Dreams of 18

My throat is all dried up and I can’t even swallow. All I can do is watch him with wide, excited eyes and hang onto his every word like if I let go and miss them, I’ll fall off this huge cliff and die.

“What?”

He leans over me and kisses me on the lips. “My cock is going to be inside you. You’re going to dance on my cock but no one will know, will they? Because your pretty dress will hide us. Your pretty dress will hide your pussy while I fuck you like a bad man. It will be our secret.”

I bite my lip. I bite his lip at this.

I go so completely delirious at the prospect of making our own secret that I bounce in his lap with excitement.

Smiling with this new-found recklessness and wildness, I whisper, “But there’s going to be another twist.” I caress his beard and place a kiss on his lips. “Instead of my pussy, your cock is going to be in my ass.”

He fists my dress, his knuckles dimpling my thighs, while his eyes are going darker than I thought possible. “Is that so?”

Dark, dark, dark. More beastly.

His tone, his gaze, his intentions.

I can feel them running like current in my veins.

“Yeah. Remember what you told me that night?” I don’t give him the chance to answer as I continue, “You told me that you can’t take my tight ass because you haven’t even fingered my pussy yet. You’ve fingered it now. You’ve fucked it, made love to it. So you gotta take my ass now.”

His hands have let go of my dress and shifted to my butt in the last five seconds. He’s grabbed both my bare cheeks and he’s flexing his fingers. Pulling at the flesh and releasing, kneading it, massaging it as if getting my back hole ready for dancing.

“You can’t back out now,” I urge him on and his nostrils flare.

I watch as all semblance of control and civility leaches out of him, making him go bad. Completely and utterly bad.

Badder than ever before, making me wilder than ever before.

“I can’t say something and not do it, can I?” he says in an abraded, low voice.

I put my hands on his shoulders and shake my head slowly. “No, you can’t. You have to deliver, Mr. Edwards.”

He chuckles but it’s more a cloud of breath than anything. It only makes his frame shake with lust. It only makes his truck shake with our desire.

“I’ll deliver then.”

He lifts me up, while he slides down on the seat, sprawling himself even more, widening his thighs and adjusting himself in a way that he can deliver on his promise.

Then he brings me closer to him and I bend down to place a soft kiss on his lips, even though every nerve ending in my body is demanding that I attack him with my mouth.

Attack him for giving me what I want. Always, always giving me what I want.

But for now, all I do is watch him prepare himself.

He gets his cock out and licks the center of his palm. My breath hitches when I watch him wrap that palm around his already wet shaft and pump it up and down, making it all juicy and slippery.

That move is so fucking sexy that both my holes clench.

Both of them get needy.

And when he reaches forward and clasps my entire core, I almost black out. He gathers my wetness and practically pours it over his cock. He gets it so wet and slippery that my pussy gushes at the sight, salivating, drooling.

So much so that he lines his cock up against my cunt and runs it up and down my folds. To really get at it. To really slather himself with all my juices and cream.

All the while, all I can do is watch. All I can do is hang onto his shoulders, hovering over his lap and watch his hips go up and down as he lubes his cock for me, hitting my clit in the process, preparing me as well.

But that’s not all.

He doesn’t seem satisfied with only that much.

So he takes his cock and plunges it in my pussy, making me throw my head back and moan at the sudden invasion.

He bounces that cock inside me, bouncing me in the process. Bouncing me in his lap, filling me so good and so much.

When I moan and claw at his shoulders because I’m dying with arousal, he gets his shaft out. It’s slathered in my juices now. Same as my thighs. Same as his jeans.

He asks, “You sure?”

It makes me shiver, the tone in which he says it. All beaten down and thinned out with lust but still dripping with concern.

“Yeah,” I manage to whimper.

In fact, I’ve never been surer of anything other than this. I’ve never been surer of anyone other than him.