Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

It was Wednesday. Wednesday was their day. Circled on the calendar with a little symbol they created, half-drunk, at a bar surrounded by cedar trees people tended to stagger out and take a leak on. It was July in Mississippi. Much too hot for bodies to roll around in covers and hold onto one another. Yeah, you’ll get pregnant when it’s hot,” he said, “but you won’t be nine months, gigantic, with swollen ankles in the summer sun either.” He had a point.

They’d agreed then. She was twenty-seven, he was thirty-two. Respectable ages to have a child.

She’d gone to Norway, lived in France, crowd surfed to Russian metal bands. Had a good sound gig at a studio. Replied to too many emails all day. After years of having to use the toll-quarters for an occasional burger, she had a good chunk of money in her account.

He’d spent his twenties in a wine haze, loading into windowless vans with the rest of his sweaty crew. They road bucking broncos. One of them securing the prize money every single time. The gas tank full, their bellies full, and he’d fucked a girl so hot in Cheyenne he was surprised his cock hadn’t melted off. He perfected the art of fucking with healing bones and hangovers. Leveraging their weight against the wall. He’d seen the sunrise at the grand canyon. He’d eaten a corndog in every damn state. Now he was a wrangler on a lazy dude ranch, working himself to the exhaustion required to keep him out of trouble.

They weren’t together. She wasn’t a girlfriend. He wasn’t a boyfriend. They’d kiss when drunk or prompted. Quick pecks, all smiles. A few times, it had gone too far. His hand between her legs as he nibbled her bottom lip, her grinding against him and wishing she’d worn a skirt instead of Levis.

How they came upon the idea, neither of them were quite sure but once it was suggested it set off like wildfire. At the bar, they’d talked and whispered and giggled, stealing a neon flyer from the wall and a sharpie from the register. He indulged her thoughts of tiny hands wrapped around wooden spoons and birthdays with frosting smeared across little faces. Her face flushing when she indulged him, his talk of skin to skin. Of depths. Of cum. A makeshift calendar was made. “What day? What day? What day?” Wednesday. Wednesday. Wednesday.

It was Wednesday.

====

Her

====

Would it be hilarious to put Shelly West’s Jose Cuervo on a baby-makin’ playlist? Yes it would, added.

I should be nervous. Fiddling with the hem of my shirt, wringing my hands, a stress tremor. But I wasn’t. Something should be telling me to stop and reconsider. I hadn’t known him for a year. We’re friends. I’ve drooled on him after falling asleep to his favorite (boring) action movie. He’s drunkenly fell down in front of me. His middle name is Charles.

I didn’t know why this idea seemed like a good one but I did know a few things. I know that I’d love to see him with a toddler on his hip, their head tucked underneath his chin while he soothes them to sleep or carries them inside after a long day riding horses.

I know, and this is important, that if he changes his mind that I’ll be okay. My mindset had dislodged from the dramatic thinking of my early twenties. I’d like to believe a night downing gin in Rostov-on-Don did the trick when a bitchy lesbian, Mira, told me none of the men I cried about would remember me because they were shit fucks and that if I made one more weepy noise she’d shove me down stairs. A few months later, she licked my cunt on a train but that’s a different story for a different day.

I should be nervous but I didn’t feel that way. I felt excited. Happy. Mildly hungry. What do you eat after baby-making? I hope it’s barbecue because that’s what the fuck I’m getting.

====

Him

====

I took the backroads so I could blare my music and spit toothpaste out my window without any fuss. Waylon Jennings sang about waking up on a greyhound while I tested my gag reflex with my toothbrush. I didn’t have time to go all the way home to gussy up. Girls like ’em sweaty, right? I wasn’t don’t-stand-down-wind gross. Just a little hot from being called into work for a couple of hours..sweaty. My cologne hadn’t melted off completely.

I took the cap off my mouthwash with my teeth.

====

Her

====

I’m not supposed to put scarves over the lamps, right? Pretty sure I’ve seen that in a movie. You can’t make a baby without romance and romance requires mood lighting and I don’t think the disco ball lamp I have in storage counts. I have a red light I got in Amsterdam but the plastic film is curled in a few spots. No scarves.

I settle for a few storm candles. No smell, nothing says non-committal-cum-inside-me-fucking like no scent candles. Match lit, I cover the candles with a hand to save them from fan gust and watch them flicker to life.

====

Him

====

I didn’t bring flowers cause I’m casino şirketleri an asshole and I didn’t bring liquor cause I thought it would be in bad taste. Okay, I did bring liquor but on the way, I realized it was in bad taste so I’m leaving it in my trunk. Looking around, my options are a stolen bank pen, half-melted white chocolate candy bar I kinda really want, and a hot bottle of water rolling around on the floor. I snatch up the candy bar. It’s the least I can do. Here’s some white chocolate, thank you for letting me empty my seed inside of you.

The garage apartment she lives in requires me to park behind a shuttered Mexican food place and walk down the block. Men in grease-stained overalls are airing up tires and checking hoses, doing oil changes, and pulling old lady’s cars forward. I think about using their soda machine to add a Pepsi to the candy bar. Make it a real King’s bounty. I mean, she could have opened her fucking front door and hollered, “who wants to nut inside of me” and I think these decent, hard-working men would have maimed each other trying to get up those stairs. I don’t get the Pepsi. But I’m going to kiss her real good for picking me.

====

Her

====

I’m not wearing underwear. A tank top and a skirt seemed to fit the occasion. Easy to yank off. I thought about opening the door completely naked but I ordered both seasons of Pushing Daisies on DVD. Postmen already hate me cause of all the stairs. Which they used to not even bother climbing until I insisted they not leave my packages down at the shop after The Incident. I came home to the guys playing with my brand new vibrator. Singing Britney Spears into it. They’d never let me forget it if I opened the door naked and sexually assaulted a federal employee.

Might be a good story for my future spawn though. Well, your father and I were fixing to do the nasty for the first time, with the full intention on making you, when mother accosted the postman because I paid like sixty dollars for that shit and it’s a brilliant show. And that’s why mama isn’t allowed at your school events.

My apartment might not be the best for a baby. With the constant drills downstairs and the location and the limited space but it’s what I got. It has several perks. One, when Jimmy, the sixty-something-year-old owner, bangs a shop broom on the ceiling it means he has food for me. It’s happened so many times, we tied a bucket to my railing so I could just pull it up. For my birthday last year, he put it on a wench and everything. Made it official and fancy. I was invited to all the guy’s baby’s birthdays. I’m apart of their little shop family and I don’t have to change a tire or wrench anything. Score.

Another perk, when someone is taking the steps pretty quickly like a man who was promised no-condom sex, I can feel it in my floors. Humming metal stairs. I opened the door to an outstretched hand holding a malformed candy bar.

====

Him

====

I’m never sure what the line is with us. When I see her, when I notice how fucking cute she looks, am I allowed to wrap her up in my arms and pull her close? She’s gonna let me father her child but am I allowed to climb over her in the morning, stumble to the bathroom, and use her smell-good shower goo to stroke my dick a little remembering the night before? Am I allowed to wake her up with a chin kiss, cheek kiss, tell her to brush her fucking teeth cause she’s fixing to be panting in my face again? Am I allowed to spend the night?

Details we didn’t get around to. I’m not so worried when I see her grin. I run my hand along her jaw, right under that frizzy, blonde hair and I pull her to me for a kiss.

====

Her

====

Minty. We don’t waste time knocking knees, shy smiles. We abandon the half-melted candy bar on the coffee table with my books and my slow-charging phone and my laptop open to WebMD describing the horrors to come. After the cum. I laugh at my own joke right into his mouth and think about saying it out loud but we’re kissing. Kissing and walking, knocking a picture frame off the wall. I hated it anyway. My bedroom is on the left. I yank him inside.

Sun is shining on my bed. I’ve wound my fist in his shirt, he nibbles my bottom lip and trails tiny kisses from my mouth up to my cheek while I wrap my arms around him. We’re not sure of one another like we probably should be. We’ve become pretty good friends. I know his burger order, I know his mom is a Pinterest guru, that he was raised in a house where shoes were taken off in the garage. A few times, I’d drape my legs over his lap and let him rub my calves. Right now I know he smells so good. Like spearmint and leather. I tip-toe until my lips brush his ear, “Take your fucking clothes off.”

====

Him

====

It’s a race I’m destined to lose because the little slut didn’t have shoes or socks or panties on, to begin with, but it’s a race I’d gladly lose casino firmaları a hundred times. She slips her tank top over her head and those teardrop-shaped tits demand to be sucked, kissed, licked. I want to hold her hands above her head and give them all the attention they deserve but right now I have to get my fucking belt off. One zip and her skirt falls to the floor. She’s free. Naked. Stunning with her ribs poking out beneath those perfect tits and a scar over her belly button. Faint stretch marks on her wide hips. A patch of pubic hair between, trailing down to a cunt I need to see. With one hand, I shove my jeans down to my knees and with the other I scoop her into a hug while she laughs. Kissing her tits, pushing her down onto the bed. A ray of sunshine giving her a full-body halo. It doesn’t look out of place.

My jeans hit the floor and I feel dumb for wearing boxers at all. She’s stretched out on the bed, on her elbows watching me hook my thumb into my waistband, one of her legs is propped up and I can see a tiny bit of her cunt lips. There will be time to bury my tongue between them later. Maybe after I watch my cum drip out of her. She raises one eyebrow, looking down at my boxers. “Dancing chili peppers?”

“Next time I’m wearing my dirty Christmas boxers. Santa’s dick lights up.”

====

Her

====

“Next time?” I ask, wobbling my knee because no matter how hard he’s trying to be a gentleman I can see his eyes wandering between my legs. “You don’t plan on getting it done the first time?”

He growls and grabs me by the ankles, yanking me to the edge of the bed. He kisses my foot, my ankle, rough and fast, up my leg, talking and punctuating each word with a kiss. “I figure,” he says, working his way up to my knee. “I’ll fuck you good and pregnant and then I’ll stick around for when your belly swells and your back is hurting and you need some dick. I’ll be the dick.”

“I bet you’ll be good at it.” As soon as I said it, he nibbled just a little too hard.

“And when you feel like you’re fixing to explode and you’ve done your nine months I figure I’ll give you a get out of jail free card by fuckin you into labor. And after the kid comes, when you’re convinced you’ve given birth to some shark-human hybrid that keeps biting your tit when you’re breastfeeding and you’re tripping over shit cause the house is a mess and you’re losing your fucking mind? I’ll be the easy lay that helps you relax.” His lips are lingering over my thigh, I can feel his eyelashes fluttering against them as he sucks and nibbles the skin. His hands spread my legs gently.

I sunk back into my bed and let him kiss my cunt. Arching when his tongue flicks over my clit.

====

Him

====

Her thighs clamped to my ears, she’s pushing her ass off the bed to get what she needs and her sounds are sweeter than any stretch or yawn or mild party-grinding could have clued me in on. I could spend my whole life eating this girl’s cunt but I’m a man of my word. All of this has a purpose. To get her cunt nice and wet for my cock. I shove her legs open. Her knees against the blanket and I work my tongue over her clit until I hear that desperate, panting, “fuck me” start to come out of her mouth in a cute, little beg.

That little hip rocking move she pulls when I drag my finger up her slit, showing me how much she needs me, drives me fucking crazy. My cock wants to be buried between those cunt lips. I bury my finger inside of her instead, curling my finger against her wall. She’s ruining the sheets. I take a last lick. Abandoning the clit to taste her.

====

Her

====

If he doesn’t fuck me soon, I will kill him. Daytime crime network kind of kill. Paid actors and weeping half-friends, the lot. It will be trashy, unplanned, and messy. All of my blood has left my head and therefor when I kill him with my laptop charger, I will be found out. His tongue is driving me crazy. All my thoughts are playing bumper cars with one another and then all of a sudden he’s done. Wiping his chin with his arm, smiling at me. Slipping up my body and letting me taste myself as he slips his tongue over my bottom lip. “Scoot up,” his voice is deep and low as he says it, his hand swatting my ass. “Now.”

I push his shoulder gently, letting him roll to the side so I can get on my hands and knees. Taking my time to crawl to the middle of the bed.

====

Him

====

I could, and want to, mount her while she crawls. Her ass is big, adorably dimply. When she crawls it jiggles and I want to hold her down and kiss and bite and spank but I can see her cunt peeking out from between her legs. Now, I want to clear the bed and shove inside her, holding her against my chest. Bite into her shoulder as I fuck that sweet cunt till she screams and claws at the sheets but I am patient. Okay, I’m not patient at all. I just want her on her back the first time. So I can watch güvenilir casino her face as I fill her full. The following weeks will see me pushing her skirt up and her over any object sturdy enough to hold our weight, but for the first time, we’ll take it slow. There are candles in here for christ sake. It’s broad daylight but it tickles the shit out of me. She stood in here thinking what would make this more normal and thought “storm candles” and that’s fucking precious.

I crawl after her and grip her hips with my hands. She’s laughing as I kiss her ass, giving her small bites. I land a hard spank on her left cheek and watch it jiggle. “Lay on your back for me, sweetheart.”

====

Her

====

I rolled. Spreading my legs for him and as he crawled between he kissed my knee. Kissed my belly where his baby would grow. Kissed my soon to be swollen tits. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

“Cause I’m letting you cum inside of me?” I said, nibbling against his jaw. His cock was slowly drooling on my belly and my cunt throbbed for it.

“You’re going to let me make this sweet, you fucker,” he said, kissing me hard and pulling my legs up his sides. “You’re going to lay on your back and let me hump and kiss and whisper nice things until I’m ready to cum inside your fertile cunt. You’re the one who wanted to be bred, now you’re gonna let me do it.”

All I could do was nod cause my knees were starting to shake.

====

Him

====

For a girl who proposed I knock her up after less than a year of friendship and who helped me plot it out on a napkin inside a bar, she sure did go bright red when I talked dirty.

An adorable blush spread across her cheeks. I took my time kissing her before I gripped my cock and dragged it between her cunt lips. Letting my tip press against her clit. She wiggled, raising her hips from the bed to push harder against me. Nuzzling her neck, I pulled myself away despite her whines and went back to torturing her. Dragging myself up and down.

It took maybe six or seven times for me to get what I wanted. A little agitated whimper, “Please?”

“Please what?”

“Oh fuck you,” she glared and leaned forward for a kiss I wouldn’t give her.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me, asshole.”

Slippery wet, I dragged my cock between those puffy lips and pressed myself against her cunt. Her breath came out in hot little pants against my neck. Whimpers escaped her as I inched inside of her tight cunt. Arching her back, her stomach pressed against mine. Goosebumps covered my skin as her nipples brushed against my chest. I watched her face as I slowly filled her, kissing her when she needed it. Her toes curled against my ass as I rocked gently back and forth until the sounds of her moans were overtaken by the wet, slapping sounds of our bodies.

====

Her

====

Thumping against the wall, the bed squeaked and groaned. He paid no attention. Not caring if the guys downstairs could hear, they most certainly could. Not caring even when I giggled a warning into his ear about them giving us shit when we left the apartment, my breath warm against his earlobe. I leaned forward and nipped it.

His face was focussed. Determined. Halfway through another one of my warnings, his nose touched mine. “Hush,” he warned. I hushed.

Relaxing underneath him as he picked up the pace until I was hugging myself against him with one arm and pushing against the bed with the other, humping back against him. Warmth and tingles spread across my lower stomach. I needed it. It felt so fucking good. He’d slow, panting in my face and grinning like a tool, long enough for our kisses to turn sloppy and for him to start hammering into me. I buried my nails into his shoulder and arched against him as I came. Deep and satisfying. A long nap kind of cum but he was not done with me and he whispered it into my ear.

====

Him

====

Getting her out of her head was a challenge. I didn’t give a shit if the men downstairs could hear the bed squeaking, didn’t really give a shit if they could hear the fucking fantastic sounds her cunt was making as I sank into her over and over again. The whole place smelled like sex and sweat and her fruity shampoo.

I kissed her shoulders. Down on the street, heavy car parts clunked and horns honked looking for oil changes and some woman was chatting loudly about the bill to her husband on the phone. It wasn’t a candle lined bathtub or a quiet strip of grass in some bug-less forest that people dream about. It was real life. When her eyes would dart to the window or she’d start to giggle over anything that wasn’t my lips tickling that soft skin, I’d brush the flyaway hairs from her face and kiss until her lips were pressing against mine. Little moans vibrating from her. Tasting like cherry lip balm and salt.

Her cunt was drooling all over my cock, I took my time rocking back and forth, grinding until I felt her hips respond to me. She was ready to go again. A red blush had spread across her chest and between her legs. My thick cock was sinking between those swollen cunt lips, her cum lubing each stroke.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32