Dad Bod (Under Construction 1)

Sawyer’s hand grips my thigh again, working its way closer to my junk as she leans in and whispers, “Maybe we could have more fun back at my place?” Her lips are soft against the shell of my ear, a weak spot I’d long forgotten about. Yes, it’s been that fuckin’ long since I’ve had sex with anyone other than myself. For years, my hand has been my only pleasure, so fuck yes—I’m considering this.

I’ve never had a one-night stand, ever.

But what the hell could it hurt?

Dating has been a bust.

Jordan has put me in the friend zone. And as Carter and Mav suggested—I’ll only get over Jo if I get under someone else.

It wouldn’t be a one-night stand if something more would come from this, and we have spent the last hour gettin’ to know one another over drinks, so I think this could pass as a date. Yeah, anything to rationalize this into anything other than a one-night stand.

I smirk and stand from the barstool, gripping Sawyer’s hand in mine. “Sounds like a damn good plan, sweetheart.” I have no idea where the hell this confidence comes from, but I let her lead the way as we stroll out of the bar into the humid night.

*~*

What in the ever-lovin’ fuck have I gotten myself into?

Sawyer is fuckin’ psycho! Why-oh-why has every woman I’ve attempted to get to know been a damn lunatic? Free spirit, my motherfuckin’ ass. Succubus is more like it. I’m fairly certain she brought me to her place to devour my soul. She couldn’t keep her hands off me on the ride to her apartment, groping at my dick like it was a nine-inch sausage and she hadn’t eaten in days. Sure, I’m down for head, and yeah, I’m out of practice, but she nearly caused me to wreck three damn times and run a red light. Thank fuck no cops were around to witness any traffic infractions because I don’t even know if I’d blow the below the legal limit right now.

We get to her apartment, and she opens the unlocked door and pulls me in behind her. She isn’t bashful about what she wants, climbin’ my six feet, three-inch frame like a damn tree and lockin’ her heels into my ass. Her mouth is hot on mine, basically cannibalizing my face like Hannibal Lector, and the deep, hungry groans that work their way out of her throat have me convinced I’m her spiritual sacrifice.

She releases me for a breath and begins stripping her shirt over her head, one arm tight around my shoulder for leverage and her legs still wrapped around my waist. Her breasts are freed from the confines of her shirt, completely braless which is impressive as hell because they’re round and perky and thick, and before I realize it my face is between her cleavage fuckin’ motor boatin’ the fuck out of her tits. I’ve always wanted to do that, and in my drunken haze, I seize the opportunity.

Sawyer grinds against me, working her heat up and down my abs, groaning wildly in my ear as I suck and kiss on her breasts. She’s a wildcat, clawing at my shoulders and biting my chest. “Bedroom,” she demands, suckin’ my earlobe between her teeth again, and a shudder rolls through me, my dick impossibly hard. I walk backward with her, kissing, sucking, and gnawing at my face, completely unsure of where to go, but I stumble through a hallway, my wide shoulders bouncing against the narrow walls. She motions with her head toward a door, and I push through, unable to see my surroundings through the darkness. I walk into the room, my eyes slightly adjusting to the dim as my knees hit a firm foundation. Assuming it’s the bed, I toss Sawyer on her back. The laughter that emits from her chest is kinda terrifying, and I should probably consider the moments that have led up to this one as a sign to run, but she’s already got my dick worked up, so I’m too far in this to back out now.

Before I can climb onto the bed, she sits up and pulls the tiny shorts off her ass, sans panties, and I wonder if the psycho even owns undergarments. Or maybe she is a hooker. Fuck. Where’s my wallet? Is this one of those schemes where the hooker traps you and robs you? Shit, the mess I get myself into when my head is fucked over a woman and alcohol.

I’m once again so lost in my drunk head that I don’t even realize my belt has been unbuckled, pants unbuttoned, unzipped an

d down around my ass along with my boxer briefs—because I’m normal—and Sawyer has my dick in her mouth.

I repeat.

Sawyer has my dick … in her mouth.

And it feels pretty damn good. I silently pray that I can hold my load longer than sixty seconds, and I’ll probably be fine as long as she doesn’t…

Well fuck me runnin’. Sawyer sucks the head of my dick between her thick lips like it’s a blow pop, twisting and releasing with a pop as her nails graze just behind my ball-sack. And I know without a doubt that if I don’t take control of the situation now, she’s gonna drink my come because I don’t last long.

I pull her mouth away from my cock and pick her up under her arms and throw her back onto the bed. Her cackle has the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up. Too many signs have directed me to run for my life, but I’m obviously thinking with the wrong head.

Currently the one that is swollen and purple and in need of release. I kick my ankles out of my jeans and grip my cock, slow strokes as I climb on to the bed. Sawyer opens her legs, silently inviting me for a fuck, as she twists her nipples between her manicured nails. Looking down at her pussy, shaved and soft, and I’ll be fuckin’ damned—her clit is pierced, I realize there ain’t no damn way I’m stickin’ my dick in a rando without a raincoat.

“Condom?” My voice is low and strained, but lo and behold, Psycho Lector leans across the bed and into the nightstand where a wholesale size box of Trojans sit. She buys her fuckin’ condoms at Costco. What the fuck.

Sawyer sits up and rips the foil wrapper with her teeth. It’s obvious she knows how to seduce her victims. She kisses the head before rolling the condom over my length. Sawyer lays back on the bed and pulls two fingers between her lips and sucks, and I clench my damn ass cheeks and tighten my spine to stave off the impending orgasm. She flicks her piercing, rolling her nails around her clit as her back arches from the bed. Her narrowed eyes pin on me, laced with an evil seduction. I wrap my hands around her knees and pull her toward me, lining my dick up with her entrance. Sliding deep within her warmth, I set the pace as I work her up. No point in being intimate. It’s a quick fuck. Nothing more.

She’s definitely not the kind of woman I’d take home to Momma, and I certainly wouldn’t have her around my kid, but she’s got an okay vagina with a decent amount of elasticity that serves the purpose of my dick for the moment.

Sawyer grinds against me, clawing at my chest and shoulders, and I reposition myself to drive deeper, her knee arched over my shoulders as I thrust into her. She thrusts back against me, fighting for control, but I lock her beneath me, my left knee extended upward for balance and my right knee lined up with my hip. She fucks me hard and fast, sweat creasing my brows, an intense tingle at the base of my spine, and a soft stroke up and down my balls has my…

Just as the orgasm attempts to wash over me, I hear brash, heavy panting and licking, and that’s when I realize we’re not alone. A huff of air blows against my taint as a small abrasive tongue licks up the back of my nuts.

In one swift move I’m out of Sawyer and rolling onto my back, looking about the bed for an uninvited participant. “What the fuckin’ hell!” I shout and jump out of the bed and grab my clothes from the floor.

“Aww, there you are, Roscoe!” Sawyer exclaims as she pats the mattress, encouraging the eighty-five pound English bulldog that just sexually assaulted me to come to her. Roscoe, her canine rapist, pants heavily and licks its snout as it glares at me.

Beer roils nauseously in my gut, and I choke back the bile that works its way up my throat. Pissed as hell, I dress as quickly as I can and cut my loses.