her cheeks. “I’ve got no problem getting off on you, sweetheart. You say—“ Crunch! I feel the cartilage in my nose cracking as she slams the back of her head into my face. “Jesus Christ!” In an instant I can’t breathe. I just….can’t….breathe! The damn crazy ass woman has my balls clenched in her hand as she looks at me with clenched teeth and green eyes sparking.

“Don’t you ever—I mean EVER touch me like you can! Do you understand, fuckwad?” Her grip on my nuts tighten and I think I might just pass out. White spots float in front of my eyes and before I even realize how long I’ve gone without oxygen I gasp as she releases her hold. “Get the fuck out of here before I decide not to let go next time.” Then, she simply walks away. Skye? Yeah, the name fits her. Skye blew into my life like a dark storm, fucked me up and demanded I cleanup my own shit while she just moved on to brighter things.

Chapter Three

**Jaden**

“What in the fuck is wrong with me?” Great, now I’m talking to myself. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I left the club, but I only made it as far as my car. I was sitting in my C-class Mercedes Benz, and if I thought it was creepy sitting there watching some chick take her clothes off for cash—I was royally fucking creepy sitting in my car waiting for Skye to come out. The club closed thirty minutes ago and I still haven’t seen her. I should really be running as far and as fast as I could. In one night she’d hit me with her drink tray, had some horny skank grind her stanky-ass pussy on me, and almost made my nuts explode—NOT in the good way either. All of it? Fucking crazy and insanely hot as hell. That’s right, the sick fuck I am got so fucking hard that it’s taken the last thirty minutes for my dick to calm itself down.

Women have always come easy for me, really easy. But, each one was like a clone of the one before. There I was today, a bitch dry humping me in a private room, and I realized that she was like every other woman I’ve nailed in the last four or five years: tall, thin, fake tits, fake tan, and an easy lay. This time, her type hadn’t done a thing for me. Christ, the room reeked of her arousal, she bounced on my dick like it was a trampoline, and I was limp as hell. Trust me when I say I don’t have a single problem getting it up. Skye’s proved that several times today. I wouldn’t be surprised if the chick gave me a stroke soon.

I guess that’s part of my draw to this chick. Okay, okay, I’ve watched her for a while. She’s just so opposite of any of the clones I know. She knows she’s different and she doesn’t give a shit. Her black hair is often piled on her head in these huge curls that bounce with each step…it’s weird; she’s weird. Hello, the woman is working at a strip club in a pair of sneakers. Who does that? The Converse made me smile, but it made my balls tingle too. I own a gym, and I see some of the best female bodies out there. Many of them have no qualms nailing a personal trainer. Hell, it’s kinda the norm with many girls. Hell, it’s the norm for me; well, it has been anyhow.

There she is. Her hair is back up again and it bugs me. I just want to pull out that hair tie and run my fingers through the dark strands and see if they feel as smooth as they look. I roll down my window when she gets closer, half afraid if I scare her, she’ll pull a gun out or something on me. Skye has proven tonight that she’s definitely a badass. “Hey, sweetheart.” Shit! I see her jump and regret hits me hard.

“Asshole? What in the hell, dude?” Ahh…the dude word is back. Although, I prefer dude to asshole, but whatever. “Are you stalking me or something?” I’m surprised when she walks closer to my car. I don’t dare get out with the apes making their rounds in the parking lot.

I think about what she said and decide to answer. “I guess you could say the ‘or something’.” What in the hell is my draw to this woman? It boggles my mind, but every time I see her, my body goes nuts. Hasn’t failed yet. My jeans suddenly feel tight; I’m not sure what to say next. Skye has already proven that she’s not like the other bimbos that I’m used to.

She looks over her shoulder when someone calls out “Sunny.” I forgot for a moment that is her name here. I can’t make out what she’s saying to whoever until she turns and looks right at me. “You still here for Stella?” Stella? What the fuck is a Stella? I shake my head because I have no clue what or who she’s even talking about.

“If it isn’t Mr. Gorgeous. Hiya, Handsome, you waiting on lil’ ol’ me?” Oh sweet baby Jesus, it’s the dry humper. Not that she wasn’t beautiful…in a far too tan and way too much bleach kinda way. And to think she could pass as a sister to my last dozen lovers. Talk about being caught in a rut. I wasn’t just caught there, but I plowed that fucker deeper and twice as wide. I decided that this was Stella.

“Bye, Stell.” When Skye hugged her, I cringed—I didn’t want her contaminated and this blonde had literally rubbed me the wrong way. “See ya around, Asshole.” She said as she walked past my car to her Focus, slid in, and started the engine. In only seconds, she was pulling out of her parking space and turning back onto Oakley. What in the fuck just happened?

“What are you thinking, handsome?” It took me a sec to realize she was talking to me.

“You have a good night.” I say as I pull away. Glancing in my review mirror, I see her watching me leave. I’m just not even close to interested and if I move it, I can catch up to Skye. Going fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit, I don’t have any clue where she’s gone. Either she drives like a maniac or I didn’t see her turn. Well, that was a big fucking waste of time. Turning onto Fifth, I head toward the gym. My townhouse is only five miles away from my business. I’m thankful that Rich is opening tomorrow—not me.

I’m really not happy with the way the night has turned out. Now that I have a minute to think, I realize that Skye really thought I was there to see the blonde. God, she must think I really enjoyed the lap dance. Which probably meant she really thought I’d wanted the lap dance in the first place. Crap.

And the confusion was all on me. I hadn’t wanted to show my interest in her so I’d pretended to be watching the woman on the stage…Stella. When I shake my head at my own stupidity, the throbbing starts. How the hell does she work in that club and not get a headache?

**Skye**

My head is pounding. I’ve already taken four ibuprofens, and I hoped this bath soothed my aching feet and back. I’ve been on my feet for hours and hours. At least I don’t have to work at the diner tomorrow. However, I work a double at the club. Woe is me, right? Life is a bitch, but luckily so am I. Yup, she’s met her match here.

I know how I want to live and I’m willing to work my ass off to get there. All right, so my ass isn’t going anywhere…if only I could work my ass off. I’m so stupid. When I shake my head at that thought, my headache makes itself known…again. Every weekend I find myself in the same spot: in the tub by candlelight, a glass of Blanton’s in my hand, Billie Holiday drifting from my iPod and me attempting to center myself.

Sue me, I enjoy good music, no matter its age. Oh yeah, you could say I also appreciate a good bourbon. No, I’m not a middle-aged republican white man—I just happen to know good booze when I taste it and at a hundred and twenty bucks a bottle? Blanton’s is definitely a good bourbon, and you pay for quality. I have entirely no business buying it on my wages but I can live off of bourbon and Ramen noodles.

My head keeps replaying the night’s events, and for the life of me, I can’t make sense of any of it. I can’t believe I hit that dude with my tray, head butted him, and had him by the balls all within an hours’ time. It was strange though that he’d been at the diner and later showed up at the club. Wasn’t it?

I’d be worried if he was attracted to me or something, but when the first thing outta his mouth was an insult about my fries? Clearly, I wasn’t his type. Nor was he mine. Not one iota. Sooooo far from the men I’m attracted to. I prefer a nonasshole kinda guy. Yes, yes, I’ve learned that those are few and far between but still I’m a dreamer.

Jesus, the man’s muscles had muscles. What the hell was that? Dude was ripped. Stella’s type all the way and obviously she was his. Good for them. I’m not sure why he felt the need to fuck with me, but I’ve seen all types. Schwarzenegger complex maybe? Pumped guy teasing the fat girl…not exactly original, was it?

However, he had some killer ink. One of my weaknesses…tattoos on a man. I know, I know, not another broad who likes a bad-boy. Yup. Never fails, either. Every time, I swear it will be the last one and every time has been a lie. There is something about men that can rock a pair of ripped jeans, chains, leather, and fuck me hot ass boots. I’m like a junkie. Tap a vein, because mama needs another fix.

Let him be just bad enough that sex is so good, it fucking hurts and just good enough that he grants me the experience more than once. Not that I want anything longer than a few rounds. Hell to the no. I’m not searching for Mr. Right—that’s one of those mythical creatures that I don’t believe in. You’ll see me riding a unicorn with Bigfoot before you see me walk down the aisle.

Truth? I’ve yet to even find a man that can satisfy me in the sack. Thirty-eight years old and I’ve never had a man give me an orgasm. Now, don’t get me wrong, I can orgasm, and I do quite regularly, but never at the hands of someone from the male species…ever…never.

Lets just say I have some rather talented fingers. I don’t always old-school it, my vibrator does the job quite nicely too. I’m not sure why I’ve yet to come with a man. I’ve had some amazing men in my bed. They’ve excited me, they’ve soaked me, but none have ever succeeded in gifting me with an orgasm. I’ve given up and eventually so do they. It does something to a man’s ego when he can’t sexually satisfy his lover, I know, but I’m not capable of faking. One time, I read that faking doesn’t do anyone any good. That I happen to believe. Selfish? Greedy? Nah, why don’t I deserve pleasure as well? If he can’t take it, then, he can move on, and time and time again…they have.

There’s still a need inside me. A need to feel close, to feel intimate, to feel desired, keeps me trying again and again. Even now, I highly doubt it will ever happen, but I still miss having a man in my bed. The way my sheets smell like a man, the feel of a man’s rough hands on my skin, burn from five o’clock shadow on my chest or between my thighs—I miss it all. And if I really am honest, I miss the look in a man’s eyes when I’m on my knees with his cock between my lips.

That’s control, that’s power, and I crave it like a fucking drug. Literally, having a man by the balls. Oh, oh, or when he’s behind me and just to tease him, I lay my chest on the bed and spread my legs giving him the view he wants so badly. Fuck. Every time I look over my shoulder and watch his reaction. I crave it all. I like sex, I love sex—even if I don’t climax. It’s the power a woman holds in the bedroom, a power that I hold in the bedroom.

I like when a man thinks he’s the one running the show and within minutes, I have him eating out of my hands or between my legs. And, every man thinks he will be the one to make me come, make me reach orgasm. I’ve had them swear they’ll grant me with multiples, having me squirting in minutes. Bullshit. All of it’s complete and utter bullshit. I still enjoy sex like a fucking fiend, orgasm or not, but I’d certainly prefer one over the other. Care to guess? Maybe one day, but I’m not counting on it.

For now, I’ll concentrate on work. Not exactly using my brain, but I enjoy working at the club. Knowing I can’t work there forever has me wracking my brain trying to figure out my next move. I’m doing some college courses online, nothing special just some business management stuff. Not that I know what I’m going to do with the classes I’m taking. All I do know is that I’m preparing for something; I’m just unaware what that something is right now.

I do know that I’d rather not be stuck in this apartment and I won’t be. Next weekend, I move into my new townhouse. I’ve never been a homeowner, always rented, but no longer. I’ve purchased a town home just a few miles from the diner and less than ten miles from the club. It’s a beautiful new construction in a gated community. I feel safe there and that’s something I haven’t felt since my father died.

After he passed and my mother sold the house, I moved from one friends’ couch to another’s until I found an apartment. This is my third apartment. Each time I moved to a better neighborhood, a better building. The lease is up next month on this place; I will not be re-leasing. Nope, I, Skye Briar Blake am an official homeowner. One step toward what I want…what I think I want.

Closing my eyes, I tried to forget about moving and about my back, about my sore feet, but I’m unable to forget about the dude, the asshole. It was all so strange and I still can’t make sense of it or him. He’s probably getting carnal knowledge of Stella at this very second. Gross. Really friggin’ gross. I love Stella, I really do, but the woman makes me look like a nun compared to her conquests. I’d say more power to her, but I’ve seen some of the gems she’s brought home.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. I’ve been soaking in a warm tub, my bourbon long gone, and my sexual frustration at an all-time high. Places that had no business reacting to a stranger were tingling and aching. His rudeness left my panties damp and my nether regions begging for attention.

Yeah, my pussy is shameless like that. Although I can understand completely, it’s been quite a while since the attention whore had gotten…well, any attention.

Putting my empty glass down next to the bathtub, I blow out a few of the candles leaving only a couple burning, and I lie back against the tub, closing my eyes and the asshole’s face appears behind my eyelids. He looks cocky and arrogant even in my fantasy and fuck if that doesn’t get me ten times hotter. What was it about him?

He’s sitting at the same table he had joined me at earlier. The same table where he insulted me, stole my fries, and eventually drank my soda. Eyeing me with nothing but intent. “Bend over the table and don’t say a word, Skye or should I call you Sunny as I fuck you?”

He knows my names, both of them, few did.

I was frozen in place. As if there was a chance of a different decision, I stood still and ignored his command.

His hands toy with the stiff fabric of my diner uniform, and in one fluid motion, he has the dress above my ass and hips and has me bent over the formica just as he wanted, just as he demanded.

His hands squeeze my ass almost to the point of pain, and I pray he doesn’t stop. “No panties? You are one naughty girl, Skye.” Letting his finger follow the crack of my ass down, I know the second he finds out how wet I am. “You liked waiting on me that much, huh?” Busted. “Good, because I’ve been hard since you served me my fries.” Thank you.

Within seconds, I hear his zipper, and I know he’s freeing himself from his denim barricade. Instantly, I feel the smooth, hot skin of his dick against my ass cheeks. The thick head of his shaft pushes its way against my swollen pussy until he is lined up and he plunges into me. Nothing sweet nor slow—this was a fast, can’t-get-enough fucking. Sometimes a girl just needed to be fucked, and this was one of those times.

Pushing against him with each thrust, it’s like we’re in a race to the finish line. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. The sound of his body colliding with mine echoes in the diner. The space smells of deep-fried sex.

For the briefest moment, I question myself. I don’t even know this man. Yet, it’s as if my body knows his and vice versa. I feel my body react to his like it has never reacted to another. My God! My climax is nearing; I can feel it, and it’s coming closer with every pant of his warm breath that touches my skin and with each soft moan I let slip through my lips.

Nameless asshole increases his speed as he feels my sex start to tighten around him. “Your pussy—goddamn!” he growls in my ear as he bites along my shoulders. Removing one hand from my hip, he pulls me back by my throat and bites me—bites the hell out of me, biting along my neck and jaw. The muscles in his thighs began to quiver from pure exhaustion.

He’s lost control and can’t slow down, hammering into me hard enough that the table moves, my knuckles bright white where I grip the edge of the table so tightly. I am as far gone as he is.

When I gasp, he knows I’m about to come. He takes his hand from my throat—which was a fucking turn on and he covers my mouth when I start getting a little loud.

I don’t have the strength to stop my orgasm; there’s no way to stop myself from coming like a mad woman. I bite his hand. I bite it hard.

He continues, not faltering as he pumps into me. Biting my neck as wave after wave of electricity leaves his body and pours into mine. My flesh between his teeth, his left hand grips me so hard I know that I’m going to be bruised, and I want it, I crave it, I want to see his passion mark me. His body twitches with the aftershocks of his cataclysmic orgasm, and I smile as I drift into euphoria. I drift further, with the hint of Cool Water cologne filling my senses.

When I shiver, I realize it’s not from my release this time, but because the water has gone cold. My back, my feet, all forgotten, I only remember the orgasm that I just gave myself with my own hand—all while thoughts of the wrong guy are playing in my head. Once again, it is only in my dreams, night or day that a man has given me an orgasm. Because once again, I am simply a girl in her own tub with an imagination and a sexual hunger that’s yet to be satisfied by anyone other than herself.

Chapter Four

**Jaden**

Looking out the front windows of my gym for the hundredth time in the last six hours has me wincing, and I shake my head at my actions. Fuck, my head still hurts. Of course, the music coming over the speakers in here isn’t helping, but I can’t turn it off. No, I’ve got clients asking me daily if I’ll crank it up, change the station, what-the-fuck-ever. My mood is shitty to say the least and only a tenth of it is from my unending headache. I’d say I was lucky if I slept more than a couple of hours.

Confused, that’s what I am. I am confused as fuck. Jesus, thinking of my actions last night I can’t believe what I did. Like some lovesick puppy, I followed her. I followed Skye. She’s so not my type it’s not even funny. Yet, I’m drawn to her like a fucking industrial strength magnet.

Looking around the studio, I see at least five women that I’m sure I could fuck in my office right now. A couple of them I actually have—not that they knew about each other. Each thought they’d be the one to change me, change my playboy ways. It still kills me that every piece of ass swears she’ll be the one to lock me down. Not happenin’. Nope, I like my freedom. I’m a pussy connoisseur, and I’m not looking to change that title anytime soon. Some men are addicted to sports, some are motor heads, some drink too much; I like the feel of sinking inside some hot, wet pussy. It’s my weakness, my kryptonite, but hell if I’m looking for rehabilitation. I’d rather sink deeper into this addiction, if you know what I mean.

Turning back to my clients…a woman catches my eye. Not for any other reason than the blatant eye fuck she throws my way. I’m willing to lie to myself a bit longer. I am going to pretend that she’s not the spitting image of the bitch from the strip club last night. Bella? Ella—no, Stella, that was her name.

I can ignore the fact that she has three clones in this very room at this very moment. Blonde, stacked—obviously a set of silicone Ziplocs on her chest. Don’t get me wrong; I couldn’t give a shit less if her rack is real or fake. I’ve never really given it a second thought. Tits are tits, and I happen to be a man who can appreciate a nice set…born with or bought.

I’ve always enjoyed the feel of being stalked, of being the one pursued. Very seldom have I ever been the one hunting my prey. What man doesn’t want to be some chick’s prey? She does the work and I reap the benefits—ain’t a damn thing wrong with that in my eyes. Melinda—no, Melissa, stares at me like she’s thirsty and my cock is the only thing that will quench her thirst. Fine by me. “C’mon baby, no need to play shy.” Even I smile at my whispered plea, but hell if it isn’t true. I give her a nod; it the only encouragement she needs, and I watch her walk my way. She’s fit as fuck. Her tummy clearly shows a six-pack that she’s no doubt worked for in my gym and others for hours, days, and most likely years. The tiniest black shorts encase her quads like they were molded only for her.

I say nothing as she approaches me. Instead, I start down the hallway toward my office. Punching in the code to the door, it beeps just before unlocking. Without looking, I know she’s behind me. Holding the door open for her, I can appreciate the little extra sway she puts into each step. Locking the door, I walk around her and lean against my large metal desk. It feels cool against my quickly heating skin, even through my shorts.

“What can I do for you, Melissa?” Her wide eyes show her shock that I remember her name. It’s no secret that I play the field, and it’s a guarantee that she’s heard the rumors. Not that I give a fuck. Actually, it’s the complete opposite. Let the rumors spread like wildfire, that way any bitch I end up fucking doesn’t expect anything else from me other than an orgasm, or hopefully, two.

“I think it’s about what I can do for you, Jaden.” If her words hadn’t sent a shockwave from my balls to my brain, I might have laughed at the hesitant look in her eyes. I’d bet the little bombshell had an internal game of war going on in her head, probably a little slut shaming slamming her. Women. I’ve got no problem sticking my dick where I feel inclined and all without shame or guilt, hell, I’ve stuck it inside Melissa before.

“Yeah? And what is that, girl?” I know I’m mocking her, and I know before she does exactly how she’ll react. First, she’ll want to let me know that she’s no fucking girl; no, she’ll show me exactly how much of a woman she is. Then, she’s gonna wanna prove to herself as much as to me that she can do this; she can own her sexuality like a fucking badge of honor—even if she goes home and cries about it later.

Selfish bastard that I am? I couldn’t give a shit about what she does later. Time to grow-up and deal with it, I figure. You wanna play grown-up games, you should be able to do so without apology.

I’ll give her credit; she hardly falters as she approaches me. When her timid hand reaches for my obvious hard-on, a genuine smiles spreads across her tanned face. That’s right, Melissa it’s all for you, even though I know that’s a lie. “You feel something you like?” I ask knowing damn well she does.

“I sure do, and I’ve got a couple of ideas about what we can do with it.” I’m sure she does, but I know what I want and couldn’t care less about what she wants. I’m not in the mood for anything else.

Without a word, I stand up and push my shorts to the top of my thighs and give her the look—the look that says go for it, sweetheart. When she just stares at me like she’s waiting for something more, I stroke my cock a few times with one hand while I push her by her shoulders to kneeling.

“Open up, sweetheart.” Her eyes flash, and I see that she’s as pissed as she is aroused. “Wrap those lips around my dick, Melissa and show me what’chya can do.” For a second, I’m not sure if she’s going to slap me or swallow me whole, and for some reason I don’t give a shit either way.

“I thought—”

I stop her before she can even go there. “You thought wrong. You want my dick, know that you can have it, but that’s all you can have, all I give.” When I laugh, she looks like she just may slap me after all. “I make no promises to any woman.”

Her face shows she’s not pleased, but I know, I fucking know, that she’s got something to prove to herself even more than to me. That’s fine; use me, sweetheart. Lord knows that’s all I’m doing.

Within seconds, her hot mouth encloses around the head—only the head. She tongues the hoop there and I close my eyes at the sensation it sends through my nerves. My piercing’s are three of the best things I’ve ever done in my life. Each one feels good to me but I know their power when buried inside some bitch’s pussy. They love ‘em. Their clit’s love em.

My Prince Albert is the one I love, so sensitive. She’s seen my piercings before but they haven’t been in her mouth, and within seconds, it’s clear that she’s never sucked a dick with metal in it before. I hate virgins of any kind. Feeling gracious, I help her out, or maybe it’s the fact that I need to come so bad, I have no doubt that my balls are blue. Either way, I start pumping my hips, pushing and pulling my cock in and out of her mouth.

When her hands push against my thighs, I know she’s trying to tell me not to push so deep, but that’s not how this goes. She came to me—not the other way around. And, I like it deep and I like it hard. I keep my pace and I feel her accept it.

Looking down at her, I can almost imagine it’s the black haired woman who has haunted me for weeks. Although, I don’t think she’d let me do as I please, well, not without a fight. That makes my dick twitch. I think the only way I’m gonna come is thinking about Skye. Just saying her name in my head has me thrusting harder against Melissa’s stretched pink lips. Lips that are nowhere near as full as Skye’s, eye’s that aren’t even as close to as sexy as hers either.